#dunno how they keep humans on them for months

[nerdygirlramblings]

totally self-indulgent because if you can't be self-indulgent with your fanfic when can you

tw: self body shaming / body dysmorphia, low self-esteem reader

You weren't bad looking. You figured you were a generous 5, a solid 6 if you dolled yourself up right. But it never felt like enough. You'd been on dates and gotten compliments, but no one stuck around. Every time you were left alone, the common denominator was always you.

It wasn't hard then to think that you weren't enough.

Until them.

You met John first, processing paperwork he was picking up. Your first month on the job and you were still getting used to the rhythm of the base. While it was still paperwork, these administration duties were so different from the last office where you'd worked. John was a friendly face, and a handsome one too. You didn't mind when he dropped by alone or with members of his team.

He'd introduced you to them all in the weeks after he'd met you. There was Kyle, the beautiful man with a golden smile; Johnny, a human golden retriever with bright blue eyes; and Simon, a steady, quiet presence. You'd been polite, been a nice colleague and had lunch or tea with the men, alone, in small groups, or with all four.

You had no idea this was their idea of courting you.

The first time you'd joined them for a drink off base, you were not expecting them to explain how they were together like that, and how they wanted to see if you would want to be theirs. Shocked, you said yes. Sputtered it, if you were being honest. But how could someone hold their own when not one but four big, strong, caring military men wanted to date them?

So you started going on more actual dates: dinner with John, the cinema with Kyle, walks in the park with Simon. The men all tried to make you feel special, but getting past your walls wasn't easy. You knew it wasn't, even if you wanted to make it so. Too many years of bad dates, of being ghosted or rejected, of men who wanted to keep the lights off, didn't want to meet your family, didn't want to stick around, reinforced every bad thing you thought about yourself.

Until the night you'd joined Johnny for a nightcap at theirs, and everyone was home when you stepped in. You felt trapped, but Johnny put his big hand on your lower back and escorted you into the sitting room, placing you gently onto the sofa next to John.

"Doll," he'd said, turning your face to his, "we know this is a lot, all of us, but we've been talking." You sucked in a breath, anticipating how poorly this night was going to end. This was it, they were done. Your walls were too high even for the best of men to scale them. But you couldn't look away from John's steady gaze. "We know yer scared, love, but ya don't have ta be. We like everything about you."

You try to turn away, only to see Simon steady at your back. "Yer bloody gorgeous, luvie. Dunno how ya can' see it," he said, running a hand possessively down your face to your collar.

"Perhaps we need ta show ya instead," Kyle said from where he'd moved to your knees. He ran his hands up your thighs and just slipped under the edge of your skirt.

"Let us show ye," Johnny whispered from the back of the sofa. He leaned forward and kissed the column of your neck.

They didn't give you the chance to run, slowly, carefully, peeling back your layers. Kisses that lead to light groping, which you've done with them all before, but as it moves to heavy petting and actual intimacy, you pull back, try to hide your flaws and imperfections. You hadn't been intimate with a partner in ages because after so many bad experiences, you knew there was something wrong with you. Something about how you looked, how you behaved. You were the problem.

But not to them.

Every time you clamped down on a moan, remembering the partners who were annoyed at your noises caused Simon to tut, "Let us hear ya, luvvie. Need to know wha' ya like." When your tried to cover your cellulite, the parts of you you hid under spanx, Johnny and Kyle were there with soft caresses, moving worshipfully across your body. And when you were all stripped bare, you focused intently on their pleasure, trying not to be a selfish lover. Until John told you they were each going to gift you an orgasm before they got off, "Because your other lovers were shite if they didn't focus on you, love."

And finally, you saw you were enough. You were worth more than you'd ever been given before. You were worth everything they were willing to give you. And more.

So you let them.

main masterlist

[gloryy-vs]

Your Sanctuary (MDNI 18+)

|| synopsis: abby x reader, you’re a decently popular idol, who was in a secret relationship with Abby of the Saja Boys. you adored him, loved every part of him, even the part you should’ve been running from. you let yourself indulge in sin, worshipping a man who was damned long ago.

tags: abby x reader, cunnilingus, head (f!recieving), fingering, demon sex, virginity taking, praising, p in v, rough & gentle sex, worshipping, hair pulling, manhandling

a/n: omg first fic, this is literally so long but i kept wanting to flesh out the backstory, but don’t worry the backstory to smut ratio is pretty equivalent! i haven’t written in so long and this isn’t proof read. so do ignore some typos teehee. i will be making more, let me know if you wanna be tagged, or if u have any requests/ideas! ||

Since meeting Abby about a month ago or so, you both were Idols, bonding over the struggles of meeting fans, having to keep good posture and facial expressions 24/7 as to avoid scandals from fans. Your first impression of him was that he was gentle, at least with you. Even though he was a bit conceited with his build and loved showing off to his fans for the squeals and screams, he had a charming voice, like you were being drawn to him by some unknown force.

Long story short, you two grew infatuated with each other, keeping a low profile relationship as well as you both could. Today, he was helping you out with a choreography. Even though he was a newer up and coming idol, he had such great coordination, reflexes and balance. He hit each move perfectly to your latest song after learning it the first time. It was like he wasn’t human. Each time you struggled or failed to hit a move on a certain beat he’d pause the song, going behind you to fix your pose.

“Keep your arms here, then the second beat, bring them up fast. Yeah?” He said, his hands moving your arms around to where they should be. His touch was hot, sending chills up your body.

He had an aura about him, like something darker was within him. His reflexes were quick, each time you’d be near him you’d feel a heat in your stomach like some sort of safety engulfed you. The way he looked at you too, his eyes fixated on yours without a glance anywhere else.

“You know, you’re really good at this, it’s like you’re not human.” You said, jokingly.

His arm draped over you, his lips just barely grazing your ear. “That’s cus I’m not, princess.”

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but his breath tickled your ear and made you jolt away from his face. You looked at him, his expression seeming serious as he pressed even closer to you. His eyes had a look, one that seemed dangerous but not harmful.

“You’re full of jokes aren’t you?” You chirped, taking a step back as he’d just take another forward.

You felt uneasy, like he needed to tell you something. Each step back that you took, he’d take another forwards. Eventually, he got tired of the games, pressing you up against the wall quickly.

“I think that’s enough practice for today, why don’t you come by our place. Sleep with me tonight.” Abby said, his hand gently placed on your waist, he acted like you were made of glass.

Your eyes went wide, face flushed from how close he had gotten to you. You never did anything sexual with him. Abby said no kisses, and never told you why. That demand alone led to no sex, or anything of the sort. So him inviting you over seemed like a big jump.

“S-sleep together? Are you serious? You don’t mean- do you mean?” You were baffled, and even embarrassed at the thought.

He let out a laugh before pressing his hand against the wall next to your head, “I dunno, do I mean it? Why? You want it that bad, I don’t know if it’ll even fi-“

You slid to the open side where you weren’t caged in, face red with embarrassment. “You’re too much!” You turned away from him, picking up your bag from the bench and your lulu shapewear jacket.

“So what? You don’t wanna?” Abby said loud, just as you were about to walk out.

“I’ll be there at 8!” You said, not looking at him and walking out the door quickly.

————————————

You got into the cab, wearing a hat and face mask to conceal your identity. You had asked Abby for the address, and he happily gave it. With the following message being, ‘you won’t miss it’. Whatever that means. It wasn’t too far from your own groups apartment penthouse. Only about ten minutes without traffic.

You were anxious, and even that was a light word to describe it. All that was running through your mind was being alone, vulnerable in a room with a man who was almost double your size and could pick three of you up. It’s not like you didn’t trust him, but for him to suddenly invite you over was uncharacteristic. Your thoughts went from worrying about what he’d do, to fantasizing about what he’d do. How big he was compared to you, his whole body above would cover you while you clawed at his back. You almost drooled at the thought before snapping back to your sense and scolding yourself.

“Bad! Quit it.” You whisper yelled to yourself, forgetting you were in a cab with a whole other person. Now you’re scared the driver can read minds.

“You’re here, hope you enjoyed the ride.” The driver said plainly. That fast?

You thanked him and gave him a tip, grabbing your purse and opening the door. He was right, you couldn’t miss it. A massive building, massive glass window panes. He said it was the top floor penthouse. Your jaw was almost to the floor, The buildings parameter was bigger than yours. I mean, you expected it. The Saja Boys made an instant internet sensation with just one song and over 50 million fans. Lord knows how much money they have. Which reminded you, the other boys would have to see you come in, and go straight to Abby’s room. You could only hope they’d keep their minds out of the gutter.

Walking inside, you checked in and made yourself known to the staff, and they allowed you inside. They knew someone was expecting you just by your name. You clicked the button to the top floor in the elevator, waiting for it to stop. You took off the hat and mask, shoving them in your purse now that you didn’t have to avoid any publicity this late at night.

You still couldn’t shake the nervous feeling, fidgeting with your rings and then moving to tug at the hem of your white skirt. Your heart was racing as soon as the elevator made a ‘ding’ to the top floor.

You walked down the short corridor to where their home was. You reapplied your lipgloss, and readjusted your hair since the hat had caused it to fluff up at the top. Once you felt content with your appearance, you knocked three times. You didn’t even realize you were hardly breathing from how nervous you were. Then, the door opened.

“Awww, someone’s little pet is here!” Romance sung out, stepping aside to let you in.

You made a cringed face at the name he used, stepping inside as he welcomed you in. “Hello to you too, Romance.” You said shyly, still trying to control the pace of your heart.

Eyeing the main room, it was an open floor plan. You could see Jinu in the kitchen, Romance joking him soon after closing the door behind you, while Mystery and Baby were sitting on the couch together, eating sushi and watching some horror movie with the most blood and gore you’ve seen in your life. You looked to the right, seeing a shoe rack littered for you to place your heels on.

While you were taking them off, placing them neatly to the side, you heard a familiar voice. “There she is, was worried you were gonna flake on me.”

Looking up you see Abby shirtless, hair damp, and grey sweatpants hanging deliciously by his v-line. You shook your head, still a bit weary of being in an unknown place with everyone being able to watch. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up to give you a welcome hug. You mumbled, pushing away him shyly. Romance was peering at you two from the kitchen, and so was Jinu.

“She got all pretty for you, go easy on her tonight.” Romance sung teasingly, throwing a wink your way as if he knew something you didn’t.

“Put me down!” You said, smacking his arm.

He obliged, noting how embarrassed you were with his bandmates comment. “Shut your mouth, Rome. Don’t be mad cus even with your name you can’t find a girl to bang.”

You readjusted your top, noticing it rode up from being lifted against your will. Abby wrapped his arm over your shoulders, pulling you to him and he began to walk with you. “Let me show you my room, get away from these freaks.” He said, rubbing your shoulder after realizing how tense you were.

His room was close by, just down the hallway from the living room. He opened the door for you first. You were hit with the smell of cologne, and dear god did it smell heavenly. The room was dark, with a few lamps being turned on, red sheets and a massive mirror across from the bed.

You stepped in shyly, still feeling uneasy and wanting to be respectful being in his home, and his room. Abby shut the door behind him, taking your purse and overnight bag for you and placing them in the corner of the room.

“I called you over here for a reason. You trust me right?” Abby said from across the room, turning slowly towards you.

You looked over at him, nodding hesitantly. What did he mean? “I…do. Is it something about us?”

Your first thought was that he wanted to break up, or maybe he cheated? Or maybe he judged wanted to fuck. You were so desperately infatuated with this man, your feelings overwhelming you that the thought of him betraying you filled you with grief.

“It’s about me. What I really am.” Abby said cryptically. Your brow raised.

“Is this about the whole ‘not human’ thing, because that’s like beating a dead horse of a jok-“ He held up his hand.

“It is. I told you, I’m not a human. I’m not fragile like you, I don’t look the same as you. I’m stronger than you, faster than you, smarter than you. I could hurt you.” He said angrily, but you could tell it wasn’t towards you. It was because this was hard for him.

“You wouldn’t hurt me? I don’t understand—“ He stopped you again, his hands finding your waist, but keeping you at a distance.

“I’m a demon, we all are. This human appearance you’re seeing? It’s fake. It’s not who we really are.” Abby said, his eyes carefully watching your facial expressions for any trace of fear. He wouldn’t let you run, not now. He’d make you understand, make you stay. Even if that meant using force to keep you in his room for god knows how long.

Your lips parted, you still weren’t fully registering. It slowly started to make sense. The reflexes, barely eating, the odd behavior from some of the other boys. You were still unsure. Demon? Was he with you to eat your soul? Was he just keeping you around to kill you? Wouldn’t he have done that already? What did he mean by ‘he looks different’? Your hand held onto his forearm.

“I want to see it.” You mumbled, “I can’t believe it if I don’t see it. Are you messing with me?”

His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you in closer. “Promise you won’t run? You won’t scream and claw at me to get away?” He towered over you, eyes gazing into you like he could pounce on you at any second.

You nodded your head slowly, and that’s when you saw it. His eyes flickered gold, and his pupils morphed into slits. “This is just step one, and my patterns..”

You held back a terrified gasp, your fingers digging into his arm. As you did so, jagged line of glowing purple and blue lit across his skin, all over his arms and torso, all the way to his face. Your body felt light, your head spinning as you watch the man in front of you, morph into something not human, into something demonic. As you blinked rapidly, hoping this was a wild dream, his skin turned a soft purple. If it wasn’t for his hold on your waist, you’d have fallen to the floor in shock.

He noticed, pushing you the bed so you could sit. He brushed your hair away from your face, his hand resting on your cheek hesitantly. He was worried you’d rip away from his touch. He kept thinking the worst, that you’d run and he’d have to rip you away from the world to keep you locked away for himself. He grew attached to you, he could sense how timid but pure your soul was. Untainted, something he wanted for himself. Even if you thought he was a disgusting creature, he’d force you to love him. To take him as he is.

You on the other hand, were thinking quite the opposite. He looked powerful. His true form did scare you, but not dangerously, you craved it. He looked even more handsome, he grew even taller, his body mass increasing as well, just by a bit. His eyes, piercing into you with need and possession all over them. A part of you was unsure, but the other wanted to crawl into his lap and let him protect you. It was practically screaming inside of you.

“I like it.” You whispered. Your brought your hand shakily to his chest, finger tracing one of his patterns to his collarbone.

He dipped his head down to meet your eyes, scanning you up and down. His hands moved down to your thighs, slipping the tips of his fingers under your skirt. He looked delicious, his aura radiating a type of dominance you’d been craving. You found yourself admiring him, the unease you felt when you first arrived fading the more you looked at him. Maybe this feeling was just some demon manipulation, but you wanted him even more. Wanted his touch all over your body.

“The reason I didn’t want to kiss you, didn’t want to be intimate, I didn’t wanna lead my princess on. Just to tell you what I was afterwards.” Abby paused, standing up in front of you. His hand went to the top of your head, playing with your hair. “I doubt you’d want to sleep with a demon. Scared you might get your soul taken, yeah?” He said teasingly.

You looked up at him, still taking all of him in with need and admiration. Shaking your head, “I want to.” You said eagerly. His brow raised, questioning if you really did want your soul taken. “I mean—“ You realized what you had implied, your eyes going wide in worry.

“I— wouldn’t mind…doing it..with you. Is what I meant.” You clarified, taking your gaze downwards in embarrassment. You definitely realized you probably had some sort of kink for this. You were internally blaming him, convincing yourself your sudden increase in need for him, for his touch raking over you was some way demons entice their prey.

“Silly girl, could’ve swore you just said you want me to take your soul.” He gripped your chin, his claws grazing your skin as he lifted your head up to look at him. “But don’t worry, I’m sure I can be the best in bed you’ve ever had.”

“The only.” You said, pressing your thighs together as you longingly looked into his glowing eyes. His hand tensed.

He was shocked, but relieved. A virgin all to himself? He questioned the situation, only for a short moment. Taking a human girls virginity in his demon form. Abby already knew what the answer would be, he’d definitely take the opportunity to make you a sobbing, wet mess on his cock.

“How sweet of you, princess. You wanna give your innocence to me? Let me ruin you? Have you take me in every position? Show me how bad you want it.” He said, tightening his grip on your face before releasing you harshly.

You whimpered, the force breaking you out of a trance. You wanted to worship him, the hot feeling bubbling in your chest again. You slid off the bed, resting yourself on your knees while you looked up at him. His face made an amused expression, watching you kneel in front of him, your hands tracing his v-line, while your eyes yearned from him.

“You’re my sanctuary, I’ll always worship you.” You said, resting yourself face against the bulge in his pants.

He couldn’t get enough of this, his hand finding its way to your hair, wrapping it around his fingers. He pulled your head up harshly, “Come on, what’s my name?”

Your face grew hot, he pressed your cheek against his clothed cock, forcing you to look up at him by pulling on your hair. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, you were a newbie to this, afraid to say what you really wanted.

“Come on, be a good girl for me. I’ll give it to you all night. You’ll forget your own name once I’m done with you.” Abby said, his gentle expression now replaced with one of dominance and hunger.

“You’re my sanctuary, master. Please, I need you.” You whined, not being able to fight the wetness pooling in your undies, how hot your skin got from being this close to him. You yearned for him, still in a daze from everything leading up to now.

You lifted yourself up just barely, your eyes never leaving his as you planted small pecks all over his waist, before leading dangerously low, bringing his hemline down to tease him. He yanked your head back, his other hand parting your lips.

“You’re so good for me, you know that? Keep worshipping me. I’m all you’ll ever need, all you’ll ever want. You’d let me have your soul if I wanted to, yeah? Isn’t that right?” Abby said, guiding you up back onto the bed by your hair.

He didn’t pull hard, you instinctively followed his motion, leaning into him as you sheepishly nodded to all his questions. “I love you. I want to worship you, please. I need you, Abby. I want you so bad.” You kept on sputtering, begging and begging. Hoping it’d be enough so he could finally fuck you into the mattress.

Abby’s lips formed into a mischievous smirk, suddenly pushing you down to the center of the bed. “You want me to touch you? Where do you want it baby?”

You slowly moved your hands to the waistband of your skirt, tugging at it. You were still scared to take them off, scared in knowing he’d see you, fully bare and exposed to him. His hand went to your top first, pulling it up.

“Arms up, let me unwrap my gift.” He said, and you obliged. Your shirt was yanked off in an instant. He moved his hands down to your skirt, snapping the tight band against your skin.

“Wore something so short, I could feel how everyone was staring at you, you like their attention? You wanted them to look at what’s mine?” He growled, his eyes raking over your body before meeting your eyes.

You shook your head, “No, no. I promise. It was for you. I promise I would never—“ He raised his hand, lightly slapping you across the face.

“I don’t need anyone else looking at you, understand me? Wear something like this again around anyone but me and you won’t be walking for the next week.” He threatened, eyes dangerous before he pulled down your skirt, throwing it off to the side.

You nodded your head quickly, your chest heaving with your heavy breaths. He towered over you, and you could feel his eyes examining every part of your body. He let out a deep growl, letting his hand take your body from the top of your breast all the way to your soaked cunt.

“You wore all this for me baby? Look so pretty for me, it’s a shame.” He whispered, letting hands explore the curve of your waist, running them up and down to feel your breasts through the lace fabric of your bra.

Before you knew it, he ripped your bra in half, tearing the weak fabric off your body. “Don’t need these hiding from me.” He said, groping both your breasts.

His hands were strong. Abby kept squeezing them, pressing them together before he licked his lips and dove his head down. His mouth latched onto your right nipple, licking and nipping at it while his left hand kept massaging the other. Your head shot back, a moan escaping your lips.

“Such a pretty sound, keep going baby. You have no clue what it does to me.” He said between licks, his eyes glancing up at you, watching for facial expression contort into one of pleasure.

He kept going, letting his tongue roll over your nipple in a pattern, then going back to sucking roughly. You were too busy indulging, your hands gripping onto his shoulder as he teased you, your cunt dripping at the stimulation he was spoiling you with. You didn’t notice his free hand creeping towards your waist and resting on your hip before suddenly tearing your pink lace panties off in one motion. The cold air in the room hit your bare cunt, making you whimper.

“There we go, look at you. I’m gonna break you so good, you’ll be addicted to me.” He said, lifting himself away from your chest. He lifted your legs up, his head dipping between your thighs as he planted soft kisses, and occasional bites. Your face grew red, seeing him so close to your cunt.

“Abby—wait-“ His tongue already licked up the length of your slit, his eyes fluttering shut at the taste.

“Fuck baby, taste so good.” Abby hissed, the tension in his boxers growing as his mouth latched onto your clit, his tongue flicking at the sensitive bud.

Your eyes rolled back and shut, mouth open with small whimpers escaping your lips. He was eating you like a starved man, you could feel his fangs dragging across your skin, his tongue teasingly diving into your hole. Every lick brought you closer, just below your tummy you could feel tension building. You were worried, all this has you nearly cumming. What about the actually fucking? You’d be done within seconds.

He kept lapping up your wetness, placing kisses on your cunt. You felt something firm teasing your entrance, before it plunged into you.

“Ah, fuck!” You whined, watching him finger you while his mouth never left your clit. He added a second finger, a smirk growing on his face.

“So tight, how’re you gonna be able to fit my cock baby?” He said, curling his fingers upwards.

He quickened his pace, letting his fingers fuck your cunt while he watched your pretty little face. That’s expression you were making, eyes brows furrowed, eyes needy, lips parted. He adored how he had you wrapped around his finger, literally and metaphorically.

“‘M gonna cum, don’t stop! Please, please let me cum.” You cried, gripping onto the sheets beneath you as you bucked against his fingers, back arched in pleasure. He was debating it, wanting to torture you. He chose against it, he wanted to watch you come undone on his fingers, have you leave a mess all over his hand.

“Go on, baby. Let it out, cmon, cum for me.” Abby said, his other hand caressing your thigh softly, rubbing reassuring circles to entice you.

You whimpered, the coil in your stomach finally snapping as you felt a white hot flash escape you. The sudden warmth leaking from you and the heat spreading from your cunt to the rest of your body felt heavenly. You rode out your high, grinding softly against his fingers until your heart quit racing.

“There we go, good girl.” He took his fingers out, a thick coat of your cum left behind on his fingers. You watched him lap it up, placing his fingers in his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. Your face went red. You knew better than to say anything against it.

“I could eat you all day, but I think it’s time for me to indulge too. Don’t you agree baby?” He questioned, his head tilting ‘innocently’. Abby pulled his waistband down, finally releasing his rock hard cock.

He was big, thick, you were terrified of how it would even begin to fit inside of you. You gulped, and he was amused by your reaction. He pumped his cock, watching you lay vulnerable beneath him turned him on even more. He lifted your legs, placing his cock on top of your stomach, letting you see how deep it would reach inside you. You let out a shaky breath, it scared you, but you could only imagine how full you’d feel. It reached just below your belly button, he caressed up and down the back of you thighs to ease you.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go too hard. You let me know when you’re ready for me to move, okay baby? Just hold onto me.” He said, moving so he’d be right at your hole, his tip pressed against it.

You nodded, swallowing hard as you gripped onto his forearm that was placed on beside you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, slowly easing his way in. His tip barely pushed in, and the stretch was painful, but in a good way. Each inch he pushed in you gripped tight and tighter onto him, your other hand shooting up to grip onto his shoulder. You cried out, whining and whimpering, trying to keep yourself quiet through the pain. As he got further in, he let his hand fall to your head, petting your hair as he studied your face, making sure you didn’t look too in pain. You bit your lip, eyes closed tightly as he kept pushing inside.

“Almost there baby, just a little more. Hold on for me.” He whispered, littering your face with kisses before roughly pushing the last three inches in.

“Fuck! Abby!” You cried, your nails gripped into his skin, trying to adjust to his size. It hurt so good.

After a few still moments you nodded your head, letting him know he could move. He pulled out just a little, snapping back into you quickly. You moaned, leg wrapping around his waist as he kept the soft and slow thrusts. Each time he pressed inside of you felt so good, his cock hitting just the right spot each time before filling you to the brim. He grew impatient, hungry to fuck you. He sped up, the sound of skin hitting skin filled the room, your moans echoing through the almost bare walls. You were sure the other boys could hear you. Abby groaned each time you clenched around him, it only enticed him more.

“So fucking tight, holy shit. Just like that princess, suck me in. Feels good doesn’t it? You don’t want me to stop do you? Keep making those pretty noises. Let them hear who you belong to.” He demanded, his hand wrapping around your throat, his face inches from yours and he kept bucking into you, each time he went in he slammed into you.

You scratched at his back, crying out each time he thrusts into you. You left raw marks all over his back. His marks sparked, eyes glowing while he stared down at you, like he was proud for breaking you down into a teary eyed, whimpering mess. A smirk grew on his face again, watching you writhe under him, only being able to take him, not resisting him towering over you.

You couldn’t handle the overwhelming sensation and eye contact, you looked away, flustered with his eyes glaring into what seemed like your soul. He yanked your face back.

“Look at me, I wanna watch you come undone on my cock. All the cute faces you make keep me going. Look away again and you’re not cumming.” He was threatening, and you knew he meant it, he slammed into you; his thrusts slowing down while he admired you, watching your mouth open wider with each hit.

You were about to cum, your legs shaking from his cock drilling into you mercilessly. It only then hit you, a demon was inside of you. Making a mess of you, praising you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. Each thought had you slipping closer to climax, letting yourself be used by something so inherently evil, but you reeled into the idea, feeling guilty in pleasing yourself this way.

“I’m about to— oh fuck, oh abby, please, please don’t stop!” Your whines never ceased, and he just watched you, almost chuckling at your cries. Abby lowered his head, kissing you roughly, his lips ravaging yours while his tongue slipped inside your mouth. He went faster than before, the sound of squelching and skin filling the room again.

You clawed at his back, bringing him in closer with both your legs wrapped around him tight, pulling his waist closer. You saw stars, your legs tensing and twitching violently, back arching as you gasped, breaking from the rough kiss. Abby kissed all over your jaw, hissing as your pussy clenched around him while you came, bringing him closer to his own orgasm. He slammed into you one last time, his hand gripping into the soft skin on your hip as he came, his cum spurting into you as he filled you. You sighed, looking down at where he sunk into you, watching his back tense and his muscles twitch from his orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re mine.” He hissed, burying his face in your neck to take in your scent. Abby wasn’t wrong, you were marked as his now, he could smell it on you, his pheromones mixing with yours, coating your smell in his. His seed dripped out of you as he pulled out, huffing as he did so.

His hands grazed over your body one last time, admiring how flushed you looked, you were glowing with pleasure and relief. His hands pressed over your stomach, and your inner thighs.

“Marked you from the inside and out. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not baby. You’re not going anywhere.” He said, watching you get embarrassed. It was amusing to him.

You were in and out of sleep, your body practically taking a beating within a short time. You let yourself go limp, hands resting by your face while Abby got up, stretching his back muscles. You saw how scratched up his back was, littered with raw scars all over.

“You marked me up too pretty girl, kinda hot.” He said while making his way to the bathroom to get a bath started for you.

You propped yourself up, trying to shuffle to the edge of the bed. You snapped back to reality; you were sure the others heard you. Heard your screams and cries from the other side of the door from how loud you were. You covered your eyes with your hand, trying to think of a way to mentally recover and prepare for any knowing looks or teases from Romance specifically.

“Cmon pretty girl, time for round two.” Abby said, yanking you off the bed and into his arms before heading to the bathroom.

Your face went pale white before accepting your fate, you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t excited.

[holasoythecreator]

pairing> mc/reader x yandere Caleb

warings> kidnapping, suicidal thoughts, caleb speaks very nicely to be the perpetrator but he is, shitty and criminal behaviors in general by caleb ofc, stockholm syndrome, depersonalization, angst???? i dunno, i dun usually write for others, or write in english to be fair

word count> 900

Since my funeral, everything’s been the same. And I don’t mean the same as before, of course not, my world completely changed after that.

I wish I could say the only constant is Caleb, that he’s the one thing I’ve kept from my old life. But I refuse. I refuse to believe that the man he is now and the one I knew when I was young are the same person.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m really dead after all. That this is hell. I think the funeral Caleb staged in my honor to erase me from every record and every search was real.

I died on December 16th, and everything’s been the same since.

There are no differences between Wednesday and Sunday, only between the days when he’s here and when he’s not. I don’t bother checking the dates; I don’t want to know how long I’ve been here. Or how long my friends have missed me. Or worse, how long it’s been since they got over me.

I don’t want them to move on. I want to haunt their memories forever, I want them to suspect, to look for me, to stop Caleb in the street and ask about me every time they recognize him.

I want them to parrot over and over, “Im sorry about your sister, that must’ve been hard.” I don’t care if they think I’m dead — I just want to exist in someone’s mind.

Now I live in a cabin. He visits sometimes; he doesn’t live here. He spends more time on the fleet than with me. And I don’t know if that makes me feel relieved or furious.

Caleb makes sure I have everything I need to survive. And to stay busy. That way I won’t start thinking, not even by accident, about hanging myself from a tree.

I think it didn’t work.

There are cameras everywhere, like the ones he had in his apartment at Skyhaven, like the ones he used to put in my clothes, or the one he set up in my place to see if Xavier was visiting me too often.

My privacy was never really mine.

I realized it too late.

“You’re more… alive when I’m home,” he said once, as if this were remotely similar to a home.

“What do you mean?”

He was touching my skin as he spoke. Not like it was skin, but like it was a treasure**.**

Maybe that’s what it was.

People keep their treasures hidden away, in places no one will ever find them.

“Every time I check the cameras, your eyes are empty,” he whispered, like it was a secret, or like someone might overhear. “But now... they don’t.”

Of course not. He’s the only human contact I have left.

The first months — weeks, days, hours, or god-knows-what — I preferred loneliness a hundred times over being near Caleb. A long time ago I stopped considering the days when he’s not here as actual days.

What the hell is a day, anyway? Twenty-four hours, sure. And what are hours? How do I know when one ends and the next one begins if every second feels so distant from the next?

I still remember what a second is only because I can count them.

I wonder how long it’ll take me to forget that too.

I still count the seconds until my death.

“You grew all this by yourself…” he sounded proud, as he looked over my plants, holding me just as close as always. “How are the bees going? Do you like ‘em?”

“Fine. I like them.”

He already knew that. He’d seen it on the cameras.

He kissed the slope between my neck and shoulder, proud.

“Did you know you can make candles with beeswax?” he asked. “I’ll print you a tutorial so you can try it whenever you like.”

I liked that.

Those tiny traces of freedom he let me have.

“Thanks.”

Thanks for what?

The dragonfly tried to escape when Caleb and I got too close, but it stopped mid-air and “flew” back toward us, and landed in my hands. Then he deactivated his Evol, and I had to trap it between my fingers so it wouldn’t get away again.

“Did you get a good look?” he asked, guiding me toward the cabin’s porch so we could sit.

“Yeah.”

“Does it remin’ you of anything?”

“The Meganeura.”

“Bingo!” he grinned, proud. “This is the closest modern species to the Meganeura from the Carboniferous period.”

I let it go again, but Caleb made it land on the table in front of us so I could look at it better.

“Can I keep it?”

“In a terrarium?”

“Uh-huh.”

He shook his head, a little sad to have to say no.

“Dragonflies can’t live in captivity. Trust me, I checked,” do I have another option? “Adults need open spaces to fly and natural sunlight, otherwise they get stressed and their wings can get damaged.”

I stared at the huge dragonfly in front of us, still, wrapped in a soft orange and dark blue glow. It could die with just a little more pressure —Caleb knew it, and so did the dragonfly, apparently. It could move, but if it did, it would get hurt. Killed, in the worst case.

It was beautiful. Majestic like the Meganeura. Maybe not as big, but it didn’t need to be for me to admire it.

Maybe it’ll become my favorite animal.

I loved it.

I wanted to take a picture, but I had nothing to take one with.

Maybe if we kept it, it wouldn’t last long, but I could look at it a little longer.

…

“Let it go, please.”

you can take the addicted out of the addiction but not the addiction out of the addicted?? i used to write a lot of content like this before. but then i stopped, and now the fever is coming back, stronger than ever (im working on a visual novel)

no gona lie im scarid

[samwinchesterswifu]

You Shook Me All Night Long (Dean Winchester x Reader) Smut

Bunker seasons era

Song Inspo: "You Shook Me All Night Long" by ACDC

Warnings: literally the whole thing is just smut lmfao

MINORS DNI

A/N: ive been having TERRIBLE writers block. I dunno how happy i am with this one, so PLEASE let me know if this good smutty shit yall, thnxs for your endless support <3

Word Count: 1103

Summary: He surprises her with coming home early...but that's not the only thing he surprises her with.

The boys were away on a week long hunt. Since injuring her knee a few months ago during a Ghoul hunt, she’s decided to take a break from hunting to allow her body full time to heal. This allowed her a lot of time to make the Bunker a proper home for them. She would spend her weekends keep housing if the boys were still gone, then during the week she would spend time in the library cataloging or helping with research. Then, whenever Dean came home, she was hands on with focus. Her and Dean had been a thing for a little while. The stress of the job eventually breaking down the tough looking hunter asking her to be his life partner. She had happily agreed. There was no real label on their relationship, just two people who understood each other more than any other human.

It was a Sunday morning. Dean had called her the night before, informing her that they would probably be home Sunday night, or possibly into Monday. She was excited to see Dean. Since taking her leave, Dean coming home from these longer hunts added an extra excitement to their relationship. But knowing he won’t be home until as late as tomorrow, she treated it like any other Sunday.

Dressed in little shorts, a cute tank top that showed off her features she began her cleaning routine. Starting in the war room, making her way through the kitchen and then finally to the library. Music blasted throughout the speaker system of the bunker. Charlie had helped set her up with a Bluetooth connection to the old raggedy speakers one weekend while the boys were gone and they had a girls date. It was her little incentive to stay motivated.

One of her favorite 80’s song began on a new rotation of shuffle and she began swagging her hips to the beat of the song while spraying cleaner on the library tables, bending over to get all the way across. She was so distracted by the beat that she didn’t even hear the bunker door open. Dean had arrived home early as a surprise. Dancing around the tables, doing small spins or dance moves, Dean just admired her from a distance. He never got to see her like this. He dropped his bag down and with a thud she turned around to see him. Completely flustered that she was caught. The two of them just starred, Dean was practically undressing her with his eye making her squirm under his gaze.

Neither of them said anything as Dean strode towards her. Grabbing onto her hips, and pulling her tight to his chest. Breathing in the cheap cologne Dean always loved to wear, practically getting drunk off his sent alone. A grin creeps on Dean’s face and he sways the two to the beat. Eyes were locked on one another as he gave her a little spin before bringing her back into sway. A deep blush forms across her cheeks. She hardly ever saw Dean this way, usually this was after a good hunt and no one got hurt. Towards the end of the song, Dean crashes his lips to hers. This was a new hunger she hasn’t experienced. Sure, they’ve had make-up sex, ‘I thought I lost you back there’ sex, and so forth. But this was different, it was ravenous. Dean’s kisses grew heavier, teeth clashing as he drove his hands all over her curves.

At this point, her hips were pinned against one of the library tables. Dean broke away from her lips, kissing along her cheek and down towards the nape of her neck. Nibbling away at different spots along her collar bone. Small mewls and moans of pleasure leave her lips, earning a tighter grip of his hands on her. Dean leans down for a brief moment, hoisting her up by her legs to sit her on the table. He gently pushes her shoulders back on the hardwood, and continues to trail kisses down her clothed body. As he gets closer to her stomach, Dean shifts to be on his knees. Which was surprising. He places tiny kisses across her hips as he uses his hands to push open her legs. Dean yanks off her shorts underwear in a swift movement. Both pieces coming off together. This man was starving for her.

“Fuck,” Dean whispers looking at her pussy. His eyes drift back up to hers as he licked his lips.

In a split second, Dean was diving in. Lapping away at her folds like it was the most delectable fruit Dean has ever tasted in his time on earth. An orgasm was ripping through her body with moments. She tugs on his hair as he continues to coach her through the orgasm. But Dean wasn’t done, he was still at it. Moans echoed through the library and she felt so unholy. This is where men of generations came to learn about the monsters of her world, and yet her she was, bare ass on the same table as her man ate her out alive.

Another orgasm was on the horizon, and like the quick man that Dean Winchester is, two of his broad fingers are inserted into her folds. A shocked and rattled moan escapes her at the shock of surprise and pleasure. His fingers are going in and out like a jack rabbit. Dean occasionally curling them to reach her g-spot.

“Come on baby,” Dean whispers from his spot. This man was fucking edging her on.

Another finger inserted.

“If you want my cock, I’ll need another one from you,” his voice was demanding. And she was prepared to meet those demands.

His attack on her just sped up more, and more. While simultaneously sucking on her clit. But finally, she was close.

“Fuck, Dean,” she gasps. Tugging again at his strands.

“Don’t..stop,” breathing was labored and felt like she was about to see stars. She was there…she was right there…

Then there was nothing. The area Dean was just in was cold. Looking up in utter confusion, she sees her man pulled away. His chin shining with her cum and a shit eating grin plaster on his damn face.

She stutters.

“Y-you, you cant do that, please Dean.” The unpleasant feeling of an orgasm left unfinished pulsated through her.

“I’m gunna need you to last all day sweetheart, I’m not done with you yet,” He says as he gets up from his position.

Giving her a wink, he simply walks away leaving her baffled.

What the hell am I getting myself into.

[bloodied-blossom]

Heyhey<3

I just found your page and I like ur writing a lot, and I was wondering if you could write smth short about just like smoking together w Ronin. Like dunno; late at night, Ro and the reader r just sitting outside somewhere n chatting quietly while smoking yk ^^

I hope you can do smth with my small idea, and have a nice day!!

You can count on him, late at night, with habits and all.

1.5k Words; Ronin x Reader (REQUEST!)

Killer Chat! Fanfic

CONTENT WARNING! Both you and Ronin smoke, just in case thats not something you're comfortable with reading! + RONIN'S LAST NAME spoilers

You had gone outside for a smoke break, wanting to clear your mind from all the stress of your growing popularity. While walking through the city, reminiscing, you find someone falling in time with your steps.

{THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST! ENJOY!}

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Being a writer was an exhausting job. Racking your brain for ideas, pushing yourself to get up and put those ideas to words, and then keeping the motivation to continue. The want and the passion for your writing. To make it come alive in a way that captures the focus—and more importantly the hearts—of your readers.

And you were given the perfect motivation one day months before. You had gotten mixed up in an online chatting room full of serial killers. Throughout that time, you had grown close with a particularly infamous serial killer. The Butcher, or better known to you, Ronin Beaufort. He had been your shoulder devil the entire time, egging you on and on. Driving you insane.

You thought he’d kill you, knowing you a writer, not a killer, should’ve made you his number one target. However, you two ended up together. He gave you the motivation to write your novels, new material creating itself every single day being in that server. It was a concerning situation you had gotten yourself into, and you weren’t sure how long it would last… but you couldn’t be happier than you are now.

Over time, you got to see a sweeter, nearly softer side of him. He was loving and cared for you like no other. Even if he had… special… ways of showing it. On the server, you made so many friends. You could put aside the fact they were serial killers because you had seen their humanity. Their own struggles. You couldn’t help but feel sympathetic, couldn’t help but feel for them.

Especially Ronin. He wasn’t everything he made himself to be, no. He was more. He was deeper than you realized and it only made you fall for him more. The thoughts he shared with you gave you insight to how his head ticked... the small, quiet moments were worth it to you.

…God you really were in love with a killer. Look at you, sitting here and gushing over him to yourself at your desk. You smiled at the thought. Despite everything, fate really liked fucking with ya in weird ways.

Speaking of which, a thought crossed your mind... Your smile fading too soon. Despite being a successful writer, everything you ever dreamed of, the popularity was too much for you. So many eyes on you, people who loved your work… and people who didn’t. The stress you felt, knowing you needed to continue writing or risk losing relevance. It made your chest hurt. You took a deep breath, standing from your desk and rubbing your temples.

You needed a smoke break.

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Pack in hand, your lighter in your pocket, you decided to take a walk around the city to get your mind off things. You couldn’t hotbox your apartment after all. That risked smell complaints too… so you settled for a scenic walk while smoking away your stress.

You were aware your habit wasn’t exactly healthy for you, but it did wonders for your mind. And you couldn't bother him with this. You pressed a cigarette between your lips, shoving the pack back into your bag before taking out your lighter.

Lighting it, you waited a minute before inhaling the smoke. You let it sit in your mouth before giving a shaky exhale, watching the smoke rise.

The night was darker than usual, it was much colder. Winter was right around the corner and the shirt and pants you stepped outside in were not doing you any good with the temperature. You took another puff, shoving your free hand into your pocket. It was quiet out, not many cars passed you by. No one was really walking around either. It was late, after all.

So it was easy for you to pick up the pair of steps following you, getting closer before falling in line beside you. You looked at the person’s shoes, confused as to why they matched your pace… when you saw it. The spikes, the velvet pants… You stilled, the person stopping just short of where you stood. And you finally looked up.

“Don’tcha know it’s dangerous to walk alone at night, Darlin’?”

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His voice rang out, the same smirk on his face… the one you could never get tired of. You moved the cigarette from your mouth, in between your pointer and middle finger. You shot him back a small smile. “Ronin.. How did you know I was out tonight?”

You spoke softly, your voice a little hoarse from the smoke. He moved closer to you, setting his jacket around you. He noticed your body shivering... A small smile formed on your face at the gesture. You fell back into your pace, moving closer to Ronin as you two walked.

“I didn’t~ Really. But I figured that since you weren’t answerin’ my texts, you were outside. Didn’t take long to spot you. I'd recognize my fallen angel from a mile away.” He took hold of your wrist, something he often did. You sighed, taking another puff. You inhaled the smoke this time, trying to figure out what to say. You knew you couldn’t lie, he could read you like a book.

“I… wasn’t feeling well. Sorry I didn’t answer, Ro. I just needed a break.”

You were vague. You couldn't bring yourself to talk about it further. You didn’t want to trouble Ronin with something that should be trivial, that shouldn’t matter so much. You got what you wanted, so what right do you have to complain about it.

Ronin stared down at your face, taking in your hesitance, your vague words. He had a sense as to why you’ve been offline more often, and tonight proved his suspicion. He softly gripped your chin, turning you to look at him as he took the cigarette from between your lips. “ You’re really bad at hidin’ things.” he said with a sigh, taking a puff from YOUR CIGARETTE.

You scoffed and let him have it, taking out a new one. “Nothing gets past you, does it… I know you have something to say so say it already, Beaufort.”

He smiled at your words, moving unsettlingly close before lighting your new cigarette with his. He took a puff, moving it from his lips. Your chin still in his hand, he softly kissed your cheek before whispering into your ear.

“The fame gettin’ too much for you? This is your solution for stress relief?”

You flushed at the kiss, his breath fanning against your face as he moved his head directly back in front of you. “And it gets better. Our little writer thought it was a good idea to just hide those feelings. With all their friends worried. Hell, they couldn’t even tell their boyfriend.” His voice was teasing as always, but you could tell he was concerned. He showed it in weird ways, sure, but you didn’t miss the slight hesitance in his words.

You inhaled, smoke filling your mouth as you chose your words carefully. Exhaling the smoke as you spoke, “Ro… I didn’t mean to make you guys worry I just… It’s so stupid to bother you over. I wanted this. I wanted to get this popular and I wanted people to know me. Who I am… my writing. I-It just-”

Before you could finish, he stepped forward and kissed you. His free hand moved to the back of your neck before he pulled back. You stared at him, stunned. You never did get used to his sudden affections. “Just because you wanted this doesn’t mean you can’t feel overwhelmed. Much less hide the fact you’ve been feeling bad.”

You relaxed at his words, leaning back into his hand.

“But-”

“But nothing. Now come on, put that shit out. I’m takin’ you home.

He dropped the cigarette, stomping it out… and you followed suit. He gave you a moment before moving his hand down from your wrist to your hand. His touch was gentle.. You loved it. You both started back towards your apartment, catching up on small things. You found it easier to relax and open up now. Forgetting all your worries and stress when you were with him. And he knew that. That’s why he came to find you.

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Ronin hadn’t left your side that night. Making himself right at home in YOUR apartment. His hand still intertwined with yours as you walked to your room, sitting down on your bed. Ronin was the one to clear your pockets and set your cigarette pack aside.

“Now, you feelin’ better? Got it out of your system?” He set his hands besides your hips, right on the bed, leaning close to you. His face was close to yours once more.

You smiled, pressing your forehead against his. “Yeah… no thanks to you… and probably the uh… you know.” You stared directly into his eyes as you spoke, eyes lighting up as he chuckled at you. “Yeah, I get it darlin’. Now, quit stressing. And stop leaving me and our friends out of the loop…” he spoke softly. “We care about you… I care about you…” he muttered, averting his eyes. It made your heart ache in the same way being around him made your chest tight. “Yeah… I'll.. I’ll try…”

It was your turn to try and catch him off guard, cupping his face and kissing him. Though, he didn’t look surprised at all. He simply kissed back, a huge smile on his face.

“You’re my darlin’ writer. You know that? Can’t have you all stressed like this… your work will suffer.”

“Oh shut up…”

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Hi! Sorry this took me a bit to get to but thank you for the request! I really hope you enjoy it! I don't personally smoke and tried to write it the best I could! I figured this could be more strict to canon, MC trying to smoke away the pressure of being a new popular writer.

Writing Ronin will never not be fun to me, he’s personally my favorite love interest!

Honorary @ this fic would be @valeriele3 because the tags they made on the reports of my work were funny to me! Thank you for reading, leaflet <3.

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[sweetiiami-writes]

Block Tales! HC Req 💕 Captain Trotter x Siren!Reader

💕💕 Mythologically accurate siren, my beloved… feathers… feathers… I was listening to Suffering the whole time, which means I spent around 4 hours writing this until 12am…

Sweetii's Notes:

Reader goes by they/them

Reader is also a mythologically accurate siren!

This is Pre-Chapter 4, but may allude to Chapter 4 spoilers!!

This may be suggestive; please keep this in mind.

💕☁️💕☁️💕

Let's say that Captain Trotter has been sailing for almost a week, trying to hide from… I dunno, a certain Mister Monty. And let's say that after losing him and his crew, Captain Trotter has lost his course at sea. Captain Trotter, Scourge of the Seven Seas, lost at sea! And what does he do?

He looks around for landmarks, and that's how he found you, a hopeless damsel in distress, starving silently, lost on a rock! But from afar, you looked just a bit suspicious, with your lower half covered. Not that he was perverted, don't get it twisted, he's heard myths of Sirens feeding off of men's delusions in this area…

So he's advised his crew to do one thing. Wear beeswax in their ears! Of course, his crew listened, not without some question, but he only had one thing to say.

