#it needs a lower level so i can rest my feet. it needs some sort of storage space whether just the lower level or a drawer or chest top | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

extra-v1rgin · 11 months ago

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So this isn’t technically a genderbend? Hence the femish lol. Tomioka changes sex but I still use he/him pronouns and mostly refer to him as a man besides a few jokes here and there. So he goes from a male body to a female body but his gender remains the same. You don’t have to think too hard about it but I enjoyed writing this lol.

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

“What’s wrong with you Tomioka-san?”

“H-huh? Can’t you tell? I thought it was fairly obvious.” His voice came out in a softer tone than usual, higher too. It made sense considering the circumstances.

“That’s not what I’m talking about! You’re acting so calm right now. Doesn’t being a woman bother you at all?”

“Can’t you cure the blood art? I felt confident in your abilities.”

“Of course I will. I’m just surprised you’re so nonchalant, most would be panicking in your situation.”

“I feel mostly the same I guess. Though I don’t enjoy how small I feel.” He demonstrates the point by kicking his feet, which can’t quite touch the ground. Though the examination table isn’t too high, Tomioka had to hop lightly to make it onto the cushioned seat. Annoyingly he still managed to gain a few inches on Shinobu.

She tries not to let her own irritated state show. “I don’t think that should be a problem. It’s not as if you’ll have to fight in this state.” While she talks the woman quickly draws a blood sample from Giyuu. “But I’ll have to do some testing. In cases of physical transformation the effects usually wear off on their own, but that doesn’t mean that the duration will necessarily be short. I can still figure out something to speed up this if we’re lucky.”

“Alright, will I stay here?”

“That’s probably best. You seems to be stable at the moment but it’ll be good to have you nearby should anything change.”

“Thank you for the hospitality.” With the formal statement Giyuu hops off the table and leaves the room to find his accommodations.

—-

He bothers her again the very next day. Shinobu’s sleep schedule isn’t exactly predictable, but he does knock on her door early in the morning. Kocho is miraculously awake, but dressed in her pajamas still. Her hair is undone. It barely brushes against her shoulders.

“My uniform doesn’t fit anymore.”

“Can’t you wear the linens provided?” It’s too early to be distracted by something so minuscule.

“I’d feel more comfortable in something familiar.”

Kocho opens her door further, allowing the (former) man in. “Such a difficult patient. My own will be too small on you, but I might have some spares in your size.” Shinobu lets Giyuu hover in the corner while she roots through her closet. Though Mitsuri insisted she liked the current uniform she owned, the younger woman kept spares should she ever change her mind. Tomioka isn’t as… well endowed, but their heights match up fine enough.

Right before she hands over the suit the woman pauses. “Wait, you’ll need undergarments too right? I’ll have one of the girls check the laundry.”

“My own fit fine.” It’s probably a lie to save the embarrassment of extending the visit. Shinobu is much less bothered by sensitive topics than the average person. She’s quick to bite back.

“Unless you’re dick grew back overnight I doubt that. You should accept the help you’re given.”

Giyuu’s face goes a beautiful shade of pink but he nods in defeat. He takes the set of clothing into his arms. “Can you just have them sent to my room?”

“Sure! I can tell you don’t wanna be here any longer.” His face can’t grow any redder but the embarrassment lingers.

“Thank you.” Shinobu wonders if being a woman has given him manners. She can’t recall the last time Giyuu has managed to hold a proper conversation. Though asking for a favor hardly counts it’s still progress compared to his usual state.

—-

Shinobu goes about the rest of her day normally. All the other patients have lower-level afflictions, a twitching nose or scrambled language. It’s easy to brew up an antidote for these sorts of side effects. They’re sad attempts at demon-blood arts, too weak to properly debilitate most slayers. These kinds of ailments are often cured within a day or two.

Transformations like Tomioka’s often take longer. Once Mitsuri grew a longer lizard-like tongue that took two weeks to get back to normal. The worst case was when Kyojuro grew a beard that couldn’t be cut, which lasted nearly a month.

So as soon as she finishes the work required as the head doctor Shinobu does some testing on the previously acquired blood sample.

Though she barely gets to mix up the first attempt at an antidote before Aoi is knocking at her door. It’s not Kocho for her to be interrupted, and she always treats her apprentice with kindness, but the action never gets less annoying.

“I’m sorry for barging in Shinobu-sama! But Tomioka-sama is requesting your help.”

Before speaking she wipes the negativity from her tone. “Help with what?”

“Well, um. Sh-he wouldn’t tell me, but he sounded very distressed, distressed for Tomioka-sama I mean. When I tried going in he said I shouldn’t bother.”

“Right, I’ll see to it.”

It’s not often Giyuu actually asks for her presence. His unique new state seems to have softened his worst qualities as a patient. Usually he’d have attempted to leave several times by now, and when that didn’t work he’d remain silent and solitary save for the checkups Shinobu insisted on. She couldn’t gage how desperate the situation would be if he had willingly requested her.

Making her way to the room she considered whether or not she should knock given the strange circumstances. Deciding to appeal to Giyuu in hopes he might continue with this helpful behavior she tapped against the door gently.

“Aoi-chan said you needed me, can I come in?”

“Yes.” His voice was high even considering the circumstances. “But don’t open the door too wide.” He attempted to stay nonchalant when adding the odd ending.

Curious she slides herself through an opening barely big enough to allow her in.

“I can’t seem to get it on.” The problem is immediately clear. Tomioka looks pretty, leaning back on the bed with a hand covering his chest. When she had given him the undergarments instructions had not been included. The bra was both too loose and too tight, handing oddly on his body. For what it’s worth the fabric does manage to cover the majority of his newfound breasts. That doesn’t cure his embarrassment however, a soft pink blush highlighting perfect cheekbones.

“Stand up, and turn around.”

Some of the buttons have been hooked into place, but they’re not aligned properly. Kocho undoes the clumsy work.

“Next time you back put it on backwards, do the buttons first, then flip it around and slide your arms through.” Her slim fingers work quickly as she helps right the back of his bra.

“Wait one second.” She pulls off the straps tight so they cling to his shoulders properly rather than having them slip off constantly. “Does that feel better?”

“It’s…tight.”

“Sorry, that’s just how it is. Now you know the horrors of womanhood.” Despite her light tone Tomioka nods solemnly.

“Thank you.” Shinobu takes it as a dismissal and leaves him to finish getting dressed on his own. Hopefully he doesn’t need anymore help getting dressed. Mostly because he’s grown and should be able to figure it out on his own but also because Shinobu can’t forget the slope of Giyuu’s breasts as they settled into the stiff cups.

Tomioka has always been pretty, but as a woman certain features have been softened in just the right ways to further compound his beauty. It’s bothersome for him to be so attractive yet have such a rough personality. If he wasn’t horribly obtuse there’d be a line of women chasing after him, Shinobu included.

But now isn’t the time to entertain thoughts like that (or imagine what Giyuu’s chest looked like bare, if his nipples matched the soft reddish hue of his lips) and she focuses on getting back to her actual duties.

The blood seems resistant to higher doses of wisteria. Shinobu can only add so much extract before it starts to do more harm than good. Still, putting him on a mix of wisteria, vitamins, and various other herbs will help strengthen the fight against whatever’s going on within his physiology. Sometimes demons can be weakened from exposure to other elements, but at that point it’s just a guessing game.

That’s a lot of different ways to say that she hasn’t figured out anything, but phrasing it so plainly just frustrates her. Even after years of studying it demon blood art often offers little answers. Annoyance runs its course through her veins until she’s doing more damage to her studies than good. She’s spent too much of the day pouring over texts that haven’t served her at all. The younger girls have left her alone which means too much time has slipped by without her noticing. It’s later than she realized (though Shinobu has never been able to keep proper track of time) and in the morning she’ll be tired and agitated. That’s not particularly rare for the woman at this point but it’s another step back on the promise that she’d try and take care of herself. (Kanae should’ve known better than to expect that from Shinobu. She’s always been self-destructive in one way or another.)

But Kocho is eager to abandon her pointless work and is able to move away from her desk with little difficulties. If she had found something worth looking into she would’ve stayed there all night. Her exhaustion isn’t what pulls her away. Shinobu moves through the motions of getting ready for bed, but when she finally lays down on her futon it’s clear sleep won’t come soon. She’d be happy to fall asleep if she could (and finally get rid of the bags under her eyes) but her brain has grown too used to functioning until it can’t anymore.

Staring up at the ceiling she fights with herself. The woman could try warm tea or simply drug herself but despite the fact that she can’t sleep her muscles still yearn to rest. The separation between her mind and body is a frustrating prison.

But she’s nothing if not a genius and there are still ways she can tire her head without getting up.

Shinobu loosens her robe until her front is exposed. It’s annoying to move under the sheets but the cold air is unwelcoming. So she lifts her knees to create a small tent of space and plunges her finger between her legs.

There’s not much fanfare in her actions. Kocho slides smooth fingers over her clit until she finds whatever motion will suit herself tonight. Letting her eyes slip close the woman falls into the pleasure that radiates from her core. She paints on hand over her breasts and hips while the other stays glued to her cunt. The two work in tandem to spark real pleasure within her.

It’s hard for her mind not to wander as her fingers dart down and then back up to spread wetness over her clit. With such attractive coworkers it’s an impossible task to not wonder about them. Especially with previous encounters feeding deeper into her imagination. She can remember Mitsuri’s large chest pressing up against her back, small pants accompanying their gentle movements. The first time she met Tengen’s wives everyone was pleasantly drunk, letting hands brush up against bodies. Uzui himself was annoying, but he was damn attractive and had good taste in women.

And of course she imagines Giyuu. She keeps the touches of awkwardness in his behavior, it’s part of the charm. He’d be so easy to tease, a pretty pink falling over his features.

The line between his male attributes and his current ones is quickly crossed. She’s already caught a glimpse at his chest. It’s easy to imagine that she’s undoing his bra instead of putting it on. His breasts would fit so perfectly into her hands. Tomioka would gasp and pant until she finally reached between her legs to grace the man’s newly formed cunt.

Images grow fuzzier. She doesn’t know if he’d be hairy down there (a mirror to her own pussy) or neatly trimmed or even completely bare.

She’d touch it either way, tease him by straying away from his clit to focus on the precious petals surrounding a molten core. Shinobu would dip her hand inside until she could lure out the wetness inside, spreading over-

Arching her back Kocho shakes as she comes undone. Her thighs burn as they stiffen and point outwards. The woman’s cunt clenches and pushes out more slick. She tries to keep most of it off her sheets, though they’re already soaked in her sweat. Shinobu should change them and sleep on something cleaner but instead she wipes her moist fingers on the blanket and turns over.

—-

In the morning Shinobu wakes up still nude. Her girls know not to barge into her room unprompted so she moves slowly while she works to get presentable. Any shame about her fantasies last night is buried underneath the fact that they are just fantasies. If the thoughts occasionally permeate her regular life they certainly don’t persuade her actual actions.

Outside everything functions as normal. The rest of the girl’s are well trained and are smart enough to disregard rules during a real emergency. Though by the way Aoi immediately rushes to her side not everything is running completely smoothly.

“Shinobu-sama I uh- I’m not sure how to say this but I found something in the laundry last night.”

“Was it dirty clothes?” The opportunity is too good to pass up and though her gentle tone downplays the corniness Aoi still rolls her eyes.

“There was blood on… on a pair of panties.” She’s whispers the last word, young enough to feel embarrassed by it.

“Menstrual blood?” Shinobu already knows the answer, Aoi wouldn’t bother her over something like that.

“It was too high up to be from that, unless someone really didn’t know what they were doing which-“ The girl’s face turns pink though she keeps her hard tone. “I think they might have been Tomioka-sama’s.” She whispers the last part again.

“Oh.” That does sound like something worth bothering her. “Well I’ll have a talk with him. Thank you for telling me Aoi-chan.”

She bows curtly and seems rather excited to remove herself from the situation. Shinobu feels for the poor girl but there’s a little humor in the situation too.

Kocho isn’t too worried, but considering that she doesn’t have any other pressing matters she decides to pay the man a visit. The woman pockets some menstrual products and a bit of disinfecting alcohol in case he really does need some sort of help. She hadn’t given him any sort of exam because of how out of sorts the man already was, but she assumes that his body has proper… equipment alongside the changes that were already clear.

She finds the man in his room still. With a light knock she’s granted entrance. Giyuu is totally oblivious to the reason for her arrival, shooting her a questioning look.

“How are you doing Tomioka-san?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you? Aoi-chan told me something very interesting.”

The man doesn’t respond to that. He’s still clueless to whatever she’s insinuating.

“She told me she found some blood on a pair of undergarments. Isn’t that interesting?”

In lieu of another answer he turns around to avoid the question. He stands with his back turned towards her, absolutely still. Shinobu is patient but as the minutes stretch onward she gives him a gentle prompt. “Were you going to tell me anything or do you just enjoy wasting my time?” She takes a step back to tease a departure.

“I cut myself.”

“And you decided it’d be best to stay silent about it?”

“It was a very small cut.”

Kocho doesn’t allow him to get ahead of her. “Considering your condition you should disclose any injuries, especially when you take in account the location. Most people don’t go around slicing such delicate areas.”

“I was trying to shave.” Clearly he admitted it thinking he was proving the woman wrong, but now all she can think about is the fact that he shaves regularly. She tucks the thought away, but it’ll make an appearance the next time she can’t sleep and needs entertainment.

Shinobu isn’t surprised that he’d brush something like this to the side. He’d barely get treatment if he was sliced through. “Of course a pretty boy like you would care about something like that at a time like this. Why don’t you show me and I can disinfect it for you.”

“It grew hair when I- You aren’t being very professional right now.” He doesn’t seem too angry but rather annoyed.

“Sorry! You should be fine yes but, it might be good to take a closer look considering the unusual circumstances.” The suggestion feels obvious but Giyuu is caught off guard by what she is technically suggesting.

Still she’s seen him in all sorts of conditions so eventually after Shinobu makes it clear she’s not leaving the man slowly pulls down his pants. He looks ridiculous with the fabric pooled around his ankles. Much slower he undoes the bottom few buttons of his shirt before, finally, taking off the underwear given to him.

And it’s true that the cut isn’t particularly large or nasty, but if he were to transform back soon Shinobu isn’t entirely sure where it would end up. “Let me disinfect it and we can be done with this.” She motions towards the bed and waits for Giyuu to sit.

Kocho tries really hard to keep her mind focused on the task at hand but as she kneels between Tomioka’s legs all she can think about is that she’s kneeling between his fucking legs, pussy spread right before her. Keeping her eyes above the bush of black curls she lightly pushes the cut with her finger. It’s a clean cut, made from a razor if Giyuu really did cut himself shaving.

The man hisses at the pressure against the injury. Though his noises get only louder when she swipes alcohol over the wound.

“Sorry, I can’t do much to help with the pain. It’s a rather large cut. Can you still feel any pain when I press over here?”

This time she moves upwards. He lets out a gruff noise that’s probably meant to be affirmation. She dances around the wound seeing how far the pain goes. For a bit Shinobu moves left and right and upwards. After she’s measured the distance in nearly every direction her fingers of course slip down. They feel over rough hair, warm skin buried underneath. “Can you still feel any pain down here?”

Tomioka is looking down at Shinobu (though he still avoids eye-contact) with a touch of shame. “Just a bit.” His words are very quiet now.

It’s dangerous to move much lower but she does anyways. Pale skin turns pink as it curves downwards. If she followed the bend she’d be welcomed to the feeling of hot slippery skin.

“Here?” She looks up into the man’s eyes.

“I-I’m not sure.” Tomioka’s voice grows even higher, it’s probably an octave or two above his usual tone.

Shinobu doesn’t pull away, but doesn’t drift lower quite yet. “Should I keep checking?” If he says no then this memory can go with all the other embarrassing moments (like when she caught Uzui and one of his wives doing very inappropriate things on one of the hospital beds) and she’ll draw a proper line between doctor and patient.

But Giyuu doesn’t say no, he nods gently. Without exposing her eagerness she suavely inches down towards his newly formed clit. It’s large, already visible beneath the hood. She wonders if that somehow translates to an above average dick or just means that this is what a dick-turned-clit would look like.

“Does it hurt here?” Kocho jabs it in just the right way that she knows she’s following the trail of nerves upwards. The level of stimulation goes up exponentially, so fast that Giyuu can’t even cover his mouth before a loud moan rips from his mouth. It’s high and melodic and definitely noisy enough that a passer-by might’ve heard (if the whole estate already hasn’t). Pulling back for only a brief moment the woman gives him quick instructions to cover his mouth and doesn’t even wait for a response before her fingers are moving again.

This time Shinobu takes it slower. She rubs Giyuu’s clit in gentle circles until the man is curving over her head. The hand that’s not covering his mouth slips down to dig into her hair. It’s not controlling or demanding but a quiet plea for merch. Shinobu has none.

Tomioka’s hot and hard clit has more nerve endings in it than his entire dick. It’s likely that he’s never felt this amount of stimulation before. Kocho can bring more pleasure to him with the tips of her fingers compared to what an entire body might usually do. The rush of power accompanies a rush of blood until her own cunt is just as wet as Tomioka’s. She was trying to keep some level of coolness but her desperation might even outweigh the man’s.

“Lay down for me?” When he scoots to spread across the bed properly she takes the moment to shed her haori and start the top buttons of her uniform. Kocho’s never been patient though and before she can finish she’s crawling on top of Giyuu.

Now she focuses on his face. It’s mostly the same, maybe his eyelashes are shorter and maybe his nose curves a little more but the changes are negligible. What she really looks at is his red lips and rosy skin. The man barely makes eye contact in regular situations but now he doesn’t even blink as he looks up at her.

“Can I kiss you?” Shinobu is first to break their standoff. She cups his chin and resists moving forward until she has a proper answer despite how alluring he is.

Though it seems like Giyuu’s resolve has weakened too as he tugs her forward. His lips move softly with clumsy movements exactly like she’s imagined on a million lonely nights. Her own devour as tongue and teeth collide with his gentle motions.

“You’re beautiful.” She doesn’t even know if Tomioka can hear the words through skin and muffled moans. To be sure the woman shows her appreciation in other ways. Her hands grab at his covered chest and toned stomach and soft hips. Shinobu presses their bodies together like stars colliding. She’s about to swallow him in a black hole.

Finally after a few minutes of kissing and breathing and more kissing she’s satisfied. Not for the whole night, but enough to negotiate this properly.

It’s hard to ignore the way Giyuu looks though. He’s panting with wet lips that are parted just the tiniest amount. Shinobu could slip her finger in-between and-

Asking about this, that’s what she was doing. “Can I keep touching you? All of you?”

“Sure.” Even through the cloud of lust Shinobu can tell he sounds off.

“Are you?” Her hands settle gently on his hips. They don’t dig into the skin, just cradle the soft outline of curves.

Giyuu looks embarrassed, not in the way he looked embarassed when Kocho was rubbing his cunt but embarassed in a sad way that makes her feel guilty for even looking at him.

She forgets about sex for a moment and gives him a real kiss. There’s no hunger in this one though desire still rolls within her gut. “We don’t have to anything. I-I shouldn’t even have suggested it. That was inappropriate of me.”

The man’s hands curl around her waist. She can feel them shaking. “Do you just want me because of this body?” The sounds fall sweetly from his mouth despite the harsh innards.

“No! I wouldn’t do this with just anyone. Though I do admit your recent transformation may have… prompted me.”

Tomioka huffs like somethings been confirmed but Kocho isn’t so easily silenced. “It’s not like I’ve had an opportunity like this before either. I can’t imagine what sort of situation you’d let me fondle you in other than this one.” The words sound like excuses but it’s the truth. Giyuu knows it too so he relaxes into the sheets.

“I would’ve let you if you had asked earlier.” Even coming out of his mouth he knows that there’s no time or place she could’ve, would’ve, asked other than right now.

“Hmm well next time I’ll be sure to read your mind.” It’s full of her usual teasing tone as her hands sink deeper into his skin.

Tomioka scoffs but it comes out quiet.

“Now, while I’ve already violated all kinds of moral rules can we keep this going?”

The man has no choice but to agree because despite his reservations he wants this just as badly.

This time a perfect balance between soft and rough is found. Shinobu’s lips still move like they can devour his skin but her focus is drawn over his whole body, dampening the earlier ferocity.

The woman’s hands are a lot less nervous than Giyuu’s. They dance over his hips and chest and then back down to cup his cunt and feel the heat radiating from it.

All the sensations are different. Kocho’s hands over his core feel nice but don’t inspire immediate arousal the way they would if someone skimmed their fingers over his cock. Everything feels drawn out, his breasts and collarbones and thighs soaking in the pleasure alongside his fragile center.

Then she skims over his clit again, rubs a slow circle and pushes her fingers upwards, and he lets out another lewd noise. All the sensations focus on a single spot until she moves away and they spread back out to the rest of his body.

“You need to be quieter.” Shinobu’s lips move over his neck. “Do you need help with that?” He can’t imagine what she’s implying and isn’t sure if he should be aroused or frightened (and aroused).

“Maybe.” Giyuu tries to make it sound sexy rather than unsure. It’s not clear if he succeeds.

She laughs which is maybe a sign that failed but regardless her tone remains the same. “Why don’t you do some work now then? It’s rude to leave me to do everything myself.”

“Sorry.” It’s an empty apology to buy time while Tomioka considers the fact that he doesn’t know how this kind of “work” works. His hands skate over her hips and up to her shirt that’s still partially buttoned. It’s a weak move but one that can’t be wrong.

Still he undoes it easily and within a few seconds is met with the slope of her neck as it morphs into her chest. Even though she wears a bra the sight is still beautiful.

So without thinking he moves below the padding, pushed open by gravity, and cups her chest. It’s a warm weight in his hands and Shinobu makes a pleased noise that urges him onwards.

He gropes the skin and grinds his palm over her nipple. The woman gives another affirming hum though it seems like his actions aren’t particularly arousing.

Instead he guides her back upwards so they can sit on even ground. This way he can move lips over her neck and collarbones without straining. As an added bonus they can shrug off unwanted bits of clothes.

When he moves further downwards however he is met once more with the barrier of Kocho’s bra. Giyuu can’t slip his lips beneath the padding the same way his hands could and is faced with the daunting task of undoing her bra.

His hands slip around her back until they find the claspes that keep the whole thing stuck together. It takes several clumsy attempts to undo the wiring but thankfully he doesn’t need any help.

When he is finally met with the sight of her breasts there’s an awkward moment where he just stares. Giyuu has spent plenty of time observing his own breasts but there’s more appeal in looking at someone else’s. He cups them again, feels the soft weight, and then moves forward with his lips. The man tests out her reaction when he sucks or kisses or even skims teeth gently over her flesh. When he finally makes it to a hard pink nipple he opens his mouth wide and drags his tongue over the area. He’s finally gifted with a true moan as she leans into the action.

Pleased, Tomioka repeats the motion several times, alternating between licking and sucking. Shinobu is probably making as much noise as he was earlier but he’s much less inclined to tell her to be quiet. Instead his actions grow a bit bolder. His hands, which were previously lying gently against her hips, move to grope her ass. Though he has a desire to explore her cunt in turn, he has no idea where to even begin there. So for now he settles for feeling the weight of her body as her hips subtly sway.

Finally he pulls himself away from Shinobu’s breasts, which are now covered in spit and hickies. It’s attractive enough that he wants to dive right back in, but for now he finds some restraint in order to look towards her face.

The woman has pink cheeks and her eyes are shut in either embarrassment or from the lingering pleasure. When she feels the stimulation stop for more than a few moments she’s forced to meet Tomioka’s gaze.

“What do I do now?” There’s no point in hiding his uncertainty.

“Hm?” Kocho is caught off guard by such a direct question. “Well there’s lots of ways to do this though I’m sure you’re not aware of them. But you seem to be very good with your mouth.” With that she unbuttons her pants and starts to slide them off. After a pointed look Giyuu shimmies his own uniform the rest of the way off.

They face each other, both nude in their entirety. Giyuu wishes he had a way to do this more smoothly but there’s not any excuse that could justify how his eyes immediately point to her uncovered cunt.

There’s a wild bush of hair in front, mostly black with tinges of purple further down. The shocking color makes him briefly consider what the rest of the hashira with their vibrant hair might look like, but he can’t stay distracted for long when Shinobu is pushing him back and swinging her hips over his.

For a moment they return to gentle kissing and groping. Giyuu relaxes in the sheets as his nudity becomes irrelevant. Most of the feelings are the same except for her bare breasts pushing against his own. The weight of them is less obvious when he lays back like his.

But eventually Shinobu gets rough again as her hands drag over his skin. She draws her mouth back, lines of spit connecting them. “Are you ready?” Tomioka doesn’t know what he should be ready for, but he nods anyways.

In a moment she spins around and plants her thighs on the sides of his head. Now he can stare all her likes because her pussy is right below his eyes. It’s pink and shiny with slick. When he breathes heavily the muscles contract and twitch right above his mouth.

After a second of silence and stillness Giyuu realizes he’s probably supposed to be doing something. Bringing his hands back to her waist he drags her cunt to his lips. He repeats some of the same motions he tried on her breasts earlier. The kitten licks and gentle sucking draw out more moans, but eventually he figures out how to plunge his tongue inside of her which brings out real noises. More than that there’s the wet sounds of her pussy moving against his face. It’s more erotic than even the sight of her pink insides so close to him.

Tomioka is happy to eat the woman out even receiving no stimulation of his own. In fact he’s almost surprised when she shifts to mirror his position. Almost tenderly the woman presses a kiss to the small cut on his pelvis. From there she follows the same path as earlier. Though this time she has to pry his legs apart to insert her fingers back inside his cunt. It’s a lot harder to keep his pace even when he’s constantly interrupted by his own moans, but he manages to stay consistent with his motions at least.

It gives him a good way too to figure out what else he can do to pleasure her. Getting a hand in the right spot is difficult but he locates her clit and figures out how to rub in a way that breaks the woman’s focus.

From then it becomes almost a game. He’ll push her further into pleasure until she finds some new way to tease him and his pace is interrupted with several moans. Then Giyuu moves in with more vigor until she is interrupted in turn.

Of course, unused to this sort of pleasure, Tomioka cracks first. He practically lunges into Shinobu as his back curls.

Lengthening his orgasm the woman continues to spread her fingers inside her and swirl her tongue around his clit. Right before he can relax she wraps her lips around the engorged bud and sucks hard. It tumbles over from to pleasure to overstimulation and Tomioka cries out beautifully until she finally releases him.

He flops down for a second to gather his senses. The man’s whole body has gone limp as all his muscles relax.

Thankfully Kocho gives him a few minutes to breathe and rest before she sits up and more of her weight shifts to Giyuu’s face. He’s exhausted but owes the woman (though he’d do this either way). It’s much easier to stimulate her when she can rock her hips along with his movements.

Given the fact that her thighs bump into his shoulders and partially pin him down it’s hard to move his arm properly but he does find a way to move it upwards and sneak a few fingers into her cunt. While she fucks herself on them his tongue is free to focus elsewhere. He doesn’t have many tricks or knowledge that can give her as good of an orgasm as he got but Shinobu’s own excitement might make up for that as her pussy constantly leaks. There’s virtually no friction in their movements between that and the sweat.

Tomioka needs a little edge to bring her all the way to the end though and while he might be killed for this he lets his teeth grab at her clit. He doesn’t bite, just holds the bead in place while his tongue laps at it. Internally he prepares to be smacked or something worse but thankfully he succeeds in this mission and Kocho suffocates him while her cunt pulses around his fingers. He happily drowns in her, an object until she’s satisfied.

When she finally relaxes and moves to the side Giyuu doesn’t release his hold on her. His arms tie themselves around her waist as he drags her back towards him. He claims his place, face buried in the softness of her stomach. Kocho’s hands are quick to start combing through his hair. Giyuu’s bangs are stuck in awkward positions from the earlier pressure against them.

“You were awfully good at that. Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” Her tone at first is so honest it’s hard to tell if she’s joking or not. The soft kiss she places on his head afterwards only confuses him more.

“I haven’t.” He pulls back to look her in the eyes. “You have though?” Shinobu seemed awfully confident in her actions earlier.

“Ah well-“ She goes bright red. It’s maybe the most embarrassed she’s been throughout all of this. “Just a little.”

Tomioka is curious and while he’s socially inept enough to have asked the first question he does know not to ask the others on his mind. The silence lingers for a second though until he can think of something else to say.

“Well you were very good too. It was different than how I thought it’d be…” He mumbles the last bit.

“Were you thinking about this?” Again it’s just a gentle poke but Tomioka freezes like he’s been caught. It’s so obvious she can’t help but laugh. She bends down to press another kiss to his head. “I’ll pry those thoughts out of you one day.” Maybe when she shares her own late night fantasies (maybe if she gets drunk enough).

Instead of responding he holds Shinobu closer, pulling her down so he can nestle his head in her shoulder. His sigh is maybe too heavy, with a taste of that familiar annoyance, but with their bodies intertwined there’s no room for true animosity.

It’s only midday so really they don’t have time to nap. Any moment a new patient will come in or the silence will dare Aoi to wander towards their room just to check in (Shinobu regrets having such attentive aides). They pretend for a few moments though. Kocho pets Tomioka’s head and he breathes deeply into her skin. The woman even lets her eyes slip shut for a minute or two. Most nights she barely gets sleep at all, she can’t remember ever having taken a nap once her life as a slayer started. It’s a slippery slope and when her eyes are harder to open than they are to close she knows it’s time to get up.

With a heavy groan she pushes herself upwards. Tomioka received a private suite given his condition which means Shinobu can clean herself before returning to her duties. When she slides off the bed long hands trail after her. “Are you leaving?”

“It’s barely past noon.”

He looks towards the sun streaming through the slats of the window. “Oh.”

She huffs. “You can join me if you’d like. I don’t expect you to stay nude in bed all day.”

That draws a very soft smile from Giyuu. He trails after her, hands gravitating back towards her body. Meeting him halfway she pulls his arms around her middle. Kissing his fingers she tastes her own spend and lets her tongue dive between the digits. They pause the journey for the lewd display. Tomioka watches from over her shoulder, rocking gently against the woman’s back. “Can we go back to bed?” He already knows the answer.

“No… but a bath might be good. I probably don’t smell good. Perfume can only be used so many times before the stink just has to be washed off.” Perfume doesn’t really cover the smell at all but when she hasn’t showered for days or weeks it’s better than nothing. Tomioka nods dumbly and so Shinobu tries again. “You can join me if you’d like. It’ll save water.”

She watches the realization paint over the confusion. It’s so obvious that it draws a smile from her own lips. “Okay.” The answer isn’t very elegant but she can’t expect much else.

#kny #nsft #demon slayer #tomioka giyuu #kimetsu no yaiba #tomioka #shinobu #shinobu kocho #shinobu x tomioka #shinogiyuu #tomioka x shinobu #shinobu x giyuu #sex swap #fem!tomioka #sixtynine #lol

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skeletonsfortea · 9 months ago

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Dancing with a Demon Pt. 2

Part One

Sans’s phalanges dig into your hands as you dance, and you’re sure he can feel your pulse through them. You can. He keeps tripping you, and you’re half sure it’s not on purpose. He looks uncomfortable.

“Why did you come if you didn’t want to be here?” You ask before you think, and immediately bite down on your tongue. Crap.

He looks at you in surprise, and then away again, watching the crowd. “The pervert’s here. How the fuck else am I supposed to keep an eye on you?”

You raise an eyebrow, “the others are here, though.”

“He’s stronger than all of them. Red and his brother are the only ones that actually stand a chance, and they aren’t here,” he growls, his eye flicking through the crowd.

“Why only Red and Edge?” You ask, and immediately wince when his phalanges dig deep into your hands. He looks back at you, briefly locking eyes.

“Real fucking curious today, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” you say, and put your eyes on the ground.

“LOVE.”

“What?” You look back up.

“You’ve heard about it, haven’t you?” You focus, and a vague memory of reading about it pops into your head. Level of violence. You wince.

“They have a lot of it?”

Sans scoffs, “not as much as I do. But plenty more than these wimpy assholes.” Anger pools in, but you let it go- like you always do.

“But it would be four against one,” you say.

“All he needs to do is lay a single finger on you,” he says.

“Then what do you think it is you’re going to do?” You ask under your breath.

“Whatever I need to.” He growls, and you shudder. You hadn’t meant for him to hear that. He chuckles a little, “hey, kid, how do you feel about collars?”

“What?”

“Gonna need some way to find you if you get stolen.” He says with a grin.

“How is a collar going to help with that?” You ask dryly.

“Eh, it’s not the collar, it’s what’s in it.”

“A tracker?”

“Sort of.”

“It can’t be something else?”

His grin twitches upwards, and he glances at you, “sure, kid. We can head to the shack after this and figure it out together.”

Your heart sinks to your feet. “W-wait, I didn’t-” you begin.

“Quiet.” He snaps, and your jaw shuts. The dance continues. You can at least be thankful he doesn’t spin or dip you. There’s nothing too complicated about it. You’re just following his casual steps until the music switches, and dance partners start switching too. You spot Blue coming through the crowd with a hopeful start. Maybe he’ll save you from this-? A hand lands on your waist, and suddenly you’re in another section of the room. Currant turns you to face him with a victorious smile.

“Hey kitten.”

Fuck. “Uh-” he twists the both of you suddenly, and you stumble, forced to focus on your feet rather than your words. One of your hands is locked in his, and the other is holding tight to his shoulder for any semblance of control you can get. The punishing pace at least serves to distract you from the hand still resting on your waist- with the sharp phalanges you’ve grown all too accustomed to. You’re not exactly familiar with Currant, but you get the feeling he’s not too much different from your Sans- at least in regards to violence, if you’re judging by looks- and that’s not comforting. You’re startled when someone grabs your shoulder and you’re turned back around to face Sans in another area of the room. Oh wonderful. Murderous skeletons. Fighting over me. This is a very safe situation. When did your life get so fucked? Sans looks angry, although that’s not surprising. You can at least be grateful he moves slower than Currant.

“I swear to-” Sans begins,and you shudder at the sudden cold he exudes, before a hand presses to your lower back. Like that, you’re back across the room, being spun to face Currant. Shit, you’re dizzy.

“Could you not-” you begin. Your hand is taken from Currant’s shoulder just as the former releases your hand, and you’re pulled into Sans’s chill. You shiver, “h-hey-”

“Keep your slimy hands off of my shit, freak.” Sans growls, and before anything else can happen, someone grabs your free hand.

In an instant, you’re in a different, more secluded area. Stretch locks his arm around your waist to give you some support as you get your bearings. The dance he guides you into is slow, relaxed.

“Sorry about that, you alright?”

“Better, now that I’m away from those two,” you say.

He sighs a little, “I don’t know what’s gotten into them. We can try to talk to Rust, but-”

“No,” you quickly interrupt, “it’s fine. It’s over, anyway.”

He frowns a little, looking down at you, “are you sure?” You nod. “Well…ok. But you remember we’re here to help, right? This isn’t…” he pauses, unsure, “we don’t want you to be afraid.”

“I know.” Doesn’t change the fact that I am. Or that I’m going back to that universe.

“You’ve thought about our offer, right?”

“Yeah.” You say softly. I’ve also thought about the risks. “One human can’t make much of a difference, right?” People have gone missing in this universe since you came here. Presumably, they’ve been transported to the other universes. To stay here, or to go somewhere else, you would be condemning another person.

“They might be transported above the Underground,” Stretch offers, “they might appear in the same place they disappeared in this universe.”

Might. “I know.” You and Stretch finish the dance in silence.

#non canon #blurred lines opened wounds #BLOW dancing with a demon

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fandom-trash-xl · 3 months ago

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Shattered Ice Revision - Chapter 4 Dream Sequence

Okay, so I've been bouncing between a few projects and "Shattered Ice" is kinda on the back backburner, but I was looking through some of the older chapters and decided one part needed a rewrite, mainly part of the flashback sequence in Chapter 4. I decided to post the rewrite here and I'll probably update the AO3 posting soon.

"I don't mean to intrude, my icicle…" Her voice's near-purr didn't match her expression. "I was just worried about you… Between me heading to the market and your father being… up to something, I haven't seen a hint of you all day."

"I'm fine, mother." He sat up, careful not to let his left arm budge. "Father kept a close eye. Besides, I'm thirteen, I don't need you waiting on me hand and foot anymore."

"That… doesn't make me feel better." Realis sighed, kneeling down to meet him at eye level. Worry was spread in her ruby red eyes and her smile had long run away from her face. "Would you care to share what he had you up to?" Frost nearly shuddered as her soft gray hand touched his left arm near a sore spot.

"Um… Secret?" His voice cracked uncertainly, simply parroting what his father had told him to say.

"Really now, Frost?" She giggled, but her son could read the softened impatience underneath it.

Frost nervously swallowed. "He was assessing my strength… by fighting me. Things got somewhat out of hand."

Her eyes narrowed. "Define… Out of hand."

Frost's eyes averted themselves. "Did I say 'out of hand'? That's funny, you're hearing things… Heh-heh…" He laughed nervously, sent into a cold sweat.

"Frost, please. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

He finally sighed in defeat, limply presenting his arm to let it do the explaining. She simply felt around the area and detected the point of the break with Frost's wince in response, thankfully backing off afterward. "Mm… I feared he'd go this far… Textbook Shiver if I ever saw it…"

"Wait, you knew this would happen-"

"Your father has a… way of dealing with this sort of thing. Considering he left you untreated, he's trying to convince you that this is a mark of honor, to be proud of your pain…"

"That's exactly what he told me."

Realis lowered her head somberly. "Of course he did. I know my Shiver… His problem is… when you get yourself into this sort of life, you get into bad business, you lose something. You live to hurt, you end up living to be hurt…" Her fingers rubbed to her upper arm. "…And you lose that gauge of when enough is enough."

"So… I just have to keep knowing that? How much they can take?"

Her head slowly rose again with a sigh, her tail delicately draping along her son's shoulders. "I'm afraid it's not as simple as that, icicle… I didn't want this conversation. I wish you had any better teacher to show you how to defend yourself. You can't just know a limit until the break; even if you see the cracks, they're still hurt."

"And what do you know? I'm pretty sure it'd be easy to tell if you're strong enough."

"I know more than you think." The look in her eyes looked both soft and stern. "You can look frail and actually be very strong, but at the same time you're frail enough where one wrong shot- you don't know what shot- and you're down."

Frost paused on this, realizing it resonated with him a bit. Maybe that's why this dream of his mother had cropped up. He himself had been broken himself- the Tournament of Power, his foolish trust… and foolish lust towards Frieza… his hot temper… a constant chain of cracks that left him weak to the Destruction god's wrath.

But, his heart panged as he realized he wasn't the only one. The reveal of his ruse was the one shattering shot to Cabba… Frost was too naïve to know his companion was not strong enough for it.

He understood, but his dream self's mouth spoke, "…You lost me."

Realis sighed, rising back to her feet as her tail snaked off her son's shoulders. "Just be careful in the future- for now, you should just be resting, my tsura~" Her voice cooed, briefly switching to what little of the old planetary tongue she still used. She planted a peck on his skull jewel, causing him to cringe at the touch.

"I'll help wrap up your arm in a moment." She took his left arm and shifted it inward towards his chest, positioning it for a splint.

"Ow!! The hell?! It still hurts you know!" Frost practically hissed.

"Shh… I know, dear…"

---

ORIGINAL PASSAGE:

"I don't mean to intrude, my icicle…" Her voice was almost a purr. "You've just been gone the whole day… I was worried."

"I'm fine, mother." He sat up, careful not to let his left arm budge. "Father was out with me all day. He watched over me."

"And… that's what I was afraid of." Realis sighed, as she knelt down to meet him at eye level. Worry was spread in her ruby red eyes and the smile ran away from her face. "I want you to tell me what you were doing with your father all day." Her soft gray hand touched his left arm, causing him to nearly flinch.

"He told me you'd be mad if I told you."

"I won't be mad… I just wish to know…"

A nervous swallow was Frost's response. "He was assessing my strength… by fighting me. Things got somewhat out of hand."

Her eyes narrowed. "Define… Out of hand."

Frost's eyes averted themselves. "Did I say 'out of hand'? That's funny, you're hearing things… Heh-heh..." He laughed nervously, sent into a cold sweat.

"Frost, please. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

He finally sighed in defeat, simply presenting his arm and letting it do the explaining. She simply felt around the area, and detected the point of the break with Frost's wince in response. "Mm… I feared he'd go this far…"

"Wait, you knew this would happen-"

"Your father has a… way of dealing with this sort of thing. Considering he left you untreated, he's trying to convince you that this is a mark of honor, to be proud of your pain…"

"That's exactly what he told me."

Realis lowered her head somberly. "Of course he did. I know my Shiver… His problem is, his many battles have molded his crooked ideology…

Masochism… He's become a poor trapped masochist.

He's desensitized himself to pain, believing it to be pleasurable. But, by losing his sense to feel bad about his own suffering, he loses his response to the pain of others.

You can't become that kind of person. Retain your heart. Know that pain is meant to be felt, but don't devote yourself to the feeling. If you know your limit, what hurts, you can understand that everyone has a limit as well, and you can avoid their pain later on."

"So… I just have to… know how much they can take?"

Her head slowly rose again with a sigh, her tail delicately draping along her son's shoulders. "I'm afraid it's not as simple as that, icicle… I never wanted to have to talk to you about this… I never thought you'd ever be a subject to your father's ways, let alone fight, but… We never know a person's limitations until it's too late.

Those who look frail can still be strong, like you. But, the strong often have something that can break them in an instant. Physically or mentally. We only find these things by sheer accident."

Frost paused on this. Maybe this was why his mother's words came back to him now and why they resonated with him. The Tournament of Power and its aftermath had opened his eyes to his faults. His foolish trust… and foolish lust towards Frieza… His anger… They had broken him and left him weak to the Destruction god's wrath.

But… His mind went to someone else… Cabba… The reveal of his ruse had broken Cabba instantly. He had never considered the Saiyan's weakness and had discovered the breaking of the once strong.

His attention was returned to the dream by Realis rising from the bedside and her draping tail leaving him. "For now, though, you should be resting… I will fetch some bandages for your arm in a moment." She once again held his left arm, this time shifting it to be close to the chest, an ideal position to splint the wound.

"The hell?! It still hurts you know." Frost practically hissed, unknowing at the time.

"Shh… I know, dear…"

#dragon ball #dragon ball super #random drabble #rewrite #shattered ice #frost #dbs frost

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unseededtoast · 7 months ago

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Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Fourteen

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

He turns the gun on himself and pulls the trigger.

Joel holds my wrist as he takes us back to the truck that we left a few miles away. I've managed to calm my breathing but with each step I take I realize that I was right, Joel was hiding something and now I'm regretting not leaving when I had the chance.

The truck comes into view and we reach it quickly. Joel puts me in the passenger side with a shove before he goes around to the driver's side and starts the truck. The tires squeal with how fast he starts accelerating and I look out the window, calculating my odds of surviving if I jump out. I think if I let my bag take the brunt of the contact I should be okay, I just have to get my nerve up to jumping. My fingers grasp the material tightly and I try to casually let my fingers drift to the handle.

Unfortunately for me, Joel is honed in on my movements and his hand grips my wrist again. My eyes lock onto his large hand wrapped around my wrist and he glances over at me. He probably sees someone who's lost their sanity, and he would be right. His gaze softens oddly and his grasp on my wrist loosens but he keeps it there for the rest of the ride, until the truck comes to a sputtering stop. We've run out of gas. Could things possibly get any worse?

Joel's free hand comes down and smacks the steering wheel in frustration, causing me to flinch at his outburst. He catches my movement and sighs, opening the door to get out. The cool handle of the door is under my fingers and I look around us, planning my escape route. The truck decided to run out of gas in the middle of nowhere, not exactly ideal for a getaway. There are only overgrown fields and road.

Deciding to just go for it, I open the door and start running again. But like my last escape attempt, Joel is right there and his arms snake around my waist to stop me. I thrash in his hold and beg him to let me go.

"Just fuckin' stop for a minute." He holds me tightly until I stop thrashing around. I'm sure he can feel my racing heart against his arms. Once he's sure I'm not going to take off he places my feet back on the ground and I force myself to turn and face him.

He's backed up a few feet from me and I cross my arms over my chest in some sort of self protection. But honestly, if he wanted to do something to me there would be no way I could protect myself. Silently, I stare at him with scared eyes. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair before he speaks.

"It wasn't like that, things didn't happen the way he said they did." His voice is level but I can tell he's straining not to yell. My throat has gone dry but I force myself to speak up.

"So you're telling me that you're the one who killed Marlene?" My eyes bore into his and he sighs again, but nods.

"Yeah. I did. I had to. There was no other way." His arms hang down by his side and his voice has lowered. I shake my head as I try to make sense of everything that's happened.

"Wait. So Marlene's job she gave you was to transport an immune girl to the Fireflies for a cure? And then you killed them all?" It almost sounds like a bad joke, in some twisted way.

I so desperately need things laid out for me in a play-by-play so I can understand what's going on. This truly has morphed into something bigger than myself. Joel nods his head, dropping his eyes from mine.

"Simply put, yes." He admits and as if a lightbulb turned itself on in my mind, my eyes grow wide.

"That's what you were keeping from me. The word immune on that paper was about that girl. You knew that. Why didn't you tell me?" Anger bubbles into my voice and I realize that if he was honest about that then things back with Trevor might've gone differently. Joel puts his hands on his hips.

"I can't just be tellin' people that she's immune. Hell I don't even want you to know." He begins pacing back and forth in front of me, worry and stress evident on his face. His words sit heavy in my mind, he was just trying to protect that girl. A frustrated hand rakes through my hair and I pinch the bridge of my nose.

"You knew those people were looking for her, and so you were going to Omaha with me to make sure they can't hurt her. It was never about safety, it was about her." Things start making more sense to me now. I knew there was no way he was just so genuinely concerned about my safety. He was using me as a means to and end. Joel was just going to let me work this mystery while he held half of the answers. My eyes lock back onto Joel and his face is blank.

"I didn't know they were looking for her until after I offered for us to stick together." He points out. In my rage I guess I had forgotten about that. He did in fact offer to stick together after the barricade, before he knew about the note. A jumbled mix of emotions race in my head and I can't seem to think straight. I need to get away from him so that I can think clearly.

"Give me some time." I hold up a hand and walk off into one of the overgrown fields.

I keep my back to him and let myself fall into a trance, needing so badly to get a grip on my thoughts. It's easy enough for me to accept that he killed Marlene, I never liked her anyways. But the part about gunning down an entire hospital for one girl gets me. Why would he do all of that if there was a cure on the line? I file that question away for a follow up and try to navigate the next thing that's bothering me.

While I can establish an understanding of the events leading up to the Fireflies hiring the T group, there's one nagging question. If the Fireflies knew the immune person was a girl, why does the instruction note say all teenage children? That also gets filed away in my brain.

The thought of there being someone immune to cordyceps is also throwing me for a loop. Never in ten years have I heard of such a thing. I wonder if there are more like her out there; if she's truly immune. As my racing mind begins to slow with a better understanding of things, I turn back and see Joel leaning up against the truck, his muscular arms crossed in front of his chest. His head turns and looks at me, and with a sigh I walk back over to him, feeling less angry than I did.

Before he can speak, I hold up a hand, needing him to answer some more things for me. He shifts his weight and I take in a deep breath.

"If this girl is immune, and they were going to make a cure, why'd you kill everyone?" The number one question on my mind may give me more of an insight as to why things played out the way they did. Joel swallows hard and looks down at me,

"There was never a guarantee they were going to get a cure from her. And in order for them to even try, they would have had to-" He pauses and draws in a breath, "they would have had to get to her brain." His voice is soft and genuine, and I search his eyes for any hint of a lie, but finding nothing but sincerity.

"So this girl would have died. You weren't going to let that happen." I venture to guess, I mean it's the only thing that makes sense. He nods his head,

"She would have." Suddenly, it makes sense. The secrecy, the hatred of Fireflies, all of it. It was all in the name of protecting this girl he obviously cares so deeply for. As a parent, I understand all too well and I know that if my child were in that situation there would be no length too great, no sacrifice too much.

I place a hand on Joel's shoulder and sigh, knowing that I owe him an apology for some of my thoughts and behaviors.

"I'm sorry Joel. And I understand why you didn't want me to know. But, if I had known, maybe things could've ended differently back there." I tell him, not letting him completely off the hook.

"Maybe." He shrugs and I remove my hand from his muscular arm. There are still things I'd like to discuss with him, but I'm getting the feeling he doesn't want to lay everything out right now. I'm sure in the many miles we have left in front of us that there will be time.

Instead of pushing anything further, I lead us away from the truck, having no choice but to move forward from here. The faded yellow lines in the road reminds me that we have to keep going, we can't afford to stay in one place. Joel's footsteps fall behind me and we keep our distance from one another and it's obvious we both have the same thing on our minds.

If his girl really is immune, then I don't blame him for wanting to keep her hidden away. A gift like that is sure to be sought after by desperate people who still cling to what the world used to be. Even if they could create a cure, who knows if they'd even be able to mass produce it and distribute it. A cure wouldn't mean the reconstruction of society, I fear we're too far gone for that possibility. Cordyceps is just an unfortunate fact of life now.

I try to let go of my bitterness for Joel I held so tightly the past few days. While his secrecy scared me, he had to have been more scared of me finding out the truth. Having someone know a secret of this magnitude is a big deal, and I promise to myself that I will never tell another living soul what I know. The girl's life is too precious, and I could never put someone's child at risk.

The love he must hold for this girl is something moving. While they're not blood, I know that they have to share an incredible bond with one another. To face a building full of people by yourself to save their life is not something anyone does lightly. No, Joel was prepared to go down in that hospital to save her, I'm convinced of that.

The fading sunlight paints the sky a beautiful, rich amber color. We probably have another half hour of light left, maybe less.

With the day's light waning, I squint as I notice a large structure ahead, it looks like it might be a farm. I slow my pace to walk in stride with Joel and point to the barn that sticks out in the field.

"Probably could hole up there for the night." I say, wanting to bring our dynamic back to normalcy and drop any tension he might be feeling.

The last thing I want is for him to becoming untrusting of me because I know his secret. In fact, I want him to become more trusting of me for the same reason. I'm not sure why, but I want Joel to genuinely trust me. He nods his head and we keep our casual pace towards the farm.

By the time we make it to the property, the sun is barely visible on the horizon. A white two-story house with a wraparound porch sits at the end of the long driveway and I can tell this place used to be busy. There's abandoned equipment everywhere and a tire swing hangs from a solid branch of the large oak tree that's at the forefront of the front yard.

My attention turns towards the barn, wanting to make sure it's clear before we head to the house. My boots crunch against the rough gravel driveway, and Joel helps me pull the heavy door back. The door slides open with a squeal and I hold my breath, half expecting an infected to run out at us.

Joel walks into the barn with his rifle raised and I hang back by the entrance, hand hovering over my own gun. If there were clickers or infected in there, they would have run out by now but I can't stop my paranoia. I take half a step forward and hear a sliding sound behind me. My head whips around and I see nothing behind me, it was probably just my imagination.

Turning around, I go to join Joel in the barn when I hear the unmistakable sound of metal clicking. Maybe it wasn't my imagination after all.

"Hands in the air or I shoot!" Someone barks an order at me. I raise my hands above my shoulders, back still turned to the house. My limbs all stiffen and I try to think of a way out of this situation. Before I do anything, the voice calls out again.

"Drop your weapons and turn around. You have ten seconds!" It sounds like a woman's voice yelling down at me. With shaking fingers, I grab my gun and toss it to the ground, and drop my hunting knife. My curved blade stays tucked in my waistband because I know my shirt is concealing it. Slowly, I take small steps to turn around and my eyes drift up to the second floor of the house where the barrel of a sniper rifle is pointed right at me.

I was right, there in the window behind the gun is an older woman. She looks at me through the scope and adjusts her aim. My eyes flick to the left and right, and I see an old tractor tire laying on the grass. It could provide some cover, but not much and not for long.

"Get the hell off my farm." The woman barks at me and I hear a door open from the back of the house. Seconds later, an older man steps into my vision, his gun also raised and pointed right at me. They must've never left their farm, judging by the way the man is dressed in a blue flannel and overalls. He steps close to me with a sawed-off shotgun pointed right at my abdomen.

As I go to turn and walk back up the driveway, a shot sounds off and the rifle in the second story window drops to the ground. The woman's body follows right after and lands with a grotesque thud. The man turns back to see the dead woman on the ground, and I seize the opportunity to grab the shotgun out of his grasp.

His handle on his gun is firmer than I gave him credit for, and we wrestle back and forth. He makes a strained sound and my eyes snap up to his face where I see tears streaming down his cheeks. My heart shatters at the sight, but I have to get this gun away from him so he doesn't kill me as revenge. With one strong pull, he grabs the gun from my hands and before I can even blink, he turns the gun on himself and pulls the trigger.

His body folds on itself and he drops to the ground. My hands are frozen in the air as if I'm still trying to grab the gun from him and I watch in horror as his blood stains the green grass. The man's warm blood drips down my face and all I can do is blink rapidly, my brain processing what I just saw.

"Noelle." Joel's voice breaks me from my shock and I look at him as he slings his own rifle on his back. My eyes burn from being so wide and my arms drop back down to my sides.

Joel stands in front of me and his thumbs come up to wipe blood off of my forehead before it can drip down into my eyes. He roughly turns me around by the shoulders and ushers me towards the house. I stumble up the front stairs and open the door, met with nothing but an eerie silence. The door slams shut behind me as I take a few shuffled steps inside the house.

Joel moves things around behind me but all I can do is focus on the pictures that hang on the wall, all in antique frames, and I can't be bothered to focus on what he's doing.

A man and a woman smile hauntingly at me from one of the frames, their smiles reaching their eyes. In another photo, they clutch on to each other in a passionate kiss, the woman wearing a long white dress and the man in a sharp suit. They stand in front of the barn in another, the man holding a pitchfork and the woman leaning into his side. Bile rises in my throat and I quickly step forward and grab all of the frames off the wall in a frenzy.

My arms are stacked with frames as I rip every last one from the wall. There's an open linen closet behind the couch and I place the photos there and close the door. My fingertips leave a rusty red stain on the white wood of the door, and I forcefully wipe my hands on my pant legs, which are also covered in blood. My heart races as I try to rid myself of blood but I'm unable to do so. Blood from Trevor's office now mixes with blood from the old man and I feel like I'm drowning in it.

Drops of blood start caking on my face and I can feel it settling into my skin. My fingernails scratch at the feeling but I can't seem to get it off of me. Remnants of dead people linger on my body and my hands raise in front of my face. I stare in shock at my hands that are coated in crimson and my ears start ringing.

"Hey. Hey look at me." Joel stands in front of me and shakes my shoulders. His dark brown eyes look over my face and he grabs both of my hands in one of his. His skin is free of blood.

"I- I can't. Their-my skin." Words tumble out of my mouth incoherently. Joel nods his head, mouth hanging slightly open.

"I know. I know, come on." He pulls me into the kitchen and turns the faucet. To my surprise, water flows out of the spicket.

"How is that possible"? It's almost like the water is a figment of my imagination. The water swirls at the bottom of the sink before it goes down the drain.

"This is a farm, they probably have their own well." He answers with confidence. His eyes drop down to my death-covered clothes and he sighs.

"Stay here." He instructs and drops my hands from his. He walks up the stairs and I watch in confusion as he disappears on the second story.

Not wasting any time, I run my hands under the running water and scrub the rusty-colored blood off to the best of my ability before shutting off the water.

As I'm temporarily distracted from the blood coating me, I look around and notice the house is remarkably clean. There are dishes drying in the rack next to the sink, and a pan sits on the stove. In the dining room adjacent to the kitchen I see an open bottle of wine accompanied with two glasses, each a quarter of the way full. The living room couch is decorated with slouched pillows and a hand-made quilt drapes over the side.

Joel's boots on the stairs catches my attention and I look back up to him as he descends. He sees me standing in the same place he left me and he beckons me to follow him up the stairs with a motion of his hand. I follow and notice small nails sticking into the walls, but nothing is on them.

There are three rooms on the second story and Joel leads me to the one that has an open door, letting me go in first. I step into the bathroom and spot a towel on the large counter, a shirt and pants right next to it. My eyebrows scrunch in confusion and I turn around, seeing Joel standing with his hands shoved into his pockets.

"They have runnin' water. Get cleaned up, I'll be downstairs." He says, averting his gaze from me before he turns on his heel and walks away, closing the door as he goes. Silently, I look around and catch my reflection in the mirror. Stepping forward, I catch myself on the counter and let my arms support me as I truly take in what I've become.

My face is almost unrecognizable to me. Dried blood soaks into wrinkles that never used to be there, dark circles decorate my under eyes. My eyes no longer shine like I remember them, their color is dull now, almost flat and my hands come up to touch my face, solidifying that it's actually me I'm looking at. What once used to be shiny, healthy hair is now a tangled mess. My frame is even smaller than what I remember, thanks to malnutrition.

I force myself to look away, barely recognizing the woman who stares back at me. Instead, I focus on taking my boots off, then my socks. My thoughts narrate my motions to keep me from focusing on the past thirty minutes and keeps me present in the moment. Once I'm naked, I keep my line of vision away from the mirror and turn around to start the water for my shower.

Stepping into the porcelain tub, I watch as the water is tinged red as the gore is washed off of me. There are bottles in the shower, all unlabeled but I don't care what's in them. Unscrewing the caps, I figure it's probably some sort of homemade soap. Either way, it smells clean and so I douse my entire body in it.

After I'm satisfied with how clean I feel, I step out and grab the towel on the counter, taking time to dry myself off. I hope I saved enough water for Joel, I'll feel like a complete ass if he's left with cold water.

Draping the towel over the curtain rod, I begin redressing myself. I shrug on the plain black shirt and pull the new pants over my legs. The pants are a little big, but I can manage with my belt.

I take my old clothes in my hands and go into the next room. There's a large bed in the center of it, and I drop the dirty clothes into a basket situated in the corner of the room. Shamelessly, I rummage through the drawers until I find socks, and pick out a pair that looks durable. After I put them on I look around the other drawers and decide to repay the favor to Joel.

I pick out a button up denim shirt and a pair of dark jeans, and remember to grab a fresh pair of socks for him as well. Placing them on the counter like he did for me, I open the slender door next to the shower, seeing neatly folded towels, and I place one beside the clothes.

Grabbing my boots, I make my way back down to Joel where I'm sure he's more than ready to get a proper shower as well.

Part Fifteen

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel the last of us fic

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officerslog · 1 year ago

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spock & gender/sexuality.

as i've mentioned before, spock transitioned socially and physically exceptionally early, as he knew extremely young that he did not feel a connection with his assigned sex. amanda advocated for her son, as she always had, and sarek did his own part in his own way, too.

he was put on puberty blockers young which kept him happy and later started to take testosterone throughout much of his developmental years (and still does, into his adulthood), yet in his late teens, before deciding to attend starfleet academy, he elected to receive top surgery to ensure a level of comfort that hormones could not quite achieve.

rest under cut here as it gets a little nsfw in the next paragraph.

down the line, probably around 21 or 22, he also got bottom surgery and since it's the star trek universe and it's like. so long into the future, i'm going to say that the surgical procedures surrounding gender affirming care are probably close to entirely perfected, meaning he never needed to worry about scars on his arm/thigh or loss of sensation in his lower regions, and that shit is fully operational (hallelujah). as a transmasc dude i say he gets to be HAPPY and well-endowed.

in his present timeline, spock doesn't struggle super often with his dysphoria any longer, as he's been fully transitioned for like... a decade plus depending on where we're looking in the timeline regarding my main verse. it is something he does grapple with occasionally, but not nearly as often as when he was a teenager.

he's obviously very physically fit (as seen here, here, and here) and he maintains his physical form pretty rigorously, because it makes him feel good mentally, physically, and emotionally.

in terms of dress he typically follows a more formal kind of casualwear (see this post for a visual), and his typical out-of-uniform attire is a button up with slacks or a solid black tight-fitting crewneck or turtleneck with slacks also or perhaps cargo pants. he likes dress shoes and boots.

sometimes he wears eyeshadow also, because he likes it, though he doesn't tend to wear other makeup simply because he doesn't care for the feeling of it on his face, and not because he has any sort of complex about it.

being super fucking tall even for a vulcan helps him, as he stands at a staggering 7 feet, which is massive for most humanoids, and also super gender affirming for him.

occasionally he grows some facial hair and tends to have a 5 o'clock shadow when he isn't diligent about shaving, though he isn't super into having a beard or anything, so he always shaves it before it reaches that point. he's pleased he can grow a pretty impressive one if he wanted to, though, as he has before (see dsc season 2).

spock is very secure in his identity and knows with certainty he is regarded clearly and entirely as a man not just by himself but by everyone else, and the fact of the matter is that there are like a handful of people in the universe that even know he's trans as it is, as it's only mentioned in parts of his medical file that are only visible to the captain and cmo. he doesn't usually disclose this information about himself either for personal peace of mind.

in regards to his sexuality it took him several years to realize that he's gay, and it was only something he began to give significant thought to when he was a teenager, though he avoided the subject for the most part for many years, thinking that it wouldn't matter as he was betrothed to t'pring in their youth, and he would be obligated to her in that regard.

we know what happens with t'pring so i won't get super into that (other than to say i love her so bad and if she's free on tuesday i'm also free on tuesday), but it's only really when spock meets someone that he has romantic feelings for that he can't ignore that he fully realizes and accepts that he's gay. he'd never given it much thought (he has always known he's gay he simply never acknowledged it beyond that) because he felt that romantic relationships were not something he'd experience for a multitude of reasons. those reasons being for the most part due to his emotional instability, his career, and struggling with feeling like he isn't deserving of love in the first place.

that being said, he's fairly open about his sexuality if asked about it, as it isn't as private to him as his gender identity, though spock is in general notoriously private as it is. his sexuality is obvious if you just pay attention to him though. and once he and his partner start dating it's impossible to hide because he's the most smitten person in the alpha and beta quadrants and everyone knows it. <3

#LORE.

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erinhime83 · 1 year ago

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Its that time again for some Division designs! I sort of go derailed from doing these thanks to the WfS rewrites, but I am determined not to wait another year to do the Cataclysm sequel, so here we are. Three months out and me freaking out about the last couple of design pictures I need to do, lol. These are simple and easy to do once I start on them, and they look neat, but it’s just the getting started that gets me, lol.

So these two are the first minor characters that I’ve done. They sort of straddle the line – they’re not important enough for me to consider being major characters, but they’re not shoved to the back burner, so to speak. But the fact that they are minor characters is probably why I was dragging my feet, since I had to figure out their style and all.

So first we have Felix, whose the second in command of the Lolita team, so he’s featured quite a bit. When I first created him, he was supposed to be someone who simply did not like Nova for whatever reason. He was supposed to be pretentious and an ass, thinking her newbie status was going to get in the way. He’s still a bit pretentious, but as soon as I started writing him, all aspects of him being an ass disappeared and he somehow gained respect for Nova and I started to like him. I mean, considering he’s on a lower tier team by choice would sort of suggest that he’s not completely full of himself.

He’s supposed to serve as the more grounded team leader, the one who understands their situation rather than be mad about their status. They should be a top tier team, none of them truly want that, because they have seem how pretentious and annoying those teams can be. Felix was drafted to the same team Astrid was on when they first started, and he’s like the only person who doesn’t view her powers as creepy and villain material, which is why he agreed to join her when she started her team.

I do see Felix as being a bit fashionable – he and Astrid have similar tastes – so I sort of slapped something hipster-y on him and I sort of like it? It suits him, in any case. The rest of him’s so dark that the green just pops, lol.

As for his Storm King uniform, I didn’t design it, sadly, but it looks so much cooler than anything I would have come up with. Granted, being as self-important that he is, you’d think he’d have a more complicated and expensive uniform, but I guess he just figures to stay on the level’s he’s at, and hey, what works, works. He looks cool, and that’s all that matters.

The next one is Ethan, who is a fun character to think of scenarios with. Too bad I couldn’t put them all in the first book, lol. I’m not sure where the idea came from originally, but I loved the idea of the rest of his team claiming that his superpower was ‘laziness’ because he didn’t want to do anything, and also that he was forced to join by his parents. And the idea that Blake is basically his keeper, frustratingly trying to get him to do anything.

But the thing is his power is super cool and useful and unusual. Blake feels he has potential, which is why he keeps pushing him, and Ethan isn’t completely disinterested in the idea of being a hero, or else he wouldn’t listen. It’s mostly that Ethan is a bit of a loner who would rather be doing anything else, but he’s slowly warming up to the team and the idea of being a hero.

And then the fight at the gala happened, and he had his first real taste of being a hero, and, well, Cosmic Star herself complimented his powers, so now he’s making more of an effort. (Blake is a little worried that Ethan might be scooped up by a better team now that he’s Making An Effort, but he doesn’t need to worry, since Ethan wouldn’t want to acclimate to a new team.)

His style seemed easy enough – I ended up aging him down from what I originally had him at so he was younger than Nova, and sticking him in skater teen fashion just made sense. It works well with him and his personality!

AND THEN there’s his redesigned uniform. I had always planned on Ethan getting a little more serious after Cosmic Star complimented him, and I realized last year that it should mean he has a new uniform, so I had to go and actually think about what he’s wear. I’d imagine his parents were still the ones who designed it for him, lol. It’s simple, but he looks really cool now. Definitely more like a hero than some dude who threw something together. I really like it.

So yeah, the first of the minor characters. So more should be coming soonish, just so I can get all this done and over with.

#my art #designs #cataclysm #felix #storm king #ethan #vine guy

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lewiselder · 1 year ago

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dude your arm sucks!

we back!

it’s been about a year since the last post. i’m consistently averaging about 1 post a year. that’s a lot, right?

hope this blog posts finds ya’ll well. not much is different in my life besides everything. ralph has gotten ever cuter, sweeter, and nicer. random anecdote but i actually did some 1v1 sessions w/ a dog trainer, but ended up cancelling the remainder when i started to freak out and realize i loved his personality and didn’t want it to change. moral of the story: abandon therapy and become your absolute worst.

anywayyyyy - i’ve had 2 very arm-core things happen to me in the past few weeks. bad news for me is good news for ya’ll. i get my day ruined and ya’ll get something to read on the toilet in between actively giving yourself adhd by watching misinformation on tiktok for 90 minutes.

*whispering* actually, i kind of like when this crazy shit happens to me bc i get to write about it and feel ~special~ :^D

today, we’re gonna cover the first story. i hope to be consistent enough to write up the other story soon. no promises.

Dude, your arm sucks!

picture this, it’s mere weeks ago - fathers day 2023 - beautiful, scenic sunday weather. handsome clouds with chiseled jaws and just the right amount of buccal fat hang expectantly in a baby blue sky. i’m in a wifebeater with a mullet.

as ya’ll surely know, i grew up without a dad (as did most of my friends shout tf out to ya’ll) and so i obviously don’t do anything special for father’s day. on this particular father’s day, my friend and i were going to go for a nice walk with ralph, but first we decide to stop by the starbucks next to my apartment.

my friend runs in to order the coffees. i stand outside with ralph, leaning against the side of the building.

now i’ve heard a lot of words in my 30 years. i’ve heard them put together in all sorts of combinations to form all types of sentences. smart sentences, dumb sentences, long sentences, short sentences, sentences about crypto even. but i was about to hear a sentence i’d never heard before.

from out of absolute fucking nowhere i hear,

“dude! your arm suuucks!”

lmao

what

i look up from watching some instagram story of someone i’ll never see in person again for the rest of my life even if we both live to be 1,000, to see a tall, skinny dude standing next to me. his mouth half open, half smiling

i’m literally standing in shock, mostly perplexed and processing, my tiny golden dog who has some of the worst dog anxiety on the planet quakes beneath my feet.

“what?” i manage to spit out through a half laugh

“dude yeah man, your arm sucks!”

i stare at him like:

if i recall correctly, he introduced himself as Rick at some point during this interaction, so i’ll refer to dude as Rick (have you ever said the name Rick to yourself like 5x? that can’t be a real name. it’s barely even a sound. rick. rick. rick. rick. rick. yeah get fucking real bud)

rick: “nah man see that’s just how i approach life. we gotta just be upfront with one another and then we can move forward from there. like now we’ve addressed it and so we can move on”

PLEASE NOTE: rick was not as well spoken as i am making him sound. while this is largely accurate, i’m paraphrasing from memory. pls add in 70% more incoherence to whatever i say he said

and i gotta hand it to rick, he was hilarious. it’s awesome pseudo-intellectualism filled with ersatz empathy.

me: O_O

rick: yeah man like look, my leg used to suck

*rick pulls up one of his pant legs, exposing the lower half of his leg*

now i can’t tell ya’ll his leg didn’t suck bc it definitely fucking sucked but it looked normal to me, albeit gross and dirty

me: bro pull your pant leg down lol

rick: *pouting* fine, but im just saying now that we got it out of the way we can be friends on a real level

me: i don’t think friendship is in the cards for us man. bro i need you to keep it moving

i should mention that, while this is a lot of text, this is maybe 20 seconds of real life interaction, and at this point it becomes clear to me that rick is at least semi-homeless and likely not totally together mentally. this colors strongly how i interacted with him going forward, because idk man what am i gonna get into a fist fight with a houseless dude who is likely high or drunk rn?

sensing my withdrawal from the conversation and my waning interest in friendship, rick resorts to an especially strange move.

rick: nah man lemme get a real good look at it and we’ll get through this

rick bends down and puts his face maybe 6 inches from my arm, his bloodshot eyes wide as dinner plates

me: *recoiling* alright man see now im really about to beat the shit out of you if you don’t get the fuck on

rick (as if i just lit a firework during a fancy dinner party): woah fuck ok man, fine. trust me your legs are as big as my waist, i know you could beat my ass. but i might be able to out run you in a straight line spring *chuckles to himself* but obviously you’re a strong guy

at this point, rick starts walking away still kind of talking about how i look strong. he opens the door to starbucks and heads in. he’s their problem now.

mind you, starbucks is packed so it’s taking forever for my friend to get the drinks.

maybe 40 seconds later the door to starbucks flings open

rick is back, baby!

“would a cigarette make it up to ya?”

me: lol brother i don’t smoke

rick: yeah me neither *lights cigarette in his mouth*

we stand there almost shoulder to shoulder like old lovers who’ve run out of things to talk about but just like to enjoy each others company

rick: man you know what show my kids love?

me: what show rick

rick: inspector gadget man, you ever seen it?

me: yeah man that’s pretty old, i’m surprised that’s still on

rick: yeah they love it. you know who you remind me of? Dr. Claw. he’s the villain but he’s a badass. his arm sucks too.

me: rick...

rick: im just saying man like obviously this shit has just made you tougher in life man. you’re jacked man, i hope my kids grow up to be like you

me: rick, brother, its fathers day, shouldn’t you be with your kids

rick, speaking more to god than to me: *softly* it’s fathers day

me: i’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess their mom has custody

at this point it’s felt like rick and i have been on this island together for a fucking eternity. seasons have changed, wars have risen and subsided, babies have been born and gone to college and decided to hit the snooze button on life by then going to grad school.

i’ve literally had relationships shorter than this. not that i don’t enjoy talking to my old buddy rick, but man what i wouldn’t give for him to walk away, or for this starbucks to blow up, or for me to be assassinated. something, anything.

FINALLY, my friend comes outside with the fucking coffees

she walks up to us perplexed

me: alright man i gotta go now

*i start walking away*

rick: *smoking his cigarette that didn’t make it up to me and following us as if we’re all in the world’s worst band headed to practice together* aw yeah see now we were just talking about how his arm sucks and -

now i can’t have this fucking dude come walking with us, and i’d mostly been a good sport to him up to this point with the exception of when he tried to do a gynecological exam on my left arm

me, turning and getting into ricks face: ok i’m seriously gonna smack the fuck out of you if you don’t walk away right now

the 2nd threat seemed to do the trick.

rick muttered some random shit under his breath before finally using his formerly sucky leg to saunter off back towards starbucks.

good night, sweet prince

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I should say that at no point was I really going to fight Rick. He was clearly unwell, but the only way to really get him to leave was to threaten him. During the entirety of the interaction I was more amused and annoyed than mad (save for when he bent down and put his face in my arm).

It did however bring me back to a place I spent the majority of my time when I was younger. My experience growing up disabled was one fraught with the preservation of what little pride I had. When I felt someone disrespected me, the overwhelming sense of obligation to do something about it (fight them, argue back, whatever) was one of the strongest driving forces of my formative years. And to be honest, feeling as if you have to fight and claw for the sense of pride most able-bodied people get to inherently enjoy is a tremendously heavy burden to carry.

One of the reasons I so relate to people who have some type of outward presenting marginalized identity, whether they’re Black or Brown or disabled or non-gender-conforming or whatever, is because it’s such an insanely specific experience to have people come up to you and say the absolute wildest shit possible. And they expect there to be no consequences from their actions, which is such a motherfucking frustrating dynamic to experience. It’s hard to explain to someone who’s never gone through it.

Anyway, that’s pretty much it. I haven’t seen Rick since. I do wish him the best, as I know he had good intentions. And while him and I ultimately weren’t able to enjoy a Newport together like he wanted (but Rick doesn’t smoke), he did give me an interesting story to add to the collection.

All in all, not my worst father’s day.

if u read this far i owe u a cigarette

#Lewis elder #lewie armstrong #disability #lucky fