#i can draw him again and make him look somewhat better (especially that this time around i at least know who that is)

[violet-eng]

🔞 See you on the other side | Thanos (Choi Subong x fem!reader)

I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANYTHING IN A LONG TIME, VERY ASHAMED OF HOW BADLY WRITTEN OR BASIC THIS MAY BE.

Anyway, I don't know where this came from, I've had this desire for Choi Seunghyun stuck for like 10 years now, somehow I had to get rid of it. I'm still embarrassed…

Awkward plot, as always, I must add drama because if my life is full of drama then the fanfic just the same.

Summary: Fem reader has cancer, her ex is Subong, who asked her for drugs when she was working at the hospital, she gave them to him because they were for his jet lag and dizziness, but things escalate and she ends up fired and he with some sort of dependency. Anyway, they meet again in the squid game and he tries to fix everything with her because he obviously didn't forget her. And OBVIOUSLY for this first fic we have the typical and respectable BATHROOM SCENE.

Warnings 🔞🔥: mentions of cancer, SEX, SMUT, oral fem receiving, fingering. That…

In this fic, Thanos would be behaving somewhat bottom/sub? Is real life T.O.P a bottom? ask jiyong, enjoyyyyyy but not too much

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Three people down, or perhaps it was four? In situations where one's personal safety is compromised, the finer details can appear insignificant. Your hands and legs trembled, and your entire body was a nervous system susceptible to error and misstep. You felt the acceleration of your heartbeat in your throat and ears, echoing in your head, and perspiration running down your cheekbones, the salty sensation in your mouth.

Your eyes turned to the spot where a figure was jumping carefree, holding the surprise in your chest when you saw Subong in the crowd, your Subong. He looked like a hallucination, hovering among the players, jumping over the corpses with a maniacal grin… drugs… your drugs.

The daily game had reached its end. It was shocking that people had died in such a strange way, and there were many questions to be answered. However, the pain was even more overwhelming because cancer was like that: painful, unbearable without medicine, especially in the current circumstances.

'Señorita' the voice was behind you; you felt his presence, the shadow of his figure enveloping you completely, and the scent of his skin and the dye of his hair brought back precious but bitter memories. How much pain love can endure.

'Su-bong', you whispered, though you thought your voice was firm, the nuance was faint and the volume low.

'My baby! What are you doing here?"His arms abruptly embraced you, drawing you into his body, and your cheek bumped against his chest.You felt that familiar, heady feeling of being protected by him — loved.

Away from the crowd, Subong inspects your face, noticing spots of blood that are not yours and a couple of dark circles under your eyes… nothing else.

'You don't look well,' he says with a grimace.

'I need some,' you say, your breathing heavy, your eyes watering, your gaze beseeching, 'You owe me. I got them for you.'

He does not take you up on your request, nor does he attempt to argue with you, because he knows that is one of the reasons you lost your medical licence.

'Say "Aaah"'.

He brings one of his hands in front of you, a colourful pill between his fingers, and slowly touches your lower lip to make you open your mouth.His fingers enter, and your tongue takes the pill, but habit, treacherous habit, appears and your tongue tastes his fingers. A touch of what you had been.

Your eyes meet his as you both reminisce about the good times you shared during your relationship. When you two were an item, he would gently slide his fingers into your mouth, and within moments, you would be caught up in a passionate embrace, him on top of you, making love from behind while whispering a range of compliments in your ear.

'Better?' he inquires, his fingers gently tracing the lips around your mouth. You nod as the memory fades. You feel as if you've tasted a taste of normality, something you haven't enjoyed in years.

The night after games and food, you feel heavy and lethargic. You sweat and shiver, and you realise that it is a reaction of your body. You had treated several patients like this for years, and the helplessness of becoming one had made you fall into a very dark place, almost abandoning yourself.

"Bathroom" you request one of the guards, but your voice is not as steady as your gaze. The guard declines, and you consider that if you had a pen with you, you would have moved him out of your way, as you did with the insurance agent who had refused to cover your chemotherapy.

"It's urgent. I just want to freshen up" you insist, aware that in your position you can't make demands like that.

‘Hey bro, she has cancer, if it was your sister or your mother would you treat her like this?’ Subong appears at the right moment, after having watched you for a long time, “look at her, she can't even stand up”.

He places his arm around you and shakes you vigorously, as if manipulating a rag doll. His methods are deceptively straightforward, yet his success is unparalleled.Even if you had been in optimal health, he would have still prevailed.

You wash your face and pour water on the back of your neck, observing the reflection in the mirror. Your bruised features bear little resemblance to the respectable oncologist you used to be.

Subong's drugs have effectively mitigated your feelings of rejection, causing all sentiments towards the person in the mirror to dissipate within moments. Although you don't recognize yourself, you feel a sense of rejuvenation, as if returning to a state of strength and painlessness.

Subong approaches you, resting his chin on your shoulder, leaning his hands against the sink. You feel his breath in your ear and the soft brush of his lips on your neck, his kisses below your ear, at the precise spot that makes your skin bristle, reminiscent of their days together.

Subong's voice, husky and subtle, with sweet undertones, asks, "Feeling better?" The enigma that is Subong: he seems impenetrable and stoic when he raps, yet under the stage he is a sensitive and playful creature, always with a striking look and a touch of madness.

"Better," you reply, looking in the mirror and observing the closeness between the two of you, as if time hasn't passed, as if you were never done with him, as if your souls weren't on a tightrope drifting off to who knows where. You experience a sense of longing for him, the intimacy, the warmth of his embrace, the soft rhythm of his breathing, the way his lips cling to your skin without kissing you, as if it causes him discomfort to touch you, as if you were made of porcelain.

"When we make that money, I'll pay for your chemotherapy," he says. His voice is masculine and deep, rough, and his eyes are like fogged glass, intrinsically wounded by your illness as if it were his own.

"What about your debts?" you inquire, turning to him, cradling his face in your hands, him still leaning on the sink behind you.

He bends down to look at you blearily, and with a smirk, almost cartoonishly, he says, "Fuck the debt. I only care about your well-being. I'll see who I'll take his share from."

This provokes laughter from you, which you hadn't experienced in nearly a year. The corners of your lips ache, and the sensation of your cheeks expanding sends shivers down your skin.

Subong remarks, "There it is," as he touches the tip of your nose. "My girl's cute laugh." His fingers trace the contours of your lips, evoking memories on your skin with his touch, and reviving sensations you thought were lost.

He knows how to make you feel good, how to tease you, and how to be gentle because he knows your body wouldn't be able to handle it if he used all his strength.It's like when you went to the bars -the body remembers, so you move naturally from soft kisses and panting to one of the cubicles.

Your pants are on the floor, your underwear is around one of your ankles, and you are sitting on the toilet seat.Subong is skilled at rapping, which allows his tongue to glide with delight. He breathes softly as he holds his face between your legs.His fingers glide up your thighs, tracing ancient marks with his thumbs, while his tongue paints your velvety walls with his devotion.

You intertwine your fingers in his hair, your head thrown back, your eyes rolling back as the combination of drugs and his adept tongue takes hold. You hear him emit a low, throaty sound as you discreetly disengage from his grasp and press his face against yours, his nose brushing against your sensitive area.

You inhale his scent, the rhythm of your heart accelerating, and you feel the warmth of his fingers between your legs. His fingers begin to brush against your folds, and you recognize the familiarity of this touch.

"I don't think I can bear it," you whisper, pulling him away from you. Your hands are in his hair, your eyes fixed on his, which are black and smiling as his tongue wipes his chin. His tanned skin is glistening with the crystals of your juices.

"I promise to be gentle. I will make you feel good, baby." The dichotomy of sweetness of his face and the naughtiness of his fingers exploring your womanhood plunges you into an unknown territory somewhere between amusement and discretion.He enjoys seeing the way you squirm at his touch, at his fingers delving inside you and roaming over formerly dominated territory.

He swiftly locates your sensitive areas, his fingers pressing firmly into your body. His fingers disappear into your ecstasy, and you begin to rhythmically shake your hips, in harmony with the intruders testing your last reserves of sanity.

"So… ohhh-"

Subong looks at you satisfied as you begin to chant incoherently. He has always loved to please you, and that's why he has been so devoted to your body, learning every nook and cranny and experimenting with his movements to achieve the perfect reaction of your being, which is now destroyed under his fingers.

"More," you moan, gripping his shoulders with your nails, and he, your devoted instrument of pleasure, takes you to the edge of losing yourself in your own pleasure, of feeling every electric fiber of your body.

"Don't hold back."The rough voice and soft tongue are in full effect, and you can feel your body responding with heightened sensation. Your voice is almost a scream, your teeth holding back your lips, and your shoulders tensing as it reaches its peak, and then it explodes inside you. You exhale hard, your legs wrapping around his head, your hands in his hair, almost tearing out his locks.

"Shit," he laughs, as you shudder and catch your breath. "When you heal, I'll do you better. I promise." He rises to kiss you, his tongue touching the roof of your mouth, and your own taste bathes your tongue.

"How did you know I had cancer?" you know this is not the time to ask, and yet you do.He smiles over your lips as he kisses you.

"When I went to see you at the hospital, they told me you had been arrested by the police for stabbing an insurance agent during your chemotherapy," he says over you, proud as he wipes traces of saliva from your chin.

"You knew my medical license had been taken away. Why did you look for me at the hospital?"

"I wanted to beg your forgiveness. I would ask one of your old friends for her phone to call you, you would have answered them," he said, kneeling down to pull your panties up.

"I am sorry I blocked your number."

"It's all in the past," he says, smiling up from the floor and wiping his lip with his thumb. "It was good," he continues, "when we get out of here, you can unblock me."

"Do you believe we'll survive this?" you pull up your pants and escort him out of the cubicle.

"I'm not certain of anything, but if anything happens, I'll see you on the other side," he says, taking your hand in his and stroking the back of your skin.

"See you on the other side…"

[sinofwriting]

Fling - Charles Leclerc

Words: 1,072 Summary: Charles overhears his girlfriend telling someone that they are just a fling and will be ending soon which is more than confusing for him. Note(s): Reader is plus size in this. It is not said outright but very much implied. Charles and Reader both suck at communicating btw. Also this is based on a somewhat recent convo I had with someone where they told me I’d be pretty if it weren’t for me being fat so… Good thing I have thick skin

Masterlist | Support Me!

“It’s not going to last.”

Her eyes flicker off her phone screen for a second, eyebrow raising just a hint before they go back, typing a message. “Okay.”

“That’s all you have to say? Okay.”

“Well, you were a bit vague.” She draws out the last word, sighing. “So, yeah,” she nods, pausing. “Okay.”

The other huffs, shaking her head. “Charles and you, it’s never going to last. It was a good fling, a summer romance, but by next year you’ll be gone.”

Her lips thin and she pockets her phone, finally making eye contact with Silvia. “I’m more than aware that I don’t look like Charles’ past partners and that you have more than your fair share of issues with that and me. But Silvia, you don’t have to state the obvious. I’ve been aware.”

The older woman’s eyes are wide.

“It’s called enjoying something while it lasts and I intend to do so, enjoy this thing with Charles until it inevitably comes to end. Probably in the next month. We all know how you like him to be single going into the new year.”

Respect settles across Silvia’s face. “You are different than I thought.”

“Should’ve had a conversation with me.” She counters and Silvia concedes with a nod of her head. “Don’t worry, I’ll put out an insta story saying we parted on good terms and that things just don’t always work out. I’d say better as friends, but I think you’d kill me if I ever showed up in the garage again after this.”

“Just a bit.” Silvia then frowns. “You really knew this was never going to last? Between you and Charles?”

“Silvia,” And her tone softens for the first time. “It’s like I said. I’m aware of what I look like, especially compared to Charles and his exes. But it’s Charles, I would have been more stupid to say no to him and then to have him for at least a few months.”

Silvia holds her gaze for a few seconds before nodding and reaching forward, patting her hand. “It is a shame how you look. You would have made the perfect partner.”

And she doesn’t even flinch at the insult to her weight.

—

“Is everything okay?”

Her eyes are full of concern as she watches Charles move around the hotel room. His body tense, lips pressed together, jaw twitching.

His nostrils flare and she swears she can hear his teeth grinding.

“I overheard something, you and Silvia.” He fully turns to look at her and she’s unable to even get a second to mourn the loss of his side profile as she sees hurt in his eyes that’s surrounded by frustration.

“We aren’t going to last? I’m leaving you in the next month?”

“Charles,”

“No.” He shakes his head, cutting her off. “This is all news to me.”

“Is it?”

His head jerks back, “what?”

“We never talked about being serious, Charles. And you have a type, I’m so far away from that type it’s not even funny.”

“We never talked about being serious because every time I try to talk about our future you shut me down, you change the subject. And my type is you!” His voice is louder. “I know what my exes look like, I know my pattern, the jokes of how and why I date, but you are the most gorgeous woman in the world, as soon as I saw you, my type changed, I have no type, it is just you. It’s been seven months and I haven’t even looked at another woman.”

Her mind is struggling to process, her heart nearly beating out of her chest, her mouth slack with shock.

“You never tried talking about our future.” It’s all she can say because she can’t think of a single time he brought it up, he tried bringing it up.

“I tried asking you to come to lunch with my brothers and mom.”

Her eyes widened. “That was in July.”

“I asked about holiday plans, I asked about meeting your family. If you wanted kids, when you wanted them. And all I know is that you are going to family for two days for the holidays and that you want kids. That is all I got out of you. I tried giving you a key to my apartment.”

“I’m only ever in Monaco when I’m with you. Why would I ever need a key?”

He flushes, rubbing at the back of his neck. “This might be my bad, it was my way of asking you to move in, or just keep things at my place at least.”

“Charles.”

“I love you.”

Her heart skips a beat and all the hurt and frustration that had been on Charles’ face is gone, replaced by something she’s never seen directed at her.

“I’m crazy in love with you. And obviously we both need to work on things, talking, but I want to do that. I want you. I want you to move in with me, to continue going to all my races, to chide Leo before cuddling him. I want to marry you. In a day, a week, a month, a year, I don’t care when. And I want children with you. I want them to have your smile, your laugh, your stubbornness even though it infuriates me.”

Tears are spilling down her cheeks, lip trembling, and she nearly can’t speak.

“Charles, I want you too. I want all of that. I love you.”

He’s striding forward, his hands gentle on her face as he steals the breath from her lips.

They’ve shared many kisses in the seven months since they’ve known each other, but none like this.

“We are never breaking up.” Charles states when he pulls away after brushing their lips together once more.

“Never.” She agrees, a rush of excitement flooding her as she realizes that she gets to have this, have him, and never give him up.

He smiles at the answer, at the happiness that has flooded her face, the tension he didn’t even know was there that has left her body. “Now, when would you like to get married? I think I have a favor or two I could call to get us married tomorrow if you’d like.”

“Charles,” She shakes her head.

“What?”

“Take me to bed.”

His eyes widen for a brief second and then a smirk plays on his lips. “Happily, amour.”

[batmanfruitloops]

I gotta know about the Drcrane au, is it only inspired by Frankenstein in the sense of reanimating/making a person from the dead or are there other elements?

Like does Jonathan hate Ed like Victor hates the creature after making him? If so that’s so tragic. :(

Or is it like one of the au’s where Victor loves his creature?

Does Jervis take the place of Clerval? Or does Ed take the place of Clerval?

Why does Jon create Ed? Did he know Ed before hand and reanimate him or did he create him fully from scratch? If he created him fully from scratch what was the reason?

LASTLY is Ed similar to the creature in being somewhat of a mess of parts or is Ed “perfect”? Basically what I’m asking is does Ed only have his head recognizable as Ed or? 

Sorry I know this a lot I just really love Frankenstein and wanted to know about the au.

@quackerzzz

I haven't actually read the book, so it's just based on bits and pieces of themes and concepts that I like about the story, as well as inspiration from Frankenstien-related media. Things like Tim Burton's Frankenweenie and Young Frankenstein but it's been a while since I've watched either movie. However, I was mostly inspired by seeing someone else make a Frankenstein au with Jonathan and Ed. Unfortunately, I never saved it or anything and I'm not sure if I could find the post again, especially since it was someone else drawing pictures for the person's au. If I do find it again, or if someone knows what post I'm talking about, I'd love to credit them. I'll leave a description of what I saw in the post at the end of this one in case someone recognizes the description.

Anyway, I'm fascinated by medicine and love all things biology, so I'm more fixated on that aspect of Frankenstein's story than the themes of human hubris. I'm just curious what would happen if you brought someone back to life in such a way? In the world of medicine now, we can technically bring people back to life with resuscitation. People can be dead for hours and be brought back. We can also reattach limbs and transplant organs. So like, conceptually, you could make a Frankenstein. So what better way to explore that idea than with the blorbos, they are my little Muppets to put into whatever situation I want.

Jonathan wouldn't create Ed for the same reason Victor creates the monster but it's still a similar theme. Jo would still be very interested in psychology but based on the time Frankenstein takes place, it wouldn't be an established discipline. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't even have a name to it yet. So he'd be trying to explore psychology and his peers wouldn't really understand what he was doing and look at him like a dog chasing his own tail. Psychology is notorious for not being taken seriously, even among academics. Since you can't really measure anything. So Jonathan would be pretty frustrated. Because of this, he'd become proficient in things like physiology and neurology. Knowing how the human body physically works, especially the brain can get him closer to unlocking the secrets of the mind.

So Jonathan creates Ed to further his understanding of the human body and its relation to the brain. He wouldn't be doing it for the sole purpose of bringing Ed back to life but would be curious if it's possible (maybe even subconsciously hoping it would happen, it would be nice to not be alone). He wants to see what the brain is capable of. It's mostly an intense version of using electricity to move the muscles of a frog. If the brain suddenly has power, what will it decide to do? Would it truly be alive?

Ed isn't someone Jonathan knew, he's pretty much made from scratch. He was Ed when he died but he is still Ed after he's reanimated, he just can't remember. His body was in pretty poor condition when he died (I'm not entirely set on the details), he at least had gotten ill and likely was mutilated in some way. Ed's body is essentially a base for Jonathan to work off of. He keeps his head and then other bits and pieces from there. Ed is an unclaimed cadaver when Jonathan goes looking for parts. Jonathan feels he's technically free to use those parts for his experiments. Ed is just what he needs.

Ed is perfect after he is reanimated in a medical sense. With minimal issues, his brain accepts everything that didn't originally belong to his body. The blood type is the same, it's in the correct place, and all the blood vessels and nerves are connected as they should be. It all acts as one body. Eventually, he'd look like a normal person with only the scars from the operation, but he'd look horrific before his body healed—like a walking piece of sad jerky.

Jonathan doesn't hate Ed but he's not really sure how to handle him at first. He didn't expect Ed to be fully alive and he wouldn't expect Ed to live very long. He'd be scared to get attached for this reason. So there's a lot of strain on their friendship at first. Jonathan hardly has positive interactions with anyone and still grew up in a horrible environment. So to be thrown into a situation where he suddenly has to care about someone is very stressful. Ed is also a very clingy and affectionate person so that makes it a billion times worse. They do still become best friends as they normally do, it just takes a lot more work than usual. Before then Jo does try his best to take care of Ed even if he's being distant.

Jervis I don't think would be an equivalent to Cerval. I didn't know about this character. Instead, he is a tailor/hatter. He knew Jonathan before Ed was created but is not friends with him yet, they are good acquaintances. Jervis is one of the few people Jonathan has had a positive experience with but he's still shy and has a hard time getting close to people. Jo appreciates Jervis a lot even if he's not close with him, Jervis actually treats him like a person and doesn't guak at him. Jo especially appreciates Jervis's kindness because he is a tailor. Jervis has to get so physically close to Jonathan to tailor his clothes properly and yet he makes no comments on Jonathan's appearance or demeanor and just makes friendly conversation. He's very happy to go see Jervis any time he needs his clothes mended or something (even though he could mend it himself;)). Jo is able to fully become friends with Jervis after Ed's creation and the Dork Squad is together yet again.

-Fluffy

(Post description I was talking about undercut)

There are two drawings I'm pretty sure, In the first one Jonathan is saying something along the lines of "I need to work so don't bother me" and Ed replies with "No problem" Then the next drawing is Jonathan sitting at a table with a pencil and Ed pushing him out of the way reaching for Jonathan's pencil and saying "my turn!" and there's an arrow pointing at Ed that says "learning to write."

[umahumahumah]

Imma need pt 2 of how to draw in Hima's art style the hair is killing me

i've been procrastinating about it for a while, especially since i've been trying to find a way to actually explain it. but anyways it's here now, don't worry!

(again i am just a weeb not a professional teacher so some explanations may be vague, confusing, or wrong. feel free to send an ask or comment if youre confused and i'll try to explain to the best of my ability)

himastyle tutorial! (the better one) part 2 (link to part 1 here)

so continuing off from the last post...

HAIR

hair is a little hard to explain because there's simply so many ways you can do it

first off, don't draw hair directly on top of the head! there should be a little bit of space between the head and the hair. but be careful to not make the space between them too wide or else thehair will just look really big.

if you're wondering how wide the space should be, it should be somewhat similar to the photo below.

i noticed that himastyle hair (and tbh himastyle objects in general but we'll get into that later) is comprised of two types of lines

the subtler lines can usually be found in the following areas:

-the ends of the hair -where a lot of hair is bunched up (tied into a ponytail, etc) -where hair is slicked back -the hairline

of course you can bend these rules depending on the character you're drawing but if you want to play it safe just stick to these general guidelines.

also if you want to draw one of hima's characters it might be better to just directly reference their hair from his art.

BONUS HAIR STUFF:

i've seen a lot of fanartists mention germany's hair being hard to draw. honestly.. yeah, i really struggled with slicked-back hairstyles like his back when then. which is why i created this guide that gives him the most 100% perfect hair everytime you draw him, trust, trust!

stay tuned for next time where i cover bodies, clothes, and other stuff! ummm... which will probably be in a few months tbh. sorry, i am very slow with this stuff ;D

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 31)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Birth, Complications

Moments later, Cillian joined the others in the dining room and, after you were finished feeding Mara, you followed suit.

Everyone sat down at the table, exchanging polite greetings and small talk. Your mother was still upset, but she refrained from saying anything more hurtful. Instead, she focused on making pleasant conversation with Siobhan and Cillian's other sister Sian. 

As time progressed, Cillian's mother rose from her seat, carrying a steaming dish to serve everyone. "Dig in, everyone!" she encouraged, gesturing at the array of delicious food. "We can all eat now," she announced cheerfully.

"Siobhan, why don't you start passing out these plates?" she suggested, handing a stack of dishes to her daughter. Siobhan obliged, distributing the food among the guests. The aroma wafted enticingly through the air, tantalizing their senses and drawing their attention to the feast laid out before them.

"This smells amazing, mum," Cillian praised, serving himself generous portions of the delectable dishes. "You've outdone yourself once again," he complimented sincerely, watching his mother beam proudly.

"Thank you, Cillian," she murmured appreciatively while Frank rolled his eyes for reasons unclear to you. 

Cillian and Frank then shared another round of heated glares, their tension escalating with each passing moment. Neither one of them uttered a word to one another, but their body language spoke volumes. Their rigid postures and clenched jaws hinted at the animosity brewing beneath the surface.

"Would anyone like some wine?" Cillian's mother asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence, causing Cillian to nod. 

"Are you alright?" she then added worriedly, her gaze darting between Cillian and Frank.

"Of course," Cillian assured her, forcing a tight-lipped grin. "Just tired," he lied smoothly, reaching for his glass of wine. 

"Well, babies do that to you, Cillian," his mother laughed kindly, patting the hand he rested on the table. "You need to pace yourself because it will get worse," she then chuckled, her gaze flitting between him and you.

"We will," you promised, meeting her sympathetic gaze. "We seem to be working well as a team so far," you added, attempting to lighten the mood.

Cillian nodded, flashing a brief smile before returning to his meal. The group fell silent, each member consumed by their own thoughts as they savored the scrumptious food. The air buzzed with an undercurrent of tension, but the palatable dishes successfully managed to divert their attention from the simmering hostility.

Despite the occasional strained laughter and forced smiles, it proved somewhat challenging to maintain a cohesive conversation and, at around 9 o'clock, after a few more glasses of wine, Cillian's mother called it a day.

"I think I should get some rest before tomorrow," she said, yawning widely before she left the dining room and, as soon as she did, your mother and Frank looked at each other, rose from their seats and disappeared into separate rooms without saying a single word, leaving you, Cillian, Siobhan and Sian sitting there awkwardly.

"Don't worry," Siobhan tried to console you, her hand squeezing your arm comfortingly. "Tomorrow will be better," she then smiled encouragingly, causing Cillian to shake his head in disbelieve.

"This is ridiculous," he groaned, rubbing his temples. "I didn't expect that we would have to deal with such nonsense when we came here," he lamented before walking towards the living room in order to confront them both.

"They are behaving like children," he said, his jaw muscles bulging visibly. "Frank especially," he then added bitterly while Siobhan and Sian exchanged knowing glances.

"Just give them some time to process this Cillian," Siobhan reasoned patiently though Cillian merely shrugged in reply.

"They had nine months to process this," he argued stubbornly, crossing his arms defiantly. 

"I understand, Cillian," Siobhan consoled sympathetically, her tone gentle and understanding. "You're frustrated right now--"

"I'm beyond frustrated," he cut her off impatiently, his brows furrowing in agitation before barging off to find them.

"You'll only provoke them," Siobhan called after him, her words falling on deaf ears.

Sian sighed heavily, shaking her head in exasperation. "Why does everything involve drama in our family?" she moaned despondently, casting a sorrowful glance at you.

"Fuck, I feel like I am at fault," you sighed, biting your lip nervously. "If I hadn't gotten involved with Cillian in the first place, none of this would have happened," you lamented, staring blankly at the empty wine glass on the table.

"Y/N," Siobhan said to you, patting your hand. "We all do dumb things sometimes, especially when we are in love," she assured you fiercely, her unwavering gaze conveying a certainty that suprised you.

"I am not in love with him," you lied, your voice trembling slightly. "It was a short-lived and stupid little fling," you dismissed it, biting your lip nervously. "We weren't really serious about it," you insisted, although the truth was much different. 

"Sure, if this is what you want to tell yourself," Siobhan replied, offering you a comforting smile. "But, in any event, what I am saying is that you aren't responsible for other people's reactions or behavior," she emphasized, her gaze lingering on you thoughtfully. "Cillian and you seem to be happy enough with whatever arrangements you have in place so your mother and Frank will just need to let it go and deal with it," she concluded resolutely, her voice firm and unwavering.

You sighed heavily, mulling over her words carefully. She made sense, but you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for inadvertently causing turmoil within Cillian's family. 

"You are right," you admitted reluctantly, your voice barely audible. "Cillian and I are content with our arrangement and if my mum doesn't want anything to do with her grandchild then that's her loss," you determined, swallowing thickly.

"Exactly," Siobhan agreed wholeheartedly, her gaze locking onto yours just as Cillian appeared again, sighing heavily.

"I give up," he muttered, throwing his hands into the air dramatically.

"I told you there was no point talking with Frank when he gets like this," Sian reminded him, watching him with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, he's got to learn that the relationship between Y/N and myself is not his business," Cillian growled, shaking his head in frustration. "He can't control everyone's life," he added before barging upstairs. 

Cillian was visibly upset, his anger and irritation plainly evident in his tense posture and stormy gaze. You watched him disappear upstairs, his footsteps echoing loudly against the hardwood floors.

"I will be back," you told the sisters before following Cillian and, as you approached the bedroom in which Mara had been sleeping, you could hear Cillian speaking softly to your Babygirl. 

"Shh, it's okay my perfect little girl," he cooed, his voice low and soothing. "Let's just get that nappy changed, shall we?" he told her, seeing that, clearly, it was this time of the night for her. 

"Do you want me to do this?" you asked quietly as you opened the door of the bedroom, observing Cillian cradling Mara lovingly.

"No, I've got it," he replied, looking up at you briefly before tenderly laying Mara down on the changing table. "I actually enjoy this part," he explained, his voice soft and soothing. You watched him closely, admiring how adeptly he navigated the task.

"Really? You enjoy changing dirty nappies?" you queried skeptically, arching an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Really," he confirmed, his lips quirking upward in amusement. "I mean, it's something I can do, you know. She won't let me bottle feed her and she most certainly won't go to sleep for me anymore," he then explained, chuckling slightly. "She prefers you to do it," he continued, grinning broadly at you.

"Well, I do have the mother's touch," you winked while Cillian disposed of the used diaper into the bin, before he grabbed a fresh one and placed it on the changing mat.

"Or maybe you're just naturally gifted Y/N. You are amazing with her," Cillian said honestly while putting a new nappy on to her and taping it securely before he lifted her up in his arms. "Ready for mommy to feed you again?" he then asked your baby sweetly while she gurgled happily and kicked her legs in excitement.

You took her out of his hands, kissing her forehead affectionately before responding to Cillian. "I guess the only real difference is that I have got the goodies and you don't," you joked lightly, watching him chuckle softly.

"You are perfect with her Cillian and you are most certainly perfect with me these days," you admitted quietly, feeling Cillian's gaze lock onto yours. 

"If I was really that perfect, then I wouldn't have made you come here with me," he retorted, his gaze flickering across your face. "I mean, with the way Sarah and Frank are acting, this is far from ideal and I am sorry for making you come. You deserve to be treated so much better," Cillian apologized, his gaze boring into yours.

"Cillian, you didn't make me come here," you countered, your gaze flickering across his face. "I chose to come with you, remember? It wasn't an obligation," you pointed out, watching him consider your words.

"You are something else, you know that?" Cillian murmured, his voice hushed and filled with emotion. "And I think that l am actually in love with you, Y/N."

You paused, studying him intently. His confession caught you off guard, his words painting a vivid image of his inner turmoil. "Cillian," you breathed, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. "I think I may be in love with you too," you confessed hesitantly, blushing profusely.

His breath hitched sharply, his gaze locked onto yours. "Really?" he gasped, his eyes widening in surprise.

"I have been for a while but things were just too difficult between us. You then met Amanda and dated her for a while and I figured that my feelings for you were unrequited so I tried to ignore them,” you confessed, blushing deeply. "I never expected that things would change," you added, squirming uncomfortably.

"Things have definitely changed," Cillian agreed, his gaze burning with intensity. "Or maybe they haven't, and I was just trying too hard to ignore how I felt as well," he sighed wistfully, reaching out to cup your cheek affectionately.

"So, what are we going to do now then?” you asked cautiously, your gaze fluttering across Cillian's face. 

"Well, we could work things out. We could be a proper family, move in together and give this relationship a shot," Cillian murmured, his words stirring a warm flush in your veins. "You, me, Mara and, occasionally, Max," he added, his gaze piercing into yours. 

"You know what? That sounds absolutely wonderful," you exhaled, smiling brightly. "I want that, Cillian," you confessed fervently, your voice trembling slightly just as Cillian finally leaned in and captured your lips in a passionate kiss.

To be continued...

Tags:

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[wewerebornsextuplets]

idk how but you draw in the Oso-san style so good i need to know your secret please

HAHA thank you very much!! im glad you think so :D unfortunately im not very good at explaining how i work, but ill try my best to show what i mean!!

once again this is long as hell. you know the drill at this point

to be honest, half the battle i fight with drawing in the osmt style is just. Looking at it. the ososan art style actually fluctuates pretty wildly depending on what you're looking for, whether that be the mobile games (for instance, tabimatsu and hesowars look nothing alike in terms of style despite both being the same source material), official art and merch, or even the seasons of the show itself!

using ichi as my example here since i draw him the most, but its pretty easy to play spot the difference with the varying styles. even within a specific season you can do this across episodes, especially with season 1!

when i draw, i tend to be a bit sacrilege and use references across different media; usually ill use the show [especially season 2, if only because its a bit more "uniform"] as reference for the actual features and colors/poses/etc, but i like to use hesowars to reference proportions, since they seem to be most consistent there.

SOMETHING IMPORTANT TO NOTE: theres a WEALTH of fanartists that have styles that are INCREDIBLY similar to the show, so be careful to check your sources! these artists deserve credit for their hard work, which they often don't get since their work is reposted under the guise of being official art.

once you've pinned down the exact style you'd like to emulate, and the character you're looking to draw, its really just a matter of finding references, which is pretty easy! you can scrub through different episodes for good angles/shots, or if you're going for one of the game styles the AU wiki has most of the games catalogued to my knowledge. if you're looking to draw an oc, use characters you think they would look similar to in the show. if you really wanna waste your time, though, you can always scrub through crowd scenes in the show to see if any background characters might look like what you're going for; the season 3 episode Mt. Takao comes to mind, there were a lot of cute mob characters there.

using keiko as my example here, you can see that i pulled her features from multiple different characters to get her to look right in the style. with ocs, its important to reference a number of different characters, since the likelihood of a background character being a 1:1 for your little guy is unfortunately pretty low. there WILL, however, be a lot of characters that look KIND of like them. the key is to figure out what parts go where!

to this point, most prominent ososan women have very similar stock anime girl faces with very minor differences, so if youre looking to make a cute girl oc, most of the womens' faces can be used somewhat interchangeably. if you want your cute girl oc to have a more unique face, though, the movie gave us some women with more unique faces in the form of the NEETs' old classmates! theres also no harm in referencing male characters faces in this regard. #butchswag #kiruminikuya

BUT. going back to the assumption that you're drawing a canon character, today I'll be drawing oso for my example

when you're first getting a feel for the style, tracing some of your references can actually be a really great way to acclimate yourself to the characters proportions and features. think of like when you were a kid, and would trace over pictures of pokemon or cartoon characters so you could draw them better. its basically the same principle! this was especially helpful for me when it came to eyes; they vary the most wildly of any other trait that characters have in ososan, so going over the different shapes to get a feel for each of them was very important.

when you trace, though, I recommend doing so a bit more loosely, sort of like if you're doing a photo study for anatomy; block out the basic shapes and do small markers for different features (i.e small lines to denote where the eyes start and and, distance from nose to mouth, things like that), and from there draw the rest on your own.

after long enough you'll get a feel for the basic placement of where everything should go! the eyes and nose are undoubtedly the hardest when it comes to the sextuplets, since they shift around a LOT between games/seasons/etc. so don't feel bad if you have a hard time with that, since there isnt really a "right" answer with how frequently it changes. i still fuck it up all the time myself!

as for some basic tips, heres some stuff i try to keep in mind when drawing them that just helps the finished product look a bit nicer!

when drawing the hair + fringe line, its important to swoop it downwards a little bit; the flat across look Can work, but if you're not careful you risk showing the tops of their eyes, which is um. ew! ick! nast!

when a matsu is facing forward, their hair will usually tend towards one direction to keep the silhouette. in most screenshots i saw, the bowl cut points left! that said, dont be afraid to point rightwards if its better for your specific drawing!

and lastly: USE THE LIQUIFY TOOL. LIBERALLY. i am not joking when i say this has saved my ass so many times, its hard to get the placement right on the facial features and even harder to get everything to LOOK good, so if its available to you i HIGHLY suggest just squishing everything around with a liquify tool until it looks right. you can always go back and correct the blurry lines. its really a life saver

BUT YEAH! i dont know if this was very helpful but i hope you're at least able to gain something from it :-))

[5ummit]

HTP Fic Recs: Hidden Gems

Have you, like me, devoured everything in the Hydra Trash Party AO3 tag and are desperate for more? Well you may be in luck.

In honor of CATWS's 10th anniversary I’ve decided, yet again, to make a new rec list so that these gems don't get buried in my overwhelmingly extensive original rec list. This list features HTP and HTP-adjacent fics that are NOT tagged as HTP (either because the author didn't know the label existed or didn't believe it applied to their fic), making them particularly hard to find, and I think, deserving of more attention.

Many of these fics don’t have much, if any, explicit noncon, but noncon is often implied or referenced and they’re all rife with other types of dehumanization and abuse so the usual HTP warnings still apply. Read tags carefully etc.

The Making of the Winter Soldier [series] by CluckU & Mumble_Bee Relationship: Hydra Agents/WS, Zola/WS Words: 13,700

There are a small, precious collection of things he knows for certain each time he wakes in his chair: He is a weapon. A soldier. An asset. He is being molded into the Fist of Hydra. He must prove himself. Failure is not an option.

Muscle Memory by sparklingbinjuice Relationship: Rumlow & Bucky Words: 4500

It had taken five minutes of fumbling but he had eventually picked the lock. The soldier wouldn’t be back for hours. Coordinates provided by the remaining, somewhat rudimentary, tracking device installed in the titanium arm indicated that he wandered the streets on weekends – watching people, visiting libraries and museums, feeding the birds. It was all so horribly human.

Reconquer, regain, recover by werebird Relationship: Hydra Agents/WS (past) Words: 2300

Hydra had known his body better than he himself ever could. They had taken it, reshaped it, reprogrammed it. They had birthed the Winter Soldier although they had never given him life.

Taming Winter by Runlights Relationship: Rumlow & WS, Steve & Bucky Words: 91,000 Notes: terrifying bloodthirsty WS

Regardless of the intravenous set pumping warming fluids into those veins, regardless of the fact that a moment ago, the guy looked on the verge of death, the Winter Soldier was out of the chair and in front of him with two steps that happened so quickly he didn’t even have time to do more than inhale. He froze as he felt the press of his own combat knife against his throat, the bite of the blade causing blood to well and slip down his throat. This was the point where he suspected people felt fear, especially staring into those unfocused cold eyes. He only felt a twisted fascination.

The Soldier’s Kittens by exclamation Relationship: Sam & Bucky, Steve & Bucky Words: 11,300 Notes: animal abuse/death

"Sam's a really good guy," Steve said. "I think you'd like him if you spent more time with him." Bucky said nothing. He would not show any interest in Sam, just as he had not shown any interest when Steve had taken him to the animal shelter to try and get him to interact with the dogs there. He knew this trap and he wouldn't fall into it twice.

Flinching by Exorin Relationship: Steve/Bucky Words: 570

It might finally break what's left of him if Steve knew the way he's had to dig his nails into his palms hard enough to draw blood just to shape his breath into the sound of a moan.

I'm comin' up only to hold you under by anonymous Relationship: Hydra Agents/Bucky, Steve/Bucky (past) Words: 2100

They drag him out of his cell by his hair and toss him into a room full of identical guards. He lands hard on his knees, the force of the impact stuttering up his weak, tired body, and he glares up and them with all the hatred he can gather. He feels off-balance, like he does whenever he tries to carry himself now—the stump of his missing arm has a phantom weight he can't get used to, won't get used to.

Context is Everything by thedevilchicken Relationship: Hannibal/Bucky Words: 2600

"I don't understand," Bucky replied. "Recontextualize?" "Your memories of HYDRA seem…distant," Hannibal said. "The way you speak about them is as if they happened to someone else. In order to process your trauma, you must understand that they happened to you."

Never Letting the Blood Dry by BarrenPines Relationship: Rumlow & WS, Steve & Bucky Words: 2500 Notes: whipping

After the mission, there were pats on the back, expressions of congratulations and thanks, and a dozen other little niceties that made his skin crawl. He’d gotten lucky, that’s all. And he’d also defied orders, departed from his assigned task. Praise wasn’t what he deserved.

[ryuichirou]

What is your take on twst boys' body hair? I know their cards show they don't really have any, but maybe you have any thoughts about it?

Anon, hi!

As you might have noticed, I myself very rarely draw body hair due to my personal preference. And, as it always does, my personal preference is definitely going to make me biased in this post… But still, as always, I’ll try to be as objective as I can! Well, as objective as a headcanon could be lol

Let’s goooo

Riddle – a little baldie. It’s not like he is completely unable to grow any body hair, but he is, once again, a late bloomer… Out of every non-cursed non-animal non-fae character, Riddle is the least hairy. He copes by thinking that it’s better not to have any hair at all than to be gross and stinky about it. Very mature of him.

Ace – if one looks closely, it’s possible to see hair on his legs and a little bit on his arms, but he is a ginger, so they’re pretty light and thin. His pubic hair are a bit thicker, but it’s not like he has a bush or anything. He also heard that some basketball players shave their armpits to improve performance, but since it sounds like too much work, he decided that it’s bullshit.

Deuce – his hair is more noticeable than Ace’s since it’s darker, but unlike Ace, he does believe that shaving improves athletic performance, so he actually started to shave his legs… but then stopped because Ace made fun of him. But then decided that his running got worse with hairy legs, and shaved again. Now he is kind of stuck, but he is embarrassed either way somehow. When Ace was making fun of him, he said that Deuce should also shave his pubic hair off, and Deuce called him an asshole and an idiot, but started to kind of think about it… what if it also helps?

Trey – kind of hairy, he probably has the most noticeable arm hair out of all non-beast characters. While some of the characters could get away without shaving their face every single day, Trey isn’t one of them: he shaves every morning. He doesn’t think about his body hair much, but he would still choose to wear pants instead of shorts + longer sleeves a lot of times. He also shaved his arms for the Stargazing event…

Cater – look, another redhead with ginger fuzz lol His is even less noticeable than Ace’s though, because his hair is of a lighter hue in general. He trims and shaves his pubic hair sometimes, but it’s mostly due to boredom plus wanting to see what looks best on his body.

Leona – hairy like any other beastman. His hair is long and thick, not as long and thick as his brother’s though, plus they are somewhat less noticeable on his arms. The idea of shaving doesn’t even occur to him. Other than his face of course.

Ruggie – hairy boy, not much to say here. His legs are especially hairy… although he is probably the least hairy out of the beastmen of the cast. He shaves his face, but somehow his beard/mustache always grows in patches, so it’s for the best.

Jack – definitely the hairiest one of the cast. Grey/white hair on his arms, fuzz on his back, some chest hair here and there (definitely going to get more of those as he gets older), a massive bush with a gradient from white to black down there… Sometimes I feel like he has an undercoat… wait, does he? Anyways, he also tried shaving his legs once for track and field, and got frustrated because it took ages + he broke a razor. So he doesn’t do it anymore. He shaves his face every day though, but soon he’ll have to do it twice a day.

Azul, Jade and Floyd – merpeople who don’t have any body hair whatsoever. The first time they learned about the idea of body hair they got very visibly surprised. Floyd finds the idea of body hair very funny, he is someone who could glue some hair to his chest just for the sake of messing around. But he’ll get tired after a couple of minutes…

Kalim – his dad is super hairy, so he is probably also going to end up hairy, but for now he doesn’t have a lot of hair. There is white fuzz in his armpits and between his legs, maybe some white hair on the lower part of his legs here and there. Miraculously he can’t grow any hair on his chin, but this is definitely going to change one day.

Jamil – if he didn’t shave at all, he would be kind of hairy, but he shaves pretty regularly. The moment Jamil started shaving his face, he started shaving everything else too. “Might as well”, “I wear sleeveless shirts so my armpits are showing”, “It would look stupid if I stop here”, and voila, Jamil ends up with his entire body silky and smooth. He hates shaving (with his type of hair it takes so much time) but loves the result too much.

Vil – he also shaves regularly, but he doesn’t have a lot of body hair to begin with (it’s also very thin), so he doesn’t have to do it every single week. He does it purely for the aesthetics. He tried growing out his pubic hair, but it didn’t feel right to him, so he shaved it right off. In terms of taste though, he loves hairy men sometimes, but he strongly believes that body hair needs as much care as any type of hair, so if you have a bush you have to at least trim it.

Rook – he used to be hairier before joining Pomefiore. He still remembers Vil’s upset face as he looked at Rook’s transparent and yet very burnt little arm hair. A lot of Rook’s body hair is rather light, but the lower it gets, the thicker and darker it becomes. Anyways, he also shaves these days lol A lot of times he is smoothly shaved everywhere. It’s not like Vil absolutely requires him to be this drastic (just trimming pubic hair a little bit + shaving legs and armpits would suffice!), but Rook is a maximalist sometimes. He also has to shave his face regularly.

Epel – he can barely feel some fuzz on his body and he is super excited because he feels like it’s a sure sign that he will grow a huge beard very soon. He copes by thinking that his dad and grandpa are both hairy men, so technically he should be one too! Maybe he’ll become as hairy as Jack! It’s already happening, he can feel it! Yeah, he is pretty bald lol Some fuzz on his cheeks and between his legs are the only things he has going for him right now.

Idia and Ortho – no hair; somehow Shrouds’ curse also cancels it out. Idia is terrified of hearing a firecrotch joke though, he feels like it would cause his psyche irreparable damage. Ortho doesn’t care about body hair much, but he had a phase during which he really wanted to be able to grow it just because.

Lilia and Malleus are also completely hairless because they are a certain type of fae. Not all fae are as smooth as them, and Lilia technically should have some body hair because he is a bat, but somehow he ended up not having any. And Malleus kind of forgets that people are supposed to have hair on their bodies…

Silver – his pubic hair is so… soft. So tender and pearly white, it’s very fuzzy and doesn’t even feel like proper hair. He is like a beautiful unicorn… or a princess. He doesn’t have much and never really thinks about it. He did notice that he has hair in places his father doesn’t though, it kind of scared him as a kid lol

Sebek – he is the hairiest one out of the Diasomnia four. It’s probably due to the fact that he is only half-fae, and it kind of drives him insane, especially as he compares his body to Silver’s. How come he has more body hair than Silver?? How come his are thicker and darker?? He is also the only Diasomnia boy who shaves his face regularly, but it’s not as often as other people have to shave. Once every three or four days? Kind of.

[marbleboa]

Hiii sorry but lately I've been hyperfixated on the 7th division and Takeuchi ended up being my fav... And I saw your art of him and I loved it, I wanted to know if you had any headcanons about him ;3

Absolutely delighted to see a Takeuchi guy here, take my hand op. I do indeed have Many Thoughts, a lot of these more character musings than straightforward headcanons but! I hope these rambles interest you!

-I made this post a bit ago talking about how his whole Battle Mode deal changes his body, and further building on that— I imagine the frequent use of this has taken its toll, similar to Shibata: issues with his back, joints, etc. Projecting my TMJ on him as well, though I think all of this does ease somewhat as he uses his powers less and starts taking better care of himself.

-The power of his energy blasts is somewhat dampened by comparatively long charge up times and the way he always announces his attacks to enemies. He’s very particular about making sure all of his battle moves have impressive names—often several-words long.

-He and Mob are on a similar wavelength to me. Something something Ishiguro talking about how hard to read Takeuchi is, the way he skirts on the edge of the rest of the Scars’ circle, the way his powers seemed to be the only part of him valued by others…it’s like a different, lonelier path Mob could’ve gone on. I think he has similar difficulties figuring out what he wants from his future, like we see from Mob at the start of season 3.

-I think he’s close with Tsuchiya. Granted this is an anime only thing, but I really liked the detail where when Tsuchiya tackles Shimazaki off a building she calls out for Takeuchi by name and he immediately moves to help. It feels like a maneuver they’ve done before, like they know each other well enough to know what the other needs in a fight. It makes sense that they’d train together with both their powers being classified as qigong too.

-Post-Claw I feel like a few of the Scars go through this phase but Takeuchi especially, he gets in this mindset of like. I must now use my powers against Evil™️ so I can make up for what I’ve done. Because…fighting with powers, black/white ideologies, that’s a lot more familiar to the Scars than writing resumes or apartment-hunting or dealing with other people. Once Claw falls he does this vigilante stuff aimlessly for a while(maybe even runs into Teru again doing the same thing, haha).

-Following from that, I think eventually he gets back in touch with Tsuchiya and stays with her and Mukai for a while as he figures out what he wants to do. (I’m. Not quite sure what that is myself. I’m working on it)

-After Claw, he, Muraki and Sakurai have a book club every other Saturday. Takeuchi enjoys mystery novels.

-There’s more I’d like to research on the particulars re: ethnicities especially so I can improve on how I draw his features, but thus far I’ve been imagining at least part of his ancestry being somewhere from southern India.

-I’ve dabbled with the idea that his name is actually a tsūshōmei, or legal alias, something long-term residents of Japan from other countries can get for various reasons. One thought I had was that Toichiro picked him up in his global search for espers, and he was given another name by Claw to cover up any connection to his family. Or, someone in his family made that change after they started living in Japan, and he was born there under that name. Not sure if I’ll commit to this though, more to look into there too.

-I definitely think he was kidnapped by the organization some way or another— his powers were likely very strong at a young age so they probably got to him under the guise of mentorship. I’d like to think he eventually tries to get back in touch with his family once Claw’s gone.

-Really likes birds. He and Muraki are in close competition for Pigeons of Seasoning City’s Favorite

-He’s ambidextrous!

[theamityelf]

What would happen if the class 78 Kamukuras (especially Taka) met Kamukura AU Makoto

Oooh, my initial thought was that it depends on how far Taka's character development got to go before Makoto was Kamukurized (assuming the other events of the Kamukura Wrangler AU still happened), but I kind of love this as a thing that happens before Taka has gotten far in his character development.

Like, Taka has had every opportunity to change his mind about viewing all the Kamukuras as abominations, including recovering a few memories of being Normal Taka, therefore learning that elements of his past self still exist in him, but he's stubbornly refused to change his mind. Makoto's reassurances don't sway him, the moments of humanity he starts to see in the others don't sway him. (It's partially his habit of moralizing normalcy, and partially the fact that his ever-increasing love for Makoto seems to validate his moralizing of normalcy.)

Then the scientists take Makoto, and they change him.

I'm imagining they have to knock-out gas all the Kamukuras in order to get Makoto away from them.

At first, Taka is in a state of half-hoping they returned Makoto to his family (because the alternative is unbearable) and half-planning how to make sure everyone in this facility dies. Just absolutely ruthless and undiscriminating justice. He stalks around, ominously quiet.

Yasuhiro is also ominously quiet, but he doesn't seem upset. He's almost vacant, compared to his usual vaguely-amused self. Just kind of drifting from room to room with a very ambiguous look, like whatever he sees in the future is actually holding his attention for once.

Hifumi draws a limp arm that is unmistakably Makoto's, and Taka almost straight up kills him.

Junko knows what's happening to Makoto through sheer intuition, and she feels the perverse stir of despair inside herself, bringing her something like pleasure even as she plots out the painful deaths of those responsible.

Kyoko and Chihiro both separately manage to sneak out of the Kamukuras' living area. Chihiro goes to look for Makoto, and Kyoko goes to look for files/records on Makoto, but they're both returned before they can find what they're looking for. (Kyoko got close.)

Makoto is returned to them scarred, shaven, red-eyed, and dressed in a hospital gown. He's just deposited into their room, in much the same way he was when they first met him.

He's in his Makoto Kamukura characterization, and I am undecided as to whether it's better if it's before he's even aware of himself as a person, or after. As in, it could be a somewhat responsive Makoto or a wholly unresponsive one. I think I'm going with unresponsive, for the drama.

Taka sees him, and he's devastated.

At first, he fully turns his back on him and walks away, saying, "Another abomination."

But after spending some time by himself (while the others try to get a response from this new Kamukura), he realizes that he wants to see him again. He doesn't want to discard the new Kamukura, because...

Because it's Makoto.

And Makoto accepted him for who he was, despite every reason not to, so he can't...

He can't abandon him over what they did to him.

He goes back to Makoto (and the others). The group parts for him, out of curiosity. Taka holds Makoto's face between his hands. Makoto's eyes scan his face, learning and unfeeling.

Red eyes. Kamukura eyes. But Taka can't bring himself to hate them.

"You're still in there," Taka says. "You are, because you have to be." He understands, now, why Makoto was willing to live among them for as long as he did. Willing to tell them about their past selves, even perform those selves for them. Why he smiled that sad smile every time one of them got the behavior exactly right, without any of the motivation. He understands that the same part of him that was unable to let go of Makoto before will still be unable to let go of him now, whether he is in there or not. "And even if you're not entirely yourself anymore, you're not going to be like me, because you're not going to hate yourself for what you are. You are not an abomination. You said that we are not abominations. You said that we're still the same people, at our core, and I have to believe you now, because I can't lose you. Okay? Makoto?"

And I'm thinking Makoto doesn't respond yet. He's still not quite aware of himself.

Taka has to hold his hand, take him to bed, take him to meals, etc. for a few days before Makoto suddenly speaks up to ask him, "Why did one of your eyes change color?"

And immediately he has everyone's attention again.

[sillie82]

Hurt Charles Rowland (Dead Boy Detectives) Rec list

Sooo, I've been obsessed with Dead Boy Detectives ever since it came out, and I especially love my boy Charles. I'm also a sucker for Hurt/Comfort, so of course I started searching for hurt Charles fic pretty soon. Here's a rec list of hurt!Charles fic that I've really loved.

Hurt!Charles (whump and angst)

Like Fool's Gold by RoseGanymede95

For half a second, Edwin’s vision was filled with a beautiful, ethereal sight. Charles had turned his face up in surprise, eyes wide and lips parted, and his brown eyes reflected the cloud of golden shimmers hovering above him. He was bathed in a gentle light, surrounded by a galaxy of tiny stars. Then the dust began to settle onto his skin, and Charles’ face contorted. He clapped his hands over his eyes, pressing hard, and drew in a harsh gasp through gritted teeth. “Charles?” Edwin shouted. Charles screamed.

10 more fic recs behind the read more.

Hold This by RoseGanymede95

“Alright, listen,” Charles said, after trying not to think at all for at least five minutes. “Hear me out.” “Any ideas?” Edwin asked, not looking up from his page. “It’s just. What would actually happen if you cut my hand off?” Edwin jerked his head up so fast, Charles wondered that he didn’t brain himself against the stone wall. He looked more offended than he had when he found out about the live snake in Charles’ bag. “What the hell kind of a question is that?” He hissed. “I’m not saying we should do it!” Charles backpedaled. “I’m just curious! These cuffs make us proper solid, don’t they? We could probably lop it off and get me out.” “No,” said Edwin emphatically. “We are not discussing this. I don’t want you getting any ideas and chewing your own arm off like a trapped weasel.” “Not my whole arm, just my hand.

Nothing Left to Hide by RoseGanymede95 for the_genderless_librarian

“You’re-” Charles has to stop before any more words can come through, because another round of sobbing overtakes him, forcefully enough Edwin thinks a living boy might break his ribs like this. “You’re. Scared.” Charles tries again, and the words sound like they’re being punched out of him, each one a broken, jagged thing, “Of. Spiders." Grief crashes down on Edwin like a physical weight. This is about Hell.

being unknown by The_IPRE

Edwin does know Charles, or at least he likes to think that he does. He knows that Charles is far better with the clients than he is, quick to offer a smile or extend sympathy while Edwin is far more interested in delving deeper into the details of the case. He knows that Charles has a wicked swing with his cricket bat, but prefers to leave that as a second resort when he believes there's a way for them to come to a compromise. He knows that Charles chooses to hope for the best from people, even after having seen the worst they have to offer–and in fact, having been killed by it. As Charles sits in front of him, the strain in his shoulders at odds with the easy grin on his face, Edwin wonders how much of his friend he is failing to see. -- 5 times Edwin didn't press the issue, and one time he did.

Try, Try Again by Asidian

Edwin lacks the aptitude for managing people; this he knows. He is clumsy at navigating stronger emotions, his own or those of others. But he has spent thirty long years side by side with Charles Rowland. He has spent them watching Charles console, and comfort, and offer support to those who need it. If his own fumbling attempt has fallen somewhat short, in this instance, he will have to ask himself what Charles would do, were their situations reversed.

The Case of the Memento Mori by Asidian

It takes Charles what seems an eternity to draw back enough to offer Edwin a wan sort a smile. His face is off-color, tight with the hurt. "Sorry, mate," he says. "Give me a tick. Don't know if I can get up just yet." A yawning pit of dread settles itself somewhere in the vicinity of Edwin's chest. He has thought of just this situation more times than he cares to count: Charles pressed against him, Charles' weight and warmth, Charles' arms around him. It feels a cruel twist of fate, all told, that this is how he finally gets it.

Heaven To No One Else But Me by coloursflyaway

We would like to offer you a gift, Edwin Payne, the entity says, and holds out its hand; Charles has to force himself to stay put and not step between it and Edwin, because it feels like danger, even if it shouldn’t. The entity wouldn’t hurt Edwin, he tells himself, and he knows it’s true, it’s just that it is so powerful that even the slightest touch is terrifying and Charles is terrified about losing Edwin all the time anyway. “Why me?”, Edwin asks, head raised high and the entity’s light reflecting off his skin in a way that makes it look like porcelain, fragile and translucent and beautiful, “Why not Charles?” There is nothing we could offer Charles Rowland to take his pain away, the entity says and its voice rings out in Charles’ head. But you, we could erase yours. If you wish us to.

Edwin gets the opportunity to go back in time and change his life so he will never have to go to Hell, but price of it is losing Charles; Charles can only stand next to him and wait for his decision. (Breaking Charles Rowland speed run.)

Cry With Joy At The Depth Of My Love by coloursflyaway

“Edwin?”, Crystal asks, and Edwin would say something snarky, maybe even something mean, but Charles is wrapped around him like he’ll never let go again, and there are more important matters at hand. “Crystal, what has happened here?”, he asks, and a few seconds later, their new psychic is standing in front of him, trousers splashed with the coffee she dropped, disbelief written across her face. “I was gone for a few hours and now Charles… and the whole building…” He’s not quite sure how to put it, most likely because he still doesn’t understand, and Crystal looks at him like he come back from the Cat King’s lair with an additional head. “Edwin”, she says, slowly, like she is still searching for the words, “what are you talking about? You’ve been gone for six weeks.” ____________ Edwin takes the Cat King up on his initial offer, so instead of a few hours, he is gone for six weeks. Charles isn't good at coping with it.

Reach Out And Touch Faith by coloursflyaway

And Charles doesn’t notice that Edwin doesn't touch him anymore, maybe for no other reason than that he doesn’t want to, because doing so hurts, but then there’s a night when Edwin walks past him and he raises his hand like he wants to brush it against Charles’ arm – his metaphorical heartbeat picks up at that, like Charles has been waiting for this even more than he realised – but then, a second before his hand connects, Edwin pulls it back like he’s been burnt. And that, well. That hurts too.

Edwin stops touching Charles; Charles doesn't deal well with it.

If I could hold you for a minute by HistoriaGloria

"For as vicious as it can be for ghosts, iron is not as common as you would think. It is rare, in Edwin’s experience, that the supernatural forces they are dealing with actually know that iron hurts as much as it does. Rare, but not rare enough." Charles is hurt on a case, leaving Edwin and Crystal to pick up the pieces.

Hold Me As The World Sets Ablaze by UneducatedAuthor

Charles thinks, dazedly, through the fog of it all, that the end of it must be a lot like the beginning of it. With Edwin, holding close to him, whispering words that don't quite reach, because he's the best person Charles knows, and he wants to comfort him. So he begs Edwin not to go as the world once again, turns black. Edwin, of course, stays. (Charles is familiar with omphalotis nidiformis. He's not familiar with having someone stay with him through the pain of it.)

[oh-roman]

Bill and his girlfriend get into an argument one day and they decide to spend some time apart, but one night she shows up at his door drunk and crying because she's concerned that they're going to break up over the stupid argument they had?

Get Along Better

~ drafty ~

The roses were so red, Y/N was sure the florist dyed them that color.

Bill had the entire night planned to a T. Every detail was meaningful in it's own way - from the 348 roses to signify every day they had been dating, fresh strawberries cut in quarters just the way Y/N likes them, tea light candles lining the walkway to the dining room, and the red metallic heart balloons swaying ever so slightly.

"No peeking," Bill murmured against her neck, pressing a kiss to her skin. His hands were caressing her waist, over the red. YSL dress he hand picked.

"Trust me, can't see anything under this blindfold," Y/N laughed. "Is it really necessary that I wear heels in the house?"

"Mhm," Bill hummed, leading her into the dining room blindly. "Very very important to the surprise. Plus -- you know I love those legs." He kisses her cheek, right over her dimple.

The room smelled like warm vanilla and cake. Bill has somewhat of a secret hobby that he wouldn't dare tell his boys. He hesitated even telling Y/N when they moved in together. He's an amazing baker -- which works out perfectly, because Y/N loves to eat what Bill bakes.

Just this morning he woke up extra morning to kneed fresh focaccia dough for breakfast, drizzled in olive oil and topped with cherry tomatoes, rosemary, garlic and a bit of butter. Breakfast went just as Bill planned, because Y/N loved it enough that she ended up seated on the kitchen counter with her legs (God, those legs) dangling off Bill's waist, crying out his name over and over again.

Fucking her in that silk robe this morning, under the smell of his fresh bread, seemed to answer the question he had been anticipating asking for weeks now.

He has not choice but to marry her. It was something about the way she closed her eyes and moaned when she took the first bite. Y/N knows Bill likes to be validated, especially about his baked goods. "Babyyyy," She draws on, rolling her head back. "It's so good," Is all she had to say to get him to lift her onto the marble counter swiftly. It was just bread, but fuck, did he love the way she could make anything sexy. "Mm my mouth is all garlicky baby," she whines, pushing back.

Bill laughs, pressing kisses down the opening of her robe. His left hand's inching up her tummy, toward her nipple. "Shh. Just do as Daddy says,"

. . . . . . . .

Y/N's black YSL heels come to a swift stop when Bill squeezes her waist a bit to motion her that she's made it to her surprise.

He gently unties her blindfold, licking his lips nervously and letting go a shaky breath.

The blindfold falls, but it's followed empty silence that makes Bill's face hot. Three years they've known each other and he still manages to get nervous around her.

She doesn't say anything. Just stands there, looking up the heart-shaped balloons, then back down at the dining table dressed in a white table cloth. "Hey," Bill whispers, moving her hair from her neck with his middle finger. He needs to see her face. Maybe then he can read what she isn't saying aloud. "Happy Anniversary."

Y/N parts her lips to speak, but it feels like she's choked for words. Like all the things she wishes she could say, are stacked in her throat. So, instead she just turns around and wraps her arms around his neck. "I love you," she mumbles.

"Aw, my baby," He coaxes. "You haven't even tried the cake."

Y/N laughs against his neck, inhaling his cologne for a moment before releasing him. "You did all this?"

Bill raises an eyebrow and smirks. "Who else?" He pulls out her chair and helps her scoot forward once she's sitting. In a swift moment, he wipes the sweat of his palms onto his suit pants, as he tries to shake the nervous jitters off.

Their last anniversary was not as nearly this elaborate. Dinner, dessert, then drinks -- all of Y/N's favorites. Each of which, she'd close her eyes and moan in contempt, telling Bill just how good everything tasted. In return, he simply smiled and watched her enjoy. He wasn't hungry. The entire dinner, he sat across from Y/N, palming at the jewelry box his pocket. There was no rehearsal for what he wanted to say -- it was something that would have to spill from his heart.

Except instead of just speaking, he fiddles the jewelry box out his pocket and places it softly on the table. Y/N glances up and can't finish chewing. "O-oh," she clears her throat. "Baby-"

"You don't have to say anything," Bill smiles. "I think I'm supposed to do the talking. . .just so hard to find the right words to say,"

Y/N nervously runs her palms down her thighs as Bill struggles to find the right synonyms. She realizes this is why the sex this morning was so passionate; it was all gearing up to this. She realizes this is why he asked if her ring size had changed, or if she had a favorite gem. It all made sense now.

Except she wasn't quite sure she wanted it to plan out this way.

"Fuck it," Bill wipes the vanilla icing from his lips with a napkin and keeps his eyes on Y/N while he stands up. "Fuck a speech. Fuck a cute story. Fuck pouring my heart out to you, when I tell you how much I'm enamored by you every morning,"

He's kneeling down beside her now, clutching that black box in his palm. Y/N can't remember how to breathe and all the words are stuck behind her throat. "Y/N," he breaths, looking up at her form the kitchen floor. "Marry me,"

Bills knows her (more than she knows herself), so the expression on her face told a story. One that he didn't expect. Her eyes are drawn to the beautiful cut diamonds, but her expression remains sad. "I-," She chokes. His eyebrow cocks, questioning her response, thinking this interaction would end in her jumping up and down screaming 'YES'. What he didnt anticipate was what she would mutter next.

Y/N's eyes are glossy, filled with guilt. "No," Y/N mutters, barely above a whisper. And just like that, the room doesn't smell too much of vanilla and cinnamon anymore - all of Bill's senses are focused on the tears spilling from her lash line and the tight grip her voice has on his chest. There's a glimpse of confusion in his initial reaction, but it soon turns to something more serious than sadness and frustration. Something so profound, his fist forces the ring box closed, so hard it sounds like a door slamming shut.

"Bill," Y/N whimpers.

But he's already stood up, clenching his jaw so tightly, he might make himself bleed. "I need some air." And just like that, he's gone and the door slams shut. Louder and more dangerous than the ring box.

[jimin-jungshook-over-literalbae]

Werewolf BTS Reacts to Finding Their Mate but They’re Being Abused

Hey guys! I’m still waiting on some requests to come in so I’m just writing whatever comes to mind. So, welcome to a random BTS Werewolf reaction based on the random dream I had last night. I hope you enjoy! Send me any requests you might have! I would love to bring them to life for you! Thank you!

Summary: By chance, BTS meets their mate but they quickly learn that the girl they meet has had a much rougher time then they expected.

Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse, allusions to sexual abuse (J-Hope), abusive family, abusive pack, Omega Center abuse, and S/O (not BTS) abuse.

1. Jin

The dinner had started out relatively normal. The pack had decided to go out to celebrate a new treaty that had been put in to act, one that they had been working on for years. He almost doesn’t notice the scent at first, crisp apple and spicy cinnamon. It quickly consumes his mind though as his eyes search the restaurant. Jimin quickly notices the change.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asks him softly, trying not to draw attention to Jin’s concerned state. Jin doesn’t answer, his eyes searching the nearby tables for the source of the scent. When he finds it, his heart nearly drops.

She sits a couple tables away from him, her back to him. A man sits at the table across from her. They would almost look like they were in love if Jin couldn’t see how tightly the man was gripping her hand. He almost misses the soft whimper she lets out.

He moves before he can think, feeling his packmate’s eyes on him as he approaches the table. He can feel the moment she notices his scent, her eyes seeking him out before she can stop herself. Her lower lip trembles a little, her eyes wide and somewhat scared.

“What do you want?” The man glares at him, his garbage scent almost covering the scent of his sweet mate.

“Why don’t you remove your hand from my mate, to start?” Jin snaps, his hands settling on the table as he meets the eyes of the man head on.

“Your mate?” The man scoffs,” That’s my mate.”

“Are you sure? Because it doesn’t seem like she wants you touching her,” Jin reaches down to separate the two hands, the girl immediately cradling her hand. Jin crouches in front of her, his eyes soft,” If you want, we can leave and you’ll never have to see him again.”

“You want me?” Her voice is so soft and sad that it breaks his heart.

“Yes I do, princess,” He tucks her hair behind her ear,” I’ll always want you. You’re my mate.”

“Thank you,” Her words are a soft whisper. He smiles and helps her up. By the time he can focus on his surroundings again, Jimin and Jungkook have dragged the man out of the restaurant.

“Lets introduce you to our pack, huh?” He helps her up gently, his arm wrapping around her to keep her pressed into his side. He’ll have to keep his wolf in check, otherwise, he’s going to catch a murder charge as he notices a bruise peeking out from under the makeup on his cheek.

2. Suga

When Yoongi entered the house, he immediately felt uncomfortable. He was invited over by the pack to scent test and see if his mate resided within the pack house. If he were to find his mate in this pack, it would create a better bond, one that Namjoon could use to his advantage. He’s never heard good things about this pack. They have a strong distaste for Omegas and often treat them in degrading manners.

He doesn’t notice the scent at first. It’s faint. Most of the scents in the house make him nauseous, especially the Alpha walking beside him. His scent is too tinged with a garbage like scent, it’s almost overwhelming. He almost missed the sweet note of honey combined with sharp citrus that draws him in. He follows it without thinking, ending up outside of a door that looks different than the rest on the hall. He grabs the doorknob but it’s locked.

“Why is this door locked?” He tries to keep his tone calm but his Alpha is not amused by this situation.

“Ah, one of our Omegas is in there. She’s a runner so we have to keep her detained like this,” The Alpha takes a key from his pocket and unlocks the door. The scent is much stronger here. An Omega is curled up on a rickety twin bed with a bare frame, a chain trailing from her ankle to the metal frame. He has to stop a growl from rumbling out of him, his own Alpha quickly becoming angry by her obvious mistreatment. She hasn’t even been allowed a nest for comfort.

“Hello,” He says softly, his gummy smile taking over his face when she peeks up at him. He has to force himself to ignore the bruises littering her skin or he might actually kill the Alpha standing behind him. He crouches beside the bed she lays on, not touching her to give her time to take in and become used to her scent.

“Hi,” Her voice is soft and weak, like she doesn’t use it often. He lifts his hand slowly, keeping it in line of sight as he slowly caresses her cheek. She nuzzles into his hand, making his heart stutter.

“I would like to take you home to my pack, if that’s something you want. You’ll be safe there and no one will touch you like that again,” He leans forward slowly, his forehead pressing to hers. He can feel her nod against his forehead, her eyes filling with soft tears.

“Please,” her response is faint but he still hears it. He smiles once more before he pulls away, his face falling into his normal mask as he turns to the Alpha.

“Remove the chain,” His tone is more of a growl than he intended but he finds he doesn’t really care.

“Are you sure you want this one?” The question causes Yoongi to growl, his eyes flashing.

“If you don’t take this chain off of my mate right this moment, you’ll have a lot less limbs than you do currently,” Yoongi snaps, his eyes narrowing into a glare. The Alpha moves quickly, unlocking the chain and moving away before I decide to make good on my promise. The skin on her ankle is badly burned from the silver chain.

Yoongi scoops her up gently, her face immediately nuzzling into his neck to nudge his scent gland. A soft purr leaves him at the action, his arms holding her securely. If they think they’re going to get some deal after this, when he’s found that his mate has been abused, they’re dead wrong. Yoongi would gladly dismantle their entire pack and watch it burn to the ground.

“If you come near my mate ever again, your own death is the last thing you’ll have to worry about,” He narrows his eyes at the Alpha one last time before he carries his mate out to his waiting car,” It’s okay, baby. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”

3. J-Hope

Hoseok hates the concept of Omega Centers. Most of them, while parading around with their fake good intentions, are usually abusing their Omegas. If an Omega goes into heat, some of the staff decide to take care of it themselves or they mistreat the Omegas. He didn’t want to support them, but when he felt the pull, he hand to follow. If his mate is in here, he wants them out as soon as possible.

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you through the displays,” The woman that speaks sounds cheerful but Hoseok finds he already hates her. It’s like the Omegas are in little cells. One wall is made of glass, the other three of bare bricks. They have a single bed and a single blanket, nothing else to break the monotony. There’s a small hole in the glass to allow their scents through. The combination of scents is almost overwhelming, even for him, but the soft scent of honeysuckle makes its way to him.

When he follows it, he peers through the glass to see an Omega curled up on the bed, her back to the glass. He doesn’t say anything, immediately going to the back where the door is and letting himself in to the room. She glances up at him and the fear that takes over his expression makes him cringe.

“I won’t hurt you,” He says softly, holding his hands up for her to see them. He can tell the moment his scent reaches her, her whole body relaxing and a soft smile taking over her face.

She sits up and turns to face him, her softness making him let out a soft coo. He walks closer slowly, not wanting to make her uncomfortable but she’s also standing, practically jumping into his arms. Her face nuzzles into his chest, her whole body practically shaking. She doesn’t have to say it, he can feel her relief at him being here. Her hands clutch him like he’s going to disappear. He holds her close, his face nuzzling into her hair and taking in her sweet scent. A throat clears behind him.

“I’m sorry sir. You didn’t give me a chance to say anything before we came in. This one has actually already been claimed,” The woman speaks behind him and Hoseok can feel his hackles raising at the thought of someone claiming what’s his.

“By who?” His voice is deceptively even. He can feel his mate grip him tighter, her whole body vibrating with her fear.

“One of the staff here has taken a liking to her. He was planning to take her home,” The woman explains it like it isn’t a big deal, like it’s normal for men to take mates that aren’t theirs.

“You guys were just going to let someone take my mate away? That’s not happening. She’s coming home with me and anyone who tries to stop me is not going to like the consequences,” Hoseok snarls, his glare settling on the women. He watches her physically flinch at his expression, feeling satisfied. He turns back to his mate, cupping her cheeks and turning her face toward his. The tips of their noses touch for a soft Eskimo kiss,” Lets go home, sweet girl.”

4. RM

Namjoon could feel his body vibrating with rage. He had seen the woman before, though he hadn’t been close enough to scent her then. The library is usually quiet during this time. He comes when he can, loving to check out new books and, if he likes them, then he’ll buy his own copy. She wandered the aisles, smiling softly as she pulls books that interest her. She’s beautiful, fascinating him in a way he’s never felt.

