#but i genuinely can’t find reason not to do it. i’m mutilated as is what’s a few more scars?

[cashew-milkk]

genuinely how do you not end up killing yourself? or at least harming yourself in some way? 8 years clean and the urge to self harm is so fucking strong that i can’t find any reason not to anymore

[hannie-dul-set]

IT’S NOT WORTH TRYING TO LEARN OTHER PEOPLE’S LOVE LANGUAGES.

p — MYUNG JAEHYUN x fem! reader. g — humor, fluff, park sungho learns a lesson about minding his own business. w — swearing, death threats (as a form of flirting). 1.5k words.

requested by — @gluion “go kill yourself x “i’m pretty sure they have a crush on me”

note — part of my ship dynamics: insane edition gimmick. this is very the breakup soup coded. i just like writing about a bunch of idiots stressing about the dumpster fire love life of their friend. enjoy.

myung jaehyun’s friends are pretty sure he’s had a very stable, very loving, very normal upbringing.

“stop staring at me, you fucking creep.”

“sorry, i didn’t mean to make your heart flutter. can’t help it when you’re so pretty.”

“i’ll stab your fucking eyes out.”

“my eyes are all yours, pretty.”

so they can’t wrap their head around why he’s acting like he has not a single ounce of self-respect in his body. sungho and leehan watch as their pitiful friend gets shut down again by the most venomous glare, hostile sneer, deflected by the biggest pair of heart eyes in the world that’s ever longingly following your disappearing figure out the library door. “she wants me so bad,” he concludes with a self-righteous smile as he arranges his notes into one neat stack. sungho and leehan share a look. god almighty, please grant their friend wisdom and salvation.

“what...what makes you say that?” sungho attempts to prod. the first step to finding a solution is to figure out the situation. they need to know why myung jaehyun is so down bad for you, and why he’s so convinced that you feel the same way.

“huh?” jaehyun perks up. like he’s genuinely confused sungho has to ask that. “she was so flustered earlier. couldn’t you tell? it was adorable.”

“she threatened to mutilate you…?” 

jaehyun beams. “she sure did.”

there...there is no point trying to understand him, sungho concludes. leehan is, for lack of a better word, getting mildly frustrated. “hyung, what the hell?” he raises. “if telling someone you want them dead is an indication of romantic feelings, then my middle school bullies must’ve been head over heels for me.”

a silence. a pause. “we’ll unpack that later,” sungho tells him. then shifts his attention back to problem child number one. “you. you’re a grown man who has full autonomy over his actions and feelings, and i know that. but as your friend, i just can’t keep watching you being disrespected, jaehyun. i can’t help but get angry on your behalf when you greet her good morning and alll she does is tell you to go fuck yourself!”

admittedly, sungho got a little bit heated at the end there. but he has every right to feel this emotion on behalf of his dense and seemingly unaffected friend— who is still sitting there, a smile on his face, hands on his lap like a patient buddha who has learned the true meaning of peace and serenity.

“sungho-yah,” jaehyun starts with a pleasant hum. “there’s no need to worry. the feeling is totally mutual. i’m telling you, she likes me back.”

speechless.

in fact, sungho and leehan are beyond speechless. they have no idea where this ungrounded certainty comes from. they certainly have even less of an idea on how to fix his lovesickness, bordering on insanity.

so, reasonably— they call for backup.

“the only way for him to get his shit together is if he asks her out for real and finally gets rejected for good,” taesan declares confidently. somehow, they see a point. riwoo lets out an echo of agreement. woonhak asks why they’re all excluding jaehyun from this after school garage meeting. “do you guys know when he’s planning on doing that?”

“no idea,” leehan answers. “but maybe we can pressure him into it.”

“so, should we encourage him instead of telling him to give it up?” sungho raises. taesan affirms. sungho lets out a grunt and a huff. “god, that’s gonna be tough.”

a resounding voice of dissent arises from woonhak. “i don’t get why you’re all going against jaehyun-hyung!” he yells indignantly. “let hyung love whoever he wants! this is a free country! you guys can’t dictate his love!”

“he’s received fuck you’s straight in the face and swears she’s flirting, woonhak. you’re too young to understand.”

it’s four votes against one. woonhak can’t win against his hyung’s determination to save myung jaehyun from his self-dug pit of pitifulness that he’d been in ever since laying eyes on you at the freshman orientation. god, they never should’ve went. he never should’ve shot down jaehyun’s suggestion to just skip it. maybe then, myung jaehyun would still be normal.

but this is not the time to lament and regret. it’s time for sungho to right his wrongs. it’s time to bring jaehyun’s self-respect back, they decide. and it starts with a wake-up call in the form of your inevitable, brutal rejection. 

which, for some reason, does not happen as planned.

“what?”

“we’re going on a date.” jaehyun is as chipper as ever and sungho’s ears are starting to ring. “thanks for the encouragement, sungho!”

it’s ringing. it’s ringing so badly. “wait, what do you mean you’re going on a date?” he attempts to clarify, grabbing jaehyun by the shoulders because this is two-parts concerning, one-part kind of…proud? this guy actually succeeded? “she said yes? she didn’t tell you to fuck off and die in a hole?”

“she did. she looked pretty while saying it.” jaehyun answers with a bright grin. nevermind. this is all parts concerning. sungho “she also told me she’d kill me if i pick her up late after her class tomorrow. we’re going to have dinner at the thai restaurant that just opened. riwoo recommended it.”

sungho does not understand. he cannot understand because you, who seems to hate all of myung jaehyun’s guts for no discernible reason, agreed to go on a date with him? hello? has jaehyun been right this whole time? do you really reciprocate his feelings? or is this just some new form of torture? is his friend a masochist? is he the weird one for making a big fucking deal out of this? is this how relationships work nowadays?

a thought enters sungho’s mind.

hold on a second—

“anyway, i gotta go, dude. a pretty girl is waiting for me.”

—what if this date is a ploy for you to finally get the chance to kill him?

oh my god.

“wait!” sungho’s face is pale. his eyes are wide and frantic. “don’t—don’t go on the date!”

“hm?” jaehyun bats his eyes at him, taking a moment to think. then sparkles in realization. “oh! don’t worry. i’m not gonna show up looking like this. i’m gonna head home first to change.”

“that’s not the problem! jaehyun! no! no!”

this is it, his friend is going to die. that is, unless, he shows up on your date just in time to stop it. yes. there’s still a chance. he knows where the date is happening. he’s gonna tell the rest of them because there’s no way in hell they’d allow myung jaehyun’s cause of death to read stupidity by misconstruing your murderous intent as affection. they are not only going to save jaehyun’s life— but his dignity as well.

“remember, be quiet. be inconspicuous. they can’t figure out we’re here.”

hopefully, things go as planned this time. all five of them are gathered in a booth at the said thai restaurant, the eventual scene of the crime unless they do something about it. sungho is surveying the scene to find where you and jaehyun are seated. leehan nearly trips over his unnecessarily long trench coat while trying to cover more ground. woonhak is using the menu as cover but has since gotten distracted and has started to pick out his order with riwoo and taesan. “hyung, is the khao soi good?”

“yeah, we should order it.”

“what drinks should we get?”

this is hopeless. this is a mess. their best friend is about to die and all they can think about is dinner.

no matter. sungho can still take care of this himself. his eyes scan the main restaurant wing, from left to right, until his eyes double over in a screeching halt to the back of a very familiar round head—

“huh.”

the back of a very familiar round head that doesn’t seem to be facing the threat of decapitation.

sungho sees you and jaehyun sitting across from one another, jaehyun’s fairly loud voice raising over the music and utensils clattering, people chatting and passing by. “you’ve got something on your face.”

“touch my face, and i’ll kill y— hey!”

first of all, sungho wants to claw his own eyes out seeing his friend being disgustingly sweet. second, jaehyun did touch your face with a napkin and it does not seem like you’re attempting to murder him. in fact, you look flustered even. flushed despite the harbored glare, still seated despite your apparent derision and disgust. the back of jaehyun’s head looks exceedingly happy. the dots aren’t connecting. sungho is malfunctioning. 

“should…should we interfere…?” leehan asks, his nose barely peeking out of the trench coat collar.

“i think...i think we should just leave them alone.”

“but isn’t his life in danger?”

“i misunderstood.”

forget misunderstanding. sungho can’t even behind to understand in the first place and has settled that he wouldn’t even try so long as myung jaehyun is happy— happy with being on the receiving end of fuck you’s and go to hell’s in response to his you’re so pretty’s and see you tomorrow’s, happy with getting his advances swatted away and shut down, happy with whatever the fuck is going on between you and him that sungho really can’t just wrap his head around.

IT’S NOT WORTH TRYING TO LEARN OTHER PEOPLE’S LOVE LANGUAGES. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[lavernius]

Okay, this is probably gonna be a strong start, but: I've kinda hated Lopez because of the way RT insists on him being Mexican, but with your Locus post being so good and hinting at your interpretation of Lopez having themes of disconnection from his culture (Something I've struggled with and continue to struggle with in my own relationship to being Mexican), I really want to hear your thoughts about that topic, because I would genuinely love to not hate Lopez and to be able to see something even vaguely like myself in him.

Oh my god what a wonderful ask to recieve as Lopez’s biggest fan. You have every right in the world to hate Lopez IMO, he pisses me off a lot of the time for similar reasons. Thank you so much for your perspective and interest!

Here’s my “Lopez and racial allegories” meta, from the perspective of a second-gen brown immigrant! Tentative follow-up to my Locus colorism post, racism CW.

I’ll start by saying I am not Mexican myself, but of the very large denomination of “brown people who latch onto any brown character because it’s so hard to find representation in media”. I did grow up with a predominantly Mexican/Latino community, which doesn’t give me, like, a right to speak on your culture so much as it gives me a unique perspective and experience.

First and foremost: we all know Lopez’s entire existence is laden with not-so-subtle racism. In-universe as much as by the white creators themselves. The entire bit that Lopez is Mexican sheerly because he speaks broken Spanish is annoying! Coupled with the fact that his whole role on Red Team is doing manual labor and he’s largely ignored otherwise—yeah okay Rooster Teeth. Good going on that one. Let’s reclaim Lopez for the actual culture.

I’ve come to see Lopez as—no thanks to RT; I fill in the blanks of Lopez’s character on my own—a beacon of cultural alienation, social isolation stemming from racism, reclamation of tarnished pride, and a righteously furious statement of “Look at me, I’m here and I’m brown and I’m not sorry.”

ISOLATION/ALIENATION: You’d think the most obvious allegory to him being a brown person is the fact that he speaks Spanish. It IS, but not just because he speaks Spanish: his language is his skin, something he was “born” with and can’t change without mutilation of his body. He has to learn how to navigate a world specifically designed against his language barrier. If more people spoke Spanish or tried to learn, the metaphor wouldn’t be as potent, but it’s so rare for him to find someone “like him” that it’s less about the language and more about the isolation.

UNFAIR STANDARDS: The other obvious racial allegory is the usual “robot racism” of sci-fi (which is its own bag of worms that I despise), which constitutes for the other half of this meta. He IS his job as far as everyone else in concerned. When is he ever doing anything but fixing or building, as per Sarge’s orders or the team’s needs? Similarly, real-world POC often have to fight to prove we can be “as capable” as our white peers, and even when we are clearly capable it’s very easy for them to reduce us to our talents before the fact that we’re people.

He’s largely forgotten by the fandom, too, as a reflection of the show’s negligence. Not really much to say there, just kind of goes to show you how easily forgettable he is because he gets no respect as a character.

SOCIAL CONFORMITY: Lopez’s Technical Guide to Empathy has Lopez admitting he could fix his voice module himself, but doesn’t see the point since no one cared to fix it before. He has to conform to their “normal” to fit in, like many POC do to live comfortably in a predominantly white society. He doesn’t, out of pettiness more than actual pride; I know what that’s like.

RECLAMATION: As per the last point, I take his refusal to speak English as a “fuck you” to the notion that he HAS to for other people’s sakes. He has a love-hate relationship with his language barrier. There’s an outtake from 7 where he tries to get Sarge to fix his language module, but more recently he’s resigned to it or—as recently as S15—desired for people to learn Spanish FOR HIM instead. Reclaiming prejudice isn’t easy, but it fits Lopez as a person to say “You can’t hurt me with that if I own it.”

PRIDE: He’s proud of being a robot! No matter how much it slights him, he knows it’s who he is, and the trauma of existing results in him being almost afraid of being anything else. I like to pretend his S17 labyrinth METAPHORICALLY reflects a fear of being whitewashed, because even if he’s proud, he’s traumatized by the nature of being a robot. Replace “robot” with “POC”; standard robot racism stuff.

CULTURAL DISCONNECT: I kind of ignore that he speaks Spanish poorly in canon (I get the bit, I just don’t care for the execution), but when I acknowledge it it reminds me of the cultural disconnect of thousands of immigrants and their families, especially those who lost their language to the West and struggle to learn it in adulthood. Alongside this, living for years without ANY real, substantial exposure to someone he can talk to means he’s naturally more adjusted to the Reds’ lifestyles (on top of forcing him further into being cast out). If someone comes along and properly understands him—see Locus S12—for the first time since another robot did, of course he’s going to be shellshocked, he doesn’t actually have experience with that part of himself.

RESIGNATION/SELF-ERASURE: Lopez isn’t quiet by nature, he’s quiet because he has no one to talk to! Before the Reds betray him in Blood Gulch he doesn’t shut up. When he meets 2.0 he spends hours just talking to that kid. When they launch him into space in S15 he just talks to himself the entire time. Over time he just seems to grow more resigned to being ignored, which results in him stifling himself because of aforementioned isolation. I’ve seen a lot of my peers of color—who are too scared of the backlash of speaking—shy away from A) self-acceptance and B) self-defense (in various forms), because they don’t expect to be accepted, much less heard.

Like all reclamation, the only reason the “Lopez is a brown person” narrative works out is because it was intended to mock and offend. All of the bits I covered are just me recontextualizing unfunny bigotry from the show, which, sadly, is the easiest way to enjoy a lot of offensive RVB characters without mischaracterizing them entirely.

There are times, obviously, when Lopez’s language barrier doesn’t actually stop him from talking to people, but to me it’s more about the experience of isolation and anger and wanting to be proud but struggling to find the support for it. Literally half of these metaphors wouldn’t matter if he got to talk to someone who cared about him and understood him simultaneously.

Lopez is designed in such a way that hating him for his writing is genuinely justified. Still, if just for the sake of being able to tolerate him, I prefer seeing him as the brown person who is angry because the universe isn’t made for him and wants to see him fail, but lives just to spite it.

[author-k]

All is Fair in Law and Murder

I know this blog is dedicated to Levi but I couldn’t help myself.

William James Moriarty x Reader 

Summary: The reader is on the scales between justice and revenge after receiving a strange letter and mid party rendezvous with a long time crush. To what end is the reader willing to go and how will they tip the scales. (Implied female reader, however gender is never mentioned)

Warning mentions of violence and self-mutilation

Pleading self defence was a part of your agenda.

Lets Rewind.

9 hours prior. 

You stepped out into the hallway that lead to the courtyard. The cool summer wind blew through the greenery and brushed your skin gently. You weren’t one for extravagant events especially those hosted in your favour. 

Your thoughts linger on the letter you received yesterday. The implied accusations seemed far-fetched and irrational and more like a plot to get you to retaliate. However, the voice in the back of your mind whispered horrible things to make it seem as if the letter was genuine. It wasn’t long until someone rescued you from yourself.

“Do I dare say what a coincidence?” You spoke but didn’t turn to face the newly arrived company.

“Indeed I am here of my own volition.” 

“So why is William James Moriarty at my suitor party? You didn't come to ask for my hand did you?” You made it seems like a joke but in truth, William was a fine man and if he had come for that reason you wouldn’t decline. You knew this wasn’t the case. Your feelings for the man went largely unnoticed at least that was what you were under the impression of.

He lightly chuckled at your attempt to amuse him. The reality was that he knew that after you were set to marry, the two of you would no longer share mundane moments like these and if he were in honesty, he would deeply miss you. In another life, he would’ve asked you to marry him to share your life with him and him alone. That would be selfish right? To drag you into his world, surely you would resent him.

He’d rather keep you at a distance, for you to keep your light naïve demeanour. The world could use more noblemen like you.

You leaned on the concrete railing. “ Don’t you find it odd?” you spoke up “ How a perfectly healthy woman woke up dead from an unexplainable illness?” You hardly spoke of your mother and he never pressed you. He tried not to get too involved in your life choosing to ignore the things he picked up through his keen observation skills. 

“Pay no mind to my words, perhaps I am just reminiscing since I'm due to be married” Your words stung a little as if your acknowledgement of the situation made it seem more real. William gently takes your hand and places a penny in your palm, You look at him confused. “ A penny for your last thoughts” He whispered.

You held the penny up to your heart. “We can no longer meet like this.” you remind him you can’t be his. You turn to leave and he allows you to walk away.

You enter the large ballroom, “ Cheers to my child’s engagement, Italy is a fine place indeed.” So he had decided to ship you off to Italy, Father of the year alright.

You didn’t return to the party instead you returned to your quarters and waited for all the guests to empty out of the manor. You then approached your father's study.

“It’s late, you have an awful amount of packing tomorrow before you leave for Italy, I suggest some rest is in order” Your father was strict almost like he had no care for you. A mindless pawn for his disposal but not anymore.

“ I received a strange letter...” Intrigued he looked up at you and you passed the letter to him. “ It isn’t true right?’ 

“ Of course not, don't be naïve!” 

“Right of course father, it seemed quite ridiculous”

“Have you shown this letter to anyone?”

Bingo!

“ How could I, that letter is extremely incriminating to our family name” you place a glass of wine on his desk. He gets up and picks up the glass, swirling the liquid inside. before abruptly throwing the glass against the wall behind you.

“How foolish of you to think I would fall the same trick I used against your mother.” He pushed you against the wall aiming a shard from the broken glass at your throat. 

“ Now I will kill you just like I did your mother and everyone will think you were so in love that you rushed to Italy to be with your dear beloved. I’ll be free of burdens, Oh how long I waited for...” You pulled the letter opener out from his chest.

“ The wine was never poisoned” you grabbed his hand making a slight incision on your neck with the glass shard. He fell to his knees and you placed your foot on his shoulder pushing him onto the wooden floor of the study to simulate a struggle.

“Now, I’ll kill you and plead self-defence!”

You watched as the light slowly left his eyes before dropping the letter opener and running off frantically begging for help to sell your act.

You walked out of the station that morning cleared of charges and framed as the victim, it turns out your father committed many crimes over the last decade which came to light upon his death.

When you stepped into the street you were faced with none other than William. He was about to open his mouth to say something but instead, you spoke up first.

“Wait one moment...” you rummaged through your pockets before stepping closer to him. You whispered in his ear. “ A penny for your thoughts?” you leaned back slightly placing the penny in his jacket pocket near his chest.

He gently placed his hands on either side of your face stepping closer. “ Marry me,” he whispered on your lips before kissing you softly.

Perhaps you’d have a place in his world after all.

[ahdraftingco]

Chapter Four: Never Touch What Isn’t Yours | Series: Lesson Learned

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

AO3 Crosspost: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40653303

Rating: Explicit, readers are advised to read the warnings below before proceeding.

Series Warnings (in no particular order): Porn with Plot, Dark!Din Djarin, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hate Sex, Master/Slave Relationship, Knife Play (Minor Cuts/Blood), BDSM, Rough Sex, Genuine Fear, Sexual Coercion, Power Play, Degradation, Face Slapping, Spanking, Choking, Gagging, Enemies to Lovers, Possessive Behavior, Spit, Forced Orgasms, Hair Pulling, Multiple Orgasms, Threats of Violence, References to Death/Suicide, Stockholm Syndrome, Emotional Manipulation, Book of Boba Fett Spoilers

Chapter Summary: The Mandalorian doesn't understand what kind of game you're trying to play. It's obvious you have feelings for him but why do you hesitate on admitting them? That won't matter in the long run. He'll get you to confess, one way or another.

Word Count: 12.5k+

***This chapter is part of my Lesson Learned series, if you haven’t read the other chapters, go to the series masterlist: here!***

A/N: As always, please read ALL of the specific warnings for this chapter before proceeding: ptsd, fluff/comfort (lol the fact that this is a warning for this story I cannot–), mentions of slavery, implied/referenced physical abuse, graphic depictions of violence, threats of sexual violence/attempted sexual assault (someone's getting murdered for this!), blood (so much blood!), body mutilation, references to torture, semi-public sex, degrading insults, misogyny, morally questionable actions, LOTS of angst & feelings! 

Please read with caution (mind all the warnings!) because this chapter is one hell of a rollercoaster ride ~ ♡

The bruises on your neck never heal. Why? Because the moment they do, the Mandalorian finds another reason to strangle you and then they're back.

You never thought you'd mind the way you looked with splotches of sensitive skin decorating the rim of your metal collar but…you can't help wondering how much more he's going to strip away from your identity.

You long to be free again, but this collar binds you to him.

You're a slave now.

You have been but it didn't sink in until he asked you to tag along on a job with him. There's a bounty he needs to kill, the head of a slave trafficking operation. In order to get in, the Mandalorian needs an escort and since you're actually his slave, you're stuck fulfilling that duty.

It makes you uncomfortable, knowing that there will be other slaves there who are in similar positions as you. Or worse, much worse.

The thought has been weighing you down and Din sees your visible discomfort, commenting, "you're never this tense."

You chew on your lip for a moment before answering, "there will be others there."

"Yes, and?" He acts as if that's nothing to even think about. Must be easy for him to ignore such struggles, but you can't.

You made an oath a long time ago. Only rob those who have more than they need. That means you've encountered a lot of slave Masters. You've also picked the locks for a good handful of slaves, helping them get their freedom. You've heard the stories of the horrible treatment they've endured and you aren't ready to hear more…

"Nevermind, I'm sorry." You try to calm yourself down. "I'll behave."

You clutch your collar for a moment, feeling the bruises. You shouldn't say it, since it's not all that great of a praise, but you're thankful that Din doesn't actually inflict any forms of harsh pain. He threatens to, but he never follows through. A part of you believes he doesn't want to hurt you that badly. You can handle some choking and slapping, even some nicks from his knife, but not the kinds of torture you've seen some slaves endure or the brutal beatings you've experienced because of the bandits.

"We have to go now." Din elects not to say much else to you, gesturing for you to follow him.

After a long ride in the N-1, you both land on Daiyu. You've only ever been here once. You hitched a ride in a cargo ship and stayed there for a week before stowing away in another ship to get back to Tatooine. You were following some big money at the time. You rarely do that but you try to pick easy pockets to sneak your hands into and people with too much tend not to notice when things go missing.

You're prepared to be thrown right into the ring but the Mandalorian drags you into a hotel instead. It's actually quite nice, which surprises you. Though, you'll have to get used to breathing in the artificial air after living in the forest for quite some time. That, and the sleek black metallic details and the red lighting.

It's a bit…much? You're so used to the cave that seeing such a high tech space is jarring. You've never been one for the "city life" since you're mainly a desert dweller.

"Do you not like it?" The helmet shifts in your direction.

"Are we staying here?" You don't actually know if he has booked a room here or if you both are just passing through the lobby.

"Answer me first." He waits for you to respond.

"I don't mind it." You hope that's a good reply.

That's enough for him to grab the key to the room you're staying in, which of course has to be with the Mandalorian. There's no way he'd booked two rooms. You hold in a sigh, rubbing the itchy turtleneck you're wearing to cover up your slave collar.

Let's just say, Din is not all that great at picking clothes, but you can't really say anything. You're too tired to fight with him today.

The last few days have been…bad. Not because of him, but because you've been waking up frequently in your sleep. You keep having nightmares about your time back with those bandits. It got to the point where you can't sleep in his arms because you're constantly keeping him up and you'd rather not deal with an irritable madman on low sleep, so you've been huddling against the cave wall.

You can't really do that in a hotel bed, but you'll have to make due. Hopefully you won't have a nightmare tonight. You don't even know what's triggering it, though it might be because he told you about this job a week ago. It makes sense for those two things to correlate.

Once you're both in the room, Din sets your bags down in the closet and then immediately grabs you, dragging you to the bed. You don't have the energy to resist so you let him pull you onto his lap the moment he sits down.

"Tell me what's wrong." He's demanding like always.

"It's nothing." You don't want to talk about it. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"You haven't been sleeping." He notes the obvious.

"Yeah." You don't know why but you lean in, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the cold beskar against your cheek. "It's been hard to sleep."

"Why?" He wants to know about the nightmares. You haven't talked about them. You really don't want to.

"Is it okay if I don't answer?" You wrap your arms under his, wanting to hug him for a moment, needing that comfort you shouldn't want. "I don't want to relive it."

"Is it about the bandits?" He reads you like a book and you nod. "They can't hurt you anymore. I killed them all."

"It's not them I'm afraid of." You finally let out that sigh you've been keeping in. "I'm afraid of people like them. Other people who could hurt me like that."

"No one will ever hurt you like that again." He tells you firmly. "No one will ever touch even the smallest hair on your body and live. I'll kill them if they do. I'll kill anyone who scares you."

"Why?" You ask him, genuinely wondering. "Why would you want to protect me, the person you hate the most?"

"Because you're mine to hate." He states the facts, "you're my thief. I'm the only one allowed to touch you, to fuck you, to do anything I want with you. No one else, just me."

"Promise?" You lift your head from his shoulder to look at him right where his eyes should be in the helmet.

"I promise." His gloved hand rests on your face and you lean into his touch.

"Then I don't mind being yours, at least for now." You say with a light smile.

"You'll always be mine." Din doesn't let you wriggle your way out of his reach and you laugh.

"Just enjoy me giving you a break. I'm not being a brat but I definitely still can be." You smirk.

"Bad girl." He shakes his head. "Why not strive to be good for your Master?"

You shrug. "Being good is boring. I have to keep you on your toes somehow."

He lets out a small chuckle. "You do bother me relentlessly."

"It's my job." You flash him a toothy grin and he groans in annoyance.

"But you're on a break from that, right?" He's seeking verification.

"Until you give me a reason to be bratty, I'll behave." You go back to hugging him, feeling a little better than before.

In a fluid motion, Din lifts you into his arms, his hands cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist. He carries you over to where the bathroom is and there's a hot bath already drawn, waiting for the two of you. He helps you to your feet so he can pull off his armor plates, setting them aside.

Then, Din walks up to you and takes off your collar. You're so shocked you can't feel it around your neck anymore, the turtleneck now scratching at the exposed skin.

"Wait, but why–"

You can't ask a thing when his lips land on yours the moment he has the helmet off. His kisses are just as shocking with how gentle and slow they are. He holds you securely as you both kiss for a moment and you can feel your heart start to race.

Why don't you ever fight back when he's kind to you? You shouldn't allow yourself the luxury of this other side of Din but it's just too fucking hard to resist. He always times it for when you're feeling down and vulnerable…

Once he lets you breathe, he says against your lips, "don't ask questions. Let's just pretend to be two normal people sharing a hotel room together for tonight. Okay?"

Two normal people? You and Din are the furthest thing from normal. A Master and his slave. A Mandalorian and his thief. There's nothing normal about the two of you and yet…you wouldn't mind pretending for a little.

Oh no, this–this is going to break you, but you can't say no. You can't because you want this too.

So, you answer, "okay."

"Come here." He pulls you in close to him. "Let me see that beautiful face of yours."

"Din, are you–"

He cuts you off before you can ask are you being serious. "Don't make me put the collar back on. I really don't want to right now, so listen to me when I say don't ask questions."

You nod, saying instead of asking, "I want to touch you too."

"Then touch me." He gives you full reign so you reach forward, tugging at his shirt until you can pull it off over his head.

You run your hands along his skin, touching every curve of his body. You don't ever touch him this much. You just felt like doing it tonight, if you both are pretending to be normal.

"I want to keep doing this but in the bath." You tell him and he nods.

You both strip down completely and he takes your hand, guiding you into the bath with him. You find your way onto his lap, feeling relaxed from the warm water surrounding the two of you. You cup his face in your hands, playing with his stubble beneath your thumbs.

"I really like your face." You admit to him.

"What do you like about it?" He asks and you chuckle.

"No questions, Din." You pinch his cheeks and he glares at you.

"That doesn't apply to me." He tries to argue but you roll your eyes at him.

"You're not my Master tonight. We're just two normal people. Equal footing means equal treatment." You pull him up towards you, kissing him on the forehead. "Now be a good boy and don't disappoint me."

"You are never saying that to me again." He grabs you by the hips, dragging you more onto his lap, letting you feel his cock harden beneath you.

"Aww, I knew you liked being a bad boy better." You tease him because you can, giggling at his deadly stare.

"I'm this close to ending our normalcy. You're being more of a brat now than ever." He threatens and you can't help but smile.

"You're cute when you're angry." You nudge his nose with your own before batting your eyelashes at him all innocently.

"I'm always angry." He leans forward to bite your bottom lip, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin before releasing. You can feel it swelling up already.

"You must like being cute then." You move your hands back to touch his bare chest, gliding upwards along his collarbone and then downwards to feel his strong arms.

"You're cute like this." His words make your heart skip a beat all of a sudden. "You seem relaxed."

"I am." You surprise yourself by saying that because it's true.

You are oddly at peace right now with Din. Maybe it's because you know it's pretend, so you won't carry any of the weight of his words or actions with you when you wake up.

It's nice to pretend every now and then.

"I want you to be relaxed all the time." He's just saying things, he doesn't mean that.

At least, that's what you have to tell yourself. There's no way he actually means that…

"I like it when you're relaxed too." If he's just saying things, then why can't you?

"I would be more relaxed if you didn't fight me so much." Din smiles lightly as he goes, "but you love to fight me."

"I do, it's my favorite pastime." You share his smile, liking the way he looks when he's happy.

Is he happy? You can't ask, but you can feel, so you lean in and kiss him. He smiles against your lips before kissing you back and your heart soars. It really does feel like you're in a normal relationship with Din.

That's a frightening thought to have when this is all make-believe…

"You're holding back." He catches you red-handed.

"A little." Your hands find their way into his hair, looking at the curls as they settle between your fingers.

"Don't, please." You're taken back by his plea. "I don't want you to. Not tonight. Not while we're just being normal. You can hate me tomorrow, but give me all of you tonight."

"Din…" His name trails off your lips.

You can't think of the right words to say right now. You want to ask so many questions which is probably why he put that as the one condition for tonight.

"Be mine tonight." He brings your face closer to his, pressing his forehead against yours. "I want to know what it feels like to have you all to myself."

Are you going to regret this? Of course you are.

Are you going to do it anyways? Fuck it, you don't have anything else to lose.

"Only if you're mine too." You lay out your conditions. "I'll give you all of me if you give me the same. Equals, just for tonight, in every way possible."

"I won't hold back then." He breathes out, his hot breath tickling your lips.

"You better not." You chuckle happily. It's nice to tease him without expecting some kind of punishment in response.

"I'm sorry." Din's apology grabs your attention. "It must hurt. I should've been more careful."

You don't know what he's referring to until his hand goes up to graze the bruises on your neck. Is he really sorry for hurting you? It's not like it hurts all that badly. You're kind of used to it by now.

"You will be more careful." You decide to answer a bit more hopeful. "If that's what you truly want."

"I would never hurt you like they did." He traces down your skin, moving along all the scars that remind you of what happened with the bandits. "You're too pretty to mark up so harshly."

"I was prettier before." You joke but he shakes his head at you.

"You were pretty then and you're pretty now. Nothing changed. I could stare at you all day, just like this." He sounds so genuine, it chills you to the bone.

You're suffocating under all his affection, wishing this was real. You have to keep reminding yourself that it's only for tonight.

"You should." You give into your desires and stop holding back, speaking your mind. "I wouldn't mind staring at you all day. You're a very handsome man, Din."

"I'm glad you think so." There's the softest smile on his face when he says that and you want to believe that it's real.

You want to smother him in affection so you can see that smile again. "I really do. I like being close to you so I can see your features clearly. I like them all, especially your stubble."

"Tell me more." He brings your hands up to hold his face, keeping his hands on yours.

"I like the way it looks, all uneven and rough. I like the way it scratches my face when we kiss. I like the way it brushes along my skin when you kiss my body. I like the way it tickles my thighs when you're between my legs. I just like it a lot." You take a moment to kiss along his jaw, feeling his beard against your lips, admiring it in your own subtle way.

"I like making you feel good." He breaks away from your touch for a moment to place kisses along the bruises on your neck. "I like making you feel better when you aren't feeling good."

If that's true, then you have a desperate need to ask him if that's why he's doing this tonight. Was he worried about you this last week so he booked a hotel room just to comfort you? He didn't need to do this. You assumed you and him would be here for the job and then go right back to Ossus.

Din sure does enjoy surprising you, even when you know it's all pretend.

"You make me feel so good that it scares me sometimes." You sigh in pleasure at the feeling of his lips against your skin, his beard tickling you as it always does, that smile of his present because of your words.

"There's nothing to be scared of tonight." He keeps kissing you as he speaks warm words to you, "you're safe here with me. I won't hurt you. I want you to enjoy yourself so don't be afraid to give into it tonight."

Your hands rest in his hair as he takes a moment to admire your breasts. You tug on his curls when his mouth takes hold of one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around it. There's an undeniable need to grind against him so you do, rubbing up against his hard cock. The bath water swishes around with your movements and you like the way it sounds mixed with your raspy moans.

"Fuck," he curses against your collarbone, "I just want to bury myself inside of you right now."

"Not until we're in bed." You want to enjoy this soothing soak for a little longer.

"Please sit on my cock. I just want to feel closer to you." Din grabs your hips, lifting you up slightly to guide himself to your entrance, but he doesn't force himself into you. He leaves it up to you to do what you want.

It takes you a moment to debate but then you throw your worries out the window and slide down his length, gasping as you slowly fill yourself up with him. You grip onto his shoulders for leverage until you're sitting back on his lap. You shiver from how deep he feels inside of you.

"Perfect." He breathes out a long sigh and for once, you're staring at him and he isn't staring back with eyes filled with rage or hate.

Din looks…blissful. You have to touch his face because you don't believe the look he's making is real but when you can feel him grin against your palm, you go, "I wish you looked like this all the time."

"Me too." He moves his hand to cup your face, mimicking your actions as his thumb brushes lightly along your cheek. "I wish things were different."

He doesn't mean that. Don't fool yourself. Don't trust him. Don't.

You've been burned before. This is just another game that you're playing with him. You can't let him win.

Not even when you're desperate to lose yourself in him right now.

"I would still hate you." You whisper, not because you want to, but because you have to remind him and yourself.

Din's lips curve into a half smile and you can almost hear the guilt as he goes, "I would deserve it for what I've done to you."

Before you can think much about his words, he slips his hand beneath the water to rest his fingertips at your clit. He rubs lazy little circles that force you to bite your palm so you don't unravel too quickly. He really is good at distracting you at just the right times.

"Come, my pretty little thief." He tells you. "I want you to feel good."

"We're supposed to be having a bath." You mutter into your hand and he chuckles.

"Doesn't mean I can't give you pleasure right now too." He uses his free hand to pull your hand away from your face. "Don't hide from me. I want to look at you and hear your voice."

"I'm going to come, Din." You say to warn him and yourself. "It's–"

"That's it, let go, I've got you." He holds your hand in his as your orgasm consumes you, his fingers rubbing you just enough to bring you right over the edge.

Every breath you take is drawn out and you're dizzy from the heat of the bath but it makes everything feel so much better. You're tingling all over, tightening around his cock, wanting to move so you can feel more of him.

"You came very well. Good girl." He finishes his praise with a kiss on your cheek and the heat rises in your body even more to match your racing heart.

"I want…" You need to catch your breath before you can say, "I want to make you feel good. Let's get out now, please."

"You don't have to." He seems wary that you even want to, like he's afraid of his own pleasure.

"Please let me." You bring his face close to yours, pressing light kisses all over. "I really want to."

"Okay, just don't force yourself to do anything for me." He states his conditions and you nod in response, smiling.

"I promise I won't bite." You smirk and he rolls his eyes at you.

"You'll choke on my cock before I'd ever let you bite it." He smirks back and you laugh.

"I look forward to it." You give him a quick peck before getting up, biting back a whimper when you pull off of him completely. That's a feeling that's hard to get used to. The emptiness.

You both dry off and then you take his hand, but you don't take him to bed. You drag him over to a rather fancy looking chair beside a window that overlooks the city. He looks surprised when you shove him into the chair and get down on your knees in front of him, spreading his legs so you can get a nice view of his cock from this angle.

Your eyes gaze up and he's stunning in this artificial light. You opted to keep the lights mostly off, letting the outside world illuminate you and him. Flashes of bright red, blue, yellow from the streets below fill the dark room.

Since the chair is beside the window, you get to see every curve highlighted on his body. You love how subtly muscular he is but he still has a softness to him that reminds you that he's human just like anyone else.

"I've always wanted to do this." You speak your truth, your fingers tracing along the length of his cock. "I like this view a lot."

"It can't be better than my view." He says as he looks down at you, his hand brushing the hair away from your face. "So beautiful."

"Enjoy yourself, Din." You want him to stay true to his words. "Don't hold back, not tonight."

"I won't, so make me feel good." He urges for you to continue and you do so happily.

After you've enjoyed touching him with your fingers, you move your hands to caress his legs as your tongue takes over. You've always wanted to taste him. Why? You have no idea. Maybe because you've never done it, which is shocking in and of itself honestly.

Though, you think it's because he was certain you'd bite it off if you had the chance. Would you have? Definitely a possibility if he was being a real ass that day…

However, you want to see him unravel at your will tonight. Din has spent more than enough time figuring out what makes you come like crazy. You want to even the playing field and find what makes him go wild.

So, you take the time to diligently explore every inch of his cock with your tongue. You want him to get impatient. You want him to want you, which is why you meet his eyes the moment your lips wrap around the tip of his cock, sucking lightly.

"I'm going to fuck your face if you keep stalling like this." His words come out all airy. You can see how tight his body has gotten. He looks incredible like this.

"I thought you wanted me to enjoy myself." You pout at him. "I've never gotten to go down on you before…"

"Fine." He grunts, leaning back against the chair, giving you a better view of his body. "Do whatever you want."

You beam, a happy smile curving on your face. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me now. Thank me later when I go down on you in return."

Now, you have something to look forward to. But, you've got something more important to pay attention to at the moment.

You lick your lips, making sure he's watching when you finally sink your mouth onto his cock, taking him as far down as you can. His hand grips your hair tighter in response. You try not to gag when he hits the back of your throat but fuck, he's huge. It's going to take you a while to adjust.

You could say the same for him because he's breathing heavier now while he guides you gently with his voice, "you can do it. Don't force it. Go slow."

With a nod, you pull off him a bit before going back, fitting more of him down your throat this time. You repeat the process, sucking and licking along the way, and when you sneak a peek at him, he looks proud.

"Good girl. Keep going." He's letting out short huffs and it's so incredible to hear him breathless for once.

When you finally fit him completely down your throat, you hum, elated that you did it. He throbs in your mouth so you know he liked your little moment of joy.

"You look way too good on your knees like this in front of me." Din pulls you off of him by the hair, watching as you make a pop sound when your mouth moves away. "I want to burn this image into my mind."

"Tell me what you want and I'll do it." You give him the control you know he desires.

"Let me fuck your face until you're crying those tears I love so much." He's very upfront about it.

"Okay." You squeeze the hand he has in your hair. "Take over and use me for your pleasure, Din."

There's a moment where he just stares down at you, like he's reading your expression to see if you're being serious. You nod lightly to urge him to go ahead so he does. He forces your mouth down onto his cock, stuffing himself deep down your throat. You gag and the tears are building in your eyes uncontrollably.

Din lifts his hips just enough to start thrusting into your mouth, hitting the very back of your throat. It burns but you suffer through it, blinking away the tears that are streaming down your face.

"So fucking beautiful." He loves the sight of you like this. "Taking my cock so well, so deep in that pretty mouth."

You have to swallow the saliva that's building up and he groans when you do, feeling the tightness in your throat around his cock.

"Swallow just like that when I come." He instructs and you nod. "Don't waste a single drop."

It doesn't take him long after that. It's so hot, his release. It spills into your mouth all of a sudden and you almost don't swallow it all fast enough, some of it dripping out of your mouth. Din pulls you off of him to let you breathe so you can lick up the rest of it with your tongue, matching your heavy breaths with his own.

"Clean me up." He drags you back towards him and you take your time, swirling your tongue around his cock, tasting every bit of him. "What a good girl, making me come so much like that."

You lay your head on his lap and he pats your hair down neatly after having such a tight hold on it earlier. You like the feeling of his hand on your head. It's always so gentle and comforting.

After a few minutes of just idling like this, he goes, "let's go to bed."

Din helps you to your feet and then picks you up, making you chuckle as he carries you to bed. It feels almost romantic in a way. Your heart hasn't stopped beating like crazy and you know it's not going to end anytime soon.

Not when he's holding your legs open with his hands, staring down at your body. Why does he look so perfect hovering over you like this? Why do you like having him there?

"Look how wet you got from sucking my cock." He's vulgar as always, his fingers dipping into you to show you your own slick on them. Then, you watch him lick them clean, smiling. "I love the way you taste, almost as much as I love it when you come on my tongue."

"Stop stalling then or I might just have to fuck your face." You joke.

"Good idea." His words stun you as he lays down beside you, gesturing for you to climb on top of him. "Get up here and sit on my face."

"Din–" You can't protest when he's grabbing you by the waist and lugging you over to him.

"Hurry up, I'm starved." He growls with the hunger apparent in his voice.

You don't know why you're feeling a bit self conscious out of nowhere but you hesitate and he notices so his fingers slowly press lightly into your lower back, massaging it.

"You don't have to." He reassures you. "We can sleep now if you want."

"It's not that…" You sigh. "I just don't want to look at myself. I'm sorry."

Din lays you back on the bed, getting on top of you again, saying, "I'm not lying when I call you beautiful."

"I know." You hope that's real. "It's just hard sometimes, that's all."

You don't mind the bruises on your neck or the faint lines on your wrists from when he ties you up but the scars you permanently have from being locked up by those bandits, those haunt you. You try not to think about them but if you're looking down at Din, you can't not see them. It's why you close your eyes when he's between your legs. It's why you're okay with him fucking you from behind, stuffing your face into a pillow.

You don't have to look at yourself in those moments and remember.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault this happened to you." It's scary that you're unsure how genuine he's being.

"I'm the one who stole your ship." You note the facts.

"I'm the one who made you want to steal it in the first place." He states the truth.

"We can play this blame game all day, but it won't solve anything." You reach up, wanting to touch him a bit, to remind yourself that he's really here. "It happened. I'll get over it."

"You don't have to." He leans down, kissing one of the scars on your stomach. "Take your time processing what happened."

"It's been months, Din." The reality of your captivity is setting in.

You've really been with him for months now…

"You were tortured for a week. It took you more than a month to recover physically from what happened. You have every right to take as much time as you need to heal." His words should give you comfort but they just make you feel weak. He must see you retreating into yourself which is why he goes, "tell me what I can do to help."

"Tell me this is real." You choke back a sob. "Tell me you're being real and this isn't another trick because if it is, I can't handle the mental games right now. I want to take a break from that, for tonight."

"This has been real. I'm real. No tricks." Din looks right into your eyes as he swears, "I won't hold anything that happens tonight over you, I promise. Tell me what you want from me and I'll do it for you."

You hide your face in your hands, unable to hold back the tears any longer. Why does your heart ache terribly right now? Why do you want so much from him if he's offering it?

Why do you want him to love you?

It's stupid, but you just feel so alone sometimes. He's there, but he isn't at the same time. You both may be connected at times but it never feels real.

If it's real tonight, then you want all of him.

So, you choose for just one night to be selfish and say, "I want you to hold me like you would if we were in love. Just so I can pretend for a night that I can be loved."

You know he can't ask any questions, which is why you have the guts to be real with your desires. You don't need to give any reasons tonight.

And he doesn't ask for any. Instead, he answers, "you can be loved."

"Please show me." You plead to him. "If you truly believe that, make it known to me."

"I will." Din declares. "I'll show you what it means to be loved by me."

You wish you didn't cry when he started kissing you, but you did. It's hard to hold in your emotions when his lips are kissing yours so softly, like you're precious to him.

"Cry as much as you need to, my pretty little thief." He presses a kiss on each of your eyes after he wipes the tears away. "I'm here for you."

There's such a comfort in that. You can't explain it. You always felt like such a burden, crying so much at times. You're easily overwhelmed, which makes sense for your current situation, but it's still difficult to work through.

It's okay to feel tonight, so you let it all out. You allow yourself the freedom to be emotional when Din's hands run along your sides, caressing every part of you as if he worships your very existence. He couples every action with an affirmation.

"I've never met anyone as pretty as you."

"I love your body and the way you react to my touch."

"Nothing about you has changed at all, you're still you and you're all mine."

"You'll always be safe by my side, my pretty little thief. No one will ever hurt you again."

You admit to yourself how much you love being comforted by Din. He always knows what to do and what to say to make your pain disappear for a moment. Maybe that's why you don't close your eyes when he's between your legs.

You want to watch for once.

You witness the way he looks when his tongue finally has a taste of you, seeing the pure delight. He catches you staring and says, "put your hands in my hair and let me show you how much I love making you feel good."

You nod, listening to his orders, lacing your fingers through his soft curls. You pull at them playfully and he grins all too sweetly at you, like you both are actually lovers having fun together. You don't hold back your tears in reaction.

You want this to be real so badly. That way, you wouldn't have to deal with the heartache when it's over, because it wouldn't be over. But, this moment won't last. It never does, but you can hope, right?

"I don't want tonight to end." You let out a quiet sob with your words.

Somehow, you can almost feel the longing in his voice as he goes, "me too."

Does it have to? You can't ask questions, but if you could, that's what you'd ask him.

"I want more moments like this." You say that instead.

"We'll have them." He breathes out another promise. "So, don't think this is the end. This is just the beginning."

After that, Din begins getting closer to you and you open up more, inviting him in. If this isn't the end, if this can happen again, then you want to revel in as many of these moments as he's willing to give you. You won't shy away from them anymore.

"There's my pretty girl." He smiles at you. "You look good, spreading your legs for me like that."

"You'd look better if you quit stalling." You smile back.

He doesn't keep you waiting anymore. You adjust yourself a bit so you're sitting up more. You want to see everything today. He gives you quite the show on purpose, his tongue dipping inside of you all of a sudden. You gasp, not prepared to feel him fill you up in that way.

You squirm a little when he presses his thumb against your clit, flicking it back and forth as his tongue slips in and out of you. The wet sounds make you feel embarrassed and you instinctively squeeze your legs shut but he doesn't let you close up. His arms are keeping you in his grasp and you whine a little in response.

"You're being naughty." He calls you out on your display of protest. "You need to stay still if you want to come."

"You're too noisy." The comment slips from your lips and he laughs.

"It's not my fault you're this wet." His tongue finds its way inside of you again. He purposefully makes a loud slurping sound and you scream, tugging at his hair.

"Stop doing that!" You glare at him and he hides his smirk in your thigh.

"You're really cute when you act shy." He taunts you and it reminds you of his true nature.

Of course he's acting like this. You should've expected it. He enjoys getting on your nerves!

"You know what to do if you want it." Din waits for you to beg and you hate him for it but you want it too much not to.

"Please don't leave me hanging anymore. I want you." You pull him back towards you by the hair and your eyes roll back instantly the moment his tongue is on you again. "Yes, just like that, please don't stop."

You have no idea how much you unknowingly crave the feeling of him like this. The need has built up from all those times he's done this to comfort you that you can only ever associate it with comfort. Your body gets all warm, your toes curl, your back arches and your hips grind against his face because you keep wanting more.

"Fuck, if you keep doing that, I'm never going to stop." He's aggressive with his words but you love it. "There's nothing better than seeing you give in to the pleasure I can give you."

Real or not real? You don't know and you're too afraid to contemplate it…

So, you just keep drowning in it, "please give me more. I want so much more, Din."

You don't fall asleep until many, many hours later. He ravaged you in the most tender ways, coaxing orgasms out of you with such ease. He truly showed you what it meant to be loved by him.

Everything was just perfect.

The way he smiled when you kissed him, the way he held you close as he fucked you, the way he told you all these caring words that made your heart swell tenfold, you couldn't have dreamed of a better night with him.

It's only when you wake up that you wonder if it was a dream or a nightmare.

Will the memories of last night haunt you? You fear they will because they will make you want something you cannot have. Him.

That's why when you wake up and he's still asleep, you get up from the bed and go into the bath. You sit in the water, sobbing your eyes out. You just need some time alone. You just need a moment to process what happened.

But, the more you think about last night, the more the ache in your heart eats away at you.

I wish things were different. He said that, but you can't find it in your soul to believe him.

It's worse that you think it wasn't all a trick because if it was real, then…could he love you? No, no, stop!

You can't think like that! It'll only break you apart more and that's what he wants! He's toying with you, trying to convince you to fall in love with him. That's all this is. Stop thinking otherwise.

The Mandalorian hates you. You hate him. You are his slave and he is your Master.

You're bound to him…but not right now.

You graze your bare neck with your fingers. He never put the collar back on. You can run right now. He's asleep. You know Daiyu. You can find a cargo ship to hitch a ride in.

You can run far away from him and never look back.

So, why don't you do it? Why are you hesitating? Why are you sitting in this fucking bath, crying because you don't want to go?

You don't want to be a slave but you don't want to leave him either. You're torn.

Are you not strong enough to run away anymore?

No, it has nothing to do with strength and has everything to do with this stupid hope of yours.

It's stupid. So fucking stupid. But you hope for a better future. You hope that what he said last night was real and that you two will have more moments like that and maybe…just maybe…you'll only have moments like that.

No more games, no more hate sex, no more heartache.

Just love.

You laugh at yourself over how dumb you sound. Anyone would think so. You're like a storybook princess trapped in the highest tower by the deadliest of creatures and yet you've fallen in love with the beast that's holding you captive.

Why? Because he cares about you sometimes?

Ridiculous.

You curl into yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. You breathe bubbles into the water so that you don't have to hear your own sighs anymore.

That's when the door opens suddenly, slamming against the wall. You jolt in response, your heart racing from the loud noise. You turn and…

"Why the fuck weren't you in bed?" The Mandalorian's modulated voice catches you by surprise.

He's dressed in his full armor. Why is he dressed? Why is he breathing so heavily?

Why does he have his hand around your throat, lifting you up out of the bath until you're standing straight? You wince at the feeling, the swirling thoughts in your mind shattering in an instant.

This is the real him. Why were you trying so hard to believe otherwise?

"Answer me." He loosens his grip just a bit to let you speak.

"I-I didn't want to wake you with my sobs." The tears are flowing back down your eyes. "I'm sorry. I should've–"

"I thought you left me again."

What? You blink away your tears so you can look at him but you see nothing except your reflection in his helmet.

What face is he making under there? Is that why he's dressed? Was he going to go look for you, in case you had run away?

"I'm right here." You touch his helmet with your wet hand, watching as the water glistens the beskar. "I'm not going anywhere."

Din pulls his hand away from your neck, letting you breathe again. Then, he goes, "never leave my side like that again. Do you hear me? Answer your Master."

"Yes, Master." You're back to being his slave again. "I won't do that again. I'm sorry."

Before you can ask any questions, the collar latches around your neck once again and you hear it seal shut. That might have been your only chance to run and you gave it up over a night of pretending.

"Are we heading out soon?" You should probably get out of the bath now.

"Yes, so hurry up." He throws a towel at you and you catch it against your chest, the force of his throw winding you slightly.

You can tell he's angry and you muffle a sigh into the towel. Din watches over you the entire time, not letting you out of his sight. You get dressed in the outfit he has picked for you, since it has to match the other slaves' attire.

You're thankful it's at least a bit modest compared to the kind of outfits you've seen before, but if it weren't for the silky white robe you're wearing that covers your scarred up body, your breasts would be practically hanging out and your ass too. You aren't wearing underwear underneath this robe, just a loose négligée. You hope wherever he's taking you, it's at least warm…

"Listen carefully." He pulls you onto his lap in that chair you sat him in yesterday. "No one, and I mean no one, gets to touch you except for me. If they do, they're dead. Got it?"

You swallow nervously. "Do you…expect them to?"

"I don't trust any of these fuckers and no one would miss them if they were dead so if they even look at you provocatively, I will kill them." His words send shivers up your spine.

Would the Mandalorian really murder for you? You have no clue if he's just over-exaggerating but then you remember the carnage from when he slaughtered those bandits. You know what he's capable of. You just choose to be ignorant at times.

"Stay by my side and you'll be safe. I won't let anything happen to you." He tries to be comforting but you're as stiff as a board right now.

"C-can I look at you for a second?" You don't know where that comes from but it spills out of your mouth before you can think it through.

He doesn't answer verbally. He just nods his head so you go to lift his helmet up, looking at his face underneath.

Then, you lean in and you kiss him. Why? You can't seem to reason through it, but you do it anyway. You want to remind yourself that he's not a monster, even if he has to be sometimes.

Din slips the helmet back on the moment your lips part from his so you couldn't see the look on his face. Maybe that's for the best.

"Let's go." He picks you up and helps you back to your feet.

You follow him out of the hotel and once you're both in a dark alleyway, Din flicks his cuff and the link to your collar appears. You touch it out of curiosity, since it looks like it would sting, but it just feels like a normal wire, which is surprising considering the electricity buzzing around it.

"It isn't designed to hurt you. It's for the other people who want to steal you from me."

You're shocked, pun intended, but in a way, you're grateful he purposefully doesn't want to electrocute you. Though, he did mention before that the collar could zap the shit out of you if he willed it so. Best not to think about that right now.

The Mandalorian pulls on your leash and you choke just a little from the tug, trying to get used to being led around like a pet out for a walk. It takes you a bit of stumbling but you figure out how to walk properly at his pace like this.

You both sift through the shadows and it creeps you out that you're inching closer and closer to a darker part of the city. Illicit activities have to happen somewhere. You aren't an innocent child. You're a grown adult who has seen the horrors of the universe and yet witnessing it firsthand still kills you inside.

You and Din walk down a set of well-maintained metal stairs and the moment you see them sprawled out in the swanky lobby space, you want to cry. You keep your eyes down but the visual floods your mind. This place, whatever it is, it's not a place for people who treat others well. It's a place for the worst of the worst, a place where Masters can openly do things to their slaves that you're opting not to think about. It'll find its way into your dreams if you let it affect you.

"How may I help the two of you today?"

You look up to meet the eyes of a human woman like yourself. She can't be much older than you. She has her own collar, with her own Master standing right behind her, her chain wrapped around their waist. Much like the Mandalorian, her Master is covered from head to toe so you have no idea if they're human too. You try not to think much of it.

"We're looking for someone." Din answers for you, as he should in this scenario. "They call themselves the Owner."

"Ah yes." She nods at you both but her eyes catch yours rather nervously as she asks, "are you looking to buy or sell today?"

What? You gulp. The Mandalorian wouldn't sell you…would he? You turn to him but he doesn't look at you.

He just faces her and says, "I'm looking to negotiate."

Well, that's not comforting in the slightest. Fuck, should you have ran? What was all this talk about protecting you if he's putting you up for auction? Unless you're bait for something, in which case it would've been nice to know…

"I will let him know that you're interested in placing an offer." She nods at him. "You can wait in the private business lounge, it's right through those doors over there. He'll find you when he's available."

The helmet nods and you nearly don't catch yourself in time as he drags you by the neck over in that direction. Thankfully you didn't trip, though maybe he wanted you to. You're so anxious now, you could throw up.

You know he has to act cold to match the other slave Masters, but you wish he would say something.

Is that asking too much? Probably.

When you both get to the doors to the lounge, he shoves you forward and you take that as a signal to open the doors for him. You're really being treated like a slave right now and it doesn't feel good at all.

You bite back your feelings over the situation as you look at the lounge and forcefully hold in your puke. You're going to be sick. You're suddenly so nauseous just looking at the sight in front of you.

That's why you uncontrollably squeeze your eyes shut and whimper when you hear someone crack a whip against one of their slaves while screaming profanities at them. The whipping doesn't stop and the other slave Masters present are cheering.

What could the slave have done to deserve that?

You look at them, hunched over on their knees, with their back slashed open.

Does your back look like that? It must.

There are people looking at you now, seeing how obviously disheartened you are by what's going on. Though, they might just be checking you out. Their eyes are glazing over your body and you feel awfully naked despite wearing clothes.

"Stop staring." The Mandalorian speaks up and you don't know if he was talking to you or them as he pulls at your chain. "Let's go sit down."

He leads you over to an empty booth away from the center of the action and pulls you onto his lap, flicking off your leash. You settle your arms around his neck and you're overcome with the need to be held so you hug him, sobbing into his neck. You feel his gloved hand sneak beneath your robe so he can rub your back.

"It'll be over soon." He whispers rather kindly.

"I'm scared." Your voice comes out so shaky. "I don't want to be here."

"I know. I'm sorry." He uses his other hand to lift your head out of his shoulder so he can look at you. "You're okay, though. I'm not going to hurt you like that and none of these fuckers will either."

Sadly, the Mandalorian has spoken a little too soon because someone joins the two of you in the secluded booth. You tense up when you hear their footsteps. Whoever it is sits down on the bench across. You wish there was a table separating you and them but there isn't. It's just two couches in a walled off square, facing each other.

"Aww, sweetheart, is your Master making you cry?" The man's mocking voice instills such fear into your soul. "Why don't you come play with me instead? We can trade for a moment. I'm sure he'll enjoy my bitch better. She isn't a crybaby like you."

"Not interested." His modulated voice vibrates so close to your ear and you have to hold in your sigh of relief.

It's not like Din would ever trade you, right?

"Oh, come on now. It looks like you only have that one bitch. Aren't you tired of fucking the same cunt? Go over there and help this man out for me." The man must be talking to his slave because she walks over and you look up to see her.

She…there's nothing in her eyes, like she's lost all hope for her situation. Will that be you someday? You bite back another whimper.

"I said I'm not interested." Din is firmer now, but that doesn't matter.

Not when this man's slave shoves you off of his lap and you drop to the hard metal floor with a thud. The man looks down at you and you turn away from him, not wanting to see what he looks like, not wanting to remember his face so he can haunt your dreams.

"Haven't you taught her properly?" The man scolds Din. "What kind of bitch can't service a Master when he asks?"

Suddenly, you're being grabbed by the hair and yanked in the opposite direction, away from the Mandalorian. You scream, but the man clamps his hand over your mouth before you can make much sound.

"Shut up, annoying whiny bitch. Don't act like you don't like this." He growls in your ear and you want to die.

You can feel him harden beneath you, grinding up against you. When did he pull you onto his lap?

You're not wearing anything underneath, which makes you feel all too much. He could just–

The man drops you out of his hold all of a sudden and you fall to the ground once again. You don't want to glance up and look at him but you don't know why he let you go. Not until you see the blade being held to the man's neck and Din's the one holding it.

"She's not interested." He clarifies, gesturing for you to get away from the man.

You scramble back to your original seat and you turn to look at the other slave, who is cowering in terror. You wonder what Din said to her that made her so frightened.

"She must suck your cock real good. I've never seen a Master become such a bitch for his slave." The man laughs maniacally at Din, like he's not afraid of dying.

"Laugh at me again and see what happens." The knife gets pressed harder against the man's neck, but he doesn't back down.

"You can't kill me, Mandalorian. I'm protected by all the other slave Masters here." He flaunts his connections and then threatens, "if you kill me, they'll kill you, but not until after they rape and murder your precious little slave in front of you."

The helmet shifts to look at you and you're trying to keep it together but all the trauma is consuming you slowly. You don't want to die here, not like that.

"You're really pissing me off." Din looks away from you then, turning fully to the man. "I'm going to give you a chance to apologize before you're dead meat."

"I wouldn't fuck with me." A devilish smile curves onto his face. "I'm the Owner, after all."

"Does it look like I give a shit who you are?" The fury in the Mandalorian's voice is ever present and you're surprised the Owner isn't budging. You're well aware of the kind of man he's angering right now.

The Owner offers a deal instead. "I can still let you walk out of here alive if you give me the girl. She seems fun. I bet she's a good f–"

There isn't a single ounce of hesitation in Din's actions after that. He proceeds to stuff his gloved hand into the Owner's mouth, pulling his tongue out. With a clean swipe of his blade, he chops it right off. The Owner tries to scream but Din just shoves his tongue down his throat to silence him.

"Will you shut the fuck up?" He groans with annoyance over the Owner's panic. You think he's actually choking on his own tongue. "I'm not interested in what you have to say. Not from the mouth of a disgusting man like you."

"They're going to kill you." The slave beside you says with such anxiety building in her voice. "There's no way you're going to get through all those Masters."

"I’ll deal with them." The Mandalorian throws you something. "You need to help her and the others."

It's…a lockpicking set.

Wait, does he want you to–

A bullet narrowly misses you, scraping your cheek all of a sudden. The air stings the newly formed cut and you can feel the blood dripping down your face.

Where the fuck did that come from? Then, you see it.

The Owner had pulled out a blaster and tried to kill you. That makes Din very angry.

"Oh, I'm going to have a lot of fun killing you." He tells the Owner, knocking the blaster away from him. "But for now, I need to deal with your friends so…"

You watch as Din takes his blade and stabs the man right in the groin, driving the blade deep enough to pierce the couch. The Owner is being held to his seat by the balls, literally.

"We'll deal with him later. Can you get the others out?" The helmet shifts to you.

"I-I can try, but is there an exit?" You turn to ask the slave.

She nods. "I know where it is. I can lead them there if you can get us out of our collars, but we all need to make it out of this lounge first."

You quickly fumble with the lockpicking set and once you see the kind of lock her collar has, you pick it with ease. She breathes a sigh of relief when it pops off. Then, you watch as the slave goes up to her former Master and she uses her foot to drive the knife further into him, causing him to scream more profusely.

"Fuck you." She spits in his face. "Fuck you and all these other Masters for stealing us from our homes. You'll never live to see another day."

He tries to grab her but she steps back in time, the fear resetting in her face. Her confidence weakens and you get up to take a hold of her, telling her, "you're safe now. He can't hurt you anymore."

She looks at you with a thankful expression, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

"What's your name?" You ask her.

"Willa." She says back like she can't believe the sound of her own name.

How long was she held captive by him? You don't even want to know.

"We need to go now." The Mandalorian pulls out the DarkSaber, the sight of the black glow giving you goosebumps. "Stick behind me and then meet me back here once you've gotten them all out."

You nod at him and then grab Willa's hand, pulling her behind you. She huddles close as you all exit the booth and there are more than a handful of blasters pointing at the three of you.

Oh, that's just lovely.

"Look, Mandalorian, we don't need this to get all bloody." One of the slave Masters waves his gun at you and Willa. "Just hand us the girls."

"Point your gun at her one more time and it'll be your blood that I drain first." Din grips the DarkSaber and positions himself to take on all these Masters.

That particular Master jokingly points the gun back at you and in the matter of seconds, his hand is sliced off and the sound of his screams echoes through the lounge.

"I'm going to enjoy gutting you later." The Mandalorian says, spinning his blade in his hand. "Who's next?"

Before long, an array of blaster shots decorate the room. The sound of them hitting his beskar rings in your ears and you hold tightly onto Willa, hoping she doesn't accidentally get injured in the process.

While Din fights off the Masters, you guide Willa over to the other slaves who have been left to fend for themselves, helping them out of their restraints. You try not to watch as body parts fly all around the room and people get chopped in half.

There's so much carnage and it feels never-ending.

Guts spill out right next to you which causes you to jump and you feel a gloved hand on your neck, startling you as you're pulled away from the body.

"The exit is clear." Din gestures to the double doors. "You can take them out now."

You can't do much besides nod and Willa follows you out with the rest of the slaves you've helped. You all have to dodge shots as you make your exit because there are waves of people coming in to prolong this fight. You hope Din will be okay but at the same time, you wonder why you're rooting for him to make it through this.

What makes him any different than the Masters he's killing?

You don't pay too much mind to that thought as Willa shows you where the slaves that are being put up for auction are being held so you help them get out of their restraints. Then, she shows them all to the exit so you give them instructions on how to stow away on a cargo ship that will hopefully take them somewhere far away from here. You urge Willa to go with the group because you still have to go back and free the slaves who may have gotten stuck with their Masters.

"But, what about you?" She asks and you give her a faint smile.

"I'll be okay, so go." You say as confidently as you can, though you aren't completely sure if you will be okay after all this.

"I'm sorry for shoving you earlier. I had to–"

"Don't apologize. It wasn't in your control but now you're free. Don't look back, okay?" You squeeze her shoulder, nudging her to go on. She gives you a hug before leaving to guide the others using your orders.

You turn back to this horrendous place and you feel…different.

You don't know what it is about the sight of all these Masters, bleeding out on the floor, crying out for help that will never come. Maybe it's the fact that you had just witnessed them abusing their slaves and now they're being left for dead.

There's an odd sense of justice that courses through you and you can't say you don't like it. It gives you a kind of rush, to see such horrible people dead.

Is that bad? Morally, probably.

You shake yourself out of these thoughts to go help the slaves that are chained to their dead Masters. You give them the same instructions as you did the previous group and they all follow you out to the exit. The woman who spoke with you and Din earlier asks you if you're really going back and you tell her that you have to.

Just because you freed them, doesn't mean you're free.

You come back to see that the lobby is filled with cut up bodies. There's limbs everywhere. Blood everywhere. It stains the floors and your shoes as you walk over body after body.

Some of these bodies don't have eyes anymore. Din must have gouged them out. You realize those specific bodies are the ones that looked at you like you were a hunk of meat when you came in with him.

That's…definitely one way to send a message.

You walk over to the double doors that lead into the lounge. There, the Mandalorian waits for you, spinning a blade between his fingertips like he's bored. As if murdering all these people was just another day on the job. That should frighten you, but it doesn't.

It reminds you of the kind of power he holds. He's a Mandalorian. He's a bounty hunter. He's capable of this level of slaughter without even breaking a sweat. He's just that good at what he does.

His presence before you is so impactful, so dominating that the previous rush you felt fills your senses again and you don't know what to make of the tingling that's surging through you.

Especially not when he hands you the blade he's been holding and says, "do whatever you want to him."

Din gestures to the Owner, who is still alive and fully conscious. You're taken back by the offer, saying, "I-I don't know what to do…"

"Anything." Din tells you, the spite building in his voice. "He wronged you, violated you, touched you. I'm going to kill him, but before I do, you can do whatever you want to him. Slice him up. Poke his eyes out. Make him eat his own cock, though that's kind of difficult to do now but you still could."

Anything. You look over at the man who tried to assault you. The man who grabbed you and forced you onto his lap, spitting profane things at you. The man who called Din a bitch.

You don't know where the rage comes from. It's partially from the fact that you never got closure for the bandits. You didn't get to do this to them for hurting you, but you can get your retribution now for the hurt this man caused.

So, you do.

You walk over to the Owner and look him right in the eyes and say, "now look who's crying, bitch."

You take the knife and stab him right in the hands that he used to grab your hair and silence you. You smile as he cries from the pain of you pulling the blade out, his blood splattering all over your white robe. Then, you do the same to each of his thighs for making you sit on his grimy lap and having to feel his erection under you. You finish by taking the blade that's been pinning him to the couch out, marveling at the way the blood is pooling between his legs.

Why does this feel so good? You feel incredible, having this kind of power, being able to inflict this kind of pain on someone who has wronged you. You have never hurt someone like this before but this just feels right.

Once you've finished dealing your damage to the Owner, you turn to Din, who has been watching you this entire time, and you ask, "will you kill him the way I want him to die?"

"Of course." He waits patiently for you to pick what that is.