“ I ain't be tellin' you scallywags to do somethin' without reason, now would I? ”

Seeing such an intense look in his eyes scared them into silence. And as the ship approached the rock, you perked up at the large number of people on the ship. Oh no, you don't have an appetite for human flesh. You wanted fish, fish!

While Captain Trotter mulled over his decision, the crew was wondering why he was staring at a half-naked person… And then he pulled you up the ship. WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?! And he got a better look at you—yep, a siren, as he suspected.

Aah, but he wouldn't leave you for sharkbait, now, would he? He figured that you wouldn't sing the Siren's song with food in his hands, so he handed you some barbecued fish from his hands. Desperate as you were, you immediately grabbed it and wolfed it down, spitting out the bones on the floorboards.

Yeah, this was what caused him to keep you. You're as undignified as an untrained seadog, and you still retain the charm of a princess. He and Calypso have fought on this… multiple times.

“ We're keepin' 'em. ” “ B-But Cap'n… They're a siren— ” “ WE. ARE. KEEPIN' ‘EM. Don’t 'ye fight me on this, Calypso. ”

He feared it may be the work of your charm, after all, you've stared at him with those hungry eyes, glittering like the moonlight kissed the sea. It ain't his damn fault that he's staring at your hands, the same ones you lick when you're tearing apart greasy fish and fnishing off a meal.

But he's not a pervert, he swears! Not all pirates are perverts, and still, he can't stop himself from imagining your tongue licking something else, and your hands holding…

He punches holes in the walls and tables when he catches himself thinking like this, and he refuses to take responsibility for this. He'd never stoop to the heights of his crew, to flirt with you so brazenly and all at once. No, that's classless. But his shaking fist doesn't escape the eagle eye of his first mate, Calypso—she knows how he can get when he's jealous.

Heck, she's seen him drink himself stupid to prevent himself from thinking about you while trying to chart his course at sea.

You knew he wouldn't make any moves until you forced his hand. But after months of testing your luck, one lucky evening, under the full moon, Captain Trotter approached you after you were flirting with a group of his crew. You sneered at him, taunting him, asking him if he was jealous, and if he wanted to taste you too; you mentioned that you tasted like fish.

He grabbed you by your wrists and waist, pinning you against the wall with a harsh THUD. Your wings immediately spread open in a panic, with your cheeks flushed as you peeked at the pirate holding you close. His eyes shared the same kind of hunger you had when he pulled you up the ship before.

“ Ye've been teasin' me ‘fer moons and ’yer surprised that I want to taste 'ye too? ”

About time. You thought, snickering at his flustered behaviour. It's very unlike him to be so brazen, so bold, but you can hear his shaky breath that he hesitates to follow through with his instinct.

So you were the one who kissed first, as the siren who lured many to their unfortunate early demise, you lured Captain Trotter the same way you would with any other sailor, with your charming voice.

“ 'Ye do so many things to me, you know? ”

You drive him crazy, not your fault, though, he's just drawn to you, after all!

He loves the fight you put up when you pull him to you. He knows you do it on purpose.

If not for your entertainment, then maybe for his enlightenment. You tell him so many things, after all, your love and dedication is all just an extra bonus.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2024 No. 16, No. 19, No. 22

Prompt 16: Swamp

Prompt 19: Abandoned cabin

Prompt 22: Tourniquet

Warnings: Animal death; severe injuries

A/N: Sorry for the abrupt ending. This one has been a work in progress since the beginning of the month and I just can’t get it to go any further. Maybe I’ll continue with a second part later.

gif is not mine - google

Neither human nor beast had moved since you had spotted the predator—a dragon by its own right. The alligator’s eyes reflected both the water’s surface and a sinister promise. Daryl, the water easily reaching his shoulders with his feet touching the swamp floor, was breathing quickly through his nose but remained otherwise motionless. The only thing you could see in his eyes was naked, implacable fear. 

“Daryl.” You whimpered. 

“Get outta the water.” You knew better than to argue and moved the slightest inch to turn before he spoke again. “Slow. Don’t splash.” He added. 

“Okay.” You tried to keep your movements fluid, deliberate. Each step beneath the murky surface felt heavy and so slow that you thought you would never feel the water receding around your upper body. You momentarily considered shedding your backpack but decided against it. There was a strange noise behind you but you kept your eyes on the overgrown shoreline. “Daryl?”

“Doin’ great. Keep goin’.” 

You nodded and maintained your glacial pace, bending at the waist as you began to leave the water in order to minimize the droplets that would unsettle the surface. The foreboding sense of being followed gnarled and twisted in your gut, and you allowed yourself to believe it was Daryl inching along behind you. 

“Almost there.” The tremble in his tone was easy to detect. You could also pick up that he was nowhere near behind you. 

“Daryl, how will you—” You didn’t see the debris. Of course you couldn’t through the dingy water. You had barely tripped and hit your knees when all hell broke loose around you. 

“Run, run, GO!” Came Daryl’s roar, a half a second before you heard and felt the chaos erupting. You were moving within milliseconds of his command, making the mistake of looking over your shoulder. 

“Shit!” A second gator had—at some point—surfaced, its tail whipping side-to-side to carry it toward you at a speed you would have never been able to outswim. Clambering onto the shore, the weeds soggy and giving beneath your feet, you ran a few meters ahead, trying hard to ignore the sounds that echoed beyond what could be your approaching death. 

The smaller alligator met land with a speed you hadn’t known the creatures capable of outside the water, its four legs carrying that open maw toward you faster than you were prepared to counter. With your only choices being abandon Daryl or fight, you made the only one with which your heart could live. 

Waiting until the last second, just as the animal lunged for you, you leapt to the side, twisting your body to throw your hunting knife. Those lessons with Daryl had paid off. The alligator slid forward until the momentum waned before going still, your knife protruding from its left eye. 

There was no time to catch your breath. “Daryl!” Between the heavy splashing, you would catch sight of a tail or an arm, the glint of sunlight off a blade. He was fighting for his life and you had no idea how to help him. Did you go back in the water? It’s what you wanted to do. There were likely other gators being attracted by the frenzy. Maybe you could keep them—

“Y’alright?!” 

“Oh, Daryl, thank god.” He was already wading toward you, shaking out his left hand while his right still held his knife. There was a decent amount of blood hitting the water with each flick. “Where did—is it dead?”

The archer shrugged a shoulder. “Dunno. Ain’t waitin’ ‘round to find out neither.” 

You were already reaching for him before he stepped out onto the mud, your hands latching onto his vest to pull him forward into a kiss that had him gasping against your mouth before just as quickly settling to return the gesture. After a few breathless heartbeats, his forehead rested against yours.

“Fancy knife work there.” 

You opened your eyes to find his still closed but you knew what he spoke of without separating from him. “Learned from the best.” You peppered his lips with several more chaste kisses before finally straightening to go retrieve your weapon. “We should probably take a look at—” The words died on your tongue, dissolved by horror and fear. 

Why hadn’t you urged him away from the water? Why hadn’t he moved further on his own? As the strong jaws clamped down around Daryl’s lower leg, the answers you sought no longer mattered. The archer smacked the ground with a shout, attempting to roll over while reaching for his knife. A sharp pull on his leg foiled his attempt. 

“Daryl!” You leapt forward, grabbing for his hand. Your fingers brushed his just as he was yanked into the water, the gator letting go just long enough to seek a better hold, teeth sinking into the flesh of Daryl’s right thigh. He let out a pained yell that followed him beneath the tenebrous marsh. “Daryl, no!”

The surface bubbled and rippled before going still, your heart twisting before it sank. The swamps were silent as you stepped into the shallows, scanning, watching, praying. 

“Daryl.” You whispered frantically, taking another step into the water. If you could do something for Daryl then you’d gladly let death come for you. If you could do nothing, then it could come all the same. Your feet slid forward again, your eyes darting, desperate for just a glimpse of your archer. 

When the surface broke, it was a tail first, then the gator’s belly. Its jaws still held Daryl’s leg as it rolled, his body twisting to turn with the beast. He was alive, and he was trying to remain that way while keeping his limb intact. The gator rolled a second time with Daryl gasping in a frenzied breath before he was plunged once again. 

Gripping the hilt of your knife, you dove under, throwing any consideration of your own safety to the wayside. It was impossible to see below resulting in you reaching for either Daryl or the gator. When you felt something crash into your hand, you made a grab for it and rolled to the surface, quickly opening your eyes to find yourself holding Daryl’s belt. Bending at the waist, you wrapped your legs around him as the movement continued, the gator relentlessly seeking to tear the archer’s leg from his body. 

Above water again, you sucked in a breath and found your target, stabbing at the animal’s head with your knife. You felt it drive home and pulled it free as the rolls continued, repeating the action over and over with nothing but a prayer that you managed the kill and doing so without hitting Daryl. 

The momentum slowed before stopping completely, the water tinted red as you clawed your way to the surface, reaching down to grab Daryl before releasing the hold you had maintained with your legs. 

“Daryl.”

He broke the surface with an agonized groan, groping for you while you held on urgently. 

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Backstroking while pulling him along, you managed to get him to the shoreline and struggled to your feet with your hands beneath his arms. You pulled and pulled, dragging him as far from the water as you could manage. He helped as much as he could with his uninjured leg, digging the heel of his boot into the ground and kicking back. “Let me see.”

The flesh of his thigh was torn, flayed at the edges of two wounds that were at least six inches long. They were deep but showed no bone. His lower leg was not unaffected but lacked the severity of the other injury. 

“Fuck.” You covered your mouth for a moment, watching him collapse onto his back, chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. Shedding your bag, you first grabbed a bottle of water, setting to work at cleaning the wound. When he shot upward with a shout, you began to mutter a mantra of I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. 

“Goddamnit!” Daryl exclaimed and fell back again, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. The wound continued to bleed heavily, gaping open in such a way that seized you with panic, grasping for any remembrance of your medical training. 

“Stop the bleeding. Clean the wound.” You could attempt to stitch it later, once the blood clotted—if you could even manage to pull the skin together. Gauze would never cover it but you had little choice but to try, your clothing too wet with the filthy water to aid in staunching the flow. You prayed as you dug through your bag that the harder exterior of the medical kit had protected the contents. 

Your prayers were answered, the supplies were dry. With quick movements, you unbuckled your belt and pulled it free of the loops. Sliding it beneath his leg resulted in a groan and grimace of pain but you couldn’t stop, not until it was pulled tight and fastened above the wound. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You repeated as you released your makeshift tourniquet, satisfied with the visible decrease of blood flow. “You’ll bleed out if I don’t.” Grabbing another bottle of water, you removed the cap and quickly emptied it over the torn flesh, wincing in sympathy. Alcohol would have been preferred but much more painful. Still, you worked with what was available. 

“Do—do whatcha gotta do.” Daryl panted. He pressed his palms into the soggy ground and tried to push himself up, making it only to his elbows before he was out of breath. His left hand was still steadily weeping but at least he had managed to keep all of his fingers. “Christ.” He whispered, his wide eyes obtaining their first look at the wound. 

“I know.” You felt sick. What could you do beyond what had been done already? “We have to get out of here. Find the others and get back to Alexandria.” Square after square of gauze was applied before you wrapped the grizzly wound with the only roll you had to secure and press things into place. 

“S’gettin’ dark.” He commented, head tipped back. He was staring upward toward the canopy as his breathing slowed but failed to return to normal. “Can’t be walkin’ through this shit at night.”

“We can’t stay here, Daryl.” You argued. “There’s more, you know there are.” The swamps of Macon, Georgia were abundant with wildlife, including a healthy affluence of alligators. You were going to absolutely murder Rick for this mission when you and Daryl made it back. 

When. Not if. 

“S’try an’ find a place ain’t around the water.” He was still staring upward, dazed. “Ain’t got long to search ‘fore it gets dark.” When he didn’t make an attempt to move, you gathered all you could into your backpack, save for the knife you secured in the holster on your thigh. You even managed to put Daryl’s knife in its place on this good leg without any acknowledgment from the hunter. 

“Daryl.” You tried, watching the quick but shallow pants of his breath. His skin was still wet with swamp water, but was looking pale. “Daryl.” You attempted more forcefully. 

“Hmm?” He finally rolled his head toward you, the personification of calm. “Oh.” He seemed to finally catch on and started pushing himself upward, making it to a seated position only after you had grabbed beneath his arms and helped. Once it was clear he would not fold over onto his lap, you let go. 

“Gotta get you on your feet.” 

“Ain’t gonna get far.” The way he was behaving was beginning to worry you, his lack of panic—even pain.

“Daryl.” You crouched in front of him, taking another look at his leg. Red was already seeping through the bandage, a dark circle soaked into the soil below his thigh. “I need you with me.”  You said sternly, cupping his face with both hands. His gaze was cloudy, unfocused, and only seemed to clear the slightest fraction when you gave him a gentle shake. “Are you with me?”

He blinked, his brow furrowing. “Yeah.” He rasped. “Yeah, m’with ya.” Then he was actually trying to lever to his feet without your help, your hands frantically scrambling for purchase anywhere they could to provide support. To his credit, he made little noise beyond grunts and one sobbing rush of air once he was upright. 

“Okay, okay. Here we go.” He staggered into you while you assisted in draping his arm across your shoulders. “That wasn’t so hard.” You quipped, grinning up at him when those pretty blues glared at you. You had to keep things light. 

“Think—think you’re funny?” He grunted with the first supported step, his hand grasping for a firm grip on your shoulder. 

“I know I am.”��

“Gonna hafta—file a—a complaint.” 

The steps the two of you managed were small and hindered by the struggle of pulling along his right leg. Between blood loss and the tight tourniquet, it was amazing he could feel anything at all. Still, you trucked onward, boots sinking into the mushy ground. There was just too much water all around, too many threats. You kept your eyes peeled for danger, Daryl’s head now resting against the top of your own. He was getting weaker, slowing down, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep him going. 

When he began to shiver, it wasn’t a gradual transition. One minute he was simply a weight against your side and the next, he was vibrating and his teeth chattering. It was anything but cold. It could only mean one thing. 

“You’re losing too much blood.” You commented, not really with the intent of him hearing. If he did, he didn’t respond. 

The pale light that had been guiding your path had since receded before disappearing completely, leaving the two of you shrouded in darkness. Each step had to be calculated, a gentle touch of the toe of your boot to test the integrity of the ground before you would drag him forward. If you fell into the swamp water now, it would be impossible to pull him out. 

Glowing eyes surrounded you, the reminder that more of the apex predators awaited a single lapse in judgment, one mistake. 

“Talk to me, Daryl.” He was growing heavier and heavier, harder and harder to pull along even if the ground had been sturdy. 

“Called a—a death roll.”

“What?” You queried, truly curious about the topic even if you couldn’t pay him your undivided attention. You stepped across a downed limb, your hands never leaving him before you had to nearly drag him across after you. 

“What that—gator—what it did. S’a death roll.” He stopped talking for a moment, gaining his balance, or at least enough strength to keep him from toppling over. “S’how they—how they rip off chunks,” he sucked in a shaky breath, “to eat.”

The information sat like a stone in your gut. It really had been trying to sever his leg, less interested in killing him and more concerned with tearing off a hunk of him to swallow down. 

“Well.” It was the only thing you could think of to say. The silence ensued and dragged on, your hope being sapped out and left in the trail of disturbed mud his boot was carving with each pull of his useless leg. He was less walking and more limping along beside you in graceless movements that did little more than keep him moving. 

By the time the old cabin—more of a shack, really—came into view, you were barely holding Daryl up. Your strength was waning, your body exhausted. You could hear the moans and gnashing teeth of walkers stuck in the marsh, your consciousness just too lagged to give thanks for their inability to reach you and the archer. The very thought of defending the two of you in your current state made your body ache. 

“Daryl. Daryl, it’s a cabin.” You jostled him with your shoulder, relief flooding your senses when he raised his head, albeit slowly. His only reply was a drawn out hum. “We can make it. Come on.” Drawing upon your reserves, you pulled him along. “Hello?” You called, maneuvering Daryl up the dilapidated steps to the door. There was no response, no candlelight. Abandoned. Or so you had hoped before you heard a thump against the door that was followed by a snarling growl. “Of course!”

The walker—an old man—had a bullet wound through his cheek and you would have bet the entry wound was below his chin. He had missed. Maybe he had died quickly. You wished that for him. Without dwelling, you lured him out, keeping his focus away from the man you had placed on the floor of the porch, behind an old rocker. Your knife met the dead man’s temple at the top of the steps, the body toppling onto the ground and out of your way. 

“Done and done.” You nodded and sheathed your weapon, trudging tiredly toward where Daryl lay prone. “Hey, you still with me?” You patted the side of his boot on his good leg, chuckling when he gave you a weak thumbs up. “Let’s get inside.”

Easier said than done, but once the two of you were safe behind the closed door, you allowed your body the moment of rest it needed, sprawling out next to Daryl on the floor. He was still shivering, breaths shallow, and eyes barely open. Nope, nevermind. You were up immediately, searching for anything you could use. 

A dusty blanket, some dried meat, and a useless med kit were all you managed to scavenge but it was enough. At least for the moment. You wrapped Daryl up tightly inside the blanket after beating the dust from it outside. It would be enough to keep him warm. Your bag was situated beneath his feet, keeping the blood flow closer to his heart. And once you had his head on your lap, you set to work trying to get food and water into him. 

“You need to drink. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” You argued, brushing the sweaty strands of hair away from his face. “You’re already in shock.”

“M’fine. You have it.” 

“If you’re not drinking any, then I’m—”

He groaned. “Fine.” He accepted a few sips before turning away his head. Satisfied, you drank a few of your own and placed the bottle next to your hip. You only had that bottle and one other. That was a worry for another time. 

“Do you think you can navigate us outta here when the sun comes up?” You asked. You tore off a small piece of meat and tapped his chin. He didn’t argue and accepted the offering, allowing you to lift his head slightly so he could swallow. 

“Damn sure gonna try.” His voice was raspy and tired, his eyes remaining closed. The incident and injury had left him drained. You wouldn’t be sleeping that night, that much was certain. 

“Alright. Then you need to rest.” With the meat wrapped and inside your bag, you settled against the wall, humming and running your fingers through his damp hair. 

The cabin was small, everything in one room. A stove on one side, a broken bed on the other. You distantly wondered why anyone would want to live such an isolated life with nothing but beavers and gators for company. 

Daryl groaned from your lap, your expression falling when you saw the pain etched into his sleeping face. There was no way the man would be fit to lead the two of you anywhere. You’d be lucky if he was even still alive when the sun rose. Your best bet was to stay put, keep him warm and hydrated until the others found you. Maybe you could go out and—no. You couldn’t leave him behind. 

How would the two of you get out of this one?

[tigirl-and-co]

Wahoo! Rainmakers fic is here! Merry Christmas! I spent highschool mildly obsessed with these guys, and now I'm proud to present what is probably the only Rainmakers x Reader fic ever written. I didn't check or anything. Who else would ever.

I tried to give everybody a distinct personality, please let me know if you think the vibes are coming through! It's meant to be set in a vaguely G1 universe. But more modern. Like if G1 took place some nebulous time after cellphones became common.

When I Think About Rain

Ch.1

"So what the frag is snow for?"

Watching a lime green robot kneel down in the snow and leave handprints the size of your entire body filled you with an indescribable emotion. Trying to figure out how to explain natural weather patterns to three of them gave you a feeling you could describe in a word: headache.

Looking from Acid to Nova to Ion, you tried to figure out how to respond. "Precipitation on earth just sort of happens, and life evolved to work around it. We don't really make it. We did try a few times but it just doesn't work."

Ion Storm spoke up from somewhere behind you, as blunt as ever. "That's stupid. You guys don't even control what weather happens on your own planet? Sheesh, talk about lower lifeforms!"

You shot the seeker a particularly unimpressed look, causing him to snort. He liked taunting you, and you weren't sure if it was because he had a crush on you or if he considered you 'one of the boys.' You were pretty sure it was the latter, but after Powerglide and Astoria became an item, you couldn't be completely sure.

Nova was looking up at the clear blue winter sky contemplatively, and it sort of hit you that Cybertronians don't have any childhood memories of winter. No snow days, no sledding, no digging caves in a snow bank. Snow wasn't magic to them in the same way it was to humans.

But Nova Storm didn't know what he didn't know as he turned to face his bluest brother. "I dunno, I think it's kind of cool. Having to live each day under a new set of circumstances, never really knowing what your planet's gonna throw at you. Be fun, at least for a while."

The leader of the group looked up from where he was poking at the snow to stare at you. "Sounds dangerous. Are you sure you don't wanna just move to Cybertron? We wouldn't even tell Shockwave you were there this time." You knew Acid Storm wasn't stupid enough to think it would actually ever work, but he hadn't given up hope yet that maybe you were.

Taking a swig of hot chocolate, you rolled your eyes at him. "Sneaking you lot through the spacebridge once every couple months is already risky. How're you gonna play off using it every week to get me food?" You gave a sort of faux-haughty shrug, playing at knowing better than the multi-million-year-old space warriors. "I don't see why you don't just switch sides so we can hang out more."

Suddenly, Ion Storm threw himself on his back, and even with the muffling of the snow it was such a powerful movement that you had to brace yourself to keep from falling over.

He lolled his head to look at you. "Because Optimus would probably make us actually do our jobs, instead of-" and Ion switched into an awful Megatron impression- "perfecting our acid rain formula."

You couldn't help but cackle at that, and all three seeker's optics softened. You were so small, smaller even than Soundwave's cassettes, but you weren't afraid to live loudly. To stare the Rainmakers, the flying horrors of Cybertron, right in the face and laugh about their boss with them. A life so fragile and fleeting that you refused to live in fear for it.

How were they meant to resist you?

Acid Storm found himself walking over to you. The loud crunch of snow being compacted prevented you from being surprised when he bent down to scoop you up and set you on his shoulder, you simply huff in amusement. So touchy.

Unable to protect your face from the sudden increase in winter winds from being up so high and simultaneously smile amusedly at Acid Storm, you ended up doing neither and gave him a bizarre and unreadable expression that stung your eyes and burned your lungs.

Laughing, he put a servo around you to shelter you from the wind. "Humans are all so weird."

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure ours is the weirdest of them all," Ion Storm jeered from just out of your line of sight.

You couldn't suppress a snort at that one, and hollered a reply into the wind.

"Your human?" you couldn't help but call him out on that one. "Weird, I will own up to. But who ever said I was yours? I'm a free spirit, man, I belong to nobody but myself!" You hoped they could hear the smile in your voice.

Nova smiled back at you. "Well, we did capture you that one time," he rebutted, "which teeeeechnically makes you 'our human.'"

"Pfffft, no way! I bought my freedom fair and square! You let me go, so you don't own me!"

Ion stood up and reached over Acid's servo to seat you in the palm of his own, looking you dead in the eyes. "If you're not our human, how come we can just pick you up and you don't complain?" He narrowed his optics and sneered triumphantly.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head sympathetically. "Do you really think you're the only people who ever pick me up? Look at me, I'm adorable! People can't resist picking me up!"

You were too focused on Ion to notice Nova coming in from behind. "Aw, but we're your favourites, right?" He lowered his massive head down to your level, and if you didn't know him as the brains of the group, you'd almost think he looked like a puppy begging for praise. "We're the best at human-handling, yeah?"

After your heart climbed back down from your throat where the shock had chased it, you managed to feign being contemplative. "Hmmm... I suppose that's true. And I mean I did choose to spend a day hanging out in a snowy field in the middle of Fuckass Nowhere with you three, which probably has to count for something."

Now looking less like a puppy and more like the proverbial cat who got the cream, Nova grinned triumphantly. "See?" As he stood back up to his full height, satisfied with your answer, you simply had to giggle. In the low sun, his goldenrod colour scheme and general shape brought to mind a star at the top of a Christmas tree. His temperament certainly helped, of course. Giant killer robot or not, when he was happy, he had a sort of glow about him.

Acid Storm snorted.

"The Rainmakers: Scourge of Cybertron's Skies, and top-tier fleshy sparklingsitters." There was no malice in his tone- he really did just feel as comfortable joking with you as he did the rest of his trine. "I'm sure that'll put some real fear into the sparks of our enemies!"

You spun around in Ion's hand to give a witty retort. Ion fired a line at you, and you parried that, too. And so it went for the rest of the day. Eventually, enough hours had passed that your hot chocolate was gone and the stars had come out.

You smiled tiredly- you loved them and their banter, and you liked feeling like you actually belonged, but good God. There's only so many hours of witty banter in a snowy field the human mind can take. "Okay, boys. It's getting pretty damn cold out here, so we better get you home before I freeze to death."

Unable to tell if you were joking or not, they acquiesced. And in Acid's cockpit, on the long flight back to the spacebridge, you found yourself looking forward to the next meeting before they even left.

[pullhisteeth]

Hi, lovely! Just wanted to drop by and say that I miss you and your amazing writing 🥹🧡 I understand if you're taking a break or stepping away from the app, but if you're up for it, I was wondering if I could drop in a request? No pressure at all! I REALLY love the way you write fluffy and angsty fics so I was wondering if you could write about a besties-to-lovers with Eddie where he asks the reader for help with asking a different girl out, without knowing about reader's feelings for him...and then along the way he realizes his feelings for the reader hehe and maybe a lil sprinkle of jealous!Eddie too 😎 Ily and I hope you're doing okay! 🩷🩷🩷

hi my love! this is the sweetest message thank you - not taking an intentional break, just busy as anything. work’s been my whole life the past couple weeks (today is actually my first day off in like a month) and what with that and trying to eat/sleep/speak to other human beings I am …… deceased

it’s so kind of you to say hello! I loved writing your request, it was a nice break for my brain and it felt good to get back into it. ♡ love you!

contains hurt/comfort, angst, fluff. tried to get some jealous!eddie in there for you :-)

3.4k

-

Eddie looks pretty like this.

He’s sitting at your desk in the library. You’re not sure why he’s here, though that wasn’t your first thought when you spotted him on your way over. He’s hunched over slightly, unruly hair keeping his face hidden, but it’s catching the light of the afternoon sun just right and it’s glowing a blushing golden and the flutters in your gut are relentless.

“Hey,” you murmur, wary of both startling him, and the strict Hawkins Library warden who likes to shush people like it’s a sport. Regardless he starts, shoulders jumping and face whipping up and around to look at you with wide, surprised eyes that soften when he realises who you are.

“Hi, sugar,” he says, voice ebbing as he notices how loud he’s being. He looks around quickly, just in case he’s about to get scolded, before looking back up at you and beaming. It doesn’t fool you, though; his presence here coupled with the sheen of anxiety behind his eyes gives him away.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask, setting your backpack down on the table and taking the seat opposite him.

He begins fiddling with his ring again and diverts his eye. He’s nervous and you want to know how to fix it more than you wish to let on.

You hum an encouraging noise when he says nothing, sliding textbooks out of your bag along with your pens.

“I, uh… I need your help,” he says warily.

“Oh? With what?”

“I want to, uh… I wanna ask Tara out,” he says, and the words come out in one quick breath, his eyes still on his hands. “But I dunno how.”

You’re quiet, busy hands halting with a book halfway open. You look at him, mouth agape, for a second too long - he looks up after a beat and catches you before you have the sense to close it.

“Please?” he begs, those eyes like a puppy dog, wide and brown and far too lovable. “I’d take her to the Hawk but she’s- Man, she’s way too cool, it’s intimidating, and I really wanna impress her, you know? And I think the Hawk’ll be too busy on Friday ‘cause I know that new movie’s out that all the kids wanna see, so what if-”

“Okay,” you say. You’re sharp, voice like a whip, cutting him off before he derails.

He looks at you blankly for a second before saying, “Really? Shit, thank you.”

You look down at the books in front of you, eyes on the printed pages but taking nothing in. “Take her to the Garage,” you tell him quietly.

“What?”

“The Garage,” you repeat, closing the textbook and piling it on top of the others to return them to your bag. “It’s on the east side, on the road out.”

“Yeah, I know where the Garage is, but- Wait, are you headin’ out already? You just got here.”

“Don’t feel like studying,” you say flatly. “The Garage is cool. Rob took me there once. Tara’d love it.”

“Hey, hey-” His restless hands reach over to grip your wrist, to stop you moving, but you’re slippery and quick and far too determined on leaving. “You don’t have to leave, I’ll leave you alone. Your exam’s next week, I don’t wanna-”

“It’s fine, Eddie, I’ll study tomorrow.”

“But-”

“See you around,” you say quickly, tugging on the zipper on your bag and standing so fast it makes your head spin. You can hear him protesting behind you but it’s no use - the only place you want to be right now is home.

-

Eddie doesn’t call that evening. He doesn’t call the next day either, or the two following that. You float between your bed, the fridge and various shifts at work without so much as daring to call him yourself, though you lie awake at night and worry you’ve done something terrible, something earth-shatteringly cruel by leaving him like you did. Something so bad that twelve years of friendship is lost forever.

“Maybe it’s better like this,” you tell Nancy over the phone. It’s Thursday night, four days until your exam, and you haven’t spoken to Eddie since Sunday. “I was gonna spend forever like that. Maybe now I can move on or somethin’.”

“We both know you’re not going to move on,” she tells you. You groan, turning over onto your back to stare at your bedroom ceiling. Your bed is like a rotten pit, unmade for nearly a week and the past five days’ dirty (and clean) laundry is littered all over the top of the comforter. “And you shouldn’t. You’d just be hiding from your feelings.”

“I hate you,” you tell her, though the way your voice comes out through your smile deceives you. “You always sound so wise, how is that?”

“I am wise,” she says, smiling too. “And I’m wise enough to know that Eddie feels the same, even if he doesn’t realise it yet. Apparently I’ve got the brains for both of us, ‘cause he’s a bit dumb like that sometimes.”

“I wish he wasn’t,” you whine, “I can’t get the image of him and Tara outta my head.”

“I can go, if you want,” she says.

“Huh?”

“I can take Rob to the Garage on Friday, keep an eye on stuff.”

“Shit, would you?”

“Yeah, why not? What’re you doing that night anyway?”

“Dunno,” you say, morose, “Probably heading to the library again.”

“Okay,” she says sympathetically. “You’re gonna smash this exam, you know that, right?”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you grumble.”

“Well I know you will. And then Indiana State’ll have the best biologist known to man on their campus.”

“Funny,” you say.

“I’m wise and funny? You’re kind tonight.”

“I’m gonna go, Nance.”

“Okay,” she says, laughing. “I’ll call on Saturday, okay? And please eat some dinner.”

“Okay,” you reply, hanging up. You balance the receiver back on its stand and roll back over, willing the tears back when you feel them roll down your temples.

-

Friday nights are your favourite nights at the library.

Who else spends the one designated social evening of the week in a room designed for quiet? You, apparently, alongside two old ladies knitting in the comfy corner, and a kid who looks like he might be home from college for the holidays. You’re settled at your usual desk with textbooks and papers scattered everywhere - the tabletop, the chair next to you, the floor. You’ve been here for hours, pouring over all of your work, oblivious to most of the minimal movement and chatter happening in the room.

You’ve got a tape in your Walkman - classical, one your dad found at the record store downtown - so you feel Eddie before you see him. He startles you, his wide hand on your shoulder, and you jump, pulling your headphones down.

“Fucking hell,” you breathe, your heart beating a mile a minute. You twist in your seat and put your pen down, looking up at him. You couldn't worry about the warden if you tried, far too enamoured by him despite everything. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He’s hovering over you, his hair a mess and cheeks flushed pink. You notice he has his nice shirt on - a deep blue, so dark it’s almost black - and his lips are rosy.

“Tara needed the bathroom on the way home, this was the closest place. How’s it going?”

There’s a lilt to his voice that churns your stomach. It’s the one he gets at parties, or that night just before your birthday when the two of you drank wine in his living room and didn’t sleep until six in the morning.

He’s been drinking and, judging by the smell lingering on his clothes, smoking, too, and his smile and the pink blooming over his cheeks only makes the churning worse.

“Fine,” you tell him. “Was in the zone, sorry.”

“No,” he breathes, finally backing away. You fill your lungs and watch him as he rounds the table. His eyes keep moving from you to the door across the room, presumably watching for her. “I interrupted you, ‘m’sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Gotta run,” he says, face brightening in a way that makes you want to vomit. You turn back around and see Tara in the doorway, waving, beaming. “Don’t work too hard, please? Get some sleep. And eat something- Have you eaten at all today?”

He’s standing a foot or two from the table now, but he stops as he asks you this.

“Uh,” you look down at your watch. 12:07am. “I had lunch.”

“Shit, you need’ta eat something. Please.”

“Okay, Eds. I’ll have some toast when I get home. Have a nice night.”

“You’ve got this,” he says, and it’s here that the silly smile on his face falters. He still hasn’t moved, and you can see Tara looking over, watching. He’s looking at you and something breaks - his smile drops completely and his eyes go all sad and weird.

“What?” you ask, unamused.

“Nothing,” he says. “Nothing. Get some sleep okay? See you later.”

He turns and walks across to the exit, and you watch him leave. He’s slow and slumped, like someone’s just delivered bad news.

You head out fifteen minutes later, and chew unhappily on three slices of toast before you get to bed.

-

Studying until late is never a good idea.

You’re hopping around your bedroom, pulling stockings up your legs and praying to anything holy that the traffic on your way into work isn’t too bad.

“I know this isn’t really what you wanted to hear,” Nancy’s saying sadly. You’ve got the receiver propped between your cheek and your shoulder as you stumble around and stretch the cord within an inch of its life. “They just… It really did look like they were having fun.”

“He came to see me at the library,” you tell her breathlessly, desperate to think of anything but Eddie and Tara playing pool and laughing like lovedrunk teenagers

“What? When? Last night?”

“Yeah, said she needed a piss on the way home.” You stop hopping, both stockings finally in place, and take the phone in your hand. “He was really weird, actually.”

“Weird how?”

“I dunno. He seemed happy, but then he got all sad.”

“Did you tell him off?” she asks, faux-stern.

“No,” you tell her, “just told him I’d have dinner, and to have a good night.”

She hums, and you look at the clock.

“Shit, Nance, I’m sorry, I really gotta go, I’m gonna be so late-”

“No, no, you go, I’ll see you soon. And good luck on Monday, yeah? I know you’ll ace it.” -

Your body takes you to the library like it’s on auto-pilot or something. You finished the entrance exam three hours ago, and though it seemed to go okay, you daren’t be too optimistic. You’d hovered around town for a while, eating ice cream and watching birds, before your feet walked you right here: your desk on the first floor of Hawkins Library.

It’s here that you’ve been sitting for an hour or so, flicking through novels but finding no interest in the words on the page. Your brain is melted from a near-fatal combination overworking and overthinking, and without an exam to worry about, the latter is now the one clocking overtime.

You can’t get the picture of Eddie’s face out of your head. His eyes had been so sad, his face drooping like the dawning of some cruel realisation. The way he’d walked out of the room had matched it, sorrowful and curled over.

Worst of all, he hasn’t called.

There’s only two reasons you can think of. Firstly, he’s busy calling Tara instead of you. He’s telling her about his day, spinning new inside jokes and letting her hear his pretty laugh.

Or second: he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore. You’re too cold, flat, uninteresting. Tara is cool.

There is a third possibility that you daren’t think about for the sake of your own heart: that both are true.

You slam the hardback in your hands shut and place it roughly on the table.

“Woah, was it that bad?”

You look up and find Eddie standing across from you, precisely where he’d been that moment something had changed on Friday. He’s far less put together now, dressed in his usual bedraggled jacket and jeans.

He laughs as you stare at him. After a minute, he takes the seat opposite and pulls the book towards himself.

“Weird choice for you, sugar.”

“Quiet,” you tell him in a whisper, nodding to your right where the warden is circling.

“Sorry,” he whispers back with a smile. “What’re you still doing here? Wasn’t the exam this morning?”

“I like it here,” you tell him. A half-truth - you do, but you’d really rather be anywhere else right now.

“Right,” he says, clearly not buying it. “And how’d it go?”

You shrug. “Okay, I think. I hope.”

“You’re the smartest person I know. You’ll do great.”

“I wish people would stop saying that,” you say, looking out of the window to your left.

“What? That you’re smart?”

“That I’ll ace it. I have no idea.”

“No, you don’t,” he says. “But you’ve definitely got a better idea than me.”

“What’s that mean?” you ask, turning back to look at him.

“I just… You’ve got more brains than me, that’s all.”

He’s fiddling with his rings again, eyes trained on the tentative movements of his fingers rather than you. It gives you a chance to take in his face properly: tired, sallow, unhappy.

“How was Friday?” you chance. He shrugs. “Just okay?”

“Fine, yeah,” he says, voice flat and unfeeling. “Had fun, ‘til we came here.”

Your instinct is to be offended. You didn’t say anything cruel or unwarranted; in fact you barely said a thing at all. How could you have ruined the evening?

“What?”

“Tara, she, uh… She said bye when we left. I was walkin’ her home, only stopped here for the can, I mean- You know we’re miles from the park, took me forever to get back to mine. Thought, y’know…” You hum so he doesn’t have to utter the inevitable and break your heart.

“What happened?” you ask softly, hands on the table in front of you like an offering.

He looks troubled, truly, and it hurts - you may have gone a week without contact, the longest since he went on a fishing trip with Wayne when you were both 18, but he’s your best friend, and his pain is your pain.

He closes his eyes tight and sucks in a breath.

“When we left, she said… She told me I need to ‘really think about things’, which made no sense to me at the time, I guess ‘cause I was, like, 4 whiskey sours in and we’d smoked on the way over, and then she used the payphone outside to call a cab so I waited with her and walked home, and the next morning I realised what she meant.”

You look at him with nothing to say. He takes another deep breath.

“She probably saw me over here with you, y’know, and I’m sure to other people we seem pretty… Comfortable. And then you said you hadn’t eaten, and you looked so tired, I- All I wanted to do was take you home and make you dinner. And then the next morning, and, like, all weekend, all I could think was that one day some other guy’d be doin’ that for you, some college guy or somethin’, and I’d have to watch, ‘cause you’re my friend.”

“Eddie, I don’t understand.”

You’re genuinely bewildered. He’s still whispering, or at least talking in a low voice, and at multiple points during the past five minutes you thought you’d completely misheard him. It’s definitely your Eddie sitting opposite you - he has a tendency to be a little dramatic, and this is certainly that - but he’s never been so brashly honest like this with you before.

“I had fun with Tara, really, but… I realised I’d spent all night thinking about how much better it’d have been if you’d been there.”

You can feel the flush like fire up your neck and across your cheeks. Your palms are clammy so you pull them inwards, back towards yourself, to save yourself the embarrassment.

“I think I need to get some air,” you say, standing and leaving without waiting for him.

You hear him behind you as you descend the stairs and push the clunky glass door open. You’re met with a wall of cold air and you breathe a heaving sigh as you stand in its frost.

The door opens again only a few seconds later, and you turn to face your friend.

“Eddie,” you begin, “I need to know that you’re telling me what I think you’re telling me.”

“You left your coat,” is all he says, handing you the jacket. You don’t move, too stunned, so he steps behind you and you let him manipulate your arms into the sleeves like a sullen child.

“Eddie,” you bite, impatient and frustrated.

“Yeah,” he breathes behind you. When the coat’s on, he squeezes your shoulders, and you round on him.

“Please just tell me what the fuck is going-”

“I think I love you,” he says, louder than you. It’s a declaration, said without hesitation or subtlety. It’s so confidently loud that a couple of people leaving the library turn to look.

“It shouldn’t have taken me taking someone else out to realise it, but fuck, once I did I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I guess ‘cause we see each other all the time I never really questioned why I think about you so often, or whatever, but… I wanted to take you home and make you dinner on Friday, make sure you got some sleep, fuckin’ look after you. Made me feel dumb as hell because you’re not a kid or anythin’, but I just want you to be okay.”

You’re not sure when you started crying. Maybe it was as early as the declaration itself, but you know that by the time he told you he wants to take care of you, tears were rolling over your cheeks, unstoppable and filled with elation.

“Shit,” Eddie whispers, stepping toward you without thinking, reaching out to hold you somehow. He settles for a hand on your upper arm, almost at your shoulder. “Fuck, I’m sorry, please don’t cry, I-”

“It’s fine, I’m okay, I’m, uh- I’m happy,” you say, giggling, your tears making it wetter, thicker. “They’re happy tears.”

“Oh, good,” he breathes, shoulders sloping. You spot the beginning of a grin through cloudy vision. “Thank god.”

While you wipe your face with the sleeve of your jumper, Eddie’s hand moves from your shoulder and to your neck. You feel the heavy weight of him pressing there, not threatening but a comfort. It forces you closer, until you’re both looking at each other and laughing.

“The exam went really well,” you tell him. “Honest.”

“I knew it would,” he says, curling a finger behind your ear to move a piece of hair from your face. “You’re gonna kill it at college.”

“I’ll miss you. And everyone else.”

“We’re not going anywhere any time soon,” he says softly, fingers dancing until he’s cradling your face. His other hand is stuffed in his pocket, and you’re close enough that you can reach in and grasp it, pulling it out so you can wind your fingers between his. He looks down and smiles.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. It’s almost a whisper and you almost miss it - almost. “For the exam, I mean. You did well, y’deserve a kiss.”

“Sure,” you say, laughing again. “For the exam, yeah.”

He chuckles before dipping his head just enough. You lift up to meet him halfway and he presses his lips to yours, firm but quick.

“Again,” you breathe, and he doesn’t ask questions. He bows again and kisses you, his force solid and homely. You kiss him back, breathless and keening.He’s warm and you want to take, take, take. You only stop when the door opens behind you again, creaking and followed by quick footsteps as someone else leaves.

Eddie kisses your nose and says, “Shit, you’re cold.”

“Can we go home?”

“No,” he says, and before you can finish protesting, he adds, “We have to celebrate. You’re done with studying! Let’s go get milkshakes or something.”

You wrinkle your nose, determined that you won’t be going to the diner you work in. “How about pizza?”

“Whatever you want, smartie pants.”

You physically bristle at the petname, cheeks flushing again despite the chill. Eddie’s arm settles around your shoulders and squeezes as he kisses your temple.

You stop walking once you reach the end of the block. He stops with you and turns to look at you without dropping your hand.

"I think I love you too, by the way," you tell him. "I didn't say- Back there, I should've said it. I- Well, I know I love you."

He smiles - beams - at your return of his declaration. He squeezes your hand in his and tugs.

"C'mon, pretty girl. Let's go."

-

[exhaustedsasha]

I keep getting signs to something big, something I have manifested. I don't entirely know what it is, although my gut feeling is absolutely that it has to do with shifting.

But not just shifting.

Y'all don't know me that much, and I am excruciatingly new to the community. So I guess I can tell you a little bit about myself. I don't have the know-how to make my posts pretty and aesthetic...so you get text. Maybe I'll change the colors up from white.

Ever since I was a teenager, I have struggled to find a place where I "belonged." Yeah, Yeah, I know, typical sob story. Blah blah.

But even in comparison to other loners, i struggled like hell to make any name for myself, even online. I used to want to be a content creator, but I'm turning 26 this month, and....I realized that ship set sail years ago. Not because I'm too old, but because the digital landscape has gone to hell in a handbasket.

I did a lot of dumb shit as a teenager on the internet and put myself into danger a lot. For the sake of not being too TMI about it, I'll leave that vague, but... You can fill in the blanks.

I'm sure photos and videos are saved of teenage me somewhere on some creep's hard drive that could absolutely ruin me if I even tried to cultivate a following on any sort of video platform and attempted to show my face.

Not that I haven't tried showing my face, of course, but algorithms bury me so deep due to my physical appearance (I have a prominent overbite. I do have photos of myself on this blog, Tumblr is pretty dead nowadays, I doubt I have any worry of things coming back to haunt me here.)

I am Autistic and ADHD. I am not formally diagnosed. But it is pretty well accepted by the doctors I see that I am special needs, no matter the lack of documentation of them. I rock in my chair, refuse to make direct eye contact, verbal stim, and generally just wiggle around like a can of jumping beans in an earth quake.

And I ramble. Obviously. Get to the point, Sasha.

Before I found shifting, I already believed heavily in the multiverse/alternate reality theories from the beginning. Do you mean to tell me that we can create beautiful worlds in our heads? That we can share with others? And it doesn't exist?

Bullshit.

If we can think it, it exists. Pure and simple. Humans aren't exactly known for having "original" ideas. Someone came up with it before we did, even if they didn't have the means to create it, even if it was a guy 3 million years ago....There was probably a fleeting thought in that person's mind...Or, they created it, but no one was there to experience or witness it....

Or gods forbid another guy saw it and went "Hey! COOL IDEA!" Then he started using the other guy's idea, and HE got famous for it. (Happens incessantly throughout history)

Sasha. Rambling. Again.

Sorry.

I think my main point is that I'm excited to find something beyond myself, something beautiful, something I always knew was a part of me. I just didn't know HOW. But now I do.

I know many of the individuals in the shifting community are younger, and I'm so happy to see so many people being able to find their path early. I can't wait to join in and share my own experiences and adventures with y'all.

I dunno, I think life has finally turned around for me. It just took me getting up off my sorry ass and ceasing my "woe is me" crap to realize I am the creator of my reality.

Always have been. Always will be.

[sl-walker]

@sing-me-under: I dunno if this is what you were after, but by god, at least I wrote something! This is after City Boys but well before Stardust. Thanks for the prompt! <3333

--

Ted didn’t go too far past the suburbs of Chicago often, but that was less because he was worried about doing so and more because he was pretty careful about keeping his heroing focus closer to home for a number of reasons.

He liked being a hometown hero, for one. And he felt that he did a better job when he was able to stay close to the metaphorical ground, handling the crimes and social ills that didn't need a super-strong punch (though he had a pretty good one if he did say so himself), but did need someone with local knowledge.

It was also partly a logistical thing, too; the Bug had a virtually unlimited range between her high yield solar batteries and her supplemental hydrogen power plant, but her speed was curtailed past a certain range without refueling and there was only so fast he could refine fuel on the go. That kept him out of most of the big fights that happened so often on the coasts, unless he happened to be in range already.

That being said, upper Wisconsin was well within Ted's range for both speed and distance. He just-- hadn't been anticipating getting called by Green Lantern Guy Gardner into the deep woods pushing the border of the UP of Michigan to deal with what looked like a very large, very alien threat.

Correction: A very large, very alien and very incendiary threat.

(The explanation wouldn't make it any less weird, it would turn out: It wasn't actually an alien, it was a Wisconsin farmboy who had been abducted over half a century ago, experimented on by a species from Sector 1735, turned into-- whatever it was he'd been turned into, some kind of hybrid attempt at making humans compatible to crossbreed with, and then dropped off back home when it turned out that experiment failed.)

"Holey cheese whiz, Old Bay, he's gonna set fire to entire north woods at this point," Ted said, hands dancing across the Bug's control panel as he brought her fire suppression equipment online. It was something he'd already had installed, but he was kinda glad he'd beefed the system up considerably since running into a sad lunatic named Firefist about six months back.

"--did you seriously just make a fuckin' cheese joke in Wisconsin, Beetle?"

Ted had no idea how Guy was able to communicate via his ring to the Bug's onboard communications systems, but after they dealt with this, he was gonna ask after it. In the meantime, he cackled back 'cause of course he made a fuckin' cheese joke in Wisconsin. "Are you kidding me? Why wouldn't I?"

There was some indistinct muttering, but then a surprising flash of green showed out in front of the giant alien fire-thing before he could try to parse it out; even as Ted targeted said alien, the flash of glowing green seemed to absorb the flames the alien was throwing recklessly around. "Who in the...?"

"Goes by Fire. Brazilian. Used to be with the Global Guardians," Guy answered, brusquely. "Are you gonna douse this walkin' hibachi anytime soon? 'Cause we don't know how much of that she can absorb before it's too much."

"I can, but no guarantees it'll hold if your walking, flaming briquette there is generating this internally. My fire suppression foam's good for flames that aren't self-generating," Ted warned. "Tell her to move on my mark."

"Don't worry about that, we're gonna cool him off real good once Ice can get close enough."

Fire and Ice? Ted only just caught a glance, then, at what looked like snow here or there in the height of summer, and a speck of blue moving down amongst the trees. He shook it off and moved the Bug into a better position, his heads-up display flashing as he locked on. "Target acquired. Get them both back in five-- four-- three-- two--one-- mark."

Fire had been moving off before Ted even started his count down; just as he engaged the fire suppression foam, Guy and the glowing on fire Brazilian shot out of the trees together. And five seconds past that, all that fire suppression foam was turned into what looked like a giant sno-cone.

"Are they gonna be okay?" Ted asked, pulling back to get a slightly better look, one eyebrow climbing behind his goggles.

"Fire and Ice? Yeah, they're-- oh, you mean Former Farmer Billy from Steven's Point? He'll be fine. The Valaxians are made of weird but tough stuff and their experiments are even worse."

Somehow, impossibly, Ted's eyebrow went even higher. "Now this, I wanna hear."

--

--

A 7-Eleven parking lot in Eagle River wasn't exactly the relatively new Hall of Justice, but Ted liked it fine; liked it all the more for the fact that it wasn't, really. It was especially entertaining sitting on the Bug's ramp with a Big Gulp and a brat on a bun that had been on the rollers for at least two hours longer than it should have been, all while watching a succession of cars slo-o-o-o-o-w down as they passed to get a look at the four superheros hanging around like a bunch of juvies while Guy told the story of Former Farmer Billy of Steven's Point. The shiny cars were clearly people vacationing; the battered and rust-bucket pickup trucks definitely belonged to locals. Ted waved jauntily every third one or so and then grinned when he got people honking back at him.

It only took less than five minutes for everyone to just dispense with code names once they were all on the ground together. Which was probably how it should be after you got done gift-wrapping an alien-hybrid farmboy victim of experimentation for STAR Labs.

Anyway, that was how Ted Kord met Beatriz da Costa and Tora Olafsdotter and how Guy Gardner finally got Ted's name, even though this was their fourth team-up over the past year and a half since they'd met. Tora was Ted's age, round-about -- twenty-two or so -- and Bea was something closer to Guy's. Both women were beautiful, though in very different ways; Bea was a more elegant kind of beauty, the kind Ted could easily imagine gracing magazine covers, and Tora was softer around the face and definitely reminded Ted of hot chocolate and fluffy oversized sweaters.

He was instantly comfortable with them, too. That wasn't actually that weird, Ted had gotten more and more social since he'd started university at sixteen and tended to be comfortable in a crowd these days, but there was a different quality to this comfort that was unfamiliar because it actually felt very familiar.

"I'll bet the mosquitoes here are the size of your head at dusk," Bea was saying, as she leaned against the hydraulic strut for the ramp; how she fought in those stilettos she was wearing was a mystery to Ted. "Which is rapidly approaching. I don't suppose you'll give us a ride?"

"If you don't mind it being a ride to Chicago and the fact that I only have one seat, not at all," Ted answered, because really, he wouldn't have minded. But he did need to get back in order to get enough sleep to make it to the too-early board meeting his father had scheduled for tomorrow.

"Oh, c'mon, I can keep the mosquitos off of us. And hell, da Costa, so can you. Flame on, crispy bugs, problem solved," Guy groused, then went back to loudly slurping the last of his own Big Gulp down.

"Wrong trademark," Beatriz snapped back (which made Ted grin since he tended to use that same answer anytime someone compared him to the comic book arachnid), though with a surprising lack of heat, especially given she was able to actually set herself on fire. "I can fly myself, but did you think to ask Tora how she felt about it?"

Tora did look a little wilted; it wasn't desperately hot out, but it was hot enough that Ted was bordering uncomfortable in his full costume. That set off a little verbal joust between Bea and Guy, though; after watching the argument ping-pong back and forth for a minute or two, Ted asked Tora, "This a regular thing?"

Tora moved deeper into the shadow of the Bug, sitting down next to Ted, watching herself with what looked like a fond, if sheepish, smile. "I think it's like a sport for them."

Ted eyed them; he wondered if Tora saw the same romantic tension he was seeing, but then again, his eye for things like that wasn't actually very good, so he could be mistaken. But he did think she was onto something in terms of Beatriz and Guy arguing for sport. "I can see that," he agreed, smiling as Beatriz poked Guy in the chest with one long-nailed finger and the GL thrust said chest right back out at her. "Global Guardians, huh? I don't know much about them, I don't really get out of Chicago in costume terribly often."

Tora nodded, smiling a little bit more. "I was with them for three years before we lost funding. It's a good thing that modelling can take place almost anywhere, though we had to have some help getting work visas to come here."

Given he'd already thought that probably Bea could be a model, it didn't come as a surprise that she was. Though Ted could see Tora also doing that kind of work; her beauty was more approachable, but no less real. "Well, if you two ever need any more help in that regard, I got connections. And more money than sense, too!"

"I'll remember that."

"Remember what?" Bea interrupted, turning on them both, apparently done arguing with Guy. "What did I miss?"

"Oh-- fuckin' relax, Beetle's good people," Guy double-interrupted, barely letting Beatriz get to the question mark before butting in. Which set off another round of arguing between those two.

"I think we're gonna be here awhile," Ted said, resting his elbow on his knee and his jaw against his hand. Then he rolled his head over and raised his eyebrows at Tora. "Wanna play a hand of War?"

Tora raised her eyebrows right back, then her eyes crinkled at the corners as she beamed an infectious smile. "Only if you teach me how."

(Neither of them noticed both Bea and Guy pausing just to look at that smile, something complicated that seemed to echo grief written on their faces.)

--

--

They really did only get to play a single hand, though it was a long hand, control of the deck going back and forth. By then, they'd retreated inside and were sitting on the floor, the Bug's environmental systems turned on enough to bring the temperature down a bit for Tora.

It was after a hard fought triple-decker war that Ted threw in the towel, conceding to Tora, only so they both could look up and find the formerly arguing duo of Beatriz and Guy watching them.

It wasn't the sort of soft look they were giving Tora that surprised Ted, though: It was the one they also gave him. Like something about him sitting criss-cross applesauce playing cards with Tora was worthy of those expressions of warmth and affection and something heavier.

It was enough to throw him a little off-balance, enough that he didn't even blush when Tora kissed his cheek and thanked him for the game and the lesson.

"Shit, I lost track of time," Ted said, catching a glimpse of how they'd missed the sunset and were now into the lengthening shadows of dusk, still feeling-- something. Touched. Maybe a little nervous. Maybe a little achy. "I've gotta be up way too early, too."

"Thanks for the help," Beatriz just said, with a smirk that held no malice. "Guarantee you had more fun with us than whatever you're going to have that has you up early, though."

"That-- I am one hundred percent sure you're right." Ted offered his hand and then blinked when Beatriz pulled him into a hug, instead, before patting her back for a moment and smiling. "It was good meeting you guys, though."

"And yet, it already feels like we've known each other forever," Tora said, with a twinkle in her eyes. In the dusky light, her hair reflected back blues and violets. "Hopefully we'll get to play another hand sometime soon."

"I'd like that." Ted watched the women head down the ramp arm-in-arm, talking to each other; when he glanced over next to him, Guy was doing the same.

"Think we're friends enough to trade phone numbers?" Guy asked, without looking over at him. "Not that I'm any fuckin' good at remembering to keep my phone charged. --or on me, for that matter."

"I think it's safe to say we are." Ted pulled his equipment marker out of his holster and looked around until he found a Chinese takeout menu and scribbled his private number down. "I meant to ask you how your ring ties into my comms, but I guess I'll have to save it for next time."

Guy took the menu, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "Guess so. Thanks for the backup today," he said, before moving for the ramp with what looked suspiciously like reluctance. "You should put more seats in here, though. Feels empty."

"I'll think about it," Ted said back, watching the Lantern go with a smile before glancing around as he raised the ramp; he used the Bug to move stuff often enough that extra seating might interfere with that, but thought that Guy might be onto something anyway.

It was when he sat down in his pilot's seat, though, that the idea formed more fully: The glint of the parking lot lights through his viewport caught onto something in his peripheral vision and for a brief, breathtaking moment, he felt both a stunning certainty that there was someone who was supposed to be beside him, and -- at the exact same time -- grief for that absence that he couldn't define, let alone explain.

It lasted only a moment, but it was such a sharp moment that Ted had to press his hand to his chest, over his heart, just to make sure it was still beating the right rhythm and the ghost of it followed him back to Chicago and back to his bed, only to vanish in the light of a too-early morning.

(In just shy four years time, though, he would pull on his jacket after Booster had been using it for a pillow for six hours, and all of those things -- the certainty of presence and the grief of absence -- would forever after have a name.)

[toxicanonymity]

Hi!! Pls point me in the right direction if there’s been a similar ask already, but I’m recently obsessed with raider and also started my period today :// so I’m wondering how Joel would treat sweet pea on her period? Does he think it’s gross, does he still touch her on her period, does he let her have painkillers if she asks nicely, etc? Do you imagine her not even getting her period at all anymore from stress or malnourishment? Just a random thought I had :)

Raider Joel if you got your period

900 words, raider!Joel x f!reader.

SUMMARY/WARNINGS: this is mostly headcanon/kinda fluff I guess but brief angst and smut (period sex, oral m receiving), talk of sterility. Featuring Carter!

A/N: yeah, she doesn't have her period, from malnourishment or general conditions, like you mentioned, so if she got it I think it'd be a surprise to both of them. If this gets canonized I'll let y'all know but rn I don't wanna deal with tracking a period lol.

raider master list

Early one morning, when the sun is still rising, Joel has an arm wrapped over you and his hand creeps between your legs. He pulls you back into him, and his fingers slip between your thighs. You’re even wetter than usual, making him press his arousal into you with a quiet growl, and then, he can’t resist, he brings his finger to his mouth. Before he can taste it, he smells the familiar copper and his heart skips a beat. This all happens really fast: He throws the covers off you and sees a dark blotch smeared from when he pulled you into him. He backs up and lets you down onto your back. He says your name urgently, shakes your shoulder and hovers his cheek over your mouth to feel your breath.

As you begin to wake up, he remembers about periods and feels bad for making a big deal of it if that’s what’s going on. He cups your face and breathes a sigh of relief, but he still has to ask, “Are you hurt?”

You begin to stir awake. "You okay?" He asks. As you gain consciousness you register his wet finger on your cheek and put your hand over it. You feel how wet you are and squirm, then when you turn over to face him, you look down to reach down for the sheet and you see blood. It startles you, too. Then you register the familiar ache in your abdomen, and you never thought you’d *want* cramps but for some reason it makes you emotional to have it back.

You reflexively apologize, “Sorry, I think it’s just. . .it must be back,” you whisper. “My cycle.”

“It’s okay, you’re okay, right?” His heart rate is still elevated but he’s starting to calm down.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m sorry, it’s been gone for so-”

“It’s okay, you’re okay.”

–

I think he’d do his best to take care of you but would need some guidance. He’d probably ask you what you need. As much of a big tough guy as he is he does take his role seriously in taking care of you so I imagine he’d run you a bath and tell you to wait there. Maybe he’d send Carter to try to find some pads lmao.

-

Joel would jog down the hill to the stash house to get Carter. Joel would almost rather Carter just stay with you guys, but someone's still gotta keep an eye on things. Carter would still be waking up when Joel barges in asking for help. Carter's like, "easy, what's goin' on?"

"She's bleedin', I need you to-"

"What happened, is she okay??"

"No, yeah, she's got," Joel awkwardly gesticulate as he explains, "She's got her cycle"

"Her period?" Carter breathes a sigh of relief and chuckles. "made it sound like life or death, man. Ya know they're s'posed to get it every month right?"

"Can ya find her somethin'?"

“Joel, I dunno anything about-”

“Carter, please–can ya figure it out?”

Carter swallows and looks around. “Yeah. Sure, boss.”

(I guess this falls under "other duties as assigned" - taking down human scarecrows, finding menstrual products)

–

And yes, Joel has the drug connections and might offer you pills if you feel bad, or even if you don't. He might even try to help by washing the sheets while you're in the bath and Carter is out trying to find supplies.

–

Sexually, Joel has no aversion to your period. But maybe you’re still self conscious of the mess at first. He’s pounding you from behind, and you’ve just finished coming. He moans deeply as you squeeze him with an aftershock.

“Joel,” you look back at him.

He grunts and sighs as he buries his length in you, a mess spreading in his pubic hair and between your legs. He pants, “yeah sweet pea”

“Can i swallow it”

“Can ya —”

“Please?"

He sighs, wanting to slam into you and spill it already, but thinking, ok whatever. He pulls out, lays back on the bed, and you lick him clean before he cums and you swallow. Seeing you do it is such a turn-on, it might become a thing he wants you to do.

–

And then after, you suggest, “maybe I should swallow all the time from now on.”

His brow furrows “Why?”

“If I can get my period, i can probably get pregnant." It goes without saying neither of you would consider that a good things in this world.

“oh,” he mutters, then he’s pensive for a moment. “that ain’t gonna happen, sweet pea.”

“how do you know? are you ... fixed?”

He's short, but his tone is gentle. “yeah, it just ain’t gonna happen okay?” You feel bad for accidentally stumbling onto something from his past, but feel relieved at the revelation.

“okay,” you whisper as you put your head on his chest. “sorry.”

“’s'okay, baby. 's'a good thing, ain't it."

"Yeah," you sigh. "really good."

—

We don't know exactly why she doesn't have it, either malnourishment and/or stress conditions could be viable, I've tended to HC malnutrition but if she were to get it, maybe that'd be a sign of kind of settling into a (relative to the situation) normal-ish life there. At least she started picking dandelion leaves and stuff and foraging for mushrooms, and maybe they found some produce like with the apples and pumpkins HC.

—-

---

he's snipped that's why he can't

---

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️

[secondgenerationnerd]

Valentine’s Day

What’s this? A BBRae fic in 2025?! Enjoy 😘 (left on a cliff hanger if anyone wants to request the ✨spice✨)

——————

“Mama, I swear you get prettier every year.”

“Thank you, love.” Raven glances in her vanity mirror to her daughter. Emi hangs upside down in her parents’ bed, violet hair falling free from its scrunchie. Oversized Star Wars shirt that she suspects is actually her boyfriend’s tied over sweatpants. Completely at ease in her body, like her children always have been.

“I swear it’s dark magic.” Emi continues, stretching her arms to the floor.

“If I didn’t know better, Emerson Marie, I’d think you want something.”

Rather than her usual faux outrage, Emi shifts effortlessly into a panther, stretching before settling back down. Raven will never not be amazed at her family’s shifting. Violet fur sprouts along her daughter’s body, her clothes melting away. Bones shifting into the great cat’s. It once scared her—what if it hurt her babies?— but her husband reassured her it wasn’t painful in the slightest.

Tail lazily flicking in air as Emi speaks, “What has the world come to that I can’t call my mother beautiful? Without nefarious reasons?”

Familiar footsteps head towards them as Raven reaches for her kohl, “Blame your father.”

“Oh, absolutely blame me.” Gar agrees, leaning against the bedroom door, “I’ve been calling your mother beautiful everyday for 22 years and there’s always a nefarious reason.”

Rae winks at her husband, “That’s how we ended up with Emi and Eli.”

“We could always add another,” he purrs.

Their daughter’s snort, which was odd coming from her shifted form, pulls their attention to her, “Dad, you and Mama are a few months away from no kids. Do you really want to restart that clock?”

An ache starts the older heroes’ hearts. Emi had told them about her plans to move out with her boyfriend, Parker, before the end of May. Eli, never far behind his twin, had been looking for his own place. Pride’s too small a word for how they feel towards their children’s accomplishments….but time had gone too fast.

“Ugh, I can sssssssmell the pheromonesssssss from my room.” A purple scaled cobra coils its way up the bed, Eli’s voice coming from its hissing mouth. “What did you ssssssssay, Em?”

"First, the hissing? Dramatic even for you." She ignores her younger twin sticking his tongue out, "Second, just that they're almost child free."

"What do you think about another sibling, Eli?" Gar asks, now sat by his wife as she finishes her make up. Looking over her lipsticks as he always does for dates.

Shifting as easily as his sister, a now human Eli does lean into his dramatic nature, "Father, Baba, He who sired me and mine sister...The last thing this family needs is another magical shapeshifter. More importantly, I'm the baby of this family and plan to keep the title, thank you."

That makes his parents laugh. Their children have always been many things, but babies? Both children had always been fiercely independent with a love of life. The only reason they hadn't moved out sooner is a simple fact--They love their parents and the home they made.

"Somehow, better than when Wally threatens his kids with that." Raven muses, turning to face her husband. He plucks up her favorite lipstick. Gently holding her chin as he drags the color over her lips.

"Mmmm I dunno, Dad." Emi says, flicking her brother with her tail, "I'd pay to see Irey and Jai throw hands with a baby."

"Given that Irey has a baby, I doubt we'll see that." Gar snorts, blotting the lipstick before kissing Raven, "You, Rae, are gorgeous."

"Get a room." Eli groans.

Raven winks at Gar, "That's what our hotel stay is for. If you have your cousins over, please remind them we don't need noise complaints from the shouting.

"And here I was just going to invite my boyfriend over so we could have wild sex." Emi deadpans, shifting back. "Speaking of, I have my own date to get ready for."

"You and Parker going anywhere fun, love?"

"Just that new horror movie, maybe try that pop-up market after." Emi shrugs. "What about you and Dad?"

"We're meeting your Uncle Vic and Aunt Karen at Naan Stop." Raven stands, smoothing the front of her dress. The underbust corset had been a pain to get on, but she loves how it feels and looks. Gar moves to their closet, grabbing his matching button down. The rich purple color makes his green skin look jewel like...and the way he rolls the cuff up reminds her of what's under her dress. But that's for later.

"Ugh," The twins wrinkle their noses, Eli sliding off the bed. "I'm getting out of here, the pheromones are awful."

"That's hilarious coming from the biggest slut in here." Emi laughs, following her brother. Raven rolls her eyes as their children bickering fades. Strong arms wrap around her from behind. A warm kiss pressing to her neck make her turn, hands resting on her husband's chest.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Rachel."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Garfield." She kisses him, smiling against his lips. How had she even denied herself the joy she had with this man? "Now, let's go. I'm starving...and you're going to need energy for later."

[scramjettracy]

Is it really appropriate for one of your family to take an entire weekend off (#nepobaby with that hotel too) while International Rescue is supposedly providing a 24/7, 365 service? What impact does this have on the availability of your ships? How can the world continue to feel safe when one of your team clearly feels so flippantly about his responsibilities? What is the driving factor for International Rescue for the Tracy family - fame?

Some points that may assist:

It is illegal to fly, drive or pilot a vehicle without certain GDF-mandated periods of rest time.

If we habitually break those, we don’t keep our licences because we become a danger to ourselves and others.

Thus, no, no one of us is on call 24/7 (we do our best to ensure that at least some of us are available for as much time as we possibly can (there being only 6 adults involved in this organisation) but sometimes we actually take some time all together as a family because that is important.

Currently I am available and fully qualified to cover Thunderbird 4 if anything water-based comes up. Alan, Kayo and Virgil are also all perfectly capable of doing so.

Annual leave is a universal expectation and for very good reason.

It’s 2060 - all civilised nations have realised that it is not only immoral to expect people to work all the time without proper leave periods, but it is counter-productive.

Everyone needs downtime to recuperate and ensure they can come back fully refreshed and able to do a seriously difficult and emotionally draining job. No time off means that we’d all burn out pretty fast and there would be no IR.

IR is not responsible for the world’s safety

… you do realise that the 6 of us cannot ensure the entire world feels safe at all times, right? I dunno when you last studied geography but it’s a pretty big place with nearly 10 billion people in it… Even if we are all working we can’t be everywhere at once. Every country has its own first responder services… those are your first port of call (and if they are struggling consider campaigning for them to be better funded?). We just chip in to help on top of that, usually at their request if they can’t cover something Thunderbird 5 picks up.

And that word “Responsibilities” sure has implications, huh? May I remind you we do this voluntarily? The GDF don’t employ us… we do it because we want to be able to make a difference where we can. We’d make very little difference if we

Get the hell off my brother’s case.

I can confirm he doesn’t feel “flippantly” at all. I’ve been chasing him to take him overdue leave for months and it took a quiet word in the ear of someone far scarier than me to finally get him to do it. He absolutely deserves a break and some fun the same as any other human does. In my view, far more.

[roseypwark]

Three | Honorific

ENHYPEN Eighth Member : 지유 JIYU / 지유나 Ji Yuna

Table of Contents

//

Yuna knew this day would come. She just didn’t expect it so soon. She should have prepared more, should have thought up a better defense for herself when forced to face the terrible reality of the situation she has found herself in.

“Jiyu, you can speak casually. There’s no need to be so formal. We’re band mates, now.”

Heeseung has a certain level of confidence as the oldest member, the most senior trainee. He has something of a role to play. There are things the members rely on him for.

But not Yuna. Ji Yuna doesn’t rely on anyone for anything. She’ll accept help when it’s offered but to actually rely on someone else is a distant concept that didn’t end very well the last time.

(The last person Yuna truly relied on lives in America now with her do-over family, a white husband and three Wasian kids who don’t speak the same language as their older sister.)

She knows she’s supposed to rely on others, not just as a human but as a fifteen-year-old girl. But she just can’t. She doesn’t know these people. She doesn’t trust them. She can’t rely on them.

She also doesn’t want to call them “oppa.” That is a claim to a relationship she does not yet have with any of them. So, she just hums, noncommittal.

Heeseung persists. “Niki calls us hyung. You can be casual, too. It’s fine. Really.”

Oh, he thinks she’s hesitating because of societal expectation for how she should treat her elders. The reality is much worse: she is incredibly awkward and hopelessly alone and doesn’t know how to trust others.

“Oh. Okay,” she mumbles, still committing to nothing.

“Hyung, don’t push,” Sunghoon speaks up.

Yuna doesn’t even know where he came from but she’s grateful he’s here now. Of all the members, she thinks she likes Sunghoon the most because he doesn’t try to make her do things, like play video games or do TikTok dances.

Jay wanders into the kitchen. “Yeah, if Jiyu hates us, we have to live with that.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“Jiyu doesn’t hate us,” Heeseung says. “Does she—do you?”

“No.”

“Why won’t you call us ‘oppa?’”

Yuna feels cornered. She just wants to eat her dinner.

“I dunno,” she mutters to her salad.

Heeseung looks ready to keep beating this horse until Yuna has to give in. She wishes he would just drop it.

“Heeseung, quit,” Sunghoon says, defending her again.

It’s quiet for a while. Yuna is anticipating another pushback from Heeseung about her choice of honorific for the older boys, which has been -ssi until this point (except in front of the cameras per the production team’s request). Formal, but at least she didn’t resort to -nim like she did with Hyowon for months.

When she risks a peek through her hair, Heeseung has gone back to his food. He looks a little sheepish, maybe regretful even? Whatever it is, he’s stopped bothering her so she’s okay with it.

She can eat the rest of her food in peace.

Heeseung finishes before her. Sunghoon takes his place. Jay goes off after Heeseung.

“You don’t have to call us oppa if you don’t want to,” Sunghoon says, unprompted after a bit of eating in silence. “But you can if you want.”

“I think…”

Sunghoon waits.

Yuna has trouble putting her thoughts into words sometimes. A lot of the time.

It’s why she likes music. Emotion can come from something universal and the meaning is up for interpretation. Even the words—lyrics—aren’t strictly defined to what they are at the surface or even to what the writer meant but rather what the listener feels and that’s fine.

Art can be misinterpreted and still be art. Life is more difficult. Misinterpreted intentions can spell terrible consequences.

“I do want to,” she admits. “I just feel awkward. I don’t want it to be a big deal, the switch from formal to informal.”

“It won’t be a big deal.”

“Maybe not with you. But you understand me.”

Yuna ducks her head as Sunghoon smiles despite himself. But he doesn’t make a big deal of it. Because he understands her.

“How about starting with just me? If you’re comfortable.”

“I’m beginning to think life is just eternally uncomfortable.”

Sunghoon laughs.

Yuna hadn’t been trying to make a joke but she’s realized lately that her unfiltered bluntness is a big piece of what fans seem to enjoy about her.

Growing up, she was told she was being rude. She had always assumed her interpretations of the world around her were wrong. She was just asking questions but her mom would say it was rude.

“Just do it whenever you feel like it,” Sunghoon says. “I’m sure the others will like the change and won’t turn it into a spectacle.”

She gives him a blank look.

“I’ll make sure of it, okay?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I’ll deal with the guys. You do what you’re comfortable with. Alright?”

She’ll have to rely on Sunghoon to do this for her.

“Alright.”

It’s been a while since she’s trusted someone. This is a relatively low-risk scenario. If Sunghoon doesn’t hold up his promise, the worst that will happen is some mild to extreme social awkwardness. So, nothing much out of the ordinary.

She’ll have to bite the bullet eventually, anyway. Both for her own and her members’ sakes. And for appearances, so she doesn’t keep slipping up while filming and using formal honorifics.

Wouldn’t want the fans to get the wrong idea about the only female member being uncomfortable with her band mates. So says the production team.

//

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Tag List: @pjselee @sumzysworld

[dairyfreenugget]

New PK gijinka for a new gijinka AU

Alt text + AU info under read more

- 🌷Patreon🌷- 💜Ko-fi💜 -

ID start: A doodle page depicting the Pale King from Hollow Knight as a human. The first doodle in the top left corner labelled "pre-hibernation" depicts him during this time as a king, with a youthful sharp face, long elf ears, he's looking to the side with a scowl. He wears his hair in a low ponytail, with a black, spiked crown atop his head. The next two doodles depict him after the Hallownest's collapse, as an older man with a large X shaped scar on his face that cuts the left side of his lips, exposing his teeth and gums, and a V shaped notch in his left ear. He wears his hair in a messy bun and wears a hood and a shirt underneath with a popped up collar. He looks down and to the side, looking far more tired and guilty than his younger self. The second of the two doodles depicting his older self has his hood up, casting the majority of his face in a shadow. End ID.

PK is alive or reborn for the 3rd time and after the fall of his kingdom he conceals his identity out of shame

He travels the abandoned ruins of his kingdom and meets survivors, and through this he meets Hollow when he arrives in dirtmouth. Shocked to see them alive and speaking and so clearly *not hollow* he pretty much runs away the first time they see each other. He later stumbles onto them again after having some time to sit on this revelation and decides to walk ul to them to apologise for his previous behaviour. They don't seem to recognise him, which he decides is for the best and doesn't reveal himself

He ends up settling down near dirtmouth and so the two continuously stumble on each other and start bonding and getting to know one another through these sporadic meetings. At some point the topic lands on family and Hollow says their parents never loved them, their mother disappeared and their father used them and never thought anything more of them than a tool. Obviously it stings and PK tries to protest, saying that every parent loves their child, which turns into a small argument until Hollow snaps with tears in their eyes that he doesn't known their parents. They're both self-centred cowards who never loved them. Then adds their father is dead anyway and it's probably for the best. PK backs off and apologises quietly for pressing while Hollow quietly sobs. He then sits down next to them and quietly asks if they have any other family, and they mention their sister who visits them occassionaly but not that often now that they've recovered, she's very busy, but it's okay because the people of dirtmouth are nice and help take care of them. PK can see it's *not* okay but doesn't press it, he already made them upset and he doesn't want to do it again. They ask about his family and he gives some vague answer about an ex-wife and children. Still dunno if Ghost is alive here

Months pass by and ironically enough the two develop a very mentor/student and then father/child kind of relationship (which probably eats at PK and will be such a huge shock for Hollow when they find out his identity)

Hollow kind of sucks at keeping their wounds and bandages clean so when PK smells the infection on them he forces them to sit down as he cleans their wounds, reapplies sterile bandaging and gives them medicine, all the while chastising them for not taking care of themself. Hollow sheepishly admits they don't know how and were too nervous to ask for help, but then also jokingly calls PK dad when he keeps fretting. In a sort of "Okay, okay, I get it, DAD" way. Which makes him freeze and for a one terrifying second he thinks *they know* before realising he's just fucking stupid and it was a joke. But Hollow remembered that one discussion they had and how he brought up having children in the past so they think they made a social blunder and just give him that sheepish look.

"Ah...is- is that a sore spot? I'm sorry—"

"No, no, it's- it's okay, kid. I just...wasn't expecting that."

So they continue to bond over the months and PK becomes a parental figure to Hollow, which he feels so damn guilty about and thinks they'd hate him even more if they ever find out the truth

Any time they bring up how he always wears that hood and covers his face he tries to wiggle out of actually answering it, but knows his time is running out

I'm thinking Hollow finds out in some sort of situation where they end up hurt or in danger. Dunno how it happens but I did imagine the scene after that, where Hollow's in shock and denial and PK tries to free them from the ropes they found themself in but they keep thrashing so he finally yells at them to stop moving or they'll hurt themself, clearly very worried for them. So they do and they allow him to free them and take them to his home where he patches them up, all the while they're in complete shellshock

Hours later when the atmosphere cleared up a little PK gets them something to eat, all the while not being able to look them in the face, and says that he understands if they hate him and want nothing to do with him after this, but to just stay and let him take care of them until they recover. Then they can leave and never see him again.

Hollow just eats in silence until they finally get the courage to ask about that conversation from months ago, asking if this is why he was so insistent on their father loving them.

"I...That...It.....my— my feelings...don't really... matter, if I never showed them anyway, if I...when I hurt you despite them."

OH and obviously Hollow starts opening up more and more to him the more they bond and eventually they just cry to him how they don't understand why they still love their parents despite all the hurt they've caused them, how they want to hate them because it'd be so much easier to, and all PK can do is just hold them and let them cry into his shoulder as guilt just eats him up inside