The second time he sees her, he actually finds the confidence to approach her. Her enticing scent is everything he’d hoped for, soft rain and a floral scent combining together to draw him in. He starts a conversation, the two of them suggesting books to each other. He doesn’t push it, doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. He likes that they’re getting to know each other in little ways. After three meetings, he invites her to visit him at his pack home. Her subsequent discomfort makes him nervous, like he did something wrong.

“I’m sorry,” He says quickly, his teeth nibbling on his bottom lip,” I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that,” She says quickly, her eyes widening,” I really wish I could but m-my birth pack is really overprotective. They would be very unhappy with me if I visited another pack.”

“Would it be better if I came there with them?” He offers, placing his bookmark and giving her an inquisitive look. Something about the way she’s said this makes him very uncomfortable, like something’s wrong,” So they can learn to trust me?”

“No!” She answers too quickly, her face panicked,” No, that-that’s a very bad idea. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Do they hurt you?” Namjoon’s voice becomes soft, his eyes searching hers. He sees the answer in the way she winces, not meeting his eyes.

“They don’t mean it,” She says finally,” I’m not very good at doing what I’m told so I have to be punished sometimes. Getting to come to the library is a privilege.”

“It’s not okay for them to hurt you. It’s wrong,” Namjoon says firmly. Now that he knows, he can see the signs. The heavy bags under her eyes, her pale complexion. Her eyes are kind but her fingers tremble sometimes, like she’s ready to flinch,” You don’t have to stay with your birth pack.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” She doesn’t look at him, her voice nearly a soft whisper.

“Stay with me. With my pack. We can keep you safe. No one will hurt you ever again,” He wraps his hand around hers, stopping her shaking with his firm but comforting grip. She looks down at it with wide eyes before looking up at him.

“Why me?” She searches his expression, her fingers tangling with his as she squeezes his hand.

“Because you’re my mate and I won’t let anyone else hurt you,” His thumb brushes over the back of her hand, a smile taking over his face. She smiles back, giving him a small nod.

5. Jimin

“Can you add some candy to the list? Please, please, please? I’ll pay you back for it, I’m just really craving some sweets right now,” Jimin rolls his eyes as he holds his phone to his ear, pushing the cart with his other hand. He knew Taehyung would definitely forget to pay him back but he’s not worried about it. Taehyung is his best friend, of course he’ll get him what he asked for. He never asks for much.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just shoot me a text of what you want. I’m already here so make it quick,” The call ends quickly after that as Jimin goes about picking up the groceries for the pack house. Usually, Jin or Yoongi would go but Jimin had the day off and they were both busy. He doesn’t mind going. He likes to pick up a few treats for his pack members anyway, little things that he knows they like. He hears the sound as he’s picking up a bag of tangerines for Yoongi.

A whimpering sound reaches his ears. He looks up to see a woman cowering on the ground as another woman stands over her, obviously berating her. The woman on the floor is obviously an Omega, soft whimpers leaving her as the woman brings her hand down to slap her. He moves before he can think, catching the blow before it lands.

“Abusing Omegas is illegal,” Jimin says lowly, glaring at the angry woman. She scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“I can treat my daughter however I want, thank you very much,” Jimin’s chest grumbles at her words, a warning growl leaving him. Her eyes widen a little with fear. It’s only then that the scent hits him. The soft scents of sunlight mixed with the scent of wisteria.

The woman on the floor must have recognized his own scent first. She lifts herself off the floor, practically molding herself to his back. Her arms wrap around his stomach, her shaky breath hitting his back. He lets the other woman go, turning in his mate’s arms to card his fingers through her hair. The silky strands fall through his fingers as he glares at the woman who raised their hand to his mate.

“Go, while I still have patience. You’re never going to see her again,” Jimin’s voice is dark, his other arm pulling his mate further into his chest. Her whole body relaxes into him. The angry woman pales further, quickly disappearing to the front of the store. Jimin breaths in his mate’s comforting scent,” Come on, baby. Lets get you home.”

6. V

Taehyung has always loved thrills. Though heights make him nervous, once he pushes past that initial nervousness, he has fun. It was easy to convince Jungkook and Jimin to come with him. Jimin freaks out at the rides, often just waiting for the two of them to finish, but he likes getting to spend time with them.

The scent could almost be misplaced as one of the food stands if the fruity scent didn’t feel out of place. Peach with a hint of jasmine. That’s when he sees the woman, her looks drawing him in further. He and Jungkook stand toward the front of the coaster, ready to enter the front seats. The girl is being dragged onto the ride by a much larger man.

She’s obviously scared, her entire body cowering away from the man. She can’t seem to free her hand, soft whimpers and whines leaving her. She’s pleading with him, begging him to let her go, but no one seems to care. Taehyung moves quickly, his hand closing around the man’s wrist in a tight grip, squeezing.

“She told you to let her go, I suggest you listen,” Taehyung’s deep voice is more intimidating when he’s angry. He can feel Jungkook behind him, his glare also set on the man.

“I suggest,” The man growls, his eyes focused on Taehyung,” That you don’t tell me how to treat my bitch.”

Before Taehyung can react, his growl leaving him quickly, the man is already on the ground. His nose gushes blood from the punch that Jungkook threw. Taehyung turns his attention to the girl as Jungkook handles the trash.

“Are you okay?” He asks her softly, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her.

“Thank you for helping me,” Her tear filled eyes meet his and he can feel his heart stutter. Mate. She’s his mate. Someone put their hands on his mate.

“Always. I’ll always help you,” Taehyung can’t help his smile, eyes softening. She look up at him with wide eyes that affect his very soul. Unconsciously, she leans into him, her hand resting on his shoulder. Her soft touch makes a happy purr pour out of him as she looks at him in wonder. No one would hurt what’s his ever again.

7. Jungkook

Jungkook has decided that this entire situation feels like torture. In the years the two had known each other, she had never noticed that the two of you were mates. Jungkook noticed the day he met her, the day her soft scent of cotton and sunshine filled his nostrils. He learned later that she didn’t know about mates. She was raised without the concept.

He bided his time, waiting for her to notice him. He thought he would be fine until she announced that she had a boyfriend. It felt like his whole being had deflated. They had dated for close to a year now and he tried his best to continue to be a part of her life. Slowly, he saw less and less of her and his wolf was practically berating him for it. Until tonight, when she showed up at his door, blood dripping from a wound on her forehead.

“What happened?” He has to keep the hard edge from his voice as he gently doctors the wound. Once he gets it bandaged, he checks her for other wounds. He notices the bruises then. Some old, one much newer. Some still forming. He nearly chokes on his own tears, though the rage is there two.

“He hit me,” Her voice is small,” I thought I could deal with it, that I loved him, but I can’t do it anymore Jungkook. I didn’t know who else to go to.”

“I’ll kill him,” Jungkook’s voice is an unrestrained growl, the idea of someone laying their hands on his precious mate too much to bear.

“Don’t,” Her voice is soft,” I’m not worth the trouble.”

“You’re worth every bit of that and more,” Jungkook’s fingers wrap around her chin, lifting her eyes to meet his,” You’re my mate. No one should touch you like that. Ever. I’ll kill anyone who does. I love you.”

“You love me?” Her eyes widen, tears filling them. He smiles, leaning forward to press the softest kiss to her lips.

“It’s always been you,” He whispers, his breath dancing along her lips. For the first time, she smiles, the soft glow he loves so much filling her eyes. Her sun warmed scent wraps around him, easing his fear at losing her. No one is ever going to take his mate away from him, not ever again.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Send me any requests you might have!

[maple-the-awesome]

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 34

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 4,061

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: DEARLY DEPARTED

Well fed and partially rested, your quartet makes their way down the windy cobblestone streets of Latvia. There’s an uneventful silence that follows throughout most of the walk - that is, between Zemo’s unprompted compliments of the local architecture and Bucky’s grumbled skepticism regarding your sense of direction.

If it were earlier in the day, you’d likely snap at his doubt, but fortunately for him in this moment, your previous interaction with those children at the refugee enclave and the short nap you took afterwards had smoothened out your mood. Thus, you simply shoo away his queries with confident assurances and only a dash of frustration. You were a scientist in your past life, of course you can follow Google Map instructions!

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you to be pulling shit like this!”

“Lord give me strength…” Sam grumbles, that once bearable half-silence officially soured by an uninvited fifth-wheel.

With a raised eyebrow, you look up from your phone and follow Sam’s irritated gaze to its source: none other than the same Captain America impersonator you've already heard a great deal of complaints about. You can't say you've been particularly excited to meet him, not too fond of there being a government-issued replacement for your dear friend in the first place, and judging on how swiftly he approaches with zealous coating his every step and spoken word, you don't have much confidence in this introduction changing your expectations.

"How'd you find us this time, John?!" Bucky asks sarcastically, his question having an impressive balance between its volume and lackadaisical delivery.

"You think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without being noticed?" Walker's partner counters, yet the spotlight is immediately switched back to John who shows zero shame in marching directly towards your group with a smile that's seconds away from becoming a scowl as he points to Zemo.

"No more keeping us in the dark. You can start by telling us why the hell you broke him out of prison."

"Well technically, he broke himself out of prison," You correct, unfazed by John’s poor attempt at asserting authority here, in fact you have no problem blocking his path to Zemo by sliding in between them with a hand outstretched cheekily, "Hi, I’m (Y/n). Don't believe we've met."

"I don't really care who you are -"

"- Ouch -"

"- There better be an UNBELIEVABLE explanation for this because -!" John's voice raises. Pairing that with the way he talks while swinging his arms dramatically, you can't say you like the aggressive undertone behind his behavior, especially not for someone wearing the stolen merits of a real hero. You don't care how upset he is, it's not a very good look nor a great sign for his character, and you aren't the only one to think that:

"- Hey, take it down a notch before you attract a crowd, alright?" Sam warns, drawing attention to the civilians who have already stopped to stare at the scene. Some even have their phones out, excitedly snapping pictures of the new ‘Captain America’ and his Avenger 'friends'.

"I know where Karli is," Zemo confesses with little fanfare or interest for that matter, somewhat akin to a parent giving their child a cookie just to shut them up. He attempts to walk past after that, however John’s quick to push him back.

"Well, where is she then?"

"A memorial, that's all we know at the moment. We're heading there now to intercept her," Sam, desperate to maintain the peace, explains while Zemo brushes away John's touch to continue onwards anyway. The rest of you don't hesitate to follow, yet that doesn't stop John and his partner from taking this conversation to-go, keeping up with your steps as if a part of the team themselves. You won't be surprised if he truly believes that, either.

"Memorial? That means there'll be civilians and a high risk of casualties," His partner points out.

"We're not nuking the damn place with her inside," You insist, although you can at least respect that his priorities are in the right place, better tied to his job as a protector rather than his fragile ego. If only his buddy could follow by example, "Sam just wants to talk her and get her side of the story -"

"- What? No...No! Wait! Stop, hold on!" John suddenly rushes to the front of the group, once again preventing anyone from moving forward, "We're way past reasoning with her, okay? Unless you've forgotten this part, she's a terrorist. Her and her little friends blew up a building with people inside of it!"

"You're right. She is a terrorist which is exactly why we need to stop her as soon as possible."

John laughs as if you're the ones making this more complicated than it needs to be, "Alright! Then let's go in there and arrest her -"

"- If we rush in, arms drawn, and corner them like animals, what's stopping her from lashing out right that second?" You challenge, not faltering under his intense stare, "We need to approach this situation with strategy, and Sam's idea works. We go in, let him try talking to her while simultaneously keeping our guard up, and if she surrenders, then yay -"

"- And if she doesn't?"

"Then we kick her ass! I don't know! Have you not seen a hostage negotiation before? You know, ‘The Inside Man’? ‘The Negotiator’? Ever turn on the news maybe -?”

“- The bottom line is: there’s a risk in both scenarios whether we talk or attack first,” Sam steps forward, showing far more patience as he reminds John of his own presence in this discussion, “The difference is, in one, we have an actual shot at ending things peacefully. In the other, people get hurt regardless.

“Why not pick the former then? I'd say we have a pretty good chance with it, I mean, yeah, Karli’s methods are out of line - no one here’s trying to deny that - but her motivations aren't entirely unreasonable. For god’s sake, she's a kid who just had five years of her life flipped on top of her head - We all know how terrifying that can be. I think what she needs most right now is someone who's actually willing to hear her out without casting her aside with more broken promises.”

"It also might be worth mentioning that this memorial is for someone close to Karli, so it’ll likely be attended by others who are important to her, too," You add to aid Sam’s argument, "She's probably going to want to avoid endangering their lives just as much as we do."

"Right. Exactly!"

John shakes his head before turning his attention to Bucky who's remained silent throughout this entire discussion, "...You'll let him do this? You'll just let your partner walk into a room with a super soldier completely alone and defenseless?"

"He's dealt with worse - and he's not my partner."

"Sorry you weren't there, but we're the ones who went up against a murderous purple alien six months ago. I think Sam knows what he's doing," You roll your eyes, walking past John and his partner to continue up the street where you can already see a crowd entering what you assume to be the memorial building.

"I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay? I've heard it all - all the accounts of horrific ordeals and stories of lost hope. This is my wheelhouse," You can hear Sam say as he still attempts to reach an agreement.

"I know, and I know those soldiers which is why I say this is a bad idea -!”

"- Wait, John," His partner speaks up again, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him from chasing after your group again, "If he can talk her down, maybe it is worth a try. They do have a point, after all; less people would get hurt if this works."

John scoffs as if he still finds the whole proposal ridiculous, however having his own colleague side with the Avengers must've taken him down some kind of peg, because rather than attempt to stop anyone, he trails behind your group, promising to 'deal with' Zemo later as a last ditch effort of securing at least a fraction of his authority (not that it accomplishes much).

Maintaininga safe distance from the crowd, you observe them file into the building through two heavy wooden doors. Tracing their exact steps by entering the funeral from the front would likely only draw unwanted attention which in return could risk Karli discovering your presence too soon, so a side door leading into the building’s boiler room is your best bet for an unnoticed arrival.

You’re careful to peek into the hallway, catching sight of the same funeral goers as they disappear behind a wall. Hearing the echo of mournful whispers, it can be assumed that the processions will take place right around that corner. If Sam sneaks in after they officially start, Karli won’t have a good opening to run unless she wants to ruin Donya’s celebrated memory. She’ll be forced to at least wait until after the memorial is finished, providing Sam a better chance at getting close enough to pull her ear.

"...You sure you're up for this?" You ask as he stands beside you at the door. His confident nod is all you need for an answer.

After reaching into your pocket, you hold your hand out to him with a small grain-sized microphone, courtesy of the high-tech equipment Clint had supplied you with years ago, “We’ll stay back here. If anything goes wrong or you start getting the heebie-jeebies for some reason, simply say the word and we’ll have John bust down the doors. I’m sure he’s been dying for some real action anyway, poor guy.”

Sam smirks at your joke, taking the microphone and dropping it in his breast pocket, "Hopefully it won't have to come down to that."

"Better safe than sorry," You shrug, not too overly worried for his sake. Sam has always been a laid-back guy willing to listen to even the most outrageous of stories. Assuming that Karli is even somewhat rational, he's the best guy to send in for a heart-to-heart with her. Even if shit does go wrong, you’re certain he’s capable of handling himself in the short amount of time it takes for back-up to arrive. The real question is whether John can keep his pants on for that long.

Before Sam can even ascend the stairs, John harshly grabs Zemo’s arm, bending it behind his back and forcing him against the furnace. His stern ‘orders’ are directed towards Sam, "You have exactly ten minutes until we do things my way, you hear?"

Sam, unsurprisingly, shows minimal interest in that threat, simply nodding to spare John’s feelings before sparing Bucky and you one last look, "Don't let anyone tear off each other's heads while I'm gone."

"No promises," Bucky ribs with an exasperated inhale.

With Sam gone, the boiler room falls into tense silence only made that way through John's increasingly impatient pacing. After a quick glance at each other, you allow Bucky to wordlessly take your place guarding the door, blocking the path Sam took as a wise precaution against John's irritability.

Lemar - as you finally learn his name is - calmly instructs his partner to take a deep breath, the two sharing a brief, whispered conversation that must not have ended in John's favor because his mood fails to change. Even Zemo, despite being forced to awkwardly stand while handcuffed to the furnace, seems more comfortable with his predicament than the paranoid soldier who constantly fidgets and huffs, not that it's making anyone sympathetic towards him.

He eventually sets his sights on you from where you sit on the back staircase, boredly listening in on the conversation that's echoed through your earpiece, "What are they saying?"

You barely blink at his demand nor do you so much as look up at him when he comes marching in your direction. Instead, you keep your jaded expression trained forward, "She's listening to him."

"That's not what I asked. I want to know what they’re saying!" You're not sure what he expects to gain by such an aggressive demeanor, but it's not going to work on you. Not caring to be bossed around or intimidated by some guy in a Spirit Halloween costume, you simply turn your head away from him, covering your ear piece with your hand to pretend you can’t hear it over all his needless blabbing.

"Watch it, John. It hasn't even been ten minutes. Just sit tight," Bucky advises from across the room, his narrowed eyes trained cautiously on John's movements which are too close to you for comfort. His suggestion goes ignored following a rapid shake of the head and disgruntled glare.

"Don't patronize me!"

"Karli's listening to him," You reiterate, already feeling drained of all your willpower to keep dealing with this sort of crap today, "She's not showing any signs of aggression, she's not threatening him -"

"- How would you know that? You're not in there watching. She could be planning something - buying herself and her terrorist friends some time! How's a guy like him supposed to defend himself against a super soldier, huh?"

"Look man, I understand that first days on the job are rough - We've all been there before - but you gotta relax. We know what we're doing, and so does Sam. He's already gone up against super soldiers more than once before. If he needs us, he'll call. In the meantime, our job is to sit quietly and wait."

John rolls his eyes, your words clearly having zero effect on his mental state. He then turns to check the clock hanging on the room’s wall. A more optimistic individual might have hoped this would confirm to him that Bucky is right and that his behavior is irrational, however instead, his quiet pause is just that - a very brief halt before he's spinning the direction of his march towards Bucky and the door with Lamar quickly standing to join him.

Bucky doesn't hesitate to push himself off the stair railing and stop John in his place with a stern hand, his narrowed eyes giving more warning than any words could.

This act is unsurprisingly met with greater frustration and a whisper through gritted teeth, “...It must be really easy for you, right? All that serum just coursing through your veins? Your friend is completely alone in there. You let him go in there with no weapons, no defense, no backup…Do you really want his blood added to your hands?”

Buckydoesn’t respond aloud, although there’s a subtle shift within his eyes. It’s only visible ever so briefly before being hidden by a quick tightening of the jaw, however it sinks deep with the sting of John’s words. It’s the sore ache of insecurity - the shallow doubt that maybe, just maybe, those low-blow claims could actually hold reason.

He wants nothing more than for this situation to end without a fight. God knows he’s had enough of those to last a lifetime. Talking Karli down would offer a peaceful resolution while risking less people’s safety, as Sam and you have said, but that all depends on whether she listens.

Bucky wants to trust Sam’s capabilities, both in gaining the enemy’s trust and defending himself when in a tight spot. Steve sure did, and so do you…yet at the same time, he just can’t seem to shake that memory of how easily the Winter Soldier was able to knock the breath from Sam’s stomach before tossing him like a mere paperweight…

You three are up against super soldiers - eight of them, to be precise, compared to your one. What if you're cornered? What if the Flag Smashers get Sam or you alone, too far from Bucky’s reach to stop the blow? John’s right about one thing: in that scenario, your blood would be on his hands; it’s still on his hands if he stands by to watch it flow…

There’s nothing more said between them as John bumps past Bucky with zero resistance faced. He’s completely free to ascend the stairs and escape into the hallway before you can even shoot up from your spot on the opposite side of the room.

“HEY -! What the HELL, Bucky?!” Why he’d let John past - Why he’d let those stupid weightless words get under his skin like that - You wish you had the time to properly chew him out over it, but you don’t.

“Stay with Zemo!” Catching John before he can ruin Sam’s progress has to be your priority, so much so that you can’t stop to address the way Bucky sighs your name as a half-hearted plea while following your shadow rather than your previous command. Grumbled disapproval is all you can spare in the moment which is promptly hit back in your direction through eye rolls and poor excuses that go in one ear then out the other.

Unfortunately, even at your racing pace (and Bucky’s jogging to match it), you’re too slow to prevent John from bursting into the room where the funeral must’ve been taking place, now long empty aside from Sam and Karli who both snap their direction towards him in shock.

“Karli Morgenthau, you’re under arrest!”

From there, the scene quickly turns to chaos…

“That’s what this was…? To keep me talking until your help arrived?” Whatever middle ground Sam had been carefully forging between himself and Karli is immediately shattered as she now begins backing away from him. He raises his hands, attempting to both reassure her and address John, yet the latter doesn’t let him get more than a few words out before being shut down in a snap.

“- You’ve had enough time to talk,” John declares, his sights set solely on an increasingly apprehensive Karli.

You try to follow after him, calling his name as a last ditch effort to prevent a nasty fight, however Lemar blocks your path from physically getting any closer. It’s nothing more than the slightest shove backwards, only forceful enough to make you reserve a step or two, although that doesn’t stop Bucky from instinctively steadying you with his hands upon your shoulders.

“Don’t -!” You can’t say you’ve ever heard Bucky growl with such venomous anger before. After days of acting as if your presence kills him - weeks of avoiding you like the plague and cutting you out of his life like it’s easy - all it takes is that one single action of someone else putting their hands on you to snap him into a state of fierce rage. One could argue that he just sees you as someone who can’t protect themself - a ‘liability’ as he had said in Madripoor - but would he really react in such a way for just anyone on his team?

He either takes an actual swing at Lemar from over your head or he only tries to push him away from you both - likely the latter given his tone and the way Lemar instantly protects his face with a flash of fear crossing it. You would’ve liked to see the end result so that you could log it in your mental library as a long-missed example of Bucky truly caring about you, however your attention is diverted away when Karli punches John.

Despite all his high talk earlier, he must not have prepared himself to face off with a real super soldier because the second Karli’s fist makes contact with Steve’s shield, John’s violently thrown backwards, catching a nearby Sam in the impact which results in them both hitting the table behind them and tumbling to the ground.

Deciding that this has gone far enough, you slip away from Lemar which is easier to accomplish now that he’s officially distracted between John’s injury and Bucky forcefully knocking him to the floor himself.

With one swift movement, you draw your taser out from your belt and turn it up to its highest setting while rushing Karli. She immediately notices you, bending her body back to avoid the blue glow of your baton. Once it buzzes by, she follows up with a fierce swing in your direction, but this isn't your first rodeo. Between your encounters with a brainwashed Bucky and some sparring training you've done alongside other Avengers, you'd say you're somewhat decent at knowing what to expect when going up against super humans.

Thus, utilizing practiced speed, you duck to dodge her fist, spinning your weapon in hand so that, by the time you pop back up again with a bounce to your step, it's facing forward and prepared to be immediately thrust towards her, the baton's fork stabbing her shoulder blade.

Thank goodness Clint didn't supply you with just any kind of mediocre taser. Rather than deliver a tiny 'zap' to cause inconvenient discomfort lasting a millisecond, it bites with a brutal 'crackle' that has Karli's knees buckling and her pain expressed through loud, stammered cries. Nothing that will kill her, of course, but you doubt she'll be able to feel the sensors in her finger tips for a few minutes after her recovery.

At this point, Bucky’s approaching from behind and even Sam’s already stumbling up to his feet, using the table beside him as a crutch to -

- Karli sees the same sight as you, however for her, it's not so reassuring. Too stubborn to accept surrender, she grinds her teeth and gathers the strength to curl back another fist which she sends plowing your way.

You only have time to gasp, hardly bracing for the hit that throws you through the air and into a shelf. There's a loud crash that comes with this impact, the force of your body knocking various items to the ground where you drop like a ragdoll before the shelf itself wobbles then tips forward.

The sound of your fear was already enough to grasp Bucky's full attention, but only in time to listen to that cruel thud of your limp body and the following slam of the shelf thumbling overtop of you. After that, he can't hear anything else save for the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

His legs decide for themselves where they're going, ignoring the rest of the chaos around him as Karli stumbles off and John races after her. He just needs to make it to your side. There, he effortlessly tosses the shelf off of you, kneeling beside you with muted calls of your name which are equally as shaky as his hesitating hand.

You're not moving, body lying completely motionless against the ground and shattered jars. You're not responding either, face wiped clean of emotion as if you're only asleep. You're not moving at all - He isn't even sure if your chest is!

…This has happened before…This isn't new…

You were there, just as motionless, hunched forward with blood running like a stream down from your forehead to chin. You didn't answer anyone's calls then either, and when he dared to touch you, he swore he could feel the warmth leaving your skin. He's too scared to check that now, though. His hand is frozen unwillingly above you, the world swirling fast enough to make him nauseous or is that the throbbing against his forehead?

…You aren't moving again...

Then you groan, your arms shaking as you struggle to find the ground to push yourself up from. Clenching your side, you let out a whimper from the pain that expands across every inch of your back and ribs. It's a heartbreaking sound, but at least you're alert now, looking at him with a flash of fear before relaxing once realizing it's not the enemy currently hunched over you.

"- Bucky!" Sam appears behind him within the second, his hand carrying no more pressure than a feather when placed upon his shoulder, "We gotta go!”

Swallowing thickly, Bucky watches as Sam carefully tries to help you to your wobbling feet, each movement drawing out an uncomfortable hiss while you struggle to support yourself even when leaning most of your weight against someone else.

Seeing your hurt and that foggy glaze over your eyes, he finally snaps out of his own dizzying state enough to at least step in himself, his movements almost robotic as he hooks your legs over his arm then hoists you off the ground in one shift, easy motion. From there, he lets Sam lead the way, all the while distracted by his own heavy breathing and racing heartbeat which are the loudest sounds in his ears…

NEXT CHAPTER ->

<- PREVIOUS CHAPTER

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[geode-crystal]

And we finally have a sequel to the Used as Bait story!

Rescue time! Darius and Mianu have gotten themselves into a bit of trouble. Can Mianu get them out? Or will his own dark magic just make things worse?

("Porque no los dos" lol)

Directly continues my previous story. Characters: Darius the knight, Prince Mianu, and some random mercenary whumpers.

Contents: kidnapping, restraints (chains), a little bit of magic torture, a little bit of blood, tons of threats, a knife, implied minor character death (left somewhat open ended)

______________________

“Let. Him. Go.”

Mianu’s voice rang through the room. There was power behind it, more than just the typical authority of royalty. His magic, already swirling around his arm, was making him even more imposing than usual.

It was terrifying. But gods, even in these circumstances, Darius couldn’t help but find it insanely attractive.

Not that he had time to think about that.  

The mercenary woman stepped forward, looming right in front of Darius. Darius couldn’t even see Mianu anymore. But that didn’t stop his heart from pounding so hard it nearly burst out of his chest.

“Ah, the lost little prince,” the mercenary sneered. “So glad you made it.”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Mianu hissed. “We both know I'm not here for games.”

Darius didn’t need to see his captor’s face to know she was smirking. “True enough. There’s far more at stake here than any simple game, isn’t there? Especially if you want your darling knight returned to you in one piece.”

Darius struggled against his chains once more. It was infuriating. It was agony. Mianu was right there, already falling to his dark magic, and Darius couldn’t reach him.

Not with his actions, anyway. But his captors had made a mistake. They hadn’t bothered to gag or silence him.

“Mianu, run!” Darius shouted. “Whatever she wants, it’s not worth it! I’ll be fine, just get out of here!”

“Silence.”

The mercenary’s command was followed up by another spell. The same one from before. The burst of magic flew right towards his head. Darius flinched, barely managing to avoid the worst of the damage. The curse cut into his cheek. He gasped at the harsh sting of it.

Mianu let out a wordless scream.

The room instantly got colder. And there was another sound, one that echoed and amplified Mianu’s cry. It was like the growl of a furious beast.

Darius struggled against his chains again. Mianu’s power was only growing. Gods knew what kind of a toll it would take on him…

“You have made a big mistake,” Mianu growled. “I will give you one. More. Chance. Let him go, now. Or I will show now mercy.”

“Yes, yes, very intimidating,” said the mercenary.

She snapped her fingers. The sound seemed to echo, repeated over and over. And more mercenaries appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

Mianu hissed in surprise. Darius tried to cry out again, to warn him, to get him the hell out of there—but any attempt was cut short as someone roughly grabbed his hair from behind. His head was yanked back. Something cold was pressed against his throat.

He didn’t need to see it. He knew the bite of steel all too well.

Mianu froze. Even the air seemed to go utterly still. The other mercenaries moved around them, drawing weapons, preparing more spells. Darius sensed more than saw the movements, only catching glimpses out of the corner of his eye. The only thing he could see clearly was the look on Mianu’s face.  

Gods, that expression was going to haunt him, no matter what happened next.

“You strike any one of us down, your highness, and your knight will be the next to fall,” Darius’ captor warned.

Slowly, his eyes never once leaving Darius’ face, Mianu lowered his hand. Magic still curled around his fingers. But he closed his fist, making sure that none of it could escape.

Not yet.

The lead mercenary laughed, a cold, cruel sound, as sharp as the knife against Darius’ throat.

“Much better.” She swept off to the side, deliberately walking right in front of Darius and over to something else that he—infuriatingly—still couldn’t see. But Mianu clearly could. The prince’s eyes went wide.

“Do you recognize this?” the mercenary hissed.

“Where did you get that?” Mianu demanded.

His shock sounded genuine. Darius tried to shift a bit, struggling in vain to get away. Of course, the figure just gripped his hair even tighter. The knife pricked his skin, drawing beads of blood. Not that Darius cared about his own state at the moment.

“Mianu, don’t listen to her,” he choked out. “She’s a liar. A thief. She’ll—”

“Oh, good, I’m glad you recognize it,” said the lead mercenary. She was completely casual. And completely ignoring Darius’ shouts.

Mianu scoffed. “Of course I do. It’s my sigil.”

That cut Darius off far more effectively than any threat. The royal sigil? How in the name of all the gods did these cowards get their hands on something like that? Especially when they were so far from home?

“Then you understand why we needed you,” the mercenary smirked. “Our task for you is really quite simple. All you have to do is get this open.”

“You don’t even know what’s in there,” Mianu countered. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

The mercenary sneered. “I’m eager to find out.”  

Open it? Darius desperately wanted to know what was going on. And why Mianu was hesitating. If it was something that made him respond like that, then it was something that should stay firmly shut. Especially when magic was involved. Who knew what could be sealed in… whatever it was that happened to be sealed up.

Darius looked right at Mianu. It was all he could do. Mianu met his eye just for a moment. Darius could feel his hesitation. He could see the magic still curling around Mianu’s fingers, down his arm, like a snake coiling around its prey.

Then Mianu’s eyes flicked back to the mercenary.

“Release Darius first.”

Mianu’s tone made Darius shiver. Or maybe that was just the way the temperature in the room had dropped even more. But that clearly did nothing to the mercenary.

“And lose the most important card I have on the table?” she said. “Not likely.”

Mianu scowled. “Fine. Then step back. All of you. I think we both know how dangerous this might get.”

It was a warning to Darius as well. But when Mianu looked back at him, he saw something more than that. Mianu’s eyes blazed with determination. He had a plan. All Darius needed to do was trust him.

Darius wanted to nod. To give any kind of sign that he did trust Mianu. But he could hardly even move. So he hoped the look on his face would be enough. And he risked speaking once more.

“Do what you have to do,” he whispered.

Even across the room, Mianu heard. So, unfortunately, did the mercenary.

“Oh, how noble,” she jeered. “A knight’s loyalty in action. However foolish that might be.”

Mianu said nothing. His eyes remained locked on Darius.

“Perhaps I must remind you what’s at stake,” the mercenary hissed.

She must have given some kind of signal. Darius’ head was jerked further back, fully exposing his throat. He couldn’t help another hiss of startled pain. Mianu visibly flinched, his magic surging again.

“Do what we ask, or we kill him,” his captor said simply.

Darius tried to keep his breathing steady. He wasn’t sure if it worked. But he kept his gaze firmly on Mianu, unwavering.

Mianu’s eyes went ice cold. He glared at the mercenary with pure hatred.

“You kill him, and you’ve lost any chance of me doing anything you want,” he hissed. “He dies, and you fall next.”

“Of course,” said the mercenary. She didn’t believe a word. “How about a compromise, hmm? We will step back. Allow you to do what you must. But he stays exactly where he is. And you know what will happen if you fail to comply.”

As though to prove her threat, there was another bright flash. Another spell cast. Darius didn’t have a clue what hit him this time. But he would have buckled under the agony of it if he hadn’t been held up by the hair. He tried to bite back his pain. It didn’t work. A strangled noise burst from his throat.

“I understand,” Mianu said quickly. “Just get out of the way.”

The mercenary laughed. Darius had heard laughs like that before. It was the laugh of someone who had already claimed their victory.

With a single quick order, the other mercenaries immediately went into action. Darius was finally released. His head dropped and he gasped for air, just for a moment. He was sickened by his own sense of relief.

He forced his head back up as quickly as he could. He locked eyes with Mianu. He didn’t even care that the other mercenaries clearly still held his life in their hands. Though they stood back, away from whatever magical object they wanted Mianu to deal with, all weapons and dark spells were trained directly on him. Darius could feel a dozen pairs of eyes on his back.

The leader was the only one who didn’t look directly at him. Her gaze was still firmly fixed on Mianu. Which was made clear by the way Mianu glared back at her.

But then, finally, Mianu looked at Darius again. And he whispered something that even Darius couldn’t hear. But the message was clear just from the shape of his lips.

Brace yourself.

Not an apology. Not any reassurance. Just a warning. The prince had nothing else to give.

There was nothing Darius could possibly do about it. So he nodded, praying that his determination would shine through.

He trusted Mianu with his life. A trust that Mianu had proven himself worthy of time and time again.      

Darius just hoped that Mianu believed that.

Mianu tore his eyes away from the captured knight. He stepped up to the magical artifact. His eyes blazed in the dark, glowing, shining like emeralds. His magic surged, billowing around his arm. Shadows slid up towards his shoulder. Mianu grimaced, his body tensing in the pain it caused.

Darius instinctively struggled against his bonds again. But there was nothing more he could do.

Mianu raised his hand, palm facing outward. Magic pooled in his palm, forming a near perfect sphere. He took a deep breath. Closed his eyes. Let all that air out in a slow, quiet sigh.

Then all hell broke loose.

The worst part of it was the sound. The noise alone seemed to pierce right into Darius’ skull. Or maybe into his heart. For at the center of it all—of the howls like beasts, the roar like gale-force winds, the shattering and snapping sounds, the cries of the mercenaries—was one single, haunting scream. Mianu’s scream. It was a broken roar. A feral cry that was more animal than human. The sound of all of his rage and fear and pain bursting out of him.

And his magic exploded out with it. Shadows leaped forward, taking on beastly forms. They attacked the mercenaries without mercy. Despite all their weapons and magic, the mercenaries were clearly unprepared for the onslaught. Some of the magically manifested monsters were struck down. But more appeared to take their place.

Darius lurched forward. His chains bit into his skin. He didn’t care. He shouted out, calling Mianu’s name. Begging for him to stop. He had to stop, no one was meant to wield power like this, it had already cost him, he was just going to hurt himself more…

But Mianu was too far gone. He didn’t hear any of his knight’s cries.

As quickly as it had started, everything ended. The wind died down. The shadows faded, drawn back towards Mianu. The room grew warmer again as the darkness slowly drained away. And everything was silent.

Darius instinctively glanced around, taking in everything that he could. All the mercenaries were on the ground, unmoving. The door that Mianu had burst through was wide open, but no other assailants came through. And now that he could actually turn his head, Darius could see the artifact that had started all this trouble.

It was just a chest. A relatively small one at that. The only two things that stood out about it at all were the familiar insignia etched into the lock and the small, circular mirror built into the lid. Other than that, it could have been any old trunk.  

All this… for something so simple.

Mianu dropped down to his hands and knees. Magic still snared around his bad arm, the shadows pulsing with his heartbeat. He was breathing heavily. He looked far too pale.

Darius tried to fight against his chains again. He didn’t notice how badly he was trembling.

“Mianu!” he called. “Mianu, talk to me, you have to be alright…”

Mianu didn’t respond. He took several more shaky breaths. Then he forced himself to is feet. He swayed, barely able to keep his balance, his opposite hand instinctively clutching at his cursed arm.

“Mianu…”

Darius’ call seemed to bring Mianu back to reality. If only for a moment. He stumbled over to Darius, almost falling to his knees.

“Gods… I’m sorry I took so long,” Mianu gasped out. He immediately grabbed at the chains around Darius’ wrist. Another burst of magic, and the chains turned to dust. “How long have you been bleeding like that?”

“I’m fine,” said Darius. He didn’t know the answer to Mianu’s question anyway, and that would just worry the prince more. “But Mianu, you—”

“Don’t worry about me right now,” Mianu snapped. He grabbed the chains at Darius’ ankles. Those, too, were reduced to dust. “We need to get you some help. Maybe I can…”

Before Darius could say another word, Mianu stumbled to his feet again. He was gone for only a moment before he returned with some torn fabric. Probably from the clothing of one of the mercenaries.

Darius glanced at a fallen form. “Are they… did you…?”

“I don’t know,” said Mianu, already roughly bandaging the wound on Darius’ side. “But I don’t want to stick around to find out.”

As soon as the fabric was tied around Darius’ waist, Mianu stood up again. He hauled Darius up with him. They both stumbled. Darius managed to catch himself first. He grabbed Mianu. The two of them practically fell into each other’s arms. Darius held Mianu tight. His heart was pounding so quickly and violently that he was sure Mianu could feel it. But neither of them seemed to care.

They stayed like that for a moment. Just long enough for a few breaths. Then Mianu pushed Darius away… though he kept a firm grip on his knight’s hand.

“Come on,” said Mianu. “We need to get out of here.”

Darius didn’t argue.

Neither of them were up for much running. Mianu stumbled again and again. Darius pressed his free hand to the wound at his side. But they managed to escape the mercenary stronghold. And they kept moving. They had no idea where they were going. Half the time, they didn’t have it in them to look for any kind of shelter.

But Darius was sure they would find something. They were together. Despite all the odds. Despite all of his own failures.

They would get through anything. They’d done it before.

He just had to hope that Mianu would recover… in more ways than one.

_________

@whumperofworlds I believe you wanted to be tagged in this? And @tildeathiwillwrite you might be interested in this as well (I will absolutely take your tag off if you want me to)

[dreamsndmadness]

Hello!! Me again, :)

I read the newest chapter(of bloodlines, which was awesome) and I was wondering about Paul. What about Feyd endears Paul? Honestly, Feyd doesn’t seem like someone Paul would be with given the choice especially considering Feyds first impression. It seems to me that at this point even tho Paul and his mother are still being the plotting little schemers we know and love and that Paul’s affections could be apart of some plan of theirs, his emotional boundaries are still somewhat being chipped away at by Feyd.

Also btw this isn’t relevant to the characters but I love how you worked your way around feyds social ineptness to give the readers hints to understanding Paul, for example in chapter 6 when they’re talking about the spice shipments and Paul says “it’s only been a few weeks since the change” and he gets a cloudy look in his eyes; I interpreted that as him also reflecting on how short it’s been since his father died and how his life has been drastically changed but Feyd doesn’t pick up on that at allllll lol.

Also do u mind if ppl draw fanart of ur fic? I’m a very slow artist but I’d love to draw some of ur scenes :3

Another wonderful question 😍.

To be quite honest about what Paul feels for Feyd, there really isn’t affection for him on Paul’s side (at this point!!). Feyd fell pretty fast and hard for obvious reasons. But there are so many more layers surrounding how Paul feels about Feyd. His kinda philosophy going into this was to basically have sex with him because he has to and remain extremely emotionally distant from this person who is part of the family that murdered his beloved father and destroyed his whole world. He very much would not have picked Feyd as a partner if situations were different. Which is part of the reason I am finding writing this story so fun, because it’s picking apart these characters' brains and figuring out a way they can fit together.

Very slight inklings of affection have been creeping up on him and will continue on to creep up on him in the coming chapters. But it is going to be a very slow burn for Paul emotionally. Where Feyd, at this point, is almost in love with him. I feel like each chapter represents another step forward in their relationship, for Feyd and Paul and oftentimes it means different things to them personally.

Paul is only just coming to acknowledge and accept that he’s physically attracted to this person, which in itself was a hard conclusion for him to come to as he was raped on his wedding night. Which was a frankly awful experience for him. Which is why we see him not physically turned on by Feyd for several encounters after that. He’s afraid and in his head and deeply uncomfortable. But Feyd has been pretty relentless about making sure Paul has an orgasm every time they fuck, so Paul was like “hold up… am I enjoying this?”. Basically, chapter 7 was him being like “okay, I enjoy having sex. But I think in order to make this better for the both of us, we need to come to some understandings about how we are going to have sex in the future”. He’s trying to figure out what he likes sexually as he was in fact a virgin before all of this went down. Basically he’s a little more comfortable around Feyd now, hence the slight playfulness in chapter 7 where he tickles him and then laughs at Feyd’s reaction. Honestly such a favorite moment of mine.

(Side note, Paul is going to have a POV chapter soon which will help to elucidate some of this).

So chapter 8 for Paul, that little interaction at the end. He's starting to see and understand that they have a common enemy and see how this could potentially open up some trust between them as they’ve both been hurt by this person. If anyone was wondering, yes I do think Paul knows about Feyd’s CSA. While I haven’t read the book yet, the movies seem to indicate that he gets flashes about people beside himself i.e. Dr Kynes when he knows that she loved and lost a Fremen warrior. In this story, Paul knows Feyd was sexually abused by his uncle. It helps give some perspective on this violent and frankly terrifying person in a way that allows him to feel sympathy and give a little more understanding and context to him as a person and their relationship as a whole. And the fact that at the end of chapter 8 Feyd seeks him out in a protective way rather than to demand sex, goes a long way in Paul having some more good will towards him.

In the next chapter, something else will happen as another step/layer to their relationship that will give Paul another “aha” moment. It’s going to help him feel even more comfortable in their marriage and kinda understand better how their dynamic is going to continue going forward (in a sexual and non sexual way).

Paul and Feyd are such different people with extremely disparate upbringings. Paul was deeply loved and protected by his parents who modeled love and affection for him and raised him to be an intelligent and empathetic person. However, he has little context for having friendships and relationships with people his own age or arguably at all. His only friends seemed to be his parents and much older mentor figures who were old enough to be his father or grandfather. Feyd is not only much younger than those people, but has absolutely no emotional maturity. So there's this very wide divide between them. To bridge that gap is going to take years. Which is why there is going to be more stories after bloodlines. It will not happen by the end of this fic. However, they are going to come to a (hopefully) satisfying emotional understanding by the last chapter. At least I’m very satisfied by it and excited to share it 😝.

If I could pinpoint what specifically endears Feyd to Paul, at this point… honestly not a lot… He is so so different from anyone he’s known before. I think he likes (sometimes), that Feyd surprises him (when it’s not a bad surprise, which honestly most of them have been). He’s much more of an instinctual and spontaneous person where Paul is thoughtful and analytical. I think he appreciates that Feyd seems to like him taking the lead in their sexual relationship. And I think he likes that Feyd seems to respect his intelligence and fighting abilities and actively seeks his council and input.

Oh my goodness this is incredibly long. Hopefully all of that makes sense 😝. Also, yes to Feyd not getting the implication behind Paul’s words in the scene about the time between the change.

ALSO YES PLEASE!!! Oh my goodness!!!!! If you made art for this story, I am not joking when I say I will print it out and frame 🥹❤️. (As long as you are okay with that, that is). Basically, I would be so honored and delighted.