You like that the Mandalorian wants to listen to you. You like that such a powerful man is willing to hear your thoughts and do your bidding as he sees fit. It's a nice feeling. Rewarding, almost.

"I want you to slit his throat slowly. For Willa." You drag the dull side of the blade along the Owner's neck before handing it back to Din. "And for all the other slaves he has hurt."

"As you wish, my pretty little thief." He pats you on the head and then kneels in front of the Owner until they're eye level with one another. "Remember when you called me her bitch? I'm not her bitch. I'm her Master and this is how you should treat a very good girl, by listening to her when she wants someone dead."

Lesson learned: never touch what isn't yours.

With that, Din slices his throat open ever so slowly. The blood gushes out with every inch of his skin ripping apart. His eyes shut once his neck is fully slit and then he's dead. Such a wave of relief washes over you as Din gets up and tucks the knife away before opening his arms.

You immediately run and hug him, not even minding all the blood on his armor that's getting all over you. You look up at him and say gratefully, "thank you for freeing those slaves."

"Do you feel better now that you've let off some steam?" He asks as he brushes your hair back, his helmet tilted down to look at you.

You nod. "Is that bad?"

"No." He shakes his head. "He deserved it and you needed the release."

That's true in more ways than one because as you and Din leave that place and walk through the dark alleys again, the adrenaline flooding your veins makes you crave him, so much so that you stop walking all of a sudden. He turns to you, obviously puzzled by your actions.

That, and your words. "I need you, Din."

"We should get cleaned up." He reasons with you but you pull him closer to you, grabbing him by the helmet.

"I need you right now, just like this, buried deep inside of me, fucking me like you own me." You're the demanding one for once.

"I do own you." He reminds you and you smile.

"Prove it." You lift your robe up ever so slightly, flashing the way you're completely bare underneath. "Take what's yours."

There's a moment of silence between the two of you where all you hear are the sounds of the busy streets nearby. It doesn't take long for something to happen.

You're so wet that when he thrusts himself inside of you all of a sudden, you don't feel anything but the greatest surge of pleasure. You wrap your arms around his neck as he grabs your hips, lifting you up and pressing you against the wall of the alleyway. You don't even care if anyone can hear you. You don't hold your voice back, wanting Din to know exactly how good you feel being fucked by him.

There's just something about him, something about the way you have to be taken by him right now. You can't explain it but it's almost like a primal need to give yourself to someone with the capability to protect you, to kill for your sake, to defend your livelihood.

You're completely overwhelmed by him and his power over you.

"Harder." You want more. "Please."

"Tell me you're mine and I'll fuck you so hard, your knees will give out from coming so much." He commands and you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm just from that.

"I'm yours. I've been yours." You say it like it's the only truth you know. "I'm never leaving you."

"You'll never be able to." Din pulls out of you and you cry out from the loss, having been ripped away from your orgasm. "I own you completely now. You need me."

"I do. I need you, please." You grind against him, wishing he would just slip back inside.

He doesn't, not until he flips you around, pushing your body into the wall, with his hand wrapped around your neck. He drives his cock back inside of you from behind, squeezing your throat the moment he hits that spot deep inside of you, and you completely melt. He fucks you through your orgasm and you lean back into him, loving every second of it.

"That's it, good girl. How does it feel to be fucked out in the open by your Master?" He asks in such a degrading tone of voice but it sends such a thrill through you.

"It feels so good. Please don't stop." You beg, handing yourself over to him entirely.

Thankfully, Din listens and he keep fucking you until you're dripping with his release and when he finally lets go of you, you drop right to the ground. Your legs can't hold you up anymore and you're breathing like you've never tasted air before. There's so much spilling out between your legs and you're shaking all over.

The Mandalorian kneels down in front of you, his hand gripping your chin so you're staring right at him. He brushes his thumb along your bottom lip and you open your mouth slightly, panting from how hard you came because of him. You can taste blood and leather when his fingers slip into your mouth but you don't mind it for some reason. You just keep looking right up at your Master, letting him do whatever he wants to you. His helmet tilts up and down, like he's trying to memorize the way you look after being fucked out of your mind here of all places.

Then, he says in a voice so low that it shakes you to the very core, "I like this version of you very much. We're going to have a lot more fun together from now on."

You have no clue why those words make you both terribly afraid and extremely aroused at the same time but you kind of like the feeling.

A lot more than you should…

A/N: Come to the dark side, we have cookies (and murder!) ~ ♡ 

All jokes aside, I guess you could say Din is a very bad influence! Though, ethics/morals in this universe are a bit different so who's to say what you did is all that bad when your Master is a bloodthirsty bounty hunter? I wonder who's corrupting who. He's definitely softening up to you, but what does that really mean in this kind of scenario? I guess we'll have to wait and see! 

Also, I would like to note in the original draft for this chapter, you and Din were supposed to do the deed in the same room with all the murder but I was like hmm maybe that's a bit much? Can't tell what's "too much" anymore for this story honestly LMAO but I wanted to let y'all know this could've been a lot crazier (do I regret not keeping the first draft? maybe…)

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[painsandconfusion-moved-shoo]

Punishment, Gaslighting, and Aftercare

(tw: emotional manipulation, knives)

“That’s it, let it all out.” Whumper cooed, stroking Whumpee’s hair softly away from their eyes and idly brushing away their tears.

Whumpee jerked away reflexively when Whumper’s hand skimmed down to their throat. “Dont touch me.”

“Whumpee…are you…mad at me?”

Whumpee looked up at Whumper to see their face filled with genuine concern. “Are you kidding me?”

“Look, I know it hurts, but you-”

“You cut me.”

“You needed it.”

Whumpee didn’t pull away as Whumper’s fingers slowly wove back through their hair. It felt nice. Warm and soft in contrast with the sharp hot pain striking down their arm. “I didn’t need that.” It seemed true, but it felt like a lie as it slipped through their lips.

“Oh, Whumpee,” Whumper cooed, cupping Whumpee’s cheeks in both hands and tipping their face up. “Yes you did. You need structure. You need boundaries. You are so so lost right now. I want to help you.”

Whumpee’s tears pooled at Whumper’s fingers, but they didn’t seem to mind; their soft eyes never left Whumpee’s. So close. Too close. Blood dripped warm down Whumpee’s skin. They screwed their eyes shut.

“I don’t need your help. You aren’t Caretaker. It’s not your job.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Whumper whispered softly, “Can’t you see Catetaker is the reason you are so broken?” Whumper pulled Whumpee close in a gentle embrace.

Whumpee’s skin crawled as Whumper’s fingers wrapped around their shoulders, but it was so warm. So soft. So familiar. Whumpee tried to pull back, but instead they choked out a sob and curled into Whumper’s chest.

“There you go, love. Let it all out.” Whumper gripped them tighter as they shook and sobbed, not seeming to mind the blood and tears soaking through their shirt. “Caretaker broke you so badly that you don’t know who you are or what choices to make anymore. There’s so many choices, aren’t there?”

Whumpee nodded against Whumper’s chest, still shaking.

“So many choices. Such a big world.” Whumpee melted into Whumper further as they rubbed their back in soothing circles. “There’s too many thoughts fighting for control in your head. You’re too broken and weak right now to tame them all. But that’s okay. You have me. I can help you.”

Whumper gently but firmly gripped Whumpee’s shoulders and pushed them back. Whumpee let their head drop, eyes still pinned shut, not wanting Whumper to see their ugly crying. Whumper used one finger to tip their face up. Whumpee reluctantly opened their eyes, gazing up at Whumper as they whispered, “You are so weak right now. But I can help. Do you want me to help you?”

Whumpee choked out another sob, but Whunper’s finger under their chin wouldn’t let them drop eye contact, pushing back up when they tried to pull away.

Their eyes locked again. “Y-yes. Please. I’m so tired.”

Whumper gave them small, warm smile. “Of course I will help you. I love you so much.” Whumper pulled Whumpee back into an embrace. Whumpee wrapped their arms around Whumper’s waist, clinging to them pathetically as their sobs started fresh.

“There’s always too many thoughts in your head. They’re all such bad thoughts. Caretaker did this to you. Caretaker lied to you. Caretaker is the reason you’re a sobbing pathetic mess.”

Whumpee felt Whumper’s lips dip down to their ear as they spoke more softly. “But I don’t care. I love you no matter how broken you are. I will never quit. I will never give up on you like they did. We are going to fix you.”

Whumpee shook their head in small, jerky motions. “You can’t fix me.”

Whumper pulled back, taking Whumpee’s hands in theirs. “Of course I can,” they said earnestly. “I’ll give you new thoughts. Better thoughts. Easy thoughts. We will have to start from scratch since you are so far gone, but I promise I will never give up on you. You’ll be perfect again someday, you just need to trust me.” Whumper squeezed their hands lightly. “Give your all to me, and I can help you. Can you do that, Whumpee?”

Whumpee squeezed their hands back. They didn’t deserve this. Whumper had so much to worry about without having to save them. But. Whumpee was so alone. So very alone. No one else cared enough to try…and if Whumper really believed they could fix them….

“Yes.”

Whumper gave them a broad, sparkling smile. “I’m so glad to hear that. We are going to get you all better.” Whumper’s right hand released Whumpee, their fingers trailing up their arm to the cuts instead. “But if I’m going to make you better, you need to learn to accept punishment when you deserve it. It’s the only way you will grow. Do you understand?”

Whunpee’s cuts burned slightly under Whumper’s fingertips. Strangely, they felt freer after the pain. Like a wrong had been righted. A blessed sense of closure. At first it was just pain, but now a calm, thorough exhaustion washed over them in a warm embrace. “I understand,” they said softly, eyes tracing the red gashes in their skin. There was a strange beauty in them.

“That’s good. Now let’s talk about this one.” Whumper stood up smoothly, crossing the room to fetch a washcloth and bowl of water they had prepared and left on the table.

The sudden silence was uncomfortable as Whumpee was left on the floor. The moment Whumper had pulled away, Whumpee felt cold and so very alone.

They tried to mask their discomfort as they scrubbed drying tears away from their cheeks. “What do you want me to talk about?”

Whumper turned back to them, warm cloth in hand, and knelt down. Whumpee offered their mutilated arm up when Whumper held out their hand, palm up.

“I want to make sure you understand why you were punished so you can learn from this experience.” Whumpee winced as Whumper gently dabbed blood away from the edges of the gashes.

“Okay,” Whumpee said, twitching - trying not to pull away. The cloth stung, but Whumper was being so kind, they didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

“So, what did you do wrong?”

Whumpee’s cheeks burned, remembering that afternoon. “I tried to call Caretaker.”

“And why did you do that?” Whumper twisted their arm to wipe the underside.

Whumpee paused, trying to find the right phrasing. “I think I just missed them. I thought they might take me back. I missed how they would-” Whumpee hissed as Whumper’s fingers pressed into a cut.

White hot pain shot up their arm.

They tried to pull away, but Whumper’s other hand locked down in their wrist like a vice. Whumpee panted, trying to writhe away as Whumper’s dark eyes bored into theirs. “You’re hurting me!”

Whumper spoke in crisp clear words, their face flat and emotionless, but their eyes burning. “Dont. Don’t think about them like that. Caretaker broke you. Caretaker set you up for failure time and time again. Caretaker is the reason you are such a mess right now. Those are bad thoughts. And bad thoughts need to be stopped. Do you understand?”

Whumpee blinked back a new round of tears and stammered as Whumper’s fingers pushed further into the cut. They couldn’t pull away, Whumper was too strong. They sputtered, “Yes. Yes! Please. I understand. Please let go!”

Whumper immediately pulled away and placed the warm cloth, soft and soothing, over the gash. It had started bleeding again.

Whumper let out a soft sigh. “I love you too much to let you think things like that. We are going to relate bad thoughts with pain, okay? This will help you correct that confusion - to slay those poisonous thoughts. Does that make sense?”

Whumpee pulled their arm back and Whumper let them this time. They should be mad, right? They should be…something?

All they felt was tired. Tired and relieved.

“Okay.”

Whumper gave that that wide, lovely smile again. So lovely and warm that Whumpee almost smiled back. “See? You’re already learning. You’re already healing. Don’t think I don’t see how hard this is for you. You are doing so well, and I’m incredibly proud of you.”

Whumpee couldn’t help but smile back at that, a blush flooding up their cheeks. “Thank you.” Whumper didn’t respond, raising their eyebrows slightly. That wasn’t enough. “Really, thank you. For this. For everything.”

Whumper grinned even wider. “It’s my pleasure. I’ll always be ready to help you. Never doubt that.” They patted their thighs and stood up. “Now let’s get you to bed. You’ve made so much progress in the past few hours, I’m sure you’re exhausted after such a big day.”

The thought of a warm soft bed made Whumpee realize just how tired they were. Their muscles sagged and complained. Their throat even hurt from screaming and from tears. They must have screamed a lot…

Whumper seemed to read their mind. “Hey now,” they said, taking Whunpee’s good hand to pull them to their feet, “Don’t dwell on it. Your punishment is over. Learn from it and move on. We will get you bandaged up and you’ll be good as new. I think you’ll sleep better tonight after all this. It’s good to go to bed with a clean conscience, don’t you think?”

Whumpee teetered a moment before finding their balance, holding tight to Whumper’s arm until their vision cleared. A bed sounded so nice right now. Properly exhausted, Whumpee agreed they would sleep well. They nodded sleepily and Whumper took their hand.

“Good. Now let’s get you to bed.”

( @missglumcakes-whump got me thinking about caretakers again lol. Though her caretaker are much less���well. Whumpy and awful.)

[cinnamonest]

Yandere Profile - Izuku Midoriya/Deku (BNHA/MHA)

I'm showing up in tags again yay! Time to repost this

Finally I am dishing out MHA content and kicking off with one of my favorite boys nice

TWs: Fem!Reader, Yandere, kidnapping, delusional mindsets, infantilization, mentions of violence/mutilation, mentions of murder, mentions of fake suicide, n//s//fw themes/mentions/brief content, mentions of virginity/sex shaming, dark content, mentions of a high school setting

TWs (n//s//fw section/below the cut): noncon, brief dealing with/mentions of past sex trauma, generally depraved/dark content, pain content, infantilization What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

High key delusional. (I think everyone I've seen in the yan bnha community agrees on this lmao.) But really, he acts that way because he's not naturally that way - he has to make an active effort to lie to himself and to you in order to believe his delusions.

Obsessive. I mean, look at what this boy does to his heroes. You bet he has an entire notebook dedicated to your existence. It starts off simple, an entry regarding your quirk if you have one, or perhaps he feels compelled to write a simple entry about someone he met if you don't. Gradually it turns into a log of all his encounters with you, his observations of your day, his thoughts about you, a strict schedule of what you do. The things you do while he watches - you KNOW the boy is a stalker. He has a folder in his phone gallery of just quick snaps he's taken of you walking around, smiling, laughing, looking at your phone, lots of pictures from the back, sleeping at your desk, and a few more risky ones. The time he accidentally walked into the wrong shower room after a class and just happened to catch you getting out of the shower. Slightly blurry pictures through the window of the girls dorm of you getting dressed, laying in bed, sitting at your desk doing homework. Dark, barely visible images of your sleeping form just barely illuminated by moonlight. You really ought to lock those windows.

He's on the border where he's just comfortable enough to talk to you, but far too nervous to ever confess, or spend as much time with you as he'd like. Of course, preferably he could spend every waking moment by your side, but, he's aware enough to know you need space. He's fine with that. He's technically with you anyway, you just don't know it. And really, he likes stalking, genuinely. He likes the feeling of knowing you're unaware of his presence, the thrill of risk and the giddy satisfaction he gets knowing this is your candid, non-performing self, he can see what you're really, truly like when you think you're alone, and it's just so cute.

Particularly for a quirkless, civilian darling, or if darling's quirk has no combative purposes, he'll be much more protective. He's one to have the delusion that you're too fragile for the world, and that you're inevitably bound to get hurt, it's not safe out there. You're like a little kitten, one that's just a little too curious for her own good, doesn't know how big and bad the world is, how people who want to hurt her are out there. Kittens stay inside all day where they belong, safe to be the soft little housepets they are.

History/info stalker as well. He will find out everything about your past and you in general - memorize things like your height, birthday, grades, blood type, etc. Will also deep-dive through any social media you have, even managing to find anonymous ones, probably by sneaking through your phone as your sleep. He'll learn about your family, how well they treat you, gauges how hard they'll search for you. He'll want to know about any history you have regarding relationships and sex, too. He'll be disappointed to learn you've ever been with and done things with someone else, but that's ok. Everyone makes mistakes, and he can forgive that.

Massive savior complex. This goes double if he did save you from a situation -- he's literally your hero. And he expects that you should at least be grateful enough to acknowledge that. If your family or boyfriend or past boyfriends were abusive or unkind in any way, if you were generally struggling in school or work, if you had any sort of bad life, it will also emphasize this, and he feels he saved you from all of that, and is giving you a better life. And he'll remind you, frequently.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Inevitable, but he's a planner and he takes some time. He's smarter than he seems and he will formulate an extensive plan. If we're talking senior Izuku, well, he's limited, as he only has the dorms and his old apartment where his mother lives. He's likely to wait it out until post-graduation, wait until he gets his own place, which will now be as soon as possible. Whenever you plan to start university or hero work or whatever, well, you'll never actually make it there.

As for how, it depends on your trust. If he's managed to get close to you as he hopes to, at least to the point of friendship, he'll likely just invite you over, one last time before you go your separate ways in life. You walk right into your own imprisonment, not thinking anything is off when he locks the door behind you. If not, if he was never that close to you, or you turn down his offer, well, he'll just do it the old fashioned way. You're a naive little thing, and you'll inevitably be walking by yourself at night at some point for whatever reason, and he knows how to make chloroform. He may look small-ish, but he has a deceptive strength even without the use of OFA, you can't actually hope to overpower him. If he can't catch you out walking, well, once again, you really ought to lock those windows.

Now, a hero Deku, a few years into his 20s and quickly gaining popularity, that sees some poor little civilian getting hurt, he'll just use the excuse of taking you to get help. Clearly you've suffered a concussion, you're not in your right mind, and if you pick up on what's going on and try to call for help, he'll just say so to passersby. People have no reason to distrust him, he's a well-reputed, extremely popular hero, he would never harm someone. So when he says he's just taking you to get medical assistance, no one bats an eye.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape? 

Like some of my previous yans, he's one that will intentionally set up escape opportunities just to see how well your conditioning is going. Leave the door unlocked, but sit and wait outside. Make the bonds just a little bit too loose to see if you wiggle out of them. Leave things that could be used as lockpicks to see how smart you are. It's all a test, though, don't worry. He'll be waiting right outside to make sure you don't actually end up going out into the world and getting yourself hurt. He'll be disappointed in you, but don't worry, he's not too mad - it's just his way of knowing you don't understand yet.

Generally, it's tight security. He's one to invest in electronic security -- a shock collar, tracking anklets, cameras that sense motion, a bracelet that tracks your heartbeat, and all of which send him notifications to his phone if anything is out of the ordinary. The cameras he'll be able to watch a live stream of at any time - he's gotten to where he eats lunch alone in his office so that he can just kick back and watch you.

Now, he has something of an urge to show you off, he would love nothing more than for the world to see what a cute little wife he has, but he restrains this urge for your safety. He has a lot of enemies, and he can't have them knowing about his weakness, he can't stand the thought of you getting hurt because of him. So don't expect to even have anyone who knows about you to rely on.

As for attempts... Should you manage to get through all his measures, well, clearly that means they weren't enough. He's another yandere that, you probably shouldn't try unless you are one hundred percent certain you'll succeed, because if not you likely won't get another chance. Security measures will bump up, and he'd likely implant something in you - a tracking chip beneath the skin, deep enough you can't hope to cut it out. That way, even if you get out into the city, he can easily find you and save you again. If you seriously manage to escape for a while, he doesn't handle it well emotionally, to be honest, he might get pretty upset, but again, everyone makes mistakes, so if you apologize -- and you will, even if he has to resort to unpleasant measures to force one out of you -- he'll forgive you.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Izuku is significantly smarter than he seems, much like his strength. Despite his deluded nature, he still recognizes that, since she's too dumb to comprehend her own safety, she's likely to try and pull tricks to get back out of her cage. He's perceptive and can read facial expressions and tone of voice very well, so if you're a good liar there's about a 75% chance he'll pick up on it -- anything else and he definitely will.

He's likely to go along with it, just to expose your lies or plan in the end. He likes giving you the humiliation because it will hopefully make you even less likely to do it in the future.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

Izuku goes out of his way to keep you well-entertained, but it's all very... infantilizing. For example, he gets you streaming services and the like, but puts parental content locks on everything so you basically can only consume extremely g-rated type of content. He doesn't want you watching anything violent, or dirty or vulgar, it's not suiting such an innocent little thing. He won't even let you watch the news, unless occasionally forcing you to watch something that he knows is being aired about him, in which case he wants you to see so you're reminded of how good he is. He'll also be able to see your search history, and know if you tried to look up anything he wouldn't approve of, especially things like lockpicking or "how to disable human shock collar," you know, that sorta thing. Or more... adult things, which are also blocked. Besides, you have him, you don't need that.

He'll let you cook, but only in his presence, can't have you getting hurt without him there to fix it. You'll probably start off restrained to a bedroom -- a very heavily safety-proofed one -- in the beginning, gradually earning the privilege of going to other rooms once you've proven you can be trusted.

He'll also really try to get you almost anything you want, really. Clothes, books, hobby supplies, anything he thinks will make you happy and adjust more easily. You can use this to your advantage, really, if you're willing to settle in for your new lifestyle.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Of course, besides the obvious no escaping, no outside contact, and no attacking him, he's actually still got a lot of behavioral rules. Much like the content he allows you to consume, he expects the same from you -- no cursing, no drinking, no vulgarity. No handling knives while he's gone, and he'll know if you do, from the motion-sensing cameras that will alert him of your presence in the kitchen. He's one to humiliate you. Specifically, if you've proven you can't behave at all, or tried to really fight him, he'll get you a nice big cage to live in until you have learned your lesson. The kind they make for big dogs, short enough to force you on all fours, complete with bedding, a padlock, and a water bowl for you to drink from. You'll stay there until you can understand what you did wrong and are ready to grovel at his feet about it. During that time, he'll also ignore anything you say, acting like you're not there.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

He can't risk anything that would damage his reputation and career, so murder is off the table. Unless, of course, it's not murder, but rather a sort of, how do they call it... suicide by hero. There was no other choice, really. It's sad to have a kill on his record, but people understand that sometimes these things happen.

This changes if someone has hurt you in any way -- in that case, he's not hesitating to actually kill someone. The thought of someone hurting his little treasure is infuriating, not only at them, but at himself for not coming into your life and saving you sooner. He'll be sure they know exactly why they're dying, that they spend their last moments begging for forgiveness for what they did to you.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

Easier than you'd think. Izuku doesn't like his delusions being challenged since, again, he has to put in effort to believe them in the first place. If you're being bratty and having tantrums he won't let it slide - even the slightest step out of line is dealt with to ensure you'll at least hesitate before doing it again. If you are the bratty type and blatantly go out of your way to defy him and his rules to his face, it's ground for immediate and pretty intense punishment. His anger is terrifying in its own way. He's beaming, grinning from ear to ear, talking to you so sweetly, but with just the most subtle underlying tone that lets you know he's furious. It's a warning voice, telling you to fix your attitude or else. He doesn't cease the babytalk or petnames when he's mad, it actually gets worse, it helps him contain his fury. But when you hear him say sweetheart in that quiet, sweet, but low voice you've come to recognize and immediately become afraid, he's pretty pleased when it reaches a point where that alone can shut you up. He believes there's a healthy degree of fear that pets should have of their masters.

The easiest and fastest way to set him off by far, though, even more than being mean or disobedient, is silent treatment. That sets him off unlike anything else, and is most likely to make him snap to actual, unrestrained anger, finally showing his true rage and snarling at you, grabbing you by the throat and lifting you off the ground. It will only last a few moments, though, before he comes back to his senses and lets go, apologizing, telling you he hates doing that, but you really seem to try to make him mad, sometimes.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

He kinda bounces back and forth. He's a bit of a worshipper, telling you how beautiful and amazing you are and how he doesn't deserve you, really no one does, you're angelic, nearly a goddess - but at the same time, you're also his little kitten. A pet to be controlled because you don't know what's good for you. Kept away from a world hellbent on harming you. When you agree with him or do what he wants, it's the former. When you disagree with him, it's the latter, and he talks down to you like you're a child.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

He'll try until the day he dies. And try he does, very much so, always buying you gifts, telling you sweet things, reassuring you how much he loves you. Even if you show no sign of ever giving in, that doesn't deter him, ever the optimist. It can become infuriating... and maddening, slowly driving you to the brink of insanity. When it comes down to you trying to break him of his delusions versus him trying to break you into them... he will win, you will crack first. No matter how stubborn you think you may be, rest assured, he's even moreso.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

I have a unique little headcanon... he hints to someone about your existence, and will select someone as a back-up caretaker. See, he's worried about the possibility of being killed in his heroism, and what would happen to his poor little kitten then? It might be weeks before someone enters his apartment, and they would never understand -- they would think he did something wrong, they would try to recondition you to the world, sure they'd have good intentions, but they wouldn't realize they're making things worse for you. So, he gets a very trusted friend, someone he knows would understand and... perhaps whom he gets the feeling has a bit of the same tendencies as himself, and more or less tells them that if something should happen to him, they need to go to his place, because something very important to him is there. As jealous as the thought of someone else having you makes him, he can't bear the thought of you being released back into the world... and you're still in the denial phase, so you still act like he's a bad guy and all that, so you might tarnish his name and legacy with lies. He can't have that. So, after careful consideration, he picks someone to take over as your caretaker, should something happen. He would rather know you're in the capable hands of someone he trusts than left to starve in his apartment or thrown out into the world, even if it means someone else having you.

Maybe an odd choice, but I could see him going for Shoto on that one. His personality may be very different from his own, and he may not be as close to him as some others, but he senses they have the same... tendencies and inclinations (am I implying he's definitely a yandere too? Yes), and be trusts him to care for you but also be able to handle and tame you. And honestly? He's one person he knows without a doubt will actually prefer to follow through and have you rather than disregarding his wishes - anyone else, and he's got a little doubt they might just not understand the situation, not understand your unique case, and take you to the police or God forbid, just release you back into the world. He leaves a little note with you (making sure to detail how you can be hard to handle, be patient with her, ok?) and tells you that should anyone with this physical description (I mean, it's a pretty unique description, not too many people look like Shoto), ever come and tell you that he's gone, give them the note, and be nice to your new owner, he's sure he'll love you too. But never forget, he loved you more.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

Horny lil thing. His stalking tendencies result in a lot of perverted shit -- stealing your clothes, jerking off to all those pictures of you he's taken, putting hidden microphones in your room so he can hear when you're touching yourself. He's got a high drive, and jerks off quite a bit. Watching you in class often leads to his thoughts racing, and you notice he gets up to use the bathroom pretty frequently during class.

Prior to abduction, he's not brave enough to be touchy, although he will use his innocent demeanor to try and get a nice full-front hug every now and then that seems to last just a bit too long for comfort. After abduction, though? He makes up for all the touching he's wanted to do since he first saw you, wrapping arms around you all the time. When you're cooking he'll come up behind you and just wrap his arms around you, standing there and just enjoying feeling you. At night he's always very cuddle and wants to snuggle on the sofa or have you in his lap in some way. He also gets very grope-y beyond that point, frequently reaching up to cup your chest in his hands, squeezing your ass or thighs, or just spooning and grinding a hard-on against your ass.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

Too far into the delusions to care. Granted he understands why you are so resistant, why you fight so hard - you're just scared, but don't worry, it will only hurt just a little bit. Or you're insecure - he'll tell you lots of sweet things, he would just hate for you to not know how much he worships you, you know.

Or maybe you're just prudish, or traumatized. Repeated resistance with time and failure to quickly give in leads him to this conclusion, he becomes convinced that maybe you were raised in a sex-negative environment, a too-conservative household, and you were taught to think such a thing was wrong. Maybe you had some kind of negative experience in the past. If you confess to either of these being true, that just solidifies in his mind that that's the sole reason you're so resistant. He'll adjust based on whatever the issue is - are you one of the "until marriage" people? Well it's not official, but he'll try to prove to you that you're basically married, even make a fake contract for you to sign, buy you a cute white dress and a cake and basically say this is no different from being truly married, after all, the government approval is a modern convention and in the past people were married just by vows.

Is it trauma? Well, as said before, he's reluctant to murder, but if that turns out to be the case, that knowledge is enough to push him over the edge, and he'll be sure to make them regret it while they die - he'll even be sweet enough to take a picture, show you how much they rightfully suffered, and he'll be so so sweet, reassuring you he's not like them, kissing your forehead even as he's ignoring your little cries to stop and sinking deep into you.

Just a prude? That's ok. He'll teach you otherwise, rid you of that mindset -- all the more reason to ignore your struggles and pleas, because once you feel good enough, you'll stop resisting. Once you understand how good sex is and how nice he can make you feel, he's confident he can turn you into his own little cock-hungry slut. And managing to do so -- making you cum despite how prudish you are -- gives him a massive ego boost. Especially if you did have past partners, because clearly they weren't doing their job well, since you're so frigid. He'll make you tell him how much better he is than anyone else from before.

He's not a patient man, he's far too eager and really there's nothing you can do to stop sex from happening like... probably within the first hour of your new life together. He's been waiting such a long time, you know. If you happened to be a civilian in the situation mentioned previously, and you didn't know each other beforehand, he might give you, say, 24 hours to adjust, but again, he's not patient.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Oral fixation

Just. He likes eating you out. A lot. Even if you don't. Even if he has to restrain you, holding you down so you can't squirm away. He likes the taste and the way it makes you squirm and writhe and whimper. He loves blowjobs, too. Just. Suck him off and he's wrapped around your finger, but be warned, he lacks self control in this area and will definitely end up grabbing your hair and just jerking your head like a fleshlight, forcing you to deep-throat him until he can cum down your throat.

Infantilization/Lingerie, corruption/defilement

Specifically the cute kind. He likes things like the kitty keyhole lingerie, thigh highs, schoolgirl uniforms, that sort of thing. Innocent looking, cutesy, lots of soft pinks and pastel colors. He never really ceases treating you like a dumb baby, even with sex, cooing at you and making you whimper, softly reassuring you everything is ok, and he'll make you feel good. He likes the innocence, even if you're not (convinces himself any past boyfriends "don't count" for whatever reason), and gets off to the idea that he's corrupting that innocence, ruining you, making you his and his alone. His little toy to play with and break and ruin, make sure you're so trained to his body and voice that no one else could ever make you feel as good as him. As aforementioned, he likes the idea of taking a little prude and turning you into a little cumslut that begs and whimpers for him. It's an ego, pride thing for him.

Petplay/D/S dynamic/Worship

Just. Kitten. It's good. He's super into the cat ears and tail, finding cute ears that perfectly match your hair color, and a little tail plug that makes you whimper when he slides it inside of you. Definitely calls you "kitten," or "kitty," and importantly, makes sure you call him your master. And good pets love their masters, worship them the way they deserve to be worshipped for taking care of you, feeding you, doing everything for you. Masters are their pets' whole world, and he will be to you, too. Also buys a collar, a nice thick one with a leash he can use to make you walk around on all fours, or use to yank you back onto him when you're getting fucked on your hands and knees.

Cockwarming

Unfortunately, the part of hero work they don't talk about as much is the paperwork. There's quite a bit, actually, and studying for license renewals. He's got a kinda short attention span and he needs some stimulation to keep him focused. Which is how you end up sitting in his lap at his desk, panties down on your ankles, holding perfectly still with him deep inside of you. He tells you not to move -- you'll distract him too much. Eventually, though, it can get to be too much, so he just ends up fucking up into you right there, but after he's done he'll stay inside, gradually getting hard again and repeating the process.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

He likes the idea in theory, but ultimately decides against it for a couple of reasons. See, his little kitten is so... difficult, and he fears you might teach them to resent him. More importantly, people would wonder -- if he's got kids, where's the mom? He can't afford to have people snooping about that. Finally, much like with you, he fears that his enemies might kidnap his kids, or hurt them somehow to hurt him. If darling is especially well-behaved, once she's finally broken in and understands his way of seeing things and becomes more agreeable, there's a chance he'd consider it, but the concern over their safety would likely still stop him.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

Definitely spanking and impact pain. He's gonna invest in it, too. Leather straps and hard rubber paddles -- probably gets one of the ones that have a little shaped hole or raised part that puts a nice little design imprint on your flesh. Likes making you count for the added humiliation, or making you choose a number of swats that you feel is appropriate for what you did -- but of course, if you go too low under what he had in mind, he'll go with his number and add extra, being sure to let you know you get more for underestimating what you deserve.

Speaking of the monitoring from cameras and all that above, he also has a firm rule that you can't touch yourself. And he'll know -- the bracelet you have alerts him to any increase in heart rate, and he can look into the cameras and see what you're doing. If you're trying to be sneaky, it's still obvious when your heart is racing while you're locked in a bathroom, or the little movements he can make out from under the covers. It also warrants punishment. You want orgasms that bad? Have some. Too many. He'll make you cum over and over, to the point it's horribly painful and sensitive, tying you firmly so you can't move an inch and can't get away from his fingers, tongue, vibrator, or whatever else he chooses. Keep going until you're sobbing and gasping for air, apologizing and crying that you won't do it again.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Thigh boy. He likes using them as a pillow, feeling them wrapped around his head when he's eating you out, running his hands up and down the soft flesh. He's also fond of leaving little bite marks and hickeys all up the inside of your thighs -- not that anyone else sees, but it's just a little reminder to you of who you belong to.

[warped-stem]

so. my post about writing this at 3 am fighting off melatonin got exactly 2 notes. enjoy my sleepy angst :)

warnings for mentions of mutilation, vomit, and torture. wordcount 1.6k

--

When Sapnap goes to visit Dream again, he notices something off about Sam. He's flightier, less talkative. He barely meets Sapnap's eye the entire walk through the prison. When they finally get to the main cell, Sam warns him that Dream might not talk again. Sapnap nods in understanding, remembering the last time he saw him. 

He isn't expecting Dream, once someone who stood tall and proud, whose presence demanded all of the attention in the room, to be curled into a shaking ball in the corner next to his chest. The shaking gets worse the closer the platform comes to the cell, and Sapnap can see the way Dream's jumpsuit is torn, the way there's blood staining parts that should by no means be bloodstained. Dream doesn't look up when Sapnap steps foot onto the obsidian, doesn't look up when the Netherite barrier drops, continues to not look up until Sapnap's hesitant voice bounces off the walls. 

"Dream?" 

This finally gets his attention, his head snapping up and dull green eyes meeting sparking red. Now Sapnap can take in the details that were hidden in Dream's arms. How his cheeks are hollow, how new scars trail across his face, some wounds barely healed from the poor environment. 

Sapnap takes a step toward Dream, and his heart stops in his chest at the way Dream violently tries to sink into the wall behind him. So, Sapnap sits on the floor where he stands, keeping his eyes on the crumpled, shivering form of the once most powerful man on the server -- of his friend. 

He doesn't move, even as Dream stops trembling again and looks back up, waiting for force that will never come. Slowly, once it seems Dream realizes Sapnap doesn't want to hurt him, he starts to unfurl from himself. His arms and legs are lacking the muscle mass Sapnap knew he once possessed, and the skin that's exposed is covered in dirt and blood and poorly healed injuries. It makes Sapnap sick to think about the damage he can't see, what's covered by layers of fabric, or worse, what's covered by skin and muscle. 

It takes the better part of an hour for Dream to speak up, and Sapnap's heart splinters. 

"What d'you want?" He sounds like he hasn't had anything to drink in months, his voice creaky and dry. His words, however few, are slurred and misshapen. It takes a second for the reason to click in Sapnap's head, having heard one of his own fiances have to adjust to his new speech impediment and lack of teeth on his own time. It makes his stomach churn. 

"I wanted to see you. Check in on you, y'know? See how you're holding up." His voice is softer than he intended for it to be, more somber. 

Dream looks like he doesn't know how to respond, so he doesn't. He just lets his body slump against the wall, bringing his legs back up to his chest and wrapping his arms around his knees. It’s as he's staring off into middle space that Sapnap realizes one last thing about the way Dream looks, and it genuinely makes him want to throw up, or scream, or cry. Probably all three at once, if possible. 

Several of Dream's fingers were reduced to stumps. 

The entirety of his right pinky was gone, and he was missing about half of his right ring finger. The other three remained intact, but it was obvious he'll never be able to hold an axe again. His left hand was worse off. His ring finger was gone, and the pinky was cut down to the second knuckle, almost in a sick reverse of his right hand. He was also missing the tip of his middle and pointer fingers, his thumb spared yet again. 

Sapnap chokes back a sob and has to turn away to keep his composure, forcing his tears and vomit back down. It takes him a few to steady his breathing and look back to Dream, only to find Dream looking at him first. 

"What happened to you?" Sapnap sounded even more broken, a quiet plea slipping into his words. He wanted nothing more than to hold Dream like he did when they were younger, before all of the war and strife and bloodshed. Back when they were allowed to call each other brothers.  

"Someone wanted information. I didn't give it up right away and he got violent." Dream tries to shrug, but the tremble in his shoulders makes it look more like a sick, shuddering laugh. Sapnap reluctantly notes that his earlier suspicions were correct, that Dream is now missing several of his teeth.

The temperature in the lava-covered room spikes as Sapnap's temper flares for a moment, before calming right back down into another unsettled roll of his gut. 

"Who?" His response is choked, and he doesn't think he wants to know the answer. 

Dream shakes his head frantically, tensing back up. The answer would destroy Sapnap, and Dream doesn't want that, so he keeps his mouth shut and his head down. 

Sapnap wants names, though, and he's not leaving without one. He makes up his mind right then and there that there's something fucked up going on in Pandora's Vault, and he wants to get to the bottom of it. Even if Dream grew into a monster, he knew that no one deserved whatever physical abuse Dream's been going through. 

"Is it Sam? Has he been doing this to you?" His voice shakes with fury, with sadness. Dream shakes his head again in response, before briefly shrugging.

"If it's not Sam, then he's at least letting this happen to you. Who the fuck would he let in here with- with whatever can do that much damage?" 

"You don't wanna know, Sap." The 's' is whistled through the holes in his grimace, and he still refuses to meet Sapnap's eyes. 

"I do. I need to know. I can't let them keep doing this to you." There's a few suspects running through his mind, but none of them beg for the anonymity Dream's allowing them. 

Techno wouldn't torture someone, he's not that cold-hearted, and he'd have nothing to gain from repeatedly hurting Dream. Bad could easily do this damage, but even as he's controlled by the Egg, Sapnap knows he'd never lay a finger on Dream. Wilbur and Schlatt are dead, and Ghostbur wouldn't hurt a fly. Tommy'd pussy out before doing any serious damage, and even then, the kid was so heavily traumatized by Dream that all it would take for him to back down would be a threatening smile. He also can't see Ranboo hurting anyone intentionally, or Fundy coming back from wherever he'd run off to just to hurt Dream. Nearly everyone else was left untouched by Dream's influence. Foolish barely knew him, Connor was almost completely clueless, and Puffy thought that Dream didn't deserve to see her. Everyone else was too caught up in their own business to care, so that only really left a few possible people.

Sam, Ant, Punz, and Sapnap's least favorite answer, Quackity. 

Dream already said it wasn't Sam, Ant was too busy with the Egg, and Punz was too apathetic to really care about what Dream had done to be motivated enough to mutilate one of his friends like this. That meant-

"Quackity. Is- is Quackity hurting you?" Sapnap's voice is far away, even to his own ears. He barely caught Dream's slow, shallow nod before he hides his face back in his knees. 

It made sense, unfortunately. He hasn't seen Quackity in a while, spending most of his time building Kinoko Kingdom with Karl and George. It only really just hit him that they abandoned El Rapids to hastily move to the flower forest on the outer edge of the Dream SMP, leaving Quackity alone. No one had really heard from him in a long while, and Sapnap hadn't thought to keep tabs on him, trusting his fiance to keep out of trouble.

Apparently, that was too much to ask. Sapnap knew how ruthless Quackity could be when he wanted something bad enough, knew that he was an unstoppable force. 

Dream's ragged breathing snaps Sapnap out of his thoughts, bringing his attention back to the present. Dream hadn't stopped shaking, but at least he was now looking at Sapnap again, gauging his reaction. Based on his breathing, he found something he didn't like. 

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Pandas." His voice shook, tears threatening to spill out of dead eyes.

Sapnap doesn't respond, only standing. His shoulders slumped and his fists shaking at his sides. He takes a few strides across the cell before dropping down to his knees next to Dream, wrapping his arms around him. 

They sit there like that for a while, crying and shaking. Dream was far too light for Sapnap's comfort, but that just made him hold on harder. Dream even snaked his arms around Sapnap's back in return, the dull nubs of his fingers trying to grip as much of his shirt as they could. Sapnap sobs.

He pulls back first, after both of them had spent all of their tears. 

"I'm getting you out of here. Fuck what I said about taking your last life, you don't fucking deserve this." Sapnap knows his voice is rough, but the intense set of his eyes gives Dream enough reassurance to let go. 

Sapnap stands, leaving Dream on the ground, and calls for Sam to let him out. He doesn't step away from Dream until he has to, and he makes a silent promise to make sure someone pays for this.  

He ignores Sam the entire trip back through the prison, and his first thought after stepping back into sunlight is find Quackity.

[amatchinwater]

Pairing: Steo

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, choking, spanking, possessive behavior,

Words: 7745

Ao3 link

Thank you @creativepromptsforwriting for help with the title!

For @msmischief101 because I shredded our hearts with my last Steo fic and we desperately needed this.

Taken by Surprise

After failing to acquire Scott’s Alpha spark the night of the super moon, the Dread Doctors managed to find a way to procure synthetic powers for Theo. Which he promptly used to kill them and rid Beacon Hills of their bullshit for good. He still has his pack of chimeras and was able to form a sort of truce with the True Alpha so that they could continue to live in town together. It’s a mediocre alliance at best, but they’re not at each other’s throats anymore now that Theo has nearly everything he came back for. Sure, the chimera pack isn’t what he initially wanted, but he’d be lying if he said that they weren’t pretty great.

The only real problem is that Stiles still doesn’t trust him. So whenever there’s a monster or some other supernatural bullshit attacking the town and they join forces, the teen is quick to shoot down any idea the chimera has. Stiles will even entertain Tracy’s suggestions before he even so much as contemplates Theo’s. And it’s obvious to everyone that the kanima isn’t exactly on Stiles’ top list of people he enjoys to be around either. It pisses Theo off when he’s trying to be genuine. Don’t get him wrong though, there are plenty of times he’ll antagonize Stiles just because it’s fun to get a rise out of the teen. But that isn’t always the case and you’d think someone as bright as Stiles would be able to tell the difference by now.

Also, for some fucking reason, Scott trusts Theo explicitly. Yeah, he has no reason not to anymore, but it’s just weird how quickly the wolf accepted the chimera. And for whatever reason, when Stiles is in one of his ‘I’m an important part of the pack I can do just as much as a werewolf can’ kind of moods, Scott thinks that Theo is the best one to try and talk him down. Not the True Alpha, his best friend since they were kids- which the chimera was friends with them both before he left, but that was a long time ago and a lot has happened since- and pack Alpha. No, Scott has this notion that the human would listen to him.

It makes no fucking sense considering that Stiles won’t even take into account what Theo suggests as fucking pizza toppings or movie options when they both actually have damn near the exact same taste. So why he would listen to him about something exponentially more important is fucking stupid. But it doesn’t stop Theo from trying. Prove to Scott that he should be kept around. That he is in fact one of the good guys now.

Which is exactly how Theo found himself in Stiles’ bedroom after the pack meeting to discuss how to go about handling the wood nymph. For once, the chimera and Stiles were on the same page. It should be killed and done with, it’s racked up too large of a body count at this point. There’s no way it intends to stop anytime soon and the thing is fucking vicious; mutilating its victims and leaving half eaten bodies scattered in pieces in the preserve. But their agreement was short lived the minute Stiles suggested that he use himself as bait. Being one of the few humans in the pack, his blood entices the nymph the most.

It’s a fucking stupid plan and literally everyone, even reckless ass Mason shot him down. But shit hit the fan when Theo tried to tell him it was a bad idea. Both packs quietly dipped out, Scott giving them both a pat on the back and telling them to sort it out. Trying to “sort it out” with Stiles is like trying to get a brick wall to crumble by sheer willpower. It’s fucking impossible. If Scott and Lydia can’t convince him to not do something stupid, how the fuck is Theo expected to?

But Scott trusts and believes in him. And Theo is just as hard headed which is probably the only reason he’s still here to begin with.

“If I wanted your opinion, Theo, I would’ve asked,” Stiles seethes, his lips curling into a sneer.

Theo rolls his eyes and huffs for about the hundredth time since being here, “all I said was that we should come up with a better plan that doesn’t involve you trying to get yourself killed! I wouldn’t even let Mason pull some stupid shit like that!”

The teen gets in his face and he has to bite back his growl. “Mason is your Beta, I’m not!” Stiles pokes his chest and the Alpha does growl a warning that time. “I will never be in your pack, Theo! You don’t get to order me around!”

Any other day, Theo would actually admire the balls the teen has to stand his ground like this. But not today. To be perfectly honest, the chimera is actually a little sick of how much Stiles pushes him. Treats him like garbage- like he hasn’t saved his life on more than one occasion- just because he thinks that the chimera won’t fight back. His eyes glow red and his claws spring free as he grabs Stiles by the throat, flipping them until the teen is pushed up against his bedroom door.

“I may not be your Alpha, Stiles, but Scott is,” he snarls, leaning in until their noses are an inch apart. “He asked me to talk you out of this because he didn’t think he could. Not that I seem to be having much luck either. If you know what’s good for you,” he tightens the hold he has on Stiles’ throat, enjoying the jump in pulse under his fingers, “you’ll stay the fuck home or I’ll chain you to your goddamn bed to make sure you can’t do anything stupid.” A spicy scent invades his nostrils, making the wolf and coyote in him all too pleased.

Stiles stares at him with wide eyes, tongue dripping venom when he speaks. “Get your fucking hand off me or I swear to god, Theo, I will find a branch of mistletoe and shove it up your ass.” The teen's heart skips a beat, but it's already been said.

The chimera drops his hand, claws put away and eyes back to normal blue as he walks towards the open window without so much as another glance at the teen. “Stay home, Stiles,” the Alpha says as he hops out and heads to his truck. It isn’t until he’s halfway home that he realizes the spicy smell was Stiles’ arousal. The two creatures inside him are losing their minds at him for leaving, but the chimera pushes on knowing it was more than likely a fluke. Stiles hates him and that’s just the way things work for them. Theo has no problem playing along when things like that are said to him.

Theo wasn’t one to come crawling back after a fight like that. No matter how much “fun” it was pissing Stiles off. Granted, he hadn’t really done it on purpose this time. The chimera really was trying to be the guy’s friend and talk him out of doing something completely stupid. But not even he can disagree that Stiles is one of the most hard headed people he knows and not a damn thing he says is going to change that. So yeah, Theo left. Fully with the intention to not see the human again any time soon. They both need time to cool off and we all know how easily heated both can be. And that no one else in either pack has quite as sharp, nor quick firing tongues as the two of them.

Best to let sleeping dogs lie and all that.

He parks his truck in the driveway of his house with a lengthy sigh. Thankfully the Dread Doctors were smart enough to put the deed in his name as an emancipated teenager, so no one can take it from him so long as the mortgage gets paid. He didn’t ask where the money came from, just knows the Doctors have him set for life. The chimera still can’t really get over the threat from Stiles. Sure, his heart blipped a little when he said it, but still. The way the other teen just rolled that off his tongue with such ease, there’s no way it’s the first time Stiles’ said it. Getting out of the truck, Theo spins his keys in his hand as he walks to the front door.

As he unlocks it and steps inside, Theo finds himself wishing there was a better way to get around talking to Stiles. Yeah, the dude hates him and the feeling is pretty fucking mutual at this point. But fuck dude, at some point this shit has to end, right? There’s no way that they can function by only having screaming matches whenever they’re in the same room together. Something’s gotta give, but the chimera is also a touch too stubborn to be the one to make the initial effort. No fucking way.

Theo tosses his keys on the dining room table, making his way into the kitchen. At least Tracy and the rest of the pack seem to be elsewhere, so the Alpha can have the place to himself. Having not one, but two beasts rolling around inside of him, he’s always fucking hungry. His stomach is dead set on the two leftover pizzas he put in the fridge before he’d left for Stiles’ house in the first place. Placing the box on the oven, the chimera hops up on the black, marble counter and flips open the cardboard. Not really in the mood to wait, Theo digs into the cold slice of pepperoni, starting to stew again.

A fucking branch of mistletoe up his ass. Seriously? No one but Stiles could think of something so ridiculous and equally terrifying to say in a mere handful of words. But that’s just the way he is. It’s something the Alpha would find refreshing if it wasn’t always directed towards him. Even Scott thinks that Stiles trying to go after this nymph is a bad idea. But no one saw the other Alpha getting yelled at for it. No, that’s saved especially for Theo.

Satisfied after polishing off an entire pizza and half of the other, Theo heads to the living room to take the extra rage still bubbling inside of him out on some Call of Duty. The chimera has no idea how many matches he plays before his phone starts buzzing on the couch beside him. Being in a match still, the chimera ignores it. Once done and he fucking lost, Theo grabs the device as it starts to go off again. Seeing Stiles’ name with no contact picture flash in his face, the chimera growls and ends the call. Not five seconds later is the cell vibrating in his hand.

Still a bit too ticked off and not really ready to start yelling again, Theo pushes the red button. Of course, as stubborn as always, the other teen’s name pops up and the Alpha has half a mind to let it go to voicemail, really sending the point home that he doesn’t want to talk. But his fox and coyote snarl angrily inside of him at the idea. The fuck? Stiles never really calls him much to begin with. Even less likely after an argument. Something must be wrong if the teen is being this persistent.

With a sigh, Theo slides the green button over, “I’m not really in the mood for round two, Stiles,” he snaps, rubbing his eyes with his other hand. Exhausted from their previous exchange.

“Listen, I know I threatened to shove a branch of mistletoe up your ass less than two hours ago, but I got myself into a bit of a situation and- Theo, I need your help.”

He what?

“Call Scott,” the chimera says, leaning on his elbows and hanging his head, “he’s your Alpha, you know. And your best friend, unlike me." Raking his fingers through his hair with another sigh, "like I said, I’m really not in the mood. Goodbye-“

“No, no, no, Theo, wait!” Stiles rambles and the Alpha can’t help but bristle at his tone, “I-I can’t call Scott. H-he wouldn’t understand. Please, I need your help,” the teen hacks a thick cough, “Theo, please.”

Why, Theo can’t really say, but hearing the way Stiles says please makes something inside the Alpha break a little. The chimera whines, actually fucking whines in his throat at how scared the teen sounds. “Where are you?” He asks, already in the dining room and snatching his keys off the table.

Taking a drive to the preserve in the middle of the night wasn’t on the top five things Theo would like to have been doing tonight. But he’s still stuck on the way Stiles sounded over the phone. So broken and nothing like the usual sarcastically bitten words. He doesn’t make it very far into the woods before the sharp scent of blood stabs his nostrils. Not just blood- Stiles’ blood. Theo runs in the direction of the smell, worry increasing with every bound of his feet. He may not particularly like the teen, but there’s no way Scott would forgive him if something happens to Stiles and the chimera told no one about it. That he was the one the teen called and Theo didn’t help him. He's not so sure he could forgive himself either.

“Shit,” he curses as he sprints faster, ducking under branches and tapping into his supernatural speed almost to the point of turning into his wolf. The sickening stench of death begins to mix with the blood. Fuck. The only thing keeping his head in check is that he can finally hear Stiles’ heartbeat, though slower than normal and skipping every so often. “What the fuck, Stiles?” Theo skids to a halt, dropping to a knee beside the teen.

Slumped against a tree, Stiles is covered in blood and looks a good six shades paler than usual. His lips are blue and his shoulders shake. He’s dying. “I told you guys I could beat it,” the teen lifts a lazy arm towards the body beside him that Theo honest to god hadn’t even noticed. “Ta-da,” he sings weakly.

So that’s where the majority of death came from. Stiles managed to kill the wood nymph that’s been terrorizing the town as of late. “What can I do?” Theo asks. Because now isn’t the time to argue, not when Stiles can’t even stand on his own.

“I know we have our differences,” the teen coughs, reaching his hand out to pat the chimera’s arm and black veins pool at the contact without Theo even meaning to. The Alpha stares at them- shocked beyond belief they’re there in the first place he’s never been able to do it before- as Stiles continues, “but I know that out of everyone, you wouldn’t judge me for killing it. I would’ve done so much better if the damn thing wasn’t faster than I anticipated. And I surprisingly don’t want to die. And there’s no way I’m making it to a hospital.”

He’s right, not with that many slashes on his chest and stomach. It’s a goddamn miracle that Theo even made it here on time.

Heavy amber eyes meet the chimera, “I’m asking you to give me the bite.”

Yet again, the teen is right. That’s the only thing that would save him. But it would also mean that Stiles would be his true Beta. Though, if asked, the chimera would let him leave the pack to go be with Scott. Why would he possibly force someone to stay that hates his guts? “Okay,” the Alpha says dumbly, with a small nod. Lifting the hand that’s still resting on his arm, the chimera’s eyes burn red and his fangs drop from his gums. One last look at the teen to make sure he’s positive, Theo’s given a curt nod before he sinks his teeth into the pale flesh.

Stiles jolts and screams in pain, fresh blood spilling from his chest and darkening the gray tee even more. Theo growls around the bite and holds firm, just to be sure that it’ll take. Once he removes his teeth from the other teen’s arm Stiles passes out. The chimera loops his own underneath Stiles. Scooping him up into his arms, the Alpha carries him back towards his truck. The nymph has already started to literally branch out to become one with the forest again, so there’s no need to bother with moving it. Probably best to not risk the sheriff seeing his son like this either, so after putting Stiles in the passenger seat, Theo drives back to his own house.

Of all the stupid fucking things Stiles could’ve done. He went after the goddamn nymph by himself! As though he wasn’t a literal human being. As though everyone hadn’t told him that using himself as bait with the assistance of both packs was a bad idea. He just goes alone with his fucking stubborn ass head of his and nearly gets himself killed. Then calls Theo like that’s a normal fucking thing to do and fucking says please. Completely wrecking the chimera in one single word. Why in the actual hell did something so simple as Stiles calling him for help affect Theo like that?

They’re not even acquaintances let alone friends. Definitely not the ones you go to for life or death situations first. But his hindrance to asking Scott made sense when it really comes down to it. The pack bond in Theo’s chest though is doing a fantastic job at making him feel more inclined to protect Stiles than ever before. His previous statement of just letting Stiles leave to go be with the wolf seems less likely with each passing minute the transitioning human lays in his bed. Stiles can’t just go running off and do dumb shit when he has an actual tie to an Alpha.

Stiles stirs and groans, making the chimera jolt off the door frame and sit on the bed beside him. “Theo?” He asks before even opening his eyes yet, long fingers coming up to his torso to try and feel for any lingering injuries. There aren’t any.

“I’m right here,” the Alpha says, “how are you feeling?”

“Better than I should,” he snorts, opening his eyes and sitting up against the headboard. Stiles lifts his shirt to double check what the chimera already knows; that all of his wounds have healed completely. Even the scar Donovan left. Yes, Theo checked that too.

“Yeah,” the Alpha scoffs, “you’re lucky I showed up when I did. I cannot believe you did something that reckless. And I’ve seen you do some pretty dumb shit, Stiles.”

His Beta sighs, “this again? Seriously?” Stiles growls, waving his arms, “I got rid of the fucking thing, didn’t I? And I almost died doing it, Theo. Can’t you cut me a little slack?”

Theo practically throws himself off the bed, rubbing his eyes with both hands in utter frustration, “you have got to be fucking joking!” He whirls around to look at Stiles, “you wouldn’t have almost died if you had just stayed home like we all asked you to! I’m not going to sugar coat anything. If you didn’t want someone to call you on your bullshit, you should’ve cried to Scott.”

“You know why I didn’t ask him!” Stiles fires back, getting off the mattress to get in Theo’s face. “I figured for once you’d actually not be an unimaginable dick and fucking-”

The Alpha snarls, a clawed hand instantly wrapping around Stiles’ throat, pinning him to the wall, “and fucking what, Stiles? Baby you?” Theo does a tongue in cheek laugh, “I’m not Scott. Why don’t you go run to him since I’m not meeting your precious expectations as your Alpha.”

Stiles doesn’t move, nor does the chimera remove his hand around his Beta’s neck. “You’re right, you’re not Scott. You never will be,” he snarls, leaning into the hold like a challenge. But there’s another blip to his heart. Something in what he’d just said had been a lie. That same spicy smell as before, cinnamon and honey, laces Stiles’ scent as they both pant from their anger.

Theo’s fingers twitch around the pulse beneath them watching the Beta’s tongue dart across his lips. The chimera wonders for a moment if Stiles would quit being such an incredible brat if he just kissed him until the other teen’s brain shuts off. Oh. That’s not- he doesn’t- they don’t- oh, fuck. He’s already had the thought, his wolf and coyote very pleased with that said thought. And Stiles still isn’t moving, heart racing wildly and that goddamn scent killing the Alpha where he stands.

Without moving his hand, Theo crashes their mouths together. It’s urgent and rushed as though he’s afraid he’d change his mind halfway. Too much teeth that clack together before their lips actually fit with one another. But when they do? Stiles whimpers, fucking whimpers and curls his fingers in Theo’s collar while the chimera sucks his Beta’s bottom lip, nipping at it with blunt teeth. The Alpha pushes closer until their crotches press firm, leaving nothing left to the imagination as to whether either of them are enjoying this.

The chimera pulls his head back enough to catch his breath and his hand finally falls from- he inhales deeply, grinning- the fox’s throat. Stiles chases his lips, a broken, “please,” whined against his mouth and Theo can’t say no to that. Can’t even comprehend ever thinking of saying no to that. He’s never been able to deny Stiles even when they’re quite literally at each other’s throats.

Theo always shows up when he calls. No matter what and without fail. He’s been fucked from the start, hasn’t he? But at this moment, with Stiles’ lips on his, and lithe fingers desperately tugging at the hem of his shirt, Theo doesn’t see how that could possibly be a bad thing. Finding no good reason why he shouldn’t lean back, yank his shirt off and dive right back in to devour his Beta’s swollen, wet lips. Grab Stiles’ hands and hold them against the wall by his head. So he does, presses all of his weight against the fox knowing he can more than handle it now and grinds his hips into Stiles. Taking full advantage of the small gasp of breath and slip in concentration to trail his mouth down.

Biting at his Beta’s jaw before sliding his tongue down the erratic pulse. Making sure his scruff rubs against the skin so no one has any doubt who’s been here. Who Stiles let touch him like this. Sucking a mark just under his ear, Theo’s fangs tease at a mole near the crook and has the intense urge to break the skin. But he won’t. Not yet at least, so he tucks them away. Hell, he doesn’t even know if Stiles is going to stay in his pack after this, much less with him. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t give the fox a very compelling reason to stay.

So while his mouth and tongue do a spectacular job at reducing Stiles to a moaning mess, Theo slides a hand off the wall and up under his Beta’s shirt. Fingers tracing the hint of abs and tuft of his happy trail, pride rumbling in the chimera’s chest at the hitch in breath. “T-Theo,” Stiles pants in the chimera’s hair, sounding beautifully wrecked from next to nothing. “Please,” he begs so prettily.

That sends another rush of pride through the Alpha. Every fight they’ve ever had is rolling around in his brain, laughing at the chimera that such a simple solution was just the thing they’d need to get along. “What is it, Stiles?” Theo asks, taking his mouth off an impressively purple mark on the fox’s neck. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what it is.” It’s an obvious tease, one even his Beta picks up on. But the spike in his pulse and deliciously aroused scent can only mean it’s working in the chimera’s favor. “Stiles,” he sings into another bite.

A broken moan works its way out of the fox’s chest and he fists Theo’s hair enough to sting. The Alpha more than likes it and lets Stiles pull his head back. “I need,” he pants and blinks hard to make his glassy eyes focus. The chimera hums and rolls his hips again causing his Beta to gasp, “more.” Stiles’ fingers play at the nape of the Alpha’s neck, “I need more.” And much to Theo’s surprise, the fox is the one to initiate their kiss. His mouth is already open and eager to let Theo explore.

The chimera certainly isn’t going to turn down a gift like that. Stiles’ mouth that so perfectly slings insults and snark and sarcasm as easy as breathing is the best thing the Alpha’s had the pleasure of tasting. Who’d have thought? Theo separates their lips enough to yank the fox’s shirt over his head while his Beta continues his bold streak and walks them towards the bed. The minute Theo’s calves hit the mattress and the fox’s hands cup his neck, the Alpha flips them. Caging Stiles’ body with his own.

One hand curls around his Beta’s throat- what seems to be his favorite thing to hold and he’s not getting any complaints- while the other grabs Stiles’ waist. The fox’s legs open fluidly for Theo to push his hips down into, earning him a hiss. With Stiles laid so beautifully underneath him, the Alpha can’t help himself. The urge to mark every inch of pale, mole dotted flesh is intense; a necessity. His wolf and coyote practically demanding it. Being an Alpha just means they’ll actually last. That someone is bound to see the ones on his Beta’s neck unless Stiles sports a turtleneck.

In the summer.

His tongue glides over the fox’s sternum, growling at what can only be described as a purr from Stiles when he does it. Once there’s a forming bruise on one of his pecs, Theo twirls his tongue around one of his Beta’s nipples then takes it wholly in his mouth and bites the nub. Stiles’ back arches with a throaty moan so the chimera offers the other the same treatment, ghosting his fingers over goosebump covered ribs. Theo shouldn’t be surprised that Stiles is this responsive, he can smell the obscene amount of precum soaking the fox’s briefs. But the reality that he’s the one doing it is throwing him for the most wonderful loop and Theo has one hundred percent buckled the fuck up.

The fucking mewl that rips from Stiles’ throat as the Alpha has to forcibly remove himself makes him chuckle, “that needy for me, sweet thing?” Theo smirks and contains his- very manly, don't you dare question it- yelp when the fox yanks him back down for a sloppy kiss.

“I need you inside me before I lose my nerve,” his Beta huffs out with hooded eyes.

The Alpha recoils a little at that, much to both of his supernatural creatures’ dismay. “Lose your nerve?” Theo asks. So Stiles doesn’t want to do this after all. Just following the comfort of the pack bond and letting his body react. Not because he actually wants this.

“I want to, okay, I do,” Stiles brings his hands to the chimera’s shoulders. “But,” he taps his fingers and bites his lip; he’s nervous. “But I’ve never- I’m not-” his Beta groans, “it’s hard when I know you’re just going to kick me back to Scott when you’re done.”

Oh. They’re both worried about the wrong thing here. Theo laughs. It’s involuntary he swears. But he does. “Oh, Stiles,” the chimera slots their hips together again easily. “I’d have let you go if that’s what you wanted.” The Alpha plants a wet kiss on the fox’s neck. “If I’m allowed to have a say,” that’s going to leave a dark mark as he presses his thumb into the fresh bruise. Looking Stiles in the eye with his hand around his throat, “I’d keep you right here,” Theo squeezes lightly. “I’d fucking keep you,” he sucks in a breath and claims the fox’s mouth.

Stiles simultaneously lets out a soft moan and what can only be a sigh of relief. A sweetness, like freshly baked cookies wraps around his Beta’s scent that riles the wolf and coyote inside him. Turning them even more possessive than before. Something Theo didn’t think at all possible. Though there isn’t a doubt in his mind that very same smell is seeping from his every pore directly into the fox.

He tries, again, to lean back earning him another whine and the hands on his shoulders dig in. Theo smiles against his Beta’s mouth, chuckling through his nose, “I’m just trying to get the lube, little fox.” Stiles shivers at the name. “I’m not leaving you,” he strokes his thumb along the pale, pulsing flesh, brushing their noses together for good measure. Showing the fox that he can be tender too.

“Yeah,” the fox breathes out. “That’s probably a good idea. Sorry,” he mumbles.

Theo kisses him softly, “no need for sorry, sweet thing,” he leans back and lets his eyes bleed red and Stiles shudders. “I’m dying to get inside you, too.” When he goes to sit back on his ankles, the fox lets him. Watching with hungry eyes as the Alpha digs in his nightstand, finding the tube. He places it on the bed beside Stiles and latches his lips to his chest again, leaving a trail of marks down to his waistband. The chimera looks up as he undoes the button on Stiles’ jeans, pulling them and his briefs down while keeping eye contact. Thoroughly surprised when his Beta doesn’t shy away from the attention.

The flush on his cheeks reaches his chest and Theo knows the fox is dying to curl up, but he doesn’t. When the Alpha finally looks away and sees the angry, red head of Stiles’ dick heavily leaking precum, he salivates. But forces himself to suck a mark on the creamy thighs and groin first, needing to satiate the ‘weres in him too. Growling when the act makes Stiles moan and more of that sticky, sweet substance spill out. He’s slowly losing his ability to tease and rushes to lap up every ounce the fox has to offer. Sucking the head into his mouth to encourage more, groaning when he gets it.

“Theo,” Stiles pants and the Alpha can more than take a hint. And takes all of the fox’s cock in his mouth, straight to the back of his throat with ease. “Fuck!” His Beta shouts and bucks his hips involuntarily.

He only bobs his head for a minute or two, taking a finger to catch the pooling spit on his Beta’s balls and rubbing it around the tight ring of muscle. Too worked up from all of his previous efforts, Stiles cums with a throaty cry. Theo swallows every last drop like it’s the first drink he’s had in days. “So fucking good,” the Alpha’s voice is rough and wrecked, but he’s far from done. Settling on his stomach, Theo drops his head to replace his finger with his tongue. Teasing Stiles’ ass with its warmth until it gives and he slides inside, moaning with the fox. Having the pure taste of his Beta on his tongue is better than Theo ever could have imagined.

Slick and opening so perfectly, Theo pushes one finger in beside his tongue. Paying close attention to the fox’s heart and clenching to make sure he doesn’t hurt him. “Oh my god,” Stiles groans, pushing his hips down until the Alpha is knuckle deep. Fucking hell. The chimera starts to thrust his finger, slowly encouraging the tight hole to give way. His Beta keens when the pad just brushes against his prostate.

“Look at you,” Theo purrs, hooking his finger just so, insisting that perfect noise be made once more. “Clenching around one finger like it’s my cock. You’re so needy for it, you’re already hard again.” The fox’s head jerks up in surprise like he hadn’t realized that. Theo reaches for the lube, coating a second digit. Smirking with red eyes, staring Stiles down as he pushes both inside, rumbling in his chest at the way his Beta’s mouth goes slack. He waits until both are nestled fully to rush up and shove his tongue in Stiles’ swollen lips. The Alpha groans at the fox rocking his hips into his thrusting hand. “Such a good slut for me, aren’t you? Fucking yourself like this.” Theo twists and spreads his fingers, nipping his Beta’s jaw. Dropping his voice honey thick, “if I had known all I needed to do to get you to like me was fuck you, we could’ve done this a long time ago.”

“Y-yeah,” Stiles gasps at the pointed jab to his sweet spot. “It could’ve saved us a lot of trouble. Fucking is a much better way to get rid of anger. God,” Theo licks his neck and the fox moans, digging his fingers in the Alpha’s hair. “Liking you is easier than hating you.”

The chimera hums his approval, moving to get the lube again, pouring a generous amount directly onto Stiles’ fluttering hole before thrusting three fingers deep. “So you like me, huh?” Theo teases, already knowing the answer and knowing he’s just as fucking gone. But he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t poke just a little, even when he has his fingers buried in Stiles’ ass. His Beta gives him this near exasperated expression and the Alpha grins. “Don’t worry, little fox,” Theo kisses him and pulls Stiles’ bottom lip with his teeth, thrusting harder. “I like you too.”

Stiles whimpers, grinding with the Alpha.

“How could I not?” The chimera drags his teeth to the crook of his Beta’s neck, biting just this side of breaking the skin. “When you’re being so good for me, Stiles. I bet I could make you cum again, just like this. My perfect little slut, getting all worked up before I’ve even put my dick in you. I’m sure no one’s gotten to you like this, have they? I’m the only one you act like this for.” The chimera spreads his fingers, pushing inside to ram the bundle of nerves with precision. He’s already filed it’s position to memory.

“Y-you’d be s-surprised,” Stiles grunts, “you’re not the only-”

Theo snarls, wrapping his hand around Stiles’ throat with intent, cutting off whatever the rest of his sentence might have been. “I don’t care who you’ve been with Stiles. But you’re mine now, got it?” His Beta grins at the tightening hold, “got it? Not Scott’s. Not fucking Talbot’s. Mine,” he repeats with searing rubies. “Say it, Stiles.” Theo thrusts faster, needing to get his dick inside his Beta and ruin him. “Who are you a good, little slut for?” Pushing the name for the simple fact the fox loves it. Pupils utterly blowing out and scent getting impossibly spicier with each use. More so when ‘my’ gets placed in front of it.

“Oh fuck,” Stiles arches, legs falling apart farther for the chimera. “Y-you, Theo,” he whines, “good f-for you.”

“That’s right,” the Alpha coos, taking his fingers out despite the vice grip attempting to keep them in place. Theo’s grown impatient, just as desperate to fuck Stiles as the fox is. Rolling onto his back, the chimera nearly tears his pants and briefs off in his haste. “I know you’re close, baby,” he says almost apologetically, getting back on his knees to grab the lube. “But I want to feel you cum on my cock,” he grins when Stiles’ eyes flash blue as he slicks up his dick. “Isn’t that what you want, sweet thing?” Theo positions the head at his Beta’s ass, rubbing his length in a tease to make Stiles tremble with need.

The fox nods wildly, licking his lips and pawing at the Alpha’s biceps, “please, Theo, please. N-no more teasing.” Stiles swallows thickly, and pouts. God, he pouts, “just get inside me, please.”

Theo chuckles, continuing to slide his cock around the rim, not letting it catch just yet. He said he wanted to ruin his Beta, did he not? “How do you want it, hm?” The chimera lets just the tip inside, gripping Stiles’ hip to prevent him from moving further. “Nice and slow so you know I care?” The Alpha pulls out, smirking at the frustrated groan and tear rolling down his Beta’s face. “Or do you want me to fuck your slutty hole like I own it? Make sure you never forget it. That you’re mine and no one else can touch you like I can.”

“I know you care, I can smell it.” Of course he can. Stiles is the smartest person he knows. “You can- fuck, Theo,” he moans as the head pops back in just to be taken right out. “Slow next time,” his Beta gasps, losing himself so beautifully, just like the chimera wanted. Wet, iridescent eyes meet his, “I need you to fuck me.” Stiles flashes a mischievous smile, “show me that I don’t need Brett-”

Theo snarls, hands most definitely bruising the fox’s waist as he thrusts inside. It’s not nice. It’s not sweet. No, it’s the entirety of his cock bottoming out in one snap of his hips. Stiles cries out with a lustful grin on his lips, nails pinching his back. Little shit said the wolf’s name on purpose. Smart boy if his goal was to bring every shred of possessiveness Theo has to the surface. The chimera’s clawed hand finds its home around Stiles’ throat as rubies burn into his Beta, moving his hips in a punishing rhythm. Carving a place for himself inside the fox making damn sure he never forgets, “you’re mine.”

“Prove it,” Stiles’ pupils expand until the thinnest ring of blue is left. His words slurred around his fangs and broken from the chimera’s thrusts. Earlier in the day, the fox’s sass would’ve driven the Alpha over the edge to break him. Put an end to the merry-go-round of his Beta’s bullshit.

To be fair, that desire is still there. Just now in the way of wanting to utterly wreck Stiles from the inside out. Make sure he feels Theo for days. So he chuckles, low and thick, “careful what you wish for, baby.” The Alpha, though loving the tight heat, pulls out quickly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make the fox gasp- more like squawk if he’s being honest. Before his Beta really has a chance to complain, the chimera flips him on his knees. Pushing between Stiles’ shoulder blades until his back is beautifully bowed.

A sweet yelp accompanied by a moan falls from the fox’s lips when Theo slaps each ass cheek. Just because he can. And he sinks back into Stiles’ warm, wet hole and aims right for his prostate. More salt fills the air as the fox sniffles through his moan, “you okay?” Theo asks, stilling himself and rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on his Beta’s hips, trying to leech pain but there’s none to take.

Stiles whips his head around with wet, blazing blue eyes, “do it again,” he grins, settling back down to rest his head against the bed. Bending his arms thus pushing his ass higher. Then he rocks on his knees, and Theo just watches in a haze as the fox uses him for his own pleasure. Just holds Stiles’ ass and watches.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” the chimera practically chokes. Absolutely amazed at how well his Beta is handling himself. Though they will need to get new sheets from the way Stiles’ claws have shredded them. Come to think of it, he’s never had anyone need or want him quite like this, and Theo’s more than willing to deliver for Stiles. The Alpha covers the bruises he left on Stiles’ waist to grab hold and pound into him just like he asked. Punching out moans with each slap of their thighs while Theo groans. The way the fox keeps clenching around him is killing him, he’s not going to last much longer if Stiles keeps it up. But he’s determined to make his Beta cum again.

“Theo,” Stiles moans, meeting the Alpha’s thrusts eagerly.

The chimera leans down to lick up his Beta’s spine and kiss the crook of his neck. His wolf and coyote are screaming at him to bite. “Can I bite you? I need to bite you, Stiles.”

By some miracle, the fox moans louder than ever before, “is this some wolf, mate thing?” Stiles asks with enough clarity it really didn’t seem like he possessed at the moment.

“Probably,” Theo’s hips stutter for just a second, he hadn’t really thought of it that way. Huh, interesting. “Is that a problem?” He asks, giving his Beta one last chance to back out. “That my wolf and coyote want you just as much as I do?”

“No,” Stiles moans with a lopsided grin, “fox likes you just as much.”

The Alpha growls, more than pleased as he licks the area before sinking his fangs right in the crook until he tastes blood and a cord pulls taut in his chest. The sharp scent of cum fills the air when Stiles cries out, that only makes Theo rumble louder that that’s what set his Beta off. That bonding with him was enough to give him an orgasm. Letting go of the fox’s flesh, the Alpha cleans the wound with loving licks, “so good, baby, so perfect.” Theo doesn’t care how he sounds compared to not even a half hour ago. Stiles is his now and he’ll say whatever he wants thank you very much.

With Stiles’ hole still fluttering around his cock, the chimera is so very close to his own orgasm. So he leans back on his knees and ruts into his Beta who not only takes it, but is more than present enough to still enjoy it and push back. Theo knows Stiles is growing tired and is doing his best to make it quick for his now mate who has been spectacular.

“You’re covered in my marks already,” Theo groans, eyes rolling back for a second at the way Stiles tightens around him. “Now I’m gonna fill you with my cum and mark you from the inside. That way everyone will know. Sound good, little fox?”

He fucks into Stiles impossibly faster, railing his Beta’s prostate, making his words sharp and choked, “please, Theo. I-I want that, please.”

“That’s my good, little slut,” the Alpha rumbles in his chest. It’s then that Theo smells it, “are you gonna cum again?” Stiles whines something that sounds like please. As if he wasn’t perfect enough. “Good, come on, baby, cum for me,” Theo groans, his thrusts turning aborted and with a howled moan, he spills his release into his Beta. Slowing his hips only when Stiles drenches the sheets even more. The Alpha falls forward, blanketing the fox’s back with his chest as the both come down from their high. Once his heart has regained its proper beat, Theo pulls out as gently as he can, laying on his side and grabbing his Beta’s wrist to help him.

Stiles tries to nestle his back into the chimera’s chest, but the Alpha stops him and turns him over to look at the fox.

“You,” Theo says, pushing the matted hair off Stiles’ forehead, “are amazing.” His words make the post-sex flush to his Beta’s cheeks darken as he tries to duck his head. “Don’t hide from me,” he whispers, tilting Stiles by his chin to kiss him tenderly, free hand rubbing his spine. “Are you in any pain?” The Alpha keeps his tone soft, needing the fox to tell him the truth.

“A little,” he admits, but smiles and sighs contentedly as he curls into Theo’s neck. “But it’s a good kind of ache. ‘S time to sleep,” Stiles mumbles into his skin and the chimera laughs.

“It’s time to take a shower,” Theo says and his mate grumbles. “Don’t worry,” the Alpha wraps his arms around the fox and with the grace only a supernatural creature can possess, gets them out of bed. “I’ll take care of you, sweet thing,” the chimera nuzzles his cheek in Stiles’ hair as he carries him to the bathroom.

“Best boyfriend ever.” The fox hums into his neck, “you’re a good Alpha.”

Theo chuckles as he turns the shower on to let it warm up, “one I’m your mate,” he says, sitting down in the tub with the fox still in his lap. “And thank you,” the chimera bumps his nose with his mate’s temple, “I’m glad you think so.”

“I wasn’t even your Beta and you came when I called,” Stiles sits up and looks at him with serious eyes. “I’m sorry that I said you’re not Scott.”

The chimera cups his Beta’s cheek and pulls him in for a kiss. Soft, sweet, meant to hold every ounce of affection and admiration he has. “It’s okay, I’m not mad at you. Not anymore,” he brushes their noses before resting their foreheads together. “It’s almost like I give a shit about you now or something,” he smirks with a shrug, using humor to make his mate feel better. It’s practically the fox’s go to method.

Which is why it works. Stiles snorts and playfully rolls his eyes, “I give a shit about you too, jackass,” smiling as he leans in to kiss Theo again. “I’m also sorry about the mistletoe-”

“Stiles, there’s something much better you can put something in my ass, okay? So just hush,” he pecks the fox’s lips, “and kiss me.” Theo molds their mouths together as Stiles smiles around it, showing how happy he is about everything. Not that the Alpha can blame him. Theo hasn’t felt this happy in who knows how long.

[athenawasamerf]

Feminism in Egypt, Part 2

FGM

FGM has a long, bloody history with African and Arab women. Some people say it originated in Ancient Egypt; others lean more towards it being a Bedouin Arab tradition. I’m not here to discuss the origin story of one of the most horrific human rights infarctions on earth. I’m here to talk about the current feminist struggle against it.

FGM was outlawed in Egypt in June of 2008, and a 2014 survey showed that a whopping 92% of married women and girls between 15 and 49 years old have been subjected to FGM (I will talk more about the inclusion of 15 year olds in official surveys of married women in a post about child brides), and that 72% of these crimes were carried out by doctors. In 2008, a DHS survey of women and girls in the same age range showed that 63% of them were in support of FGM as a practice. Of those 63%, 60% cited husband preference for ‘cleaned’ girls, and 39% cited religious reasons. All of these are easily googleable facts, but these things always sound so clinical when they’re presented like this. Cold, sterile, detached. So, let’s get a little deeper into it, shall we?

Girls in Egypt are mutilated anywhere between birth and marriage, but mostly before the age of 15. These are children. Every single year, we have cases of babies, toddlers, children, young women dying from botched mutilations and infections, especially after the 2016 criminalisation of FGM practitioners. Parents will take their daughters to backwater clinics, or have ‘doula’s who have no medical experience of any kind visit them at home, and cut into the flesh of their young daughters with non-sterile equipment, often without anaesthesia.

I’ve heard and read first-hand accounts of girls who got topical anaesthesia that wore out halfway through. I’ve heard and read first-hand accounts of girls who were dragged, kicking and screaming, and held down by family and neighbours forcefully as their bodies were torn into. Of girls who bled for days, of girls who had to have their legs bound to each other for weeks, of girls who couldn’t stop screaming in pain every time they went to the bathroom, to complete apathy and even disgust and anger from their families, of girls who were snarled at for making noise while their bodies were being torn away on their own beds, of girls who still have constant pain over a decade later, of girls who hate themselves and hate their vulvas, and hate their lives. Of girls who are suicidal, of girls who are terrified of marriage, who have trust issues, who can’t handle the thought of anyone touching them there again, after the first time being so traumatic and painful and horrifying. All of this is done while the family, and even friends and neighbours, celebrate in joy. It’s even tradition in some rural areas to take all the female children of the family to get ‘fixed’ together, dressed in pretty dresses and fancy shoes.

I’ve also heard of women who are asexual due to trauma, whose husbands rape them continuously, who are abused for refusing sex, whose families disown them for being such a disgrace, whose husbands divorce them and leave them for dead, whose husbands marry multiple women besides them, and they are left to fend for themselves, unable to get a divorce and move on, and completely abandoned by the people they trusted the most. They’re told the angels will curse them all night for refusing sex, but what about their trauma? What about their feelings? What about them, as people? Nobody cares.

So, how did we get here? There are 3 main reasons.

The ’’religious’’ folk will cite a (weak) hadith as their proof that FGM is a good, healthy practice. It goes that the prophet saw a woman going to get her daughter cut, and he told her to ‘not cut severely, as that is better for the woman and more preferable to the husband’. Apart from any implications of misogyny in this hadith, it has been disputed multiple times, along with a couple others in support of FGM. You can read more about that here.

Regardless of the truth of FGM having Islamic support, the reality of the matter is that a huge amount of actual, real life Muslim people cite these hadiths as their reasoning to mutilate their daughters, and everyone sees that as completely justified. The truth of the matter is this: Someone put these hadiths into the public conscience knowing full well they will be used to abuse, maim, hurt, kill women for centuries. Whether that someone was prophet Muhammed himself or later scholars, no one can actually ever know.

The second, more indirectly religious and directly misogynistic reason, is to ensure ‘purity’. You see, as I’ve talked about before and as many of you already know, women in Islam and in MENA in general are seen and treated as property. The family’s honour lies between a woman’s thighs. A young girl who speaks to boys her age in the most innocent context possible can be subjected to house arrest, beatings, forced stopping of her education, even death, for daring to put the family’s honour in jeopardy. A girl who has a boyfriend, well...

In a society that places so much value not only on women’s virginity, but also on their complete removal and separation from the male sex at any cost, it’s not very surprising that tips and tricks like using FGM to ‘cull a woman’s sexual desire’ spread like wildfire. Girls are mutilated to make sure they don’t become wh**es. This is said frankly, openly, it’s common knowledge. If you refuse to hurt your child in this way, you will be met with disdain and disgust, and even wails of despair, with shock, with animosity. “Do you want her to become like a prostitute and ruin your family name? Do you want her to walk around uncontrolled? Don’t you know what shame she will bring on you?” These statements are directed at girls as young as... in the womb, if you show your dissent early enough.

And the final reason is the least of them to hide under religious pretences, and the most misogynistic: Because this is how men prefer their wives to be.

You might think when I say preference here, I mean it in the way I mean, “Oh, I personally prefer brunette hair,” but you would be sorely mistaken. By prefer here, I mean demand. I mean a man could force his grown wife, through physical force or through abuse, to mutilate her body for his satisfaction. I mean that men will sneer at un-mutilated women. I mean that men will beat their wives on their wedding night to within an inch of her life for ‘cheating’ them if the wives are not mutilated. I mean men will suspect their wives of adultery and murder them, which carries a reduced sentence of ‘time served during investigation’, just for the simple act of having intact genitals. I mean men will divorce their wives on their wedding night for being unharmed, for being whole. I mean men will act so entitled to women’s bodies that they will always have the assumption that the ‘product’ they are ‘buying’ is cut to taste, and they will become violent and aggressive and murderous if they find out this is not the case.

I personally don’t know whether or not I’ve been mutilated. With such high numbers in Egypt, the likely answer is yes, but I genuinely have no clue. I am not allowed to ask about these things, or I’ll be seen as a loose wh**re. My parents would beat me up and they still wouldn’t allow me the dignity of knowing whether my own body has been altered against my will. I don’t know if I’ll ever find out.

The feminists fighting constantly for tighter regulations, for harsher punishments, for longer sentences; these women are seen as the spawn of the devil. Accusations of loose morals are thrown their way day in and day out. Death threats and rape threats (’that’s what you want anyway isn’t it?’) are hurled at them from every direction. They are silenced. They are ridiculed. But they are prevailing. This year, the Egyptian president has decided to alter the FGM laws to cover loopholes, and possibly to increase enforcement. He has also altered the charge set to doctors who perform FGM which results in death from manslaughter to first or second degree murder.

The problem, however, remains in lack of reporting. Ever since the criminalisation of performing FGM in 2008, and the setting of punishments in 2016 as a minimum of three months’ jail time, to a maximum of 2 years, or a minimum of 1000EGP to a maximum of 5000EGP fines (63.71 to 318.53 USD), and until 2018, and possibly until today, not a single mutilator had been convicted.

Imagine being fined as little as 60 dollars for the permanent mutilation of a little girl’s body. And even that is not happening.

People refuse to report the monsters who do perform this, despite a 2012 gynaecology convention condemning the practice, and calling it an inhumane act, and stating quite forcefully that it is not a medical procedure, and that it is an infringement on the human rights of women and girls, which medicine and medical ethics do not condone. And yet, the public opinion remains the same: this is their business, it is not our place to intervene. It is not our place to get this fine young man thrown in jail, or fined, for performing a ‘cleaning’ procedure, and besides, wouldn’t you rather they had a medical professional perform it, rather than an uneducated woman, or a barber, or a butcher? It is not our place to report this family and tear them apart -  what did they ever do to us that we may hurt them like this?

No one ever asks what little girls have ever done for us to fail them like this.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 5

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

They’re sitting in the car outside her mother’s house, and she’s stalling.

“Are we going inside?” Ethan asks with a confused smile, and she nods wearily.

She’s been dreading telling her family. Well, not her mother; Mom will be thrilled, as will Bill. Charlie will act appropriately happy but doesn’t actually care that much. But Missy….Missy will see right through her. She always does.

They exit the car and make their way to the front porch, her stomach twisting in her gut all the way. Ethan knocks, casting her concerned glances intermittently. She knows she’s not playing the part of “recently engaged” very well. She’s told Ethan that it’s just nerves, and that she hates making big announcements, which is true. She’s still trying to convince herself that’s all it is.

The door swings open and Charlie greets them with smiles and quick hugs, and they make their way to the kitchen where Mom is still finishing up dinner.

“Grab some wine and take a seat,” she directs them as they each kiss her on the cheek, “Missy should be here any minute.”

She pours herself a very full glass of wine after asking Ethan if he can drive home, then plants herself in an armchair that only seats one. She’s been craving personal space lately.

Ten minutes later, Missy breezes in the door, giving Dana a skeptical glance; leave it to Missy to immediately pick up on something being off. They better get this over with soon.

They all sit down and say grace. Missy holds her left hand and she can feel the moment her fingers make contact with the ring. Missy yanks on her arm and gives her wide eyes as everyone else at the table thanks the lord for their daily bread. Dana glances at her briefly and then looks away. It will all be out in the open momentarily.

“Before we dig into this lovely meal Mom has prepared for us,” Ethan begins, “Dana and I have some news to share.”

Oh god, here it comes. Maybe the huge glass of wine was a bad idea.

“Am I gonna be an uncle, D?!” Charlie says excitedly, and both she and Maggie shoot him an unamused glare.

“Not just yet, Charlie,” Ethan says with a cautious smile. “Dana and I got engaged. We’re getting married!”

Dana holds up her left hand with a thin smile, and Maggie and Charlie both provide appropriately big, happy reactions complete with hugs and congratulatory slaps on the back. Missy raises her eyebrows and looks at her baby sister with a bemused expression.

“Oh, this is such happy news, I wish your father could be here,” Maggie says, clutching her hand to her chest. “We’ll have to call Bill and Tara after dinner.”

Dana forces bites of pot roast down her throat and avoids her sister’s eye for the following twenty minutes, then leaves Ethan and her mother to share the news with Bill as she escapes to the back porch. Charlie, as usual, finds his way to the couch with a beer.

She’s sitting on the steps of the porch, working on her second glass of wine, when she hears the creak of the screen door behind her. She doesn't need to look to know that it’s Missy; she can hear the swish of her flowy skirt and the jangle of her stacked bracelets. Missy sits down beside her and they are quiet for a few minutes, the dark night illuminated by a waxing crescent moon.

“Is this really what you want, Sis?” Missy asks in a tone that’s soft and concerned.

“Of course, Missy. Ethan and I have been talking about getting married for years,” she says, hoping it sounds more convincing than it feels.

“I know. But…” she trails off and sighs.

“But what?” Dana prods her.

“Look, Sis, Ethan is great. I love him, and he’ll make a great husband. I’m just not sure he’s the right one for you.” Dana can feel her sister looking at her in the dim light, but keeps her eyes on the blooming hydrangea bush at the bottom of the stairs.

“He’s a great guy, Missy. He’s kind, and generous, and he has a stable job. He treats me really well. There’s no reason NOT to marry him,” she offers, taking a big gulp of her wine. “Dad loved him, he’d be so happy to know we got married,” she adds.

Missy scoffs. “Two years underground and you’re still trying to please Dad?”

“He was cremated, Missy,” she replies deadpan, avoiding the point.

“Okay, so two years underwater, then. Doesn’t change the fact that Dad liking him isn’t a reason to marry someone. Neither is them being great husband material. The only reason to marry someone is because you want to marry them. Do you want to marry Ethan?” She can feel Missy’s eyes on her face.

“Yes,” she says in a weak voice, unwilling to elaborate.

Missy sighs. “Okay, if this is what you want, I’ll be here to help you in whatever way you need. But if you change your mind-”

“-I’m not going to change my mind, Missy,” she cuts her off.

“Well,” Missy continues, “whatever happens, I’ll be here. Thick and thin, right?”

Dana looks at her sister then, and smiles as they clasp hands. “Thick and thin.”

&&

The following week, she takes herself out for Sunday afternoon coffee to one of her favorite places near the apartment. She likes to go out alone for coffee or lunch sometimes, just to have some space to think. Lately, she’s been needing a lot of it. The cafe is bustling with the after-church crowd, which makes her feel guilty for not going to mass with her mother. It’s difficult to talk to Mom right now; all she wants to do is talk about the wedding, and that’s the last thing Dana wants to discuss. Ethan wants to get married soon, this fall, and the whole thing is so overwhelming she shuts down every time they try to talk to her about it. She wishes she could pause life for a while, until she can sort out her feelings.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she hears a familiar voice call from beside her, and she looks up to see Mulder, dressed casually in jeans and a grey T-shirt.

She smiles reflexively, the first time she’s felt a real smile tug at her lips in a week or more.

“Mulder, hi,” she says, genuinely pleased to see him. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, this place is right near my dealer’s house,” he responds, and flashes her that boyish grin at her shocked expression. “I was actually just checking out a record store around the corner and decided to grab some coffee. How are you?” The question feels so real, like he actually wants to know how she is. She doesn’t want him to leave.

“I’m well, would you like to sit down?” she says as she gestures to the empty seat across from her, pulling her hand back when she realizes that he’ll likely notice her ring. She surreptitiously slips it off her finger and tucks it into her pants pocket.

He sits, and she can’t help but take in the way his shirt hugs his broad shoulders, and the hint of defined pectorals underneath. He is a seriously good-looking man.

“So, whatcha been up to?” He asks, taking a sip from his to-go cup.

She should tell him the happy news that she’s gotten engaged, but she very much doesn’t want to.

“Not much, just cutting up dead bodies and teaching others how to do the same,” she responds dryly.

“Slicin’ and dicin’,” he says with a nod, and she feels a sense of relief at being able to make such a crass joke to someone who understands the kind of work she does.

“Exactly. How about you, working on anything interesting?” she asks, and never has a social nicety been more genuine.

“That depends on your definition of interesting, I suppose,” he begins, “we’ve got the face mutilator, the acid thrower, and the super-stabber, who you’re familiar with.”

“Quite the line up,” she retorts.

“I realize I didn’t get the chance to ask how you ended up at the Academy,” he inquires.

“Oh, um I was actually recruited out of medical school,” she replies, taking a sip of her coffee.

His eyebrows jump and he leans forward a bit. “You’re a doctor, then?” he asks, and she gauges only that he’s impressed, not surprised, which is a nice change of pace. People don’t seem to realize that it’s not a compliment to express disbelief that she, of all people, would be a medical doctor.

“Mmhmm, all pathologists are trained medical doctors,” she confirms with a nod.

“Your parents must be very proud,” he offers, and she makes a face.

“Not exactly. My father actually passed away a couple years ago, but he was less than pleased with my decision not to pursue medicine as a career. My mom is moderately more supportive, thankfully.”

She catches his eye and is surprised by the intensity of the look he’s giving her.

“I’m sorry to hear about your father,” he says as though he knew the man, and it catches her off guard a bit. She changes the subject.

“What about the X files, anything interesting happening there?”

“Well, no, given that they don’t exist anymore. You wanna hear about an old one I investigated?”

She nods emphatically.

“There was this team of researchers up in Icy Cape, Alaska. They were geophysicists, drilling ice core samples. They’d been up there a few weeks when there was an odd video communication received from one of the research team members saying “we are not who we are” before he shot himself in the head, then all communication went dark.”

“What happened to them?” Scully asks, leaning towards him. She’s immediately drawn in.

“Well, that’s what we went up there to find out; myself a physician, toxicologist and a geologist. When we got there, the whole crew was dead, only a dog that belonged to one of them survived. He appeared to be rabid, and he attacked me and our pilot. When we examined the dog, he had these black nodules on his skin.”

“That sounds like a symptom of bubonic plague,” Scully offers.

“That’s what Dr. Hodge thought too. Anyway, the pilot ended up getting infected as well, and we had to restrain him and remove this worm-thing from his neck. He died immediately after we removed it.”

“A worm-thing?” Scully asks, “what was it?”

“I’m still not entirely sure. The geologist found an ice core sample that was probably over 250,000 years old, and I think the worm came from the ice. Some kind of prehistoric parasite that overtakes its host. We eventually figured out that to kill it, you have to introduce a second worm into the host, and they’ll destroy each other.”

“Why haven’t I ever heard about this? It seems like the kind of discovery that would make the news, at least in the science community,” her mind is reeling, now with excitement.

“Well, that’s the thing. After we were evacuated, they destroyed the drill site and all the evidence.”

“They?” she inquires. “Who is ‘they’?”

Mulder smiles knowingly and she has the overwhelming urge to touch him.

“That’s the million dollar question, Scully. That’s what the X files sought to answer. Who, or what, is behind the mass coverup of information that would prove the existence of extraterrestrial life?” He says it so casually, like it’s the most irrefutable fact in the world instead of some half-cocked conspiracy theory.

“Huh,” she sits back in her chair. “Are there a lot of cases like that one? In the X files?”

Mulder’s mouth quirks, and she can tell that he’s pleased by her interest in his old work.

“Hundreds, though I only have about fifty in my possession. I took the juiciest ones, of course.”

“What else is there? Tell me about another one,” she asks unabashedly. She’s fascinated.

Mulder looks at his watch and makes a face. “I wish I could, but I have a prior engagement. I have them stored at my apartment, I could show you sometime, if you’d like. Do you like cats?”

Her eyebrows lift. “Is there an X file about cats?” she asks, and he laughs.

“No. Well, actually yes, but I’m asking because I have a cat. You aren’t allergic, are you?”

“Oh, no,” she says as she feels her cheeks warm.

He reaches into his wallet and hands her his business card. “Give me a call, or shoot me an email. I’ll show you what the FBI doesn’t want you to see,” he punctuates this with a wag of his eyebrows as he stands. “It was really good to see you, Scully,” he says with an earnest look, those eyes seemingly seeing right through her.

She swallows hard. “You too, Mulder,” she replies, and watches him walk out the cafe door.

She looks down at the business card in her hands:

Fox W. Mulder

Criminal Behavioral Analyst

Behavioral Science Unit

She wonders what the W stands for. She wonders why she cares.

[dadsbongos]

*bows down to you* I would like to know your despair arc headcanons for antag reader! Literally love antag reader so much 😳

ahhhhhh nonny please let me treat you to my adoration, i can’t thank you enough for asking me about my despair arc hcs for antag reader

Request for: Fuck it, not even Hajime anymore it’s just antag reader. Girlboss moment Warnings: fuckin despair arc tings lmao there’s a lot to deal with, face cutting, abuse (emotional, mental, physical) cuz hi junko enoshima, manipulation cuz hi junko enoshima, self mutilation/harm, mikan/junko toxicity, gore, vomiting  ~~~

Headcanons:

🐇Okay so I’ve said it before but!! 🐇She was in that toxic relationship between Mikan and Junko 🐇Junko would make her and Mikan compete for any and all affections just to cause them both despair (which even if “won”, was still denied) 🐇And then anytime she could, Junko would just absolutely berate (Y/n)’s looks and talent, calling the Ultimate Copycat a “fake talent” and “just stealing” 🐇So after Junko died, (Y/n) found her body and cut off portions of her face and replaced them with patches of Junko to “be more like her Despair” 🐇She would find people who wanted to fight for hope and take them in, insisting that she was on their side and would lead them to her house for “safety” 🐇Then she’d just restrain them with Mikan so they could perform experiments and surgeries on them together 🐇Definitely helps Kazuichi build his bigger machines, using the more intelligence she has to make better plans for what they’ll do with them 🐇I imagine that as a copycat antag, she’s got a shitload of charisma so she prolly just gets a load of followers 🐇I’m not saying it’s a cult… but 🐇Probably was the influencer for Nagito’s decision to become Servant 🐇Since he was already serving her all the time pre-despair he decided to join the WOH as their servant  🐇As for when she got captured by the Future Foundation… 🐇Was probably one of the harder ones to capture like Nekomaru and Gundham since she could be the Ultimate at almost anything she wanted 🐇When being interrogated by the Future Foundation she was probably smug and cocky af 🐇A solid match for Byakuya, no joke 🐇Maybe worse, like at least he sort of mellowed out with responsibility 🐇Keeps her mouth tightly shut until they mention anything about her face or Mikan 🐇Because as much as she doesn’t truly romantically love Mikan, she’s not even sure she loved Junko, she does care about the nurse very deeply 🐇So it’s when they mention having captured her that they get any sign of emotion other than cockiness 🐇When they say they have Nagito, that also gets them some words from her 🐇But if they say anything about her face, she has a little breakdown and throws a fit about how she’s better than everyone else in the room and she could kill them all if she wanted and she’s more beautiful than any of them could ever dream to be 🐇Didn’t get the chance to help Izuru release Junko into the Neoworld Program, but definitely would have if she could

Stories:

“Would you kill for me?” Junko murmured, bringing a hand up to caress (Y/n)’s cheek, rubbing her thumb over the bone, “Would you die for me?”

“I would!” she cried hysterically, tears already streaming down her face, “Please, say it! Please, just say it! I would do anything for you, please, just love me… I love you! I love you! Just love me, please…”

Her brows furrowed, bringing her gentle touch back to whip the copycat in the face with a backhand slap, “You’re so ugly, a little piggy ripe for the slaughter.”

Sobs pulled at (Y/n)’s convulsing body as she heaved on the ground. Her throat closed and dried up, chest burning and stomach churning until she finally felt her gag reflex trigger. She spat out stomach acids as she wept over a love that was never hers.

“God, you’re so nasty,” Junko kicked her in the ass, knocking her down into her own puke, “Get out and don’t come back until I command.”

“Love me… love me… love me… please… I beg you…!”

~~

“Do you think if I crushed my hand, Junko would care?”

“No.”

“Sonia wouldn’t care if you crushed yours.”

Kazuichi’s eyes flickered from his work to (Y/n), “I know.”

“It’d be…”

“Despairful?”

“Absolutely morbid,” her tone was breathy, a grin easing up over her lips and heart beating faster as she set aside the half-finished Monokuma and pressed her hand onto the metal desk, raising her heavy wrench above her head. 

Kazuichi was quick to copy the moves, eyes wide in anticipation and muscles twitching as his brain desperately tried sending the signals for him to stop.

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

Screams echoed in the warehouse following the sickening crunch of bones under the torturous weight of their wrenches. Kazuichi looked at the girl through his tears, “Again?”

In the midst of her agonized cries, she nodded, blubbering about how horrific the pain was, “Yes, yes, again!”

And so, the countdown started once again.

“One, two, three!”

More bones broken, more pain blasting through their hands for their beloveds to reject everything they were. For the loves they held so dear to look upon them and their injuries and roll their eyes - because they were meaningless in their loves’ eyes.

And that was the despair they craved.

~~

Nagito held out his chain, grimacing when it was Izuru who took it rather than (Y/n) before shoving that hatred back into his chest. Izuru may be a despair-filled faker with no real talent he’d been born with, but he himself, Nagito Komaeda - Servant - was worse. 

He wasn’t worth the air in his lungs. Not even human garbage as he was barely passable as a human being. 

Then, his eyes traveled once again to (Y/n). His dearest and closest friend.

Izuru may have had more talents mastered, but she was natural. She was genuine and had taken the time to master her Ultimate herself while Izuru had them all planted inside his brain as if he had a right to them at all. It was like watching a slacker get all the credit that a hard-worker had already done. Infuriating.

He wished to see (Y/n) ascend into hope once more, he truly believed she could pave the way above everyone else. She had to. She was better than everyone else, it was up to her to return them to hope, once she realized hope for herself.

He believed in her and her hope - once Enoshima’s metaphorical hands were ripped from her spirit.

And he liked to think she had fresh patches of skin that weren't hers, still red around the scars and peeling, were there for the same reason he had a new hand that wasn’t his.

~~

“She’s so much like Byakuya,” Makoto mumbled, watching through the glass as their newest captured Despair, (Y/n) (L/n), tapped her nails against the table her hands were chained to.

“First that troublesome imposter and now her, who do they think they are? They’re not even near being worthy of the Togami name.”

Kyoko scanned the girl, “She was screaming at the guards earlier when they pointed out the scars and patches on her face. Perhaps bringing it up again will get her to talk about some things.”

“We…” Makoto stopped, shivering at the memory of Junko Enoshima’s corpse when they’d found it on the side of the road outside their old school. Patches missing from a bloodied, pulpy face, “We already know what happened. What more could you want her to talk about?”

“Maybe she knows where some of her classmates are.”

“The nurse freaked out when we mentioned her, maybe if we bring Mikan up to (Y/n), she’ll have a similar reaction,” the Ultimate Hope offered up.

Nodding, Kyoko turned towards the door into the interrogation room, “It’s worth a shot.”

~~

Five minutes was all they got, Makoto Naegi said. He was compassionate and understanding and so sweet. Of course, he’d set up a meeting between the lovers who didn’t know if they ever really loved each other.

Mikan was always unusually cold and smelled of lavender with a hint of vanilla, her hands were soft and her lips a lovely shade of pink.

Now, as (Y/n) held the nurse’s hand over the interrogation table and basked in her presence, she could feel how much she’d changed in despair. She was still cold but now she reeked of dirt and blood, no matter how many showers she’d taken. Her lips were much paler; dry and cracked. Hands rough and calloused.

“They told me you took her womb.”

“You took her face.”

“You’ll bear her children?”

“You’ll bear her beauty?”

It was always a fight. It was always a competition. For more. For love. For the affection and attention they’d been deprived of all their lives.

“Have you… tried conceiving?”

There was silence. Mikan looked down at the table and then back up at (Y/n).

Her skin was no longer peeling along the jagged incision sites but her scars were infecting when she’d been taken in and it was obvious. They were puffy and oozed every so often.

She looked back down.

“With who?”

Shaking her head, Mikan tightened her grip on the girl’s hand.

“Why didn’t you get me to do the skin graft?”

“You were probably busy.”

“I would’ve done it anyway. I’d done Fuyuhiko’s eye.”

There was more silence. Stiffness building in the girls’ bodies the longer their quietness buzzed in the room.

“Am I still beautiful…?” it was rare to see vulnerability in (Y/n).

“Almost like our beloved herself.” it was rare to hear a lie from Mikan.

It wasn’t the scars or the blood or the skin patches, it was the act of how she’d gotten them. Scars and patches didn’t make a person ugly, but stealing pieces of a dead woman’s face and using them as your own did.

[sassooda]

Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 37 - Destined for Greatness

w/c - 7,731

               Suguru has been lying in bed for hours now as his mind wanders through his past and imagines different scenarios for the future. He sighs as he tosses and turns for the thousandth time, facing away from his door while his gaze takes to his new quarters that are viewable from this angle. This is by far the cheeriest room he has ever called his own. The walls are a warm yellow, the floors of solid hardened red clay and all of the matching furniture a light wood. His eyes take to the closed curtains with long thick white drapes, ‘This is so fucking annoying…’, he mumbles knowing there’s not even a window behind it, there’s no way for there to be when you’re underground. Sitting up now with aggravation, he reaches over to the bedside table and places the bowl of water he was using the night before, back into his lap. He wants to check in on Elska’s surroundings although he knows other Titers are tasked with the enemy’s usual surveillance. Before activating his technique though, he hesitates due to anxiety, ‘What the fuck am I going to do when we take her? What the fuck will she do?’. He hears footsteps approaching his door and knows Genghis must have already finished with most of the arrangements.

               “Little one! Time to wake up!”. Genghis calls out in an eager voice. He stops and smiles when he sees that Getou is already awake and asks, “Aren’t you excited about today?”. He looks over the worrisome Suguru who’s vexation is transparent. The golden sheets drape along his body and slide from his bare skin whenever he moves under them.

               Getou grumbles and turns his head, “I don’t think what I’m feeling is excitement…”. He keeps looking at the curtains that hide lies while wondering if he’s much different. ‘Will I have to subdue her when she lashes out? Am I going to have to hurt her when she resists?’. He’s had no qualms with doing so in the past but feels an incredible amount of pressure regarding it now. ‘Could we…like each other?’.

               Genghis chuckles and ignores Suguru’s reluctant attitude while looking around the room, “This is definitely much more suitable! Did you really put in a request for a giant tub though?” He’s poking fun at his pupil but he was also puzzled by that. Genghis thinks the brighter room will serve them both well psychologically. ‘Not too shabby for being done at the last minute.’.

               Embarrassed by the question, Getou submerges deeper into his bad mood and bed before retorting, “It’s for me. I’m tall.”. He was certainly not about to admit that it was for Elska, thinking she really must love them judging by how insane Naoya acted about it when the Zenin originally designed the first room where she was held. Suguru is aware that her reaction may be hostile overall and is dreading these coming days because of it so he hopes having one may ease her nerves. He doesn’t know that tub is Naoya’s thing.

               Genghis isn’t really satisfied with that answer but continues on, “I’ve gathered the most adept offensive fighters we have to offer.” Knowing the Titer’s abilities are incredible but lack in the area of traditional combat, selecting the most capable available would be crucial. “I believe you’ll quite enjoy my plan…”. His teeth show in this smile now, he’s more than willing to share his enthusiasm.

               Suguru finally turns to his mentor, interested. “Do tell me what you’ve concocted.”.

               Genghis lights up, “So as we were discussing, we need to restrict their actions. We will make our move in a public setting but you’ll still be able to have your fun...we will have to harm innocents but I assume that’s not what troubles you.” He grins maniacally, “Mr. Satoru Gojo’s presence will be requested before the Elders here in a few and his curiosity will assure he attends.”. Genghis sighs, “I was worried Gojo might want to kill all of them but I brought in two special people to mediate our fictitious ambitions.”. He chuckles, “The silver shaman has no idea what’s in store for him.”.

               Getou smirks at the thought of Gojo having the rug pulled from beneath him, “So we’re planning on having to deal with Toji, Zenin and Choso…aside from her today?” Genghis nods to his question but a heaviness forms in Suguru’s chest when he thinks about having to kill Choso. He’s still not on board with that completely and figures he’ll try his best to protect the hybrid in the midst of confusion. ‘Not him too.”. Getou wishes to find a way to bring the hybrid back to his side.

               Genghis claps his hands, causing his yellow robes to flutter, “You better get up and get ready! I’m about to meet with our team. I believe your first sweetheart will be amongst them.”, he chuckles for the drama but honestly loathes that woman.

               “Lidia?”, Getou stiffens immediately as that did not help his motivation. “She’s fucking crazy Master Genghis, I don’t want to be anywhere near her!”. Suguru takes his head to his hands as a few memories of her dependency and inhumane behavior flood him. ‘Psychotic bitch.’. Lidia always chased after Suguru when they were younger and at some point this wore on him as before he knew it, she was claiming them to be betrothed. She was obsessed with his destiny, his calling for the clan and would worship him in the most toxic ways due to it. Her need to be the only one in Getou’s life caused her to mutilate young women amongst Suguru’s outer circle out of spite and jealousy. Their time together did not last long as it quickly became a violent pairing, ending with him crushing her ribs under his usual technique. Suguru sighs, “She’s is not going to help me obtain another woman…”. He shudders recalling how after healing, she was back to throwing herself at him as if nothing happened. ‘Fucking…crazy…’.

               Genghis hides his sneer, knowing full and well the history of the two. “On the contrary, she requested this assignment.”. He notices Suguru’s growing frustration and wishes he could explain exactly why he’s doing what he’s doing but instead says, “I’ve seen many outcomes for this and although they may have varied, I can assure you Lidia will serve a great purpose here.”. Little does Getou know, Lidia will be the proof offered to show Elska she will be cared for while in the Titer compound.

               Suguru is skeptical to believe this and shows it through his expression as he rises from the bed and says, “Women are the bane of my existence…”. He stretches in his black briefs and cracks his neck while thinking something foreboding was eating at him. ‘I’m probably going to have to expose my other techniques now.’.

               “You’re about to receive the most powerful wife in the world…and yet, you complain.”, Genghis teases as he’d probably be nervous too if the roles were reversed. He watches Suguru don a black robe, clearly showing signs of stress so he walks up to him and puts his jokes aside, “This is going to work out, little one, one way or another.”, and pulls Getou’s head down to plant a fatherly kiss to the top of it. After sharing the rare moment, he bows and leaves Suguru to his morning routine.

               Getou watches him quietly walk out of the room with conflicting emotions. Genghis is the only man he’s ever looked up to, the only other human that ever offered genuine affection. Ever since Suguru was reunited with his mentor though, something has felt off or perhaps he’s just seems more purposeful. He’s not sure if this odd feeling is because of his own unstable emotions that threatened to derail his purpose of revenge or if there’s another reason but he can’t ignore it either way. He trusts that his mentor is still worthy of his respect and recognition though and finds his returning welcomed regardless. ‘All of those years…’, he wonders where Genghis spent his time and exactly why. ‘Did they really keep him away to simply foster my hatred for Gojo?’. He knows that doesn’t really make sense.

               Genghis is turning a hall leading to stairs to take him upward. He sees two of the recruited Titers waiting for him outside of the designated meeting area at the top, smiles and nears them. The first one he shakes hands with is Sain Khun. The 32-year-old Titer was a remarkable martial artists and hunter. His rare eyes are more grey than blue and stand in contrast to his long black hair that he wears down. Sain is one of the handful of Titers that learned to channel their metaphysical natured abilities into to combative techniques but usually stays out of the political fray of the clan. ‘A fine young man.”. Before he’s able to address the handsome Titer, the second of the pairing cuts in.

               “Master Genghis, I have more questions about this woman.”. Lidia shamelessly exudes her opinion of the situation and demands attention. She receives a sharp look from the clan’s head that only fuels her suspicions. “Are we certain she’s the best pairing for Master Getou?”.

               “Miss Lidia, you look lovely today…”, Genghis takes her hand and kisses it, ignoring her inquires. He continues to smile until she speaks up again. ‘She never ceases.’.

               “Can we trust that her intentions for Master Getou are ones we can stand by?”. Lidia shakes her long curly red hair that dances down her arms. Her green eyes narrowed still, she waits for an answer. “She’s not even human. What if she uses her powers to manipulate his biology as well?”. Her foot taps impatiently against the now softer ground, ‘I’ll fucking kill that bitch if she even looks at him wrong!’.

               Genghis has already grown tired of catering to Lidia’s neediness in the short time they’ve come to know each other but understands she’s vital. “And what of your own intentions?”, he confidently questions her as he doesn’t need an answer. He already knows and is glad to see her heart hasn’t wavered from its possessive ways.

               Sain feels forced as this greet was supposed to be simple. He cares not of Lidia’s unhealthy interest for Suguru and even with his instincts crying against Genghis, feels badly for the man. He decides to enter the conversation in hopes to shut it down. “Lusting Lidia, it’s time to get on with the meeting.”, and grabs her arm, leading her through the door where the rest of the selected wait.

               Genghis takes a moment to center himself, ‘I understand your resentment little one…’. This quick exchange between them wasn’t the worst he’s suffered from the woman but he still cannot stand to be around her. He chuckles and whispers to himself, “But if she were any less obsessed, this wouldn’t work.”, and then enters the room with the rest as they lay out their plans.

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

               Elska is looking around at the busy street as they occasionally bump into passing people. “My prince, are you sure it’s around here?” She’s never been to this part of the city before and is feeling anxious by the crowd. The sun is out but a chilling breeze catches them every so often. Her mind is heavy and plagued with questions but doesn’t want to dampen Naoya’s mission for the day.

               Naoya stops near the edge of the wide sidewalk and pulls out his phone, “I’m positive!”, while checking the map to make sure he could stand by those words. ‘Where is it?’. His brow creases as he studies the screen.

               Toji huffs, “We’ve been walking forever.” He’s abnormally agitated but also hates crowds and is pinning the fault on being dragged out into one. He looks at Elska who’s eyes happen to meet his and feels his tension release ever so slightly as the wind blows her black V-cut dress along her knees. All of them are dressed up more than usual since Naoya begged for them to eat at one of his favorite restaurants. He sees Elska eyeing him in a way that foretells she finds his black pants and squeezing button up suiting and it makes him feel like he could deal with the clothed restriction for a while longer.

               “It says we’re close!”, Naoya points to the map on his phone pridefully. It’s been a few years since he was on this side of the city and a lot has changed. He’s becoming frustrated with not knowing how much time they’ll have before Gojo returns, wanting to enjoy some normalcy. ‘I just want to treat her to nice meal!’ He turns to Elska and takes her hand, “Baby, I promise it will be worth it. I’m talking…food fit for a princess.”, when she giggles, he does too, being happy to see that she isn’t wanting to turn around. He looks to Toji now, “Want me to find you a walker?”, and snickers as the giant narrows his eyes before continuing ahead.

               Elska feels Naoya’s finger lace into hers as they resume walking, with Toji on her left. She’s trying to be cheerful today, wanting to appreciate the time she’s spending with them but her mind keeps leading her into thought. The night before, Toji stopped her from feeding and although she was aware of why and understood the risks Satoru spoke about, she tried to proceed anyway. There were a weird few minutes where she could only focus on drinking from her beloved and flailed wildly as he restrained her. ‘Why did it feel like I wanted the Titer energy too?’. She thinks to hold Toji’s hand as well in this moment but stops herself as she doesn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to the three of them. ‘He looked so concerned all while I couldn’t even stop…”. The ancestral voice advised her to feed. Her heart aches as she knows this was out of character and extremely selfish when they didn’t know how it could affect her. The one thing keeping her afloat in this matter is how Toji held her after she snapped out it, how he seemed to understand without saying that she didn’t mean to.

               Toji lets Naoya and Elska get a step ahead of him so he can keep his eyes on her. After their last outing, he’s remaining highly aware of their surroundings and is watching for anything suspicious. He sees Naoya in his dark grey slacks and black dress shirt, leaning down to talk to her as they maneuver through the groups of families and friends, keeping her close. ‘Is she really, ok?’. Toji recalls how she struggled against him the night before. Gojo tried to rush to the bed after seeing her reaction but Toji was also wanting to shield her from him. Her eyes changed, showing the dashes of his green while she clawed at his arms and flashed her fangs with a glare. Toji knew that wasn’t his Elska but didn’t want to make her apprehensive, so he hid her the best he could from Satoru until they reverted. He heard something from within while this was all occurring, a voice that he swears communicated for him to feed his master. ‘Is that even possible? What the fuck was that?’. He rubs his bicep after feeling a sharp pain run through his arm.

               Naoya leads them to a building that has loud club music playing inside, the base being noticeable from where they stand. He looks up and scrunches his face, “What the fuck is this?”. He checks his watch that bares 1:39 and is further confused by the daytime club scene. ‘I’ve failed.’. Toji can be heard groaning so he orients himself to face them both, “It was right here!!”. He takes in Elska’s kind smile as she’s clearly not going to make him feel bad for being wrong. Not knowing what to do to save their lunch adventure he stands there awkwardly to think but hears Elska say, “Well let’s enjoy a drink while we look up somewhere else nearby!”. He smiles at her ability to always find a silver lining and follows behind her up the ramp that leads inside.

               As they walk through the room on the first floor, Toji feels this intense wave wash over him. Music is drowning out most other sounds but the way the bass pulses through him allows him to feel alive. The stench of cigarettes, sweat and alcohol sting his senses while they find a seat at the bar. Once sitting, he can smell Elska’s perfume when she whips her hair behind her shoulders, exposing her neck to which causes him to stir in the stool. Naoya hands out drink menus from them all but Toji doesn’t even look at it, knowing his order already and wanting it immediately. He feels ready to pounce but is cautiously calming himself as he knows this is not the place, ‘I am NOT Gojo…’. When she crosses her legs he feels the sting in his arm again, bringing his mood back to a wavering position.

               “I’m thinking a red…’, Elska states loud enough to be heard while looking over the wine menu. Naoya smiles to her words as he announces his choice of Mojito. “That’s why you’re so sweet!”, she jokes vaguely in regards to his actual taste. She places a hand on Toji’s right knee before turning to him and feels him jump. Her voice now concerned, “Did I scare you!?”. She giggles until she sees the intensity in his eyes, wondering why he’s exuding so much right then. Her breath was held in her throat as she waited for his eyes to glow, knowing that would not be good for where they are. They never do though and she eventually resumes respiration as he places his own large hand over hers. ‘What was that?’. She now swivels her head around the large room, taking in all of the day drinkers on the dance floor and seated randomly about.

               The bartender takes their orders with a smile and begins to serve them up right there. He recommended a red for Elska that he swears was his personal favorite and proudly waited for the approving sip. When she stated its palatability, he then left to attend other customers while Toji stared him down menacingly. ‘That’s a brave man to be flirting right in front of us.’.

               Naoya sips his drink while eyeing Toji chug his whiskey on the rocks. “Slow down old man, we still have to go somewhere to eat!”, he laughs at the eyeroll he receives and notices Elska drinking pretty quickly as well. “Baby, what’s on your mind?”, he knows something is bothering her and wonders if they’re both just nervous after the last Titer attack. ‘Maybe I can convince her to dance it away!’, he thinks as he imagines himself twirling her under the disco ball. He just wants her to have a good day.

               After finshing her glass already, she sets it down and tells Naoya, “I’m fine, I promise! I just really have to pee!”. He chuckles and adjusts himself so she has more room to slide off the stool. She announces that she’ll be right back before searching the walls for signs indicating the direction she should take. A drunken man bumps into her shortly after leaving the bar and can feel Toji increase his presence so she turns around to show that she’s fine. The whole room was lively except for Toji’s motionless staring. ‘I better be fast before he loses his shit.’.

               “She shouldn’t be alone.” Toji followed her with his eyes as she turned a corner down a hall. He’s worried about her and has this familiar unyielding need to be in her vicinity. It’s almost as if he knows something is about to happen. “I’m going to wait for her, watch the drinks.”. He hears Naoya protest with grief but faces him and says, “Boy, why don’t you find us a place to eat since we’re out here because of you.”, and places a hand on Naoya’s shoulder as he goes to walk past to counter the aggression in his voice. “Order another round too will ya?”.

               Elska stands up in the stall and flushes but doesn’t leave. She’s feeling like Toji’s eyes were trying to tell her something minutes ago but she can’t figure it out. All she knows is that it was sexy. She opens the latched door to wash and dry her hands but takes in her reflection in the mirror and thinks, ‘Life is so much crazier now…’, but smiles to herself knowing she had fantastic support from everyone. The door pushes open abruptly behind her and she gasps in startlement before realizing that it was Toji himself. “TOJI! What if there are others in here?!”. She can tell by his focus though that it didn’t matter anyway.

               “Doll…” he mutters as he locks the door behind him. He sees that she was caught off guard when she asks what he was doing in there but he just walks closer until he’s inches away. “I need…”, he lifts her up so she can wrap her legs around his waist and supports her weight with his right arm. “I need you.”, he whispers while dragging the tip of his nose along her collar bone, watching her skin change pigment from his glowing eyes. Her hands are roaming through his hair and he moans to the sensation of her nails against his scalp. “Right now.”. He nearly growls as he sinks her into his groin from above.

               “Toji…”, she was right about his prior intensity but can’t find it in her heart to stop him as he begins kissing the crook of her neck. The music can be heard through the walls along with idle chatter and it all serves as a reminder for where they’re at. She thinks of her pheromones and instantly pulls herself out of their beautiful trance. She whispers, “We shouldn’t do this here, my beloved.”, and frowns as he lifts his head to meet eyes. “I can’t release them here, it’ll be a disaster…”.

               He agrees that they shouldn’t have sex and nods with a grunt but that’s not truly what brought him in lady’s room to begin with. Feeling his fangs form he shows them to her and happily takes in her reaction as she smiles and moves her hair while saying, “Oh! ok…but we have to be quick!”. He squeezes her cheek with his right hand that supporting her rear and drags his teeth across the skin of her neck. “I just need to taste you.”, he wantonly groans before biting down. She gasps to his intrusion and grips his hair as he begins to suckle. His own whimpers could be heard between his gulps, loving every drop he’s being given as he deciphers her soul and feelings. Her flavor, now that he’s not as overloaded by the information, is reminiscent of the aroma born from a field of flowers. Each time he swallows more of her blood, his overall restlessness fades while her squirming increases.

               Elska cradles his head into her while melting in the master’s ecstasy flowing through her. Her eyes are closed as she bites her lip and attempts to muffle her sounds. “My beloved…”, she whimpers to him while her fingers stroke through his hair. His hypertonicity dwindles as she feels his left hand travel up her back, resting a grip on the nape of her neck. “I love you, my beloved Toji…”, and gasps in desperation as she can sense his own, wanting to assure him of his importance. Those same fingers now dance along her clavicle as he brings them over the wounds to close them while panting into her neck. He leaves his face buried there, adorning the area with his lips slowly as he she can tell he’s gathering himself. “Do you feel better?” She caresses his temple and cheek hoping that he did, feeling terrible that she didn’t recognize or even sense his disposition sooner. When he lifts his head to look at her again, she feels the need to lock her lips to his as they both exhale in a gratified union. She moves the hair out of his eyes and kisses his forehead before he gently puts her back down, him looking refreshed with a bashful grin.

               He grabs a paper towel from the dispenser and wets it. In the mirror he can see Elska’s loving eyes watching him and the scar on the corner of his lips bends pleasantly. While wiping away any evidence, he shyly adds, “I love you too, doll.”, the words still seeming unreal. After discarding the bloodied paper towel, he takes up her hands in his own, “I’m sorry for following you in here, I just…I really needed to do that.”. He’s still uneasy by how compelling the desire was. “I felt like I wouldn’t get another chance.”. He sees the concern on her face and doesn’t want to worry her, “It was just time for me to feed doll, everything is ok.”. Her hand sails upwards to hold his cheek and leans into it. ‘I have to keep her safe.’.

               Naoya is watching the condensation accumulate on his glass and is now feeling nervous as he checks his watch again. ‘Where are they?!’, he swings around in the stool to check the room and feels an incredible wave of relief as he finds Toji and Elska making their way back to the bar. After they sit he asks, “Did you guys go to the bathroom at the dorms or what?”, but picks up on the weird laughs he receives from them. ‘He wouldn’t have tried something sly, would he?’, and squints his eyes at Toji. ‘He looks way better though.’, and decides to let it go as he’s sure even a quickie couldn’t be that quick. “Baby…”, Naoya slides his phone over in front of them as he finishes his second Mojito, “I’ve only been here once but they have beautiful seating along the water!”. He cackles, “…and it’s only about half a mile away by foot…”.

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

               Gojo is quickly walking through the whited-out halls with Choso following. He speaks without looking, “Choso, when we get in there…I have to warn you, you’re not expected.”. Gojo heard Choso stop in place so he turns around to see him. “You’re with me though so it’s fine! If they say anything to you, just ignore them. I will do the talking.”, and waves for the being to hurry.

               “I…I don’t understand why I’m here with you and not everyone else…”. Choso is familiar with the Elders but can’t ignore the fact that he used to work for them where as he’s now on the opposing side. ‘Is this a good idea?’. He was expecting Gojo to sulk and whine to being called in today and is puzzled by how thrilled he seems.

               Gojo jumps up to click his heels to the side before saying, “I don’t trust these cunts and I’m almost positive this is a trap of some sort…”. He notices Choso’s eyes widen with confusion so he continues, “If they’re trying to distract me from Elska, they fail if you’re there using your technique to watch her for me!”, his smug grin appears, “This way I’ll know the moment something happens.”. He’s sure the Elders have called him away in order to create an opportunity but has a mind to flip their plans upside down with this small act of rebellion. “I can never remember where to go! This shit all looks the same…it’s creepy.”.

               Choso sighs but tries to keep up with Gojo’s quickened pace. The bright lighting overhead is blinding and causing him discomfort as he prefers darker places. He doesn’t know what to make of Gojo’s explanation but figures he’s along for the ride at this point anyways. “Do you think they’d even admit to what they’re doing?”. Choso understands the amount of secrecy the surrounds the Elder’s goals and is sure that he’s not even fully aware of their intentions.

               “Yes. I will make sure they do.”, Satoru’s words are eerie but his expression is still delighted. “These fuckers have messed with us for long enough. They’re cowards, Choso and the things they want to do to my love are unacceptable.”.  Gojo is certain that none of the others would have condoned what he’s thinking he’ll have to do which is why he said nothing before leaving. “They need to leave her alone and how can I call myself the strongest if I can’t protect her from these witless skin bags?”. Satoru at least wanted to inform Nanami of his meeting but hasn’t been able to reach the fellow shaman yet. ‘Did they get to him too?’. Gojo is certain that something happened with Shoko but was waiting to see how things played out. ‘As long as she’s fine, I know she can handle it.’, but worries about Nanami’s reaction if he’s already discovered this too.

               ‘What is he going to do?’, Choso feels like something big is about to happen, something that cannot be taken back. The unnerving pressure in his gut hints that whatever it is, it’s not good. “Itadori and the others are still on standby but isn’t it odd that they haven’t been given any missions?”. They pass more rooms before Satoru finally stops. Choso watches the silver shaman’s expression change to lethally cold one before straightening himself with resolve, and knows he should do the same. ‘I guess I have to just trust him…’, the thought not sitting comfortably at all.

               Gojo quietly speaks, “Remember, don’t mind them, they’re not worth the stress. You do not serve them any longer.”, and places a reassuring hand on the hybrids shoulder. He’s impressed when he looks over the being, seeing that his previous nervousness has been cast away and replaced by a collected ensemble. ‘I’m pretty sure I’m right about him.’, and feels poised in the dark nature that lurks beneath Choso’s kindness. Turning back to the door, Gojo kicks it open fiercely before entering. “WHAT’S UP FUCKERS?!”.

               Three people sit along one side of a long white table, seeming prepared aside from the sudden commotion. The first is a representative of the Kamo clan, a new middle-aged face Satoru has never seen draped in dark red robes. The second is a Zenin, the bought errand man known better as “Peaches” for a less known reason. Gojo knew him rather well from his childhood and all of the clan events he was forced to attend. The third, however, catches Satoru by complete surprise and angers him. The woman sitting as a representative for his own clan is none other than his mother.

               Gojo seethes with white knuckled fists, “What the fuck are you doing here?”, as old anguish resurfaces between the two. Satoru hasn’t been home in years and purposefully. He was sure if he stayed any longer, he’d annihilate his own family.

               The Kamo rep scoffs, “Yes… well hello to you too Satoru Gojo. We could ask you the same.” He points to Choso, “Isn’t that Kamo property?”. The hybrid and Gojo fail to give him the time of day, causing tension.

               Gojo never takes his eyes off of his mother while waiting in silence as Choso dutifully ignores them. His eyes darken, “I asked you a fucking question you miserable old whore.”. He feels the urge to gather a technique but calms himself with his better judgement.

               His mother speaks, “That is no way to talk to the woman who raised you!”, she laughs in a haughty way but brings her dramatics to a close, “Why else would I be here? You can’t be left to just do whatever you please…”. She tilts her nose up and displays her notion that she is untouchable.

               Peaches shifts in his chair, “You have something that needs to be returned to the Zenin’s. Master Naoya was promised her hand.”. He’s honestly terrified of Gojo but would never allow this to show. Satoru darts stormy eyes in his direction and he feels a chill race down his spine.

               “Let’s just be frank about it. You want Elska.”. Gojo voice is calm, almost lighthearted. He brings his gaze back to his mother, feeling a little better about the situation knowing he’s going to handle more business than he expected today. “Choso, please start now.”. Gojo doesn’t have to look since he can feel Choso’s energy gathering to form the window. He watches the representatives lean to figure out what the hybrid is up to and laughs out loud. “My friend here”, He scowls at the Kamo man, “is going to observe Elska while we meet.”. He winks to Peaches, “She’s with Naoya right now for your information…Toji too.”.

               Gojo’s mother bursts into hyaena laughter, threatening to rupture the unsuspecting eardrums of the others. “You think you have it all figured out, don’t you? Such a pitiful child.”. Her long white hair waves in the air as she jerks her head to see Peaches’s perplexed expression. “Don’t believe him just because he speaks it…trust me…”, and folds her arms while thinking of how many more beatings her son should have to experience when younger.

               Peaches clears his throat and tries to save face, “Surely this is some kind of joke. Master Naoya loathes your very existence Satoru.”. He’s now chuckling to himself having felt it was a test of some sort, “Are we not on better terms than that of your games?”. He’s now sure it was a lie.

               Gojo regrets that Peaches is here today but is unable to overlook the fact that the old goat is in cahoots with this situation. ‘It can’t be helped!’. He turns to Choso now for the first time since they walked into the room and is reassured that nothing bad is happening. Now facing Peaches again, “You know… Zenin and I got off on the wrong foot.” He grins, “But now we have threesomes!”, loving the shock that plasters everyone’s face. The Kamo man choked on his own saliva to the mention. Gojo looks at his mother, “Don’t be upset just because no one wants to fuck you. It can’t be helped when your cunt leaks venom.”.

               Choso sits motionlessly as he listens to the meeting unfold, completely flabbergasted by Satoru’s way of speaking. ‘What did his mother do to him to make him hate her so much?’, he hesitates to explore the options in his mind as he can only imagine. Aside from that though, Choso has never witnessed such a display of blatant disrespect to the higher ups and is completely unnerved by the silver shamans ever changing composure. ‘What is he planning to do?’, the ominous feelings he’s experiencing from this are only growing at this point.

               Peaches is red with embarrassment, “HE WOULD NEVER DO THAT!”, and allows his anger on the matter to spill over. The representative huffs relentlessly to the accusations and feels disgraced for his ears being exposed to such vile talk. When expecting to see an angry Gojo, he’s further confused by the smile that meets him instead.

               Gojo runs his finger along the table as he casually saunters in front of each of them. “If you three decide to get rowdy…I’ll have to kill you.”. He basks in the glares and especially enjoys his mother’s fear as she knew he was not playing around. Once they become settled he says to her, “You being here makes you my enemy, mommy. How long have you been involved?”. She starts to swat his question away with a scoff but everyone leaps out of their skin when Satoru yells, “HOW FUCKING LONG?!”. He increases his presence tenfold and watches the representatives writhe in distress before him.

               She says nothing.

               The Kamo rep is sweating bullets as he’s only heard the tales of horrors committed at the hand of Gojo. ‘Genghis said nothing about this hostility.”, he thinks to himself as he comprehends that he’s bitten off more than he could chew. He’s afraid to peel his eyes away from the powerful shaman making inquiring demands but also wants to flee the room. ‘This guy is even crazier in person!’.

               Gojo takes a deep breath and exhales dramatically, “Well…this is going nowhere…”, and summons energy into his hand as he aims it at the Kamo representative. The nameless man cries out in fear and studders in his breathing. Gojo notices Choso jump to his feet but the being doesn’t say anything. Only when the defeated female voice utters, “3 years.”, does he quell his attack. He thinks about that answer for a moment before acknowledging her again. ‘That’s strange.’. Looming across from her he now asks, “I’d already had my love for some time before that, why did you join them to conspire against me at that point? Don’t make me blow this poor guy’s skull open…”, he warns of his lack of patience.

               His mother sulks in her seat having her hands tied about the questioning, “I thought she was a passing infatuation at first, like all of the others but you completely neglected your responsibilities of being an heir because of that wretch.” She’s met with unforgiving eyes and wishes she was able to smack the audacity out of him but has learned the hard way about his response to abuse. “She is not yours Satoru and you jeopardize the entire balance of the clans with your actions of keeping her.”.  Out of the corner of her eye she sees Peaches nod in support and feels reaffirmed by it.

               Gojo slips a wild laugh and slaps the table, “She is mine though. I voyaged worlds away to find her. I went to incredible lengths to bring her back…”, he sighs while resting his hands on his hips. “You do know, mom, these Titers that have you in their pocket…they were going to use her to assassinate me.”. The atmosphere of the room deteriorates at the mention of the Titer clan. Its obvious that they were left unaware to Gojo having knowledge of the group’s silent partner.

               His mother jumps from her seat and screams, “AND THEY SHOULD HAVE SUCCEEDED!”. All of the hatred she’s ever felt for her son sears the air around them, her chest feeling lighter for the honesty but heavier for the fear. “You were destined for greatness but even with your gifts, something is wrong with you! How you ever came out of me? I will never know…”. She feels she must stand her ground or else the structure they’ve served their entire lives will crumble. “You’re evil. You always have been.”.

               Choso is still watching Naoya, Toji and Elska but can’t help but be distracted by the darkness exuding Gojo. ‘What is going on here?’, he doesn’t understand how this is official business and even finds himself feeling defensive over Satoru. ‘That woman is appalling.’, he thinks as he considers Gojo’s upbringing and decides there’s more to the man than he ever considered. He looks back to the window after surmising that none of the representatives would attack. Choso becomes rattled when the window shows Toji drinking from Elska in a cramped bathroom, ‘I can’t believe the lighting permits this, it must be dim.’, He temporarily becomes fixated with Toji’s fangs anchored into her as she quietly moans. He’s not seen anyone but her feed before. ‘So, his bite feels good to her as well?’. He brushes his lap as if to tell it, “Knock it off”, but his attention is soon stolen by Peaches’s mention of Elska.

               “If you don’t return Elska Oda then this will be seen as an act of aggression Satoru, please…don’t do thi-…” Peaches can no longer speak as Gojo grips hit throat and is thrown into a fit of fright.

               “I kind of liked you…I was use to you at least…but if you ask me that one more time, I will break your fucking neck.” Gojo feels his face twitch as he squeezes the old man’s beard into his throat, “You guys are fucking with me today and I don’t appreciate it.”. Never letting go, he turns to his mother but also glances at the petrified Kamo rep, “I do not give a single flying fuck about the clans, I couldn’t care less of your archaic ways and I am never going to surrender my Elska.”. As Peaches reaches a critical point of needing air, Gojo clamps his fingers deeper, “I left my love’s side today to be here because of your guys’ little fucking Titer friends. That is what we will discuss.”.

               Gojo’s mother rushes to pull her son’s hand away but right as she’s reaching out, Satoru releases Peaches. She watches the old man heave and choke uncontrollably and shoots hateful eyes. “How dare you lay a hand on him? Do you fear nothing?”, she thinks to threaten with her husband but knows that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree so it’s likely useless.

               Satoru smirks while studying Peaches inability to regain his breath, “I crushed his trachea a bit, he’s going to need medical attention soon.”. He watches the Kamo man stand up in disbelief and warns, “My mother is right about one thing, I do not fear you or your influence.”, and smiles approvingly as the man takes his seat again hesitantly.

               “You psychotic little freak!”, his mother cries out in disgust, “We need to get him to a doctor!”. She feels herself fill with anxiety as she was not expecting him to go this far. “Let us take him!”.

               Satoru hisses quietly, “If you guys weren’t so dead set in dicking me around then this wouldn’t have happened. No one leaves until I get some answers.”. He strolls around the table, loving how terrified the Kamo representative became when he was close. He yanks up the suffocating Peaches and throws him back into his chair, “Have some fucking dignity…I thought better of you.”. When Peaches makes eye contact, he can see the dread wash over the man, knowing their dynamic has changed forever.

               The Kamo man speaks up sheepishly, “Wh…What is it that you want to know?”. He’s all for handing over the required information as he clearly cares about his life more than the others. Satoru’s expression softens as the other two representatives hang their mouths open, not expecting him to fold so easily. Gojo states, “Everything.”, which causes the rep to tense up as he doesn’t know where to begin. He hastily blurts out, “Suguru Getou inherited ancient techniques as well. The Titers are planning on taking the girl for themselves to ensure their supremacy.” He inhales sharply, “The head of their clan met his end by the hands of your company, they want to repay by being rid of you as you are their final target. You’re still too strong because of your infinity, so the girl’s fate was determined the moment you were born.”.

               “You… weak imbecile…”, Gojo’s mother retaliates to the sensitive information by pushing Peaches backwards causing him to fall to the ground and thrash violently. Without so much as a second thought, she gathers energy into her hand and expels it at the Kamo man’s mouth. The representative dons his own matching blood as his brain matter exits the back of his head, decorating the white surroundings behind him. Only a cavernous jagged hole remains where the words escaped him only seconds prior. His body slumps over the table as he leaks his remaining essence into a pool that shortly forms a dripping pattern to the white tiled floor.  

               Choso defensively stands as the black tattoo on his faces begins to wave. “Satoru…”, is all he says while watching Gojo’s mother now strain to lift the blue tinted and gasping Peaches back upright his seat. ‘His mother is just as rash…’. Choso waits for a few moments longer but is eager to gauge Gojo when their eyes finally meet. ‘Why does he look so satisfied?’, he questions himself as he’s met with that smug smile. The Zenin man’s eyes look like they may pop out of his head but Choso can still make out the man’s reaction to his own presence. He hears Gojo say, “Everything is alright Choso, don’t worry. Just watch them.”, but the being is unable to simply sit with ease at this time. ‘How is this alright?’.

               “And you wonder where I get it from?”, Gojo is irritated that the only man that was willing to talk is now dead but he’s also able to take the information to heart because of how his mother reacted. ‘So all of this really is because of me…’, he thinks of Elska with a heavy heart knowing all that she’s been through, even before he got his hands on her was his fault. ‘My love…I will make this right.’.

               Gojo’s mother now sits back down, wondering if she went too far and gave away their hand. Peaches struggles to speak next to her but she can make out that he’s trying to question the fidelity of the Kamo’s last words. She sighs, “Look Peaches, I like you but I’m siding with Genghis.”. Peaches gurgles himself into a purple hue as he still cannot breathe or talk properly. She understands that Peaches was completely ignorant to the Titer’s planned betrayal to the Zenins and calm says, “They’re not wanting to eliminate other clans, they’re just going to help guide us to this proposed peace, don’t worry so much.”.

               Peaches can only think of Master Naoya who he feels is in grave danger after hearing this information. ‘I…he has to know…Master Na…he needs to be made aware!’. He thinks to grab his phone but he wouldn’t be able to relay the information, nor is he fast enough to text it. Peaches chokes in his stress and can tell his body is slowly shutting down after being deprived oxygen and feels completely hopeless about his predicament. When his heavy eyes meet Gojo’s he freezes in apprehension while listening intently.

               Satoru sighs dramatically with growing anticipation, “Now…where were we?”.

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Tagging : @angelofthorr ❤️

[darklingswhxore]

One of the small but very important things Aleksander could have done was had Genya more involved with the other grisha, even when they all just ate dinner. He knew she was isolated, lonely and yet didn't try to integrate her with the others, at least as far as we know. This isolation ties into a lot of the Trauma she faced. Even Alina hated how the other grisha treated her. The Darkling had influence, he could have fixed this.

Here's something that is interesting. This comes from The Tailor:

{“If you tell me you cannot bear this, then I will send you from here and you need never wear those colors or walk the halls of the Grand Palace again. You will be safe, I promise you that.”

I looked up at him, not quite believing. “Safe?”

“Safe. But I can promise you this, too: You are a soldier. You could be my greatest soldier. And if you stay, if you can endure this, one day all will know it.”

.

“I can promise you safety,” he said. “Or I can promise to see your suffering repaid a thousandfold.” With the pad of his thumb, he brushed a stray tear from beneath my eye. “You decide, Genya.”}

The Darkling could have taken Genya out the moment she came to him about the abuse but instead he made a child choose between her justice and her safety. Because on the surface he looks to be kind and sympathetic. And when I first read it I so desperately wanted it to be that way but when you really examine it this was just a very cruel manipulation tactic. But others could take it differently.

He gave her to the Queen to be used as a spy. He chose to keep her in that situation instead of getting her out of it the moment he found out what was happening. The Darkling thought that the bigger picture was more important.

And when you add the punishment he gave her in Siege and Storm... He knew that even though after all the abuse she'd been through, she still loved herself physically and in every other way. And he used that information to hurt her when he mutilated her body with his monsters. Because that's what He goes after, what people cherish about themselves. Baghra her sight, Nikolai his mind and Genya her beauty.

His actions with Genya are unforgivable in my eyes. But of course I will always hate The King and the Queen the most for the abuse she faced when she was younger.

And I just want to say as a side thing. I do like the Darkling, he's actually one of my favorite characters. I find his flaws and his ambition very interesting and I understand so much of his reasoning as to why he does what he does. But there are somethings that I don't think should be ignored, nor explained away and that are unforgivable. I also may have come off as a little harsh but I only intended for this to be no more than a debate, definitely not an argument. So I'll end it here. Have a good day ✌️

I'm tired of this argument and i'm just gonna say i never said i agreed with what he did genya in the end of seige and storm that was horrific what he does to bagrha nikolai his actions cross a line .... as for the being involved part yes he could have said them to and then what it was upto the grishas they would have still behaved the same when darkling wasn't there you can't force people to be friends ......

It wasn't correct to make a child choose yes he should have done something bt i always interpreted that bit to be genuine and that's why i don't take this topic too seriously.....

And have a good day too nonnie ❣

[captain-danwilds]

I’ve been waiting for so long (to feel like I’m home)

A RBB 2021 Fic  AO3 Accompanying Art by @mareofthesky​

Summary: Palmetto Public Hospital was just supposed to be another meaningless stop in Neil Josten's life.  He doesn't have a reason to keep running to a new hospital every few months, but that doesn't mean he's learned how to stay.  And there's something about the rest of the staff on the burn ward that makes him want to try, especially the physical therapist. 

This fic was written for the 2021 AFTG Reverse Big Bang. Thank you @gluupor for organizing! I had the joy of being paired with @mareofthesky. She’s absolutely incredible, both as an artist and as a human being. I seriously couldn’t ask for someone better.   

This work takes place in a hospital in pre-COVID times.  I am not a nurse, doctor or physical therapist, let alone a burn survivor.  I do not know everything they go through.   I’ve tried to be as accurate as possible, but recognize that I’m going to be wrong about some things.  There’s only so far research can take you.

While I don’t think this work is more graphic than canon, it does deal with some distressing stuff, namely: burns, blood, hospitals, child abuse, violence, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, torture, mutilation of corpses (referenced) and Baltimore references.  

Nathaniel Wesninski was thirteen when his mother almost died.  

In another universe, this would have been the thing that killed her.  She would have gotten her hands-on fake passports and they would have traveled across Europe until he was fourteen and Stefan got shot in Germany.  But they would have still ended up in Seattle, her blood spilling on the leather seat as her son drove down the coastline.  

In this world, their plans to head to Europe fell through quickly.  There hadn't been a couple million dollars to pave the way, just two desperate souls fleeing in the night because Nathaniel couldn't live up to the standards his father set for him.  

Nathan Wesninski was the head of his own empire, eager for his son to take over.  There was no Yakuza demanding a show of loyalty.  If Nathaniel had shown promise, he would have been able to take over the family operation.  

The problem was, in both worlds,  Nathaniel hadn't shown promise.  It took years for him to learn how to watch his father butcher a man without crying.  He could never master Lola's style of knife play, refusing to draw out the pain any more than strictly necessary.  As he got older, his eyes would go stony, his hands moving automatically.   But he was moving through water.   He barricaded himself into his own head so that he didn't register the stickiness of the blood on his hands until he'd left the basement.  The sound of screams became so ubiquitous, he could tune it out.   There was no joy, certainly no drive to continue the Butcher's legacy.  

He had merely nodded when his father had announced he expected Nathaniel to take care of the traitor in his ranks.  He kept his feet trained on the floor, on the puddles of blood slowly inching toward the central drain.  

But Mary saw the gleam on her husband's face, the unspoken or else.  She also happened to know the traitor in question.   One of the servants who liked to sneak Nathaniel snacks while he worked on his homework.  There was no way that Nathaniel could force himself to do it.  He'd be left with new scars if he was lucky.   Knowing her husband and his current frustration over territory losses, Nathaniel wasn’t going to be lucky.

So she'd grabbed what she could, contacted the few contacts she had with her family that could do good work for cheap and escaped into the night.  

When they met Nathan and his ilk in Seattle, they had only been on the run for three years.   Linda and Alex, their 8th set of names, had settled into the type of neighborhood where no one noticed another kid with desperation in their eyes, where no one had the energy to poke into anyone else's business during the break between second and third jobs.   Alex was fine, good at following orders, a natural at stitches.  He could blend in just fine, answer questions the right way, but he certainly wasn't ready to start out on his own.  

For every time they successfully changed identities, he complained about not joining the track team or jostled against the restrictions of coming home directly after school without hanging on the monkey bars or meeting friends.   For all their time on the run, for all the times she'd tried to beat it out of him, Alex was still a child.  

And even if he had been ready to stake out on his own.  A child, especially one as small as Alex, would always draw attention when traveling alone.  

Despite that, he had been able to drive the beaten down car, the phone book stacked beneath him giving him just enough extra height to see the road.  His maneuvering was perfect as he weaved through traffic.  They hadn't spent weeks training as Caroline and Sam in backroads lined with corn in Iowa for him to fail when escape was their only option.  

Mary applied pressure to the bullet wound with one hand and frantically called the local FBI office with her other.   Her family might have been able to help her, but she wouldn't live to see them arrive from England.  In dire circumstances one had to make do.  

And Mary had years’ worth of insider information of her husband's dealing she could easily trade for her treatment at a hospital and her son's continued safety.

So Nathaniel was 13 when his mother almost died, and he entered the witness protection program.   He was thirteen when he became Neil Josten.  

"Isn't it too similar to his real name?"  Mary huffed, giving the trio sent to her hospital room a jaunty smile.    

The mousy-haired social worker pushed up her glasses as she gave them a placating smile.  "We find young children tend to adapt better when allowed some connection to their genuine selves."

Mary had rolled her eyes, but Neil had merely frowned.   He had no idea what she meant by genuine self.   Was he supposed to be like creative like Sam?  Or logical like Owen?  His life had been a mass of contradictions.   The only thing he knew for certain was he didn't want to be brutal like Nathaniel.    

The only thing he'd consistently been his entire life was scared.    

He was fifteen by the time arrests were started to be made in Baltimore.  

"You needed two years for that?"  Mary spat as she talked to their handler over the phone from their Millport townhouse.  "Fucking Moorhouse and Redler?

Neil dutifully filled out his homework as he sat sprawled out in the living room with the patio door open so he could smell his mother's cigarettes as she badgered tonight's lucky caller.

"I would have thought that you'd have something more to show for yourselves.  Truly the incompetence is astounding."  

Neil smirked as Mary's natural brogue colored her words.  She could speak half a dozen languages with the precision of a local but rile her up enough and anyone would be able to tell she’d spent her childhood running wild in Manchester.    

Neil pressed his pencil hard into the paper as he underlined yet another one of the rules for pickleball.  Sure he couldn't even run around the neighborhood anytime soon, let alone play a game he's actually interested in, but the epitome of his online gym education truly was learning rules and regulations for sports he wasn't even sure were real.    

"I'm allowed to lie on this one right?" He sarcastically asked his caseworker as he laid out the exercise tracker worksheet.  "Like I'm not about to put myself in federal custody for claiming I have access to an Exy court? Since you guys said I had to be totally honest and everything"  

She had rolled his eyes at him, but she didn't ask about Mary's late night phone calls to Uncle Stuart, so Neil took it for the win it was.  

In another world, he was nineteen when his father’s people found them.  Instead, he was fifteen.   Fifteen with a limited skill-set since there are things that can be taught on the run that can’t be taught in a small flat under government surveillance.  

The only bright side was that in this world, there was no car.  He was not crammed in a trunk with Lola tool close, practically grinding on top of him as she reminded him how much he looked like his father. It’s a small victory.  

Instead there’s screaming and knives and he had to watch.  He had to watch with his heart in his throat as Romero showed no mercy.  Watch as his mother died, watch until he can’t recognize her corpse anymore.  

They took enjoyment in this.   Lola’s practically laughed as he slammed into the wall, as she dragged her knife down his chest.  

Neil spit in Lola’s face as she poured the gasoline. With his squirming, it only managed to douse half his body, but it was enough to finally wrench the screams from his throat as the flames bit into his flesh.  

He was scared.  He fought back anyway.  

But that really wouldn’t have changed in either world.  

The bullets that finally came, that finally bring everything to an end, did not come from his Uncle in revenge.  

Instead they are fired by federal officers aiming to main so as not to lose the opportunity to interrogate the criminals that might have enough knowledge to bring all of East Coast’s organized crime to its knees.  

The weeks that followed weren’t kind to him.  Neil saw the pictures later and he didn’t even recognize his own face.

But for once, the people were kind.  Kind enough to give him hope even as the rest of the world collapsed around him.  

Somewhere else a scared boy finds his family and himself at nineteen on an Exy court.  In this world, Neil Josten is twenty-six and finds them in a hospital.  This is that story.  

"It really was lucky that we found you with such short notice."  

In general, Neil Josten didn't believe in luck.  He certainly wouldn't call it luck when Palmetto Public Hospital had posted exactly the type of job he looked for on all the travel nurse job boards.   Just desperate sounding enough to cause people to not ask too many questions, while professional enough to not make a big deal of his scars.  

Neil took Chief Nurse Danielle Wilds' hand with a carefully constructed smile on his face.  "I'm glad I'm able to help.  Although I was under the impression, I'd be your replacement."  

Wilds let out as a laugh as she seemed to instinctively cradle her baby bump.  "My husband, Matt, you'll be working with him too, thinks I'm being ridiculous, wanting to show you around myself, but I'd truly hate for you to get the wrong impression of us."  

Neil just barely kept himself from rolling his eyes.  Every hospital thought they were so special. Like a family or some shit.   Every hospital was wrong.  

Procedure might differ slightly, and some places had more people worth avoiding.   But in the end, all that mattered was that the nurses showed up,  did their job and offered some kindness.  Even if he’s no Abby, even if his version of kindness wasn’t so much sympathy as it is experience, kindness was essential.  

He can never claim to know exactly what the patients are going through.  Even if they showed up with third degree burns down half their body, a punctured lung, a broken arm and some knife wounds, he wouldn’t really know.  He’d just know they’d hurt like hell.  Even if the injuries were the same, their story would be very different.

No one breaks the same way.  

Still the things a broken person can say to another broken person can often carry more weight.  

It’s one thing to offer sympathy.  It’s another entirely to nod in understanding that your body doesn’t entirely feel like yours anymore, that it might never feel like yours, but you just have to keep going forward.  

Over the years, Neil got very good at moving forward.  

Neil tossed his running shoes by the door.  It took him less than ten minutes for Neil to add his things to the furnished apartment.   He'd discovered only two hospitals ago that people ask less questions if his clothes weren't covered in wrinkles from staying packed.   So Neil haphazardly moved the folded scrubs onto the cheapest hangers he could find.

3:08 PM I'm all moved in.  

The responding string of smiley faces to Neil's message was instantaneous despite the fact it was the middle of the afternoon and Abby was likely still on shift.  (Or maybe precisely because she was on shift and had her phone on to stay up to date on patients as opposed to cutting herself off from the rest of the world to try and squeeze out some sleep.)  

He didn't feel guilty per say as he closed his phone.   Abby knew better to expect much from him.  

"Kiddo, I'm going to take what I can get. I understand you aren’t used to having someone in your corner."  She said as she bundled him up for college, doing far more than anyone had expected of her.  

Well he should have expected it of her.  Abby had practically laughed in his case worker's face when Cindy had brought up the different moveout options for when Neil turned 18.      

It was a strange thing to have someone, even if he kept her at arm's length.  

It's for her own good.  The little traitorous voice in his head whispered.  

Logically, Neil knew that Abby was already in too deep.  Anyone, including any of his father's men seeking retribution could find her by simply looking for his file.   He didn't need to maintain a relationship with her in order for Abby to be at risk.   She had housed him during the trial.  That would be enough for them.   There was no need to push her away, to prevent her from actually knowing him.  

But he felt a little bad that she knew him well enough to not ask why he had a new number or what his address was.  Moving so soon after getting a housewarming package of cookies hadn’t been an overreaction and he stood by that.

When he finally met him, Matt was more of an overexcited puppy than an actual person.  He dragged Neil down to the cafeteria every day they shared a break.  Matt carried the conversation easily needing only the slightest input from Neil to keep going.  He talked about any and everything, from college exploits to TV shows to worries that he wouldn’t be a good dad.  

“It’s not like I had the best example, you know?”  Matt joked even as his eyes are serious.  

Neil nodded, understanding a bit too well.  “Still an example.  Just an example of one way to fuck up.  You’ll be fine.”  

He ducked his head as Matt beamed too brightly at him.  

Words were a weapon he’s used to, but everything about conversations with Matt felt wrong.  

Matt made him feel unbalanced.  He offered up genuine parts of himself so easily.  Neil wished he had something to give him in return for his easy friendship and trust, but even what was safe to say felt like it belonged to a different person entirely, a person he didn’t want to be anymore.  

And what was left after that?  The fact he didn’t like books or movies or vegetables.  It wasn’t a fair trade. Matt shouldn’t be content to accept the breadcrumbs Neil offers in return for his raw insecurities.  

But he was.  

And that made Neil want to try.  Try to force himself into a person Matt deserved, someone real.

Creating that person was fucking exhausting.  

After two weeks, he had more than enough.   Neil had a bag lunch and a mission.

Neil slipped into the stairwell without anyone spotting him and headed up.  He might be able get onto the roof.  But he would settle for just one of the upper floors.  As long as there was no well-meaning coworker attempting to engage him in the break room or bring him down to the cafeteria, Neil would consider it a win.

The door marked “Roof Access – Maintenance Staff Only" looked like it should be locked.   But a few jiggles of the handle had it opening easily enough.  

The roof wasn't empty like he expected.  Instead there's a figure sitting cross-legged near the front edge of the roof.  Even from here, Neil could tell the man is short.  Small but not delicate.   Probably a former athlete from the width of his shoulders, the bulk visible even through the loose black scrubs.  His short blonde hair is slightly windswept, enough so that he can see the man’s black earrings.

Neil tried to place him.  He is not the best with names.  He didn't see the point of attempting to remember when he’d be gone soon.   But Dan had wanted to introduce him to everyone, saying something about them not being a whole bunch of "do-nothings" and it would do him some good to know the typical inhabitants of the burn ward.  

Allison had taken that a step farther.  Probably because she wanted gossip and hearing vague descriptions wasn't very helpful to her.  

Neil stared for a second, cataloguing the man from behind, before it clicked.  

Andrew Minyard, Physical Therapist.  

”Monster Minyard” Allison said as she brought him around with her one day, telling him everything he should know about his new coworkers.  “Bites worse than his bark. If he wasn’t so good with hopeless cases or getting rid of particularly overbearing visitors, I wouldn’t even know why we kept him around.”

The little Neil’s seen already was more than enough to know Andrew’s good.  

The only way the nickname seemed to fit at all was that the man was intimidating when he wanted to be, that he could turn himself into a threat with ease.  Neil had seen him practically threaten a relative with a scalpel to the chest before turning on the dime and gently helping the patient bend the joints covered with skin grafts.

But the most remarkable thing was how Andrew always let his patients set the pace.  

There were sections of his own skin where Neil had lost sensation.  There were days when they'd ache or itch, but he couldn't feel much beyond heat. He'd nearly decked the first doctor who touched his arm without warning him.  Neil hadn't even realized he was there until the hand moved to a less ravaged spot.  Everything about it had made him feel unsteady.   He couldn't rely on his body to stand guard for him anymore.  

But Minyard never let his patients be surprised.   He narrated everything he did before he did it.  Nothing was a surprise.  They could say no if they didn't feel ready or if something hurt particularly bad that day.  He was flexible with the patients in a way he never was with the staff.  

Neil hadn't actually heard Minyard utter a word that wasn't directly related to their jobs.   He moved silently through the halls, meeting attempts to socialize with deep scowls.  

Maybe he'd be better off scouting out somewhere else.  There was no rule that Minyard owned the roof.  But Neil was also used to spotting dangerous people and everything about Minyard screamed trouble.      

“What are you doing up here?”  

Neil hadn’t realized Andrew had even known he was up here yet.  He didn’t bother turning when Neil forced the door open.  

“Trying to avoid company.”  Neil moved across the room until he sat next to Andrew.  They’re not quite at the edge, but there’s no guardrail.  It’s unnerving.  

Andrew gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement, still not looking at him.  

“What are you doing on the roof?”

“Used to smoke.  Never broke the habit.”

Neil merely nodded as he unwrapped his sandwich.  

Andrew tilted his head just slightly to the side.  “I thought that you’d be put off by smoking.”

“Is it bad to say I like the smell?”  

Andrew’s nose scrunched ever so slightly.  "You lie.  All the time."  

Neil only nodded again at the accusation.  

This time it isn’t quite a lie.  He did like the smell.  It’s not quite the same as the Lucky Strikes his mother would blow through after she thought he was asleep.  But it’s close, certainly a lot closer than the smell of burning human flesh.  

But it's not like Minyard's wrong either.  He did lie all the time.  Sometimes it felt like lying came easier than breathing.  

The rest of the staff hadn’t seemed as bothered about the lies. They were practically amused by them.  Neil had smirked when he passed the break room and overheard them sharing some of the most outrageous ones.  

“I heard him say to 402’s kid that he was trying to steal treasure from a palace guarded by lava, and he hadn’t been able to jump far enough on his way out.  

“At least that one’s child appropriate, he told 407 that was a victim of secret government trials of new chemical warfare weapons.  As if anyone with a brain couldn’t tell those were accelerant flame not pure chemical burns.” Allison added.  

No one mentioned “International Jewel Thief tortured for trade secrets.” And Seth didn’t bring up “I dabbled in porn to get through college.   Got a bit too into temperature play” even if it had made patient 406 laugh uproariously.  It was almost a shame his best lies were unappreciated.  

They’d even started a bet on what the real reason could be.  It would never be settled since it required asking him directly and none of them would do that.  They all liked to pretend to have morals even as they bet on everything under the sun. Besides what sort of example would it set to their patients? The one staff member that actually looked like them and yet they couldn’t even show basic decency with regards to his privacy.  

Maybe they have a whole separate bet about who’s finally going to work up the courage.  Neil didn’t think any of them had put money on that person being Minyard.  

Minyard turned to face Neil for the first time, "Tell me something true."

It wasn’t concern on Minyard's face.  The look in his eyes barely qualified as interested, but Neil still wanted to answer him.  He didn’t know what to say but he can't dismiss the fact that he wanted to answer. It was easy to admit to himself he doesn't typically want anything.  

"I don't see the point of icebreakers."  

Minyard tapped his fingers aggressively against  the roof.  "I'm not asking for party tricks.  I'm asking for something true."  

Neil wasn't sure he even had something true to offer.  What does that mean when he existed as a lie stacked atop another lie? The things he’s already told Matt don’t hold enough substance to be something true.  

"I didn't even think about becoming a nurse until after all this."  He gestured to himself.  He can't call it an accident even if that would make it simpler.

It was no accident where Lola pressed the dashboard lighter into his face, no accident in the way she poured the gasoline.  Every one of her actions had been designed to cause him the maximum amount of pain.  This wasn’t an accident.  

"My roommate forced me into PT.  Thought that since it was his new purpose in life, it would be mine too."  

"It's not like he was wrong."  

"You disgust me Josten."  

"I mean you can't be so good at your job without feeling something."  

"It's more interesting than other options."

"So you like it then."  Neil teased easily.  

“Give me one good reason to not push you off the side.”

"Just try.  I'd drag you with me. It's a long way down.”

It grew from there. Going to the roof was no longer about avoiding the others by spending time with Minyard, but instead about just talking with Andrew.  Eating on the roof together felt easy.  The conversation had rules.  Answer for answer, truth for truth.  There was no awkward imbalance or a desire to be something more for Andrew.  They could just talk.  

Neil practically collapsed into his spot on the roof with his lunch in hand.  He was painfully aware of how he’d gradually crept closer since their first conversation.  "Why'd you choose Palmetto?"

"Brother didn't want me in Chicago."

Neil’s head shot up from the banana he was peeling.  "You have a brother?"

Andrew glared as if to say it isn't your turn idiot.

He raised his hands in mock surrender.  "All right I get it. Go on. Ask your question."

"And if I think we should be done for the day?"

Neil shrugged. "I can wait."

And he could. With each day spent on the roof, Neil only craved to know more about Andrew. But he liked what they had and wouldn't dare ruin that with his impatience. The roof felt safe in a way the rest of the hospital didn't.

Andrew grunted. “What's with the orange?"  

Neil rolled his eyes.  "You gave me a hard time for my question and you're asking that?"  

"That wasn't an answer."  

"And if I just like orange?"  

"You're being ridiculous."  

They sat in silence for a while before Neil offered up more.  

"College colors.  Just never outgrew them I guess.  They make me feel..."  

Safe wasn't the right word.  He practically spent all of college categorizing every exit on campus.  Like he was a part of something feels wrong too.   He left his apartment for class and an ever-changing cubicle in the library. There wasn't a whole lot to be a part of.  

But Andrew nodded anyway like he actually finished the thought instead of trailing off into silence.  "Feeling is dangerous."  

Andrew's words were simple, but Neil could tell from the way he looked at the edge of the roof that they meant something more.   It was a confession and an accusation wrapped all into one.  

"So is not feeling.  What are you supposed to keep living for if everything is grey and I say that as someone who actually likes grey."

Andrew scoffed, but didn’t say anything more.

Even knowing that Andrew had a mysterious estranged brother couldn’t make Neil break the silence.  It wasn’t that he was afraid of pressing too far.  Andrew wouldn’t let him.  But he knew what it’s like to feel exposed and Andrew had already shared more than usual today.  

They sat in comfortable silence until a pager goes off.  

Neil wasn’t sure what the others think about the two of them.  

The hospital chaplain with her oddly died hair likes to smile at him whenever she came to their floor.  He thought she might be friends with Andrew, but he didn’t really care what she thought as long as she stayed out of his way.

Matt complained that he never got to eat with his new buddy anymore, but Neil wasn’t sure the rest of them even noticed.

They must have though, because their friendship was no longer confined to the roof.   There were conversations in the hallways, extra food left in the break room that Neil certainly hadn’t brought himself, jokes cracked in the locker room when only Neil could hear.   What they had wasn’t something that could be easily hidden away.  

It certainly helped that they shared patients.   They could walk down the hallway, a patient between them and debate plans for the zombie apocalypse.  402, Luis Hernandez, was a particular good sport about it, even if he was a bit too moral about the end of the world.  

Neil did not have soft spots for patients.  He was the epitome of professionalism.  But he could admit that he liked how he had an excuse to talk to Andrew longer with Hernandez around.  

"You don't have to like your scars you know?"  Neil said lightly as he perched next to Hernandez’s bed, grabbing more antibiotic for the man's face.  "Don't have to hate them either."  

Hernandez gave a half-hearted shrug, clearly trying to stay still while gesturing to the brochures in his lap. "Everyone keeps bringing up plastic surgery."

Neil hummed. “They're going to keep doing that.  I'm not saying they're an eyesore or even particularly noticeable.”  He uncapped a new jar of ointment.   “It’s just easier for them if they can pretend it never happened.  No scars. No problem.”

“But that doesn’t mean-“

“I’m not saying it would.  People are just good at ignoring what isn’t directly in front of them. And if they’re forced to see it, they have to actually acknowledge you’ve been through some shit.”    

"It doesn't change what happened."  

“They see something wrong, keep trying to find ways to fix things even if you don't particularly think you're broken.”

"And if I want to be fixed?"  

"Then that's on you. You're recovering quicker than we expected.  I don't see why you wouldn't respond positively to cosmetic treatment." Neil sighed as he laid down the old wrappings "You've just got to be the one to want it. You've gone through too much to want to start living for anyone else now."  

He heard a cough behind him and only barely resisted the urge to whip around.    Instead he waited until he’d finished smearing the antibiotic across this section of the man’s chest.   He turned to see Andrew leaning easily against the doorframe.  

“You’re good to take lunch when you’re done here.”  

Neil looked upwards and Andrew nodded.    

It took very little time for Neil to finish knowing that Andrew would be waiting for him on the roof.  

“Did you seriously believe all that shit you were telling Hernandez?”  

Neil looked at his lap where his unopened lunch sat.  He suddenly wasn’t feeling particularly hungry.  “People always look at the scars.  Drove me mad with their staring.  Hard to be invisible when you’re this fucking distinctive.”  

Andrew snorted.  “The scars are the least of your problems then.”  

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  

Neil felt the weight of Andrew’s stare as it slowly scanned up and down his body.   He huffed, wanting an actual answer.

“Are you an idiot?”  

“Considering you call me that about six times a week, yes?”  

Andrew angled his body toward Neil instead of the steep drop of the roof.  “People find you attractive.”  He shrugged, “I’d blow you.”

The confession was dropped in the middle of the conversation so easily as if it didn’t send Neil’s entire world spinning.  He dug his hands into his legs trying to focus himself in any way he could.  

“You like me."  

"I hate you," Andrew corrected him, but Neil barely heard him, even as the other men left.  

Neil got to work slightly ahead of schedule, rolled his eyes slightly at the night nurse giving him the pedantic recap of today's patients, somehow managing to drone on for ten minutes without saying anything of actual value.  

Andrew would be in later, he thought absentmindedly as he washed his hands.  They might be able to coordinate their breaks if he was lucky.  And you might even be able to convince him at gunpoint that lately he was pretty lucky.  (Although that might also be because Matt was managing the schedules and his smile was a bit too knowing.)  

Still today shouldn’t be too bad.  There was only so much on the burn ward he hadn’t seen before and if they had had new patients, they weren’t any of his.  

412's patient was a finnicky older woman who only seemed to be living out of pure spite.  She'd been in a few days now and Neil's sharp tongue had done little to endear himself to her.  So it was truly a matter of his job security to get in and out as quickly as possible.  If he had to hear one more complaint about ungrateful grandchildren or idiot politicians, he would snap.

The television was turned up loud in order to reach the women's bed.  Despite insisting her hearing was just fine thank you very much, this meant the news could be heard down the hall.    Still, Neil had gotten used to putting his head down and doing his own business.  

There were enough signs that he should have known. After all, he knew it had to be interesting in order to keep Linda from complaining about the slight pinch as he repositioned her IV.  

He should have heard it before he turned around to see his father's face plastered across the screen with the bold red font "Serial Killer Nathan Wesninski found dead in Baltimore Penitentiary."   They'd chosen one of the trial photos as opposed to the mugshot.  He looked handsome in his expensive suit with the smile he only pulled out at the business parties that left Neil sore for days.  

His feet were moving before he fully registered what the headline read.  

It was pure instinct to put as much distance as he could between himself and his father as possible even if it was just the picture.  

Neil couldn't hear the clatter as he knocked over one of the vases.  He was sure Linda was having a conniption, but he couldn’t hear it.   He’s not here anymore.

He was thirteen again.  And his father wore a much more dangerous grin, the kind that meant no mercy.  

Neil's hands were covered in blood as he dragged his mother to the car.  Hands digging into her chest as if he could force her to stay with him.

He was eight and his father had crossed the line that was even too much for his mother.  

His hands shook as he tried to thread his own needle.  He held the needle with his mouth, trying to thread it with one hand and using the other to force the wound together.   There was just so much blood and not enough time.  

You can't stop running.  

He thought he heard someone calling his name.  Too close. He’s too close.  

You're never safe.      

He darted through the closest door.  It was a dead end, but it was out of sight.  

When you fight back, do so quietly and quickly.   You cannot risk attracting another opponent Abram.    

He forced himself into the corner.  There should be something here, anything really to block the door.  But he didn’t see anything, and he heard footsteps. Resounding thuds against the linoleum floor. They were too close.  

And if you can’t run.  You hide.  You hide until I come get you.

There’s space on the lower shelf.  It wasn’t very big, but he’s always been small.  It should be just big enough.   Neil shoved the folded bedsheets and patient gowns out of the way.  He would look out of place, easy enough to find if someone cared to look hard enough, but for now he just hugged his knees to his chest.

Everything felt like it’s moving too fast.  His heart was pounding so loudly he’s sure it’s about to give him away.  His mind wasn’t even forming full thoughts anymore, just racing ahead of him.   He squeezed himself even tighter as if he can force out the emotions.

He only vaguely felt his right hand digging into his left arm over the burn scars.  He knew he should stop.  He hadn’t picked at them in years, tried not to irritate them more than necessary so they didn’t draw attention to him. But it’s not like it mattered now.  He’d be dead soon.   He should be worrying about if Abby would be able to find the body and how long it’d take the hospital to notify her since after everything she was still his emergency contact.  

He should have tried to think his way out of this.  

But he couldn’t get his thoughts to stop for a fucking second. Just one second might be enough to find a miracle. But even if Neil Josten had ever deserved a miracle, he’d used up his share.  He’d made it to twenty-six.  But now, he was going to die.  

He knows it won’t be a painless death.  There’s only so much a human body could take, a line at which point the mind can’t comprehend the pain anymore.  But Nathan Wesninski knew the line and played it like a violin.  He’d want to take his time, really make his son feel every inch of his displeasure.  There was no way Neil would be able to contain his screams for long enough to satisfy him.  His father would risk getting him out of this hospital if it meant he could take his time.  

Neil wouldn’t let himself be taken. To lose consciousness now was to accept a long painful death. He would not leave this hospital, not ever again.  He would take a quick painful death over a long painful one any day.

But to get a quick death though he needed to be here. And he couldn’t seem to force himself to be.  He kept seeing flashes of other moments.  

Blood snaking down toward the drain of their concrete basement.  Romero’s fingernails digging into his skin as Lola brandished her knife.  His father’s grin menacing and horrible.  

It spoke to his terror that he didn’t notice when the door opened.  

"Hey." The voice is soft, gentle in a way the Butcher of Baltimore was never capable of sounding even when he was playing pretend as a productive member of society.

Still the sound has Neil's head shooting up, just to be sure.  Andrew is standing with his back to the door.

"You're Neil Josten. You're in the supply closet at Palmetto Public Hospital.  You're safe."  The words wrapped around him like a caress.  

It felt less like he was drowning.  

Neil still couldn’t move, so he just stared.    Stared as Andrew moved forward, every step light, his arms raised in front of him to show his empty hands.  

Andrew repeated the refrain as he squatted down near Neil's hiding spot in the linens.   His hazel eyes stared into Neil's.  They're warm like sunlight, like they could cut through the shadow of Neil's soul.

"It’s over.  You're safe.  Can you breathe with me?"

Neil didn't move.  He couldn’t force his tongue to wrap around the words, couldn’t even decide what the words should be.  

"We're going to do this together."   Andrew shifted from his squat to sitting cross-legged next to him.   He's close to the shelving unit, but he wasn’t trying to force Neil out.   Andrew exaggerated his own breathing.

He didn’t know how long they sit there before Neil feels his own breathing falling in sync.  They're not deep breaths.  Just shallow rasps, but he's trying.

Andrew put his hand out in front of him.  "Can I touch you?"  

He nodded haltingly.  

Neil didn’t move away when Andrew gently cupped the side of his face, running a finger over the puckered skin.  “You’re not there.”  His voice was soft, but it practically echoed in the small closet.

When Neil nodded this time, it feels more natural.  

Neil shifted in his position on the lowest shelf.  He wiggled his limbs slowly, taking stock of all ten toes and fingers.  He's all in one piece. He's fine.

He didn’t know what Andrew sees in his glance, but he's happy when Andrew backs up so he can crawl out of the shelving unit.  "Yes or no?"  

He hated how broken his voice sounded.  His father wasn't even here.  His father was dead.  He shouldn't sound so lost.  

Andrew's stare was penetrating.  "To what?  I'm not going to kiss you.  You're having a mental breakdown Josten."  

Neil bit his lip.  That hadn't been what he was thinking of at all.  He almost wished he had been, because it would have been nice to just lose himself in the sensation, let his body be consumed with raw need for Andrew until there was no room for fear.  

"Just touching you.  Leaning on you."  

Neil knew Andrew didn't like being touched.  It felt wrong to want to envelop himself in Andrew, to even ask knowing that, but he's desperate.  

"It's a yes,"  Andrew said as he settled down again legs extended in front of him.  

Neil curled easily against his side, Neil's head resting in the crook of his neck.  It's nice to sit there just listening to Andrew breathing, knowing that there will never be a future where Nathan Wesninski will get his hands on this bright spot in his son's world.  

"I should be happier."  

"Bullshit.  There is no should."  

"He's dead. He's finally dead. That has to mean something."  

Andrew adjusted himself to free one of his hands. He threaded it easily through Neil's hair.  "Maybe someday it will.  When was the last time you thought about him before today?"  

Neil wanted to snap back that he'd never stopped thinking about his father, that every decision he made was just one in a long way of keeping himself safe from Nathan Wesninski and his subordinates.   But he couldn't.  For the last month or so, Palmetto had felt safe.  

He'd spent nights marathoning movies in Andrew's apartment and stolen moments on the roof.  He treasured Matt's laughter and the yell of joy at grocery deliveries that was quickly hushed because babies are fickle things that never stop crying.  He even thought of Allison trying to convince him to let her take him shoe shopping.  

Slowly Neil had built something, something untouched by his father.   And then his gloating face had come crashing into it, ruining something even in death.  

Andrew took his silence as a sign that he was right.   “They come where they aren’t wanted.  Doesn’t mean they get to stay.  

Neil hummed and leaned more of his weight onto Andrew.  

“Do you have any other clothes?”  

Neil looked up at him confused.  

“You’re not staying here,” Andrew said as if talking to a small child.    

Neil pushed himself into a standing position, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet to try to give credence to his protests.  “I’m fine. I’ve got a whole shift ahead of me.”  

Andrew glared.  “I’m taking care of that.”  

Neil wanted to call bullshit, but he didn’t.  

He let himself be manhandled into the locker room where Andrew tossed him some clothes. The black sweats are too short, but the sweatshirt hung comfortably off him.  The grey material smelt like Andrew, so he hugged it tighter to himself as he waited for him to get back.  

He didn’t jump when Andrew wrapped an arm around him and directed him toward the parking lot.  

Maybe he was just done feeling, because he couldn’t even find it in himself to be surprised by the GS Andrew pushed him into.  It was much nicer than anything a PT should be able to afford.  

They drove in silence.  At first, Neil stared out the window letting the surroundings blur as they got on the highway.  Eventually though he shifted to stare at Andrew.   Neil wasn't sure how long it had been when Andrew finally pulled off the highway into a dingy gas station.  The sun had set at some point, but that wasn't much of a clue.  Neil didn't even bother to check the clock when Andrew turned the car back on with his hands full of junk food.  

"Do you want to go back to your apartment?"   Andrew asked as he viciously bit into the twinkie.    

"No."  The answer was instantaneous even if Neil didn't know why.  He should want to go curl up in the far corners of his bed with the door locked and the world unable to touch him.   But the thought of leaving this moment, leaving Andrew felt like too much.  

He didn't know when Andrew turned into a safe place.  Neil was used to standing on his own, but now it felt like he didn't have to.  It wasn't just today.   Andrew had been there today, but the trust had been building gradually until Neil realized it felt like Andrew could protect him from the world.  

"Kevin's going to ask questions."  

Neil barely stifled his groan.  While he'd only met the man a handful of times, Andrew's roommate was a common topic of conversation on the roof.  

"Why do you even live with him if you hate him so much?"  Neil asked.  

"Don't ask stupid questions."   Andrew said his eyes still focused on the road.  

Because he's one of yours. Neil thought to himself.

Kevin was Andrew's in a way Neil could never be.  Kevin was the person who stayed even after he fulfilled his end of a deal in college.  Andrew may complain about his constant nagging, his hypocrisy when it came to Andrew's sweet tooth, his attempts to get Andrew to join his countless intermural sports teams.  But at the end of the day, even when Aaron rejected him, Kevin stayed.  And for that Andrew would never let him go.  

Still the thought of dealing with Kevin’s seemingly endless energy felt like too much right now.  

"The hospital's fine.  I can get home from there."  

Andrew gave him a disparaging look.   "Now is not the time Rabbit.  Give me the address."  

"I'm surprised you don’t already have it.  The lock on staff records too hard to break?"  

Andrew snorted as he changed lanes.

He still felt rubbed raw from the way he'd broken so easily even if it had been nearly six years since he'd been near his father at all.   So he knew Andrew was right, he couldn’t handle other people.  He gave his address even as Andrew smirked.  

After leaving the safety of the car, he'd ran about eight miles on the treadmill that had certainly seen better days.  Typically he'd prefer to run outside and let the breeze carry his worries away from him.  But the thought of people made him want to shrink.   He'd take the cheap gym with locker rooms that smelt vaguely of mold if it meant he could avoid interactions with all but two people.      

He ran to the hospital the rest of the week too.  It wasn't worth trying to navigate the subway when he'd be looking over his shoulder the entire way.  

Neil wasn't being paranoid.  His father was dead. So were Romero and Jackson.  Lola and the majority of the minions he'd met were in prison.  But there had to be some he hadn't met.  People the FBI hadn't even thought to warn him about.  He hadn't expected to live this long and if he had to keep one eye over his shoulder, his duffel bag always packed and a new city every few months to keep living he'd do it.    

But for now, he had time.  He could make the most of his time at Palmetto.  

He knew now that Andrew wanted him, and even though he’d never given the thought of kissing much thought before.   He was suddenly desperate for Andrew’s lips on his.   Andrew made him feel like he didn’t have an expiration date, like the future didn’t actually matter.  For someone always thinking three steps ahead, that felt entirely new.  But he thought he could get used to it.  

Neil had just finished helping Hernandez check out when Dan walked back onto the unit for the first time.  

He did a double take at first. He still had three weeks left on his contract and being reminded of just how little time he had left made him grit his teeth.  

Typically he’d already have his next location lined up, but Neil hadn’t even sent in his application yet.  

He wasn’t an idiot.  He knew prolonging the inevitable wasn’t a good idea.  Pretending he could stay long enough to memorize the feel of Andrew’s hands on his scars and their mouths pressed together desperately would do him no favors.  Neil knew when he started that anything they started had a clear expiration date.    

But seeing Dan with her little yellow bundle made him realize how close that date actually was.  

Luckily Neil was spared from giving Dan more than a cursory nod due to Allison practically sprinting down the hallway to the front desk.  

Allison’s smile was dazzling as she gestured toward the baby.  “I’m so glad to see you.  Now give me my niece.”

Dan merely rolled her eyes.  She looked more tired than the last time Neil had seen her, but also happier.  The dark bags under her eyes were matched by a brilliant smile.  

When she hesitated to hand her newborn over, Allison put her hands on her hips.  "You're in a hospital Dan.  It's not like we don't know how to take care of her"  

"And when was the last time you did an OBGYN rotation?"  

Allison flipped her blond ponytail dramatically.   "I'll have you know I could do it any day.  I just like you too much to be reassigned."

"And you'd be a bitch to replace. Here."   Dan smirked even as she handed over the baby.

"Oh She's absolutely precious, Auntie Allie's going to absolutely spoil you. Yes she is"   Allison cooed as she held the newborn.      

Dan watched her with a smile.  "Randy's a lifesaver, but I'm not about to say no to more babysitters."  

"Wait until she's older. I’ve got enough diapers to change as is.”  

Dan snorts.  

"So when are you back officially then?  I need my bestie back."

"I'm still working out the details."  

Allison snorted.  

Neil busied himself with sorting through the pain medication records for 409, pretending to ignore the weight of Dan's stare.  

But Allison had no intention of ignoring it.  "You mean we get to keep him?"  

"Honestly Al, he's not a stray cat."    

"So?"  

"And I haven't asked him yet, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't scare him away in the meantime."  

"Of Course Dan.  I wouldn't dare."  Allison smiled again at the baby before announcing that clearly Auntie Allie was the only one who could give a proper tour and that maybe "We'll even find daddy in time for him to change your diaper."      

Dan rolled her eyes but wasted none of her newfound baby-free time in waiting to approach Neil.    

"I'm so glad I was able to catch you.  I've heard nothing but good things about you since you started."  

Neil glanced up from the paperwork, but kept his fingers wrapped tightly around the clipboard.   "Most of them from your husband I assume."  

Dan laughed good naturally.  "You’d certainly think so.   I swear if I hadn't already cemented myself as his favorite person, I'd be worried."  

Neil grimaced.  

"But it isn't just him."  Dan stepped closer.  "How are you enjoying Palmetto Public Neil?"  

"It's fine."  

Despite his lackluster answer, she seemed undeterred.  "I'm glad to hear it, because we've been so happy to have you here.  And since we're always short-staffed, I was able to get the board to approve your transition to a full-time position if you want it."  

Neil swallowed, a pit already forming in his stomach.   "That's-"

"You don't have to give me an answer now.  I was just stopping in today and wanted to let you know as soon as possible so you could get your affairs in order."  

She smiled so eagerly at him.  He almost felt guilty when he said, "No.  I'm grateful for the offer and all, but I can't stay."  

"Oh."  Dan's voice was so small.   She looked absolutely heartbroken.  

He grimaced again.    

"Well, if you change your mind, just know you're always welcome here."  

Neil forced himself to turn back to the paperwork to give her a chance to slink away. He wasn't actually reading, probably couldn't even if he tried.  

They wanted him to stay.  

And that very fact made him want to run until he couldn’t move anymore.  

Neil at least stopped himself from running out of the hospital.  He went to the roof, where things had always been just a little bit clearer.   Maybe if he could just think, he could make his heart stop pounding.  

"Why are you being such an idiot?"  Andrew's voice was angrier than he'd ever heard him as he slams the door open.  "I can't believe you."  

"What's there to believe?"  

Andrew stalked across the room toward him.  Neil knew what angry men could do, but he wasn't afraid not even as Andrew practically spit in his face.  "That you're just going to run off again like a fucking rabbit."

"It's better for everyone." His voice sounded empty even to his own ears.  

Andrew dug his hand into Neil's shoulder. "Don't give me that shit."

Neil looked at him blankly.  

"He's dead."  

"So?"  

"So stop running."  

"I don't know how."  The words were small, but he felt the truth in every ounce of his body.   He's never had somewhere worth staying or anyone worth staying for.  

Abby had tried, tried so much harder than anyone else.   But it wasn't the same.   He couldn't stop feeling like the scarred boy who'd come into her care determined not to need anyone.  And she was all too willing to watch him walk away.  He didn't need to stay anywhere to be worth something.  

He couldn't explain why this time was different.  Why he ached at the thought of never listening to Allison tease him.  Why never talking to Matt again made him want to curl in on himself.  He certainly couldn't explain why the thought of not being able to laugh with Andrew, not being able to see him every day physically pained him.  He needed Andrew in a way he hadn't needed anyone since his mother died.    

Neil was desperate for him to understand.   "Tell me to stay.  You have to tell me to stay."  

"Why should I?  Nothing will come of it."  

"What's that supposed to mean?"  

Neil wanted to scream.   Scream that maybe if Andrew just asked he'd be able to.  He'd be able to force down all the impulses telling him to run, just like he was able to stop himself from running out of the hospital entirely at Dan's offer.  Instead he ran to the roof, where it was safe, where Andrew made it safe.  

Andrew pushed him away and Neil already felt himself stepping forward unconsciously, trying to close the distance between them.  

"It means I'm self-destructive, not stupid.  I'm not going to ask when you clearly don't want to.  I won't make you."  

I'd never make you.  

Andrew didn’t say that, but Neil heard it anyway.  Because Andrew never pushed when it came to consent, to wanting this thing between them.    

It's why he's so desperate for Andrew to understand now.    

"It's always been 'go.  It's always been 'lie' and 'hide' and 'disappear'."   Neil gestured wildly as if trying to grab the words from thin air. "I've never belonged anywhere or had the right to call anything my own. You can't expect me to just know how to-”

Neil trailed off when he saw Andrew's face.  It was stony even to his impassioned plea.

He didn't know how he could fix this.  He felt like he was hanging on by a fraying thread as it was.  "I'm so tired of being nothing."  

"Then stop making yourself be nothing.   Let yourself have this."  

Neil felt himself floundering even more.  "It's not that simple."  

Andrew huffed and turned away from him.  "I don't have time for rabbits or idiots."  

He let the door slam as he left.  

Getting through the rest of the day was a blur.  Neil just kept thinking about Andrew walking away from him and the rooftop door echoing too loudly as it closed.  His apartment was no better.

There was nothing in the little apartment that Neil was renting that looked remarkably like home.  He was used to packing his life up in to the grey duffel bag every few months.  Nothing he bought couldn’t be replaced at any big box store.  

It never really bothered him before.  

That wasn’t to say he hadn’t noticed how other people’s spaces seemed to fit them.  But he had spent so long trying to blend in that he wasn’t even sure what he could add to make the space feel more like him.

He didn’t have the college pictures to string along his wall like Dan and Matt.   He didn’t even have the dime-a-dozen motivational posters that Kevin seemed to favor the few times he’d been to the apartment he shared with Andrew.   He certainly didn’t have the wall of books that Andrew kept in his own room.  

Up until recently he wouldn’t have cared.

But for the first time in his life, Neil was starting to feel like a real person.  A real person was supposed to have something that other people could remember them by, to identify them with.  Neil had his job and the scars on his face.

And Andrew.   Andrew who didn’t seem to care about either.  

If anything Andrew scoffed at the desperation he brought to his job when they both know that you couldn’t save everyone, and that most of the time you couldn’t save the people who deserved it either.  

But Neil could see the way he cared even if he didn’t make it his entire personality or guiding force.   His chart notes were too detailed.  His frown all the deeper when things went wrong.  He was too good at his job to not care at least a little bit.  And there was no one at Palmetto that could deny that Andrew was brilliant at his job.  

While others could look at Neil and see nothing but his injuries, there was a way that Andrew looked at him, his eyes pooling like honey that made Neil feel like Andrew was seeing everything but his scars.  

Somehow he even looked happy with what he found.  

It made him want to stay, to take that little feeling and nurture it until Neil could see something in himself too.  Something worth being happy about.

He sent out three texts one right after the other.  

The first was to Andrew.  “I’m not an idiot or a rabbit.”

It was simple, but it said everything.  Neil wasn’t running from this, wasn’t running from Andrew.  Tomorrow they could talk, but for now it had to be enough.  

“Can I really stay?”  

It was less professional than it should be, considering Dan would be his supervisor if everything worked out.  But he didn’t have another way to ask.  It felt like pulling teeth to even write those four words.  

Neil shouldn’t have turned her down so quickly this afternoon. He should have let himself realize how much he wanted this, realize how forcing himself to move again felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind that he didn’t even know he had before.  

But he needn’t have worried.  Dan’s reply was practically instantaneous.  “Of Course!!!! I’ll make sure to go over all the paperwork tomorrow.”  

The last message was one he should have sent twelve weeks ago.  It was only his address.  But Abby would know what it meant.   She always did.  

[modestlyabsurd]

Breaking Bread (Loki x Reader)

"Mm."

A ... grunt? Growl? A hum? A noise. A deep noise, and it came from Loki's bed. "Where are you going?" he asks, heavy sleep in his voice.

Damn. You really tried not to wake him up.

"I was just gonna go look for a vending machine or something."

"A what?"

You shift on your feet, "Y'know, a vending machine or a drink machine. You put in some money, you pick what you want to eat and it pops it out for you."

Loki stretches his arms, "Sounds very Midgardian." He slouches back against the headboard. "And you're going to go search for one of these machines by yourself?"

"Well, yeah."

"Really? On this foreign garbage planet, in the middle of the night, dressed in your sleep wear?"

"I'm hungry, okay?" you whine, now feeling stupid about the whole thing. "I didn't eat dinner earlier."

"You wasted the Grandmaster's kind, generous, complementary food service?" Loki chides.

"Oh, well excuse me for liking my food to not be wiggling around and staring at me while I eat it!"

He shakes his head. In the dark, your eyes have adjusted and you can see him more clearly; a smirk on his face and the most ridiculously perfect bed head you've ever seen. He's sitting upright, his lower half covered by the blue sheets and you avert your eyes upon seeing his upper half exposed.

"When's the last time you've eaten?" Loki asks, after putting together that every meal the two of you have been provided has been of a similar nature - very much alive, and that he hasn't actually seen you eat anything either.

All you wanted to do was go find a fucking vending machine. Not get the third degree.

A snarky reply is centimeters away from falling from your mouth, but then you consider how different Loki sounds. He's ... concerned. And not just because you woke him up; he's genuinely concerned.

You decide to answer honestly, even though it takes a moment to remember the last thing you consumed. "Do you remember those little bowls of fruit - at least I think it was fruit - but it was served as a side with those blue, tubular creatures that you said tasted like fermented meat?"

Loki's eyes widen, before he drops his face into his hand. That was yesterday morning.

Now he's alarmed. Humans can't go long periods of time without food or water before their bodies begin the grueling process of dehydration and starvation. He's seen what can happen to those unfortunate and impoverished enough to experience it - Asgardians, at least. Never a Midgardian. He can't let that happen. Not since ... well, not since he made that promise.

The silence from Loki makes you fidget. You try to break it, "It was good, anyway. Tasted like berries but was shaped like a garlic bulb. I was gonna try to find more of it if I can't find a vending machine."

He sighs. "You're not wandering these hallways and sectors alone." It wasn't a charming, lighthearted question. It was a statement.

And it was also a relief.

"You'll come with me?" you ask, picking at your fingernails in anticipation.

Loki bites his tongue, rolls his eyes. It's as if you're a child begging for sweets, with your big innocent eyes and hopeful little voice. He feels guilt tripped, even though he can tell that's not what you're doing; it's just you. The innocence, the hope. The excitement.

"Yes - " you inhale sharply before he can finish, "I'll assist on your hunt for food suitable enough for your needs."

You exhale, a huge smile coming with it, and have to control yourself from jumping for joy. "Thank you! ... Ah, are you decent under there?"

He smirks at you. "I'm wearing trousers, if that's what you mean."

~

The hallways of this Sakaarian palace are a flamboyant shade of drab. The architectural effort is visible in the abstract door frames and corridors, painted in bright contrasting colors. These halls in particular are an artificial sunny yellow with dark blue accents - a seemingly modern appealing design. And it would be, if not for the green and brown bloodstains obviously from the mutilated victims of the Grandmaster.

They're all around. On the golden ceilings, the blue diamond patterned floors, on the chandeliers and sconces. A faint stench lingers in the air of these hallways; the best way you've found to describe it is burnt. Pair that with the stains and it's almost enough to kill your appetite.

Not quite enough, though. And it's not like Loki would let you turn back now that you've interrupted his sleep.

In the distance you hear the thumping bass music and constant hustle of Sakaar, but in these hallways, it's dead quiet. Your footsteps achingly echo with every step the two of you make. They remind you of just how big and unfamiliar this place is. How alone you are, in that you're the only living human on this planet.

Of the few people - or, beings that you've walked past so far, none have been friendly. They all seem to detest your existence, as if you smell bad or look horrifying. For the most part you keep your eyes on your little slippers padding across the glittery floor.

You must admit, though, having Loki with you takes away some of the fear about walking around this place late at night.

Unbeknownst to you, you hadn't actually woken Loki up. He knows better than to sleep in a place like this; rest will do just fine. But that doesn't mean he was prepared to drop everything and go blindly walking the palace in search for a "vending machine".

As he walks now, after putting on some more appropriate attire - lightweight boots, proper leather trousers and a skin-tight blue tunic, all courtesy of and chosen by the Grandmaster himself - he glances down at you. He notices your inward demeanor. You're taking small steps, you're breathing shortly, and he can't even see your face with your head hanging so low.

Isn't this what you wanted? he wonders. He's doing as you asked for Norn's sake.

You near two civilians congregating near a corridor to another sector. Wearing typical skimpy Sakaarian wear, both were as tall if not taller than Loki. One was frighteningly thin and the other was frighteningly large. They appeared similarly built as you and Loki, save for their bleached white skin and black gums surrounding animalistic fangs.

With eyes an unsettling shade of gold, they widen and they immediately lock onto you - not you and Loki, but you - like cats watching a mouse. The tiny hairs on Loki's neck stand on end. He immediately narrows his own eyes at the creatures, daring them to do anything further. They don't even as much as glance away from you.

Loki claims ownership. His right hand brushes your right shoulder guiding you closer to him, once again daring the aliens to make a move. The two of you pass the corridor and Loki cranes his neck to watch the creatures, long after you've passed them. His arm stays around you, connecting you at the hips the entire time.

Monsters...

"They didn't look very nice, did they?" you laugh nervously from below him. Loki looks down at you and notices you ever so slightly, probably unconsciously, leaning into him.

His face feels hot. Quickly he retracts his arm.

"Ah, no. No, they didn't."

You on the other hand, were coming down from being fucking terrified. Those people looked at you like their next meal; at any minute you thought they may step closer and say something or do something or attack ... Relief, when Loki pulled you close and hid you away, is a huge understatement.

"Thank you. For protecting me and all." You lightly elbow Loki in the arm - for emphasis, of course - sending him shuffling a foot or so outward.

He dramatically collects himself and says, "Don't get used to it. I could sense your fear from a millennia away."

Straightening his tunic and looking forward, he doesn't look at you again. He was too annoyed with everything, including himself.

But you glanced at him as you walked. He had to be tired and was definitely a little on-edge, which wasn't completely unusual. He's taking the whole trapped-on-Sakaar thing much more gracefully than you, but that isn't saying much. Yet somehow he remains composed and in control. Reserved.

Except when you elbowed him. You really caught him off guard and you haven't stopped grinning since you did it.

Seeing his ever so serious eyes locked in front of him, his clenched jaw and tight mouth. Ridiculously long, dark eyelashes, fluttering in his stupid little frustrated way. That may have played a part in your grinning also.

His intense green eyes meet yours while you're watching him. "What?" he snaps.

"Oh, nothing," you chirp. I could get used to this, you think to yourself.

Loki's face twists up in offense. "If you think that I - "

"Look!" you grab his forearm and run to a sign on the wall. It had an arrow, with an image that vaguely resembled a plate of food. Vaguely. It also had some lines that could possibly mean something if you were to understand Sakaarian, or whatever. "Wonder what it says."

"It says 'Food, this way.'"

You scoff. "Not funny, Loki."

"I'm telling the truth! It says 'Food, this way.'"

"How can you read that?!"

Loki sighs. "Have I given you a reason not to trust me?"

You think of what happened moments ago. "No," you say timidly.

"Very well. The sign is a directory sign to the eatery. I think my duties here are finished. Good night." With that Loki starts to walk back down the hallway.

"Wait!" you call, a bit louder than you meant to. He's already a few feet ahead of you now, but groans and stops to give you an unnerving glare. "You can't just leave me here, you said it yourself!"

"What I said was you can't wander these hallways alone," he corrects. "I've brought you right to your destination. What more? Would you like me to hold your hand all the way through the eatery as well?"

... Yes?

"Now if you'll excuse - "

"Loki," you plead, trying to think of a convincing reason for him to stay - something to do with him, maybe - but you think of nothing, and now if looks could kill you'd be a bloodstain with all the others.

With no other choice, you desperately explain yourself. "Look, the truth is I don't stand a chance in this place alone. I mean, did you see how those things looked at me? By the looks of it I'm probably gonna be mauled in cold blood in the middle of this floor and they'll all gather to watch! No one would bat a eye. No one - " you shove his chest sending him backwards, "no one but you. Maybe. I don't know," you hiss.

Loki licks his teeth. Sorting through conflicting thoughts; mostly from the fact that someone just laid hands on him, and that that someone was you. All else aside he's rather impressed with the nerve you do possess. You unknowingly could survive here, perhaps, if not for your innate earthliness.

He sucks on his bottom lip while eyeing your ironic fluffy slippers. "Fine," he nods, looking up. "if that's what you want. I'll be your personal chaperone."

Finally, a bit of understanding! Your arms outstretch for a gracious hug - until the cold blade of his voice, as well as a silencing pointed finger stop you dead in your tracks.

"But if you give me one reason - one reason, to believe that you'd betray me, you will be all alone to fend for yourself in this wasteland. Do you understand?"

You nod. Dry mouthed.

"Good. I don't wish to repeat myself."

And, what a perfect time for your stomach to growl perhaps the most obnoxiously it ever has, in your life. A reminder as to why you're here in the first place.

You squirm and fidget with the hem of your sleep shirt, "Sorry."

For the millionth time and counting, Loki sighs and rolls his eyes. "Let's just get this over with."

~

"Why does everything have to be alive?"

"Shh! Keep your voice down, for Heaven's sake. And don't be so disrespectful to the culture of these people."

You look blandly at your plate. It appears nearly full with it being so small, since apparently Sakaar cares greatly about portion control.

The food court, eatery, cafeteria - whateverthefuck, was displayed in a ring formation with patrons on the inside and servers on the outside. Surprisingly you weren't the only patrons at such an hour; a handful of people stood around eating and drinking cocktails - minding their own business, thankfully.

You find Loki contemplating the mixing bar to the left serving drinks, but he ended up staying with you. He translated the description of each food from the charming little labels standing near them. Charming, indeed, compared to the elaborate display of every item. At first glance to you, they appear to be expensive delicacies, until Loki read the labels.

And while the water-centipede noodle soup looked very appetizing at first, that ended when you approached and the bugs begun to stir.

Throughout the menu you're left with few alternatives that weren't moving. Your plate currently consisted of a tiny loaf of stale bread and a blue jam made of the same fruit from the other morning (which you couldn't begin to pronounce the name of). It won't sustain you for too long, but you've already gone this far on way less.

That's of no comfort to Loki, though.

Though he won't say it, he relates to your disgust and is still plotting on a way to escape this place. He hasn't forgotten about the obedience disk implanted in your skin - quite the opposite, as he continues to recast his Seidr on it every night, while you sleep. To keep you from complaining about it. But if it's not one thing, it's the next ...

Like now. You can't possibly survive long on a mere bit of bread and jam. He can't even do that. Oh, but it's the only thing that isn't alive. Death? You'll face death with a mighty fist! Unless death is alive, of course.

Loki does have a conscience, so he can't just abandon you here. But Gods, you're making him want to.

"Come on, there's a few more courses to choose from," he urges you forward.

The last two items looked promising. One was a pyramid display of small black eggs, which were in fact not eggs at all. "What are they?" you ask Loki.

"They're called 'eyes of the dead'. It consists of - "

"Nope."

Loki scoffs, "Would you let me finish?"

"No, I'm not eating something that has eyes."

"You are insufferably prejudiced."

When you say nothing in return, Loki feels a pang of regret. After all, the eyes are rather unsettling. He likely wouldn't eat them either. Especially now that they can't seem to look away from him, following his every move.

"I guess this is my last choice," you sigh. "Looks promising, at least."

He finally musters the courage to look away from the nasty creatures. You're standing somberly by the end of the court; he leans over your shoulder to read the label and is astonished.

You look up and find Loki's jaw dropped, his face close enough that you can see the green ocean swirling in his eyes. "You okay?"

Loki glances down at you, still in shock. "This is from Asgard."

"Really?" you blink. "What is it?"

He shudders. "They're calling it 'Tastes of Asgard', but it's just mutton chops, sheep's cheese and honey cake."

That sounds like heaven. Or Asgard, apparently.

But before your stomach takes over your mind, the answer to Loki's distress hits you. "How do they know what you eat in Asgard? Unless you've told them?"

Loki eyes you wordlessly, but says enough.

You hiss, "You don't think there's more Asgardians here, do you?"

"We'll talk about it privately. For now, do you want to try this or not?"

Your minds still running a mile a minute. How could anyone else from Asgard end up here? This place is for bottom feeders! You and Loki stick out like sore thumbs in this landfill with Loki practically being royalty and you - well. You being with him. You begin to shift on your feet anxiously when your eyes land on the mutton again.

Another opportunity to try food from Asgard may never arise again. Of course you want to!

"On one condition."

Loki huffs and rolls his eyes. "What?"

"Will you try some with me?"

~

Those emotional nights when cheese and crackers are more satisfying than the most elaborate Thanksgiving dinner; that's what you thought of. Somehow you were reminded of home. The Sakaarian bread was stale, but had a pleasant sourness that complimented the sweet, blue fruit jam and the sharp sheep's cheese. It was a means of comfort.

And when you and Loki played rock paper scissors to see who would try the "mutton" first, he indeed informed you that it wasn't authentic sheep from Asgard, but rather it was from Midgard. You tried it next and were pleased.

It didn't cross your mind how little manners you were using - wiping the grease and jam from your mouth ravenously - until you looked across the balcony and noticed that Loki had barely eaten any of his food. Instead, he gazed into the empty, colorful Sakaar sky. Something was bothering him.

"Why aren't you eating?" you slur, covering a mouthful of honey cake with your hand.

Your voice breaks Loki away from his thoughts briefly. He cringes. "You've killed what little appetite I'd acquired."

"I told you I was hungry," you defend yourself. A moment of silence passes as Loki looks back to the sky. It was easy to stare at, as it seemed to lure you in. As if it were trying to hypnotize you into believing there was some kind of beauty here. But the real beauty sat beside you.

"Do you think there's more of your people here?" you mutter.

Loki nearly bites back something about his true heritage, but chooses not to. He senses your honesty, your naivety. He absently cuts his honey cake with his fork. "I think there's one person in particular here."

"Who?"

He smirks despite himself. "Well, this meal is the true indicator. It isn't the same as I recall, but it's a cheap attempt to replicate it."

You stay quiet, confused as hell. You take another bite of the delicious honey cake that tastes anything but cheap.

"I knew this would happen eventually. It always does."

"What?" you ask urgently, not wanting him to veer away.

"This is Thor's favorite meal."

~

another tale from Sakaar! I love these. And to those who read the whole thing, I seriously applaud you. I don't know what happened. It started as one little sentence/idea and it just kept going and going and going and going and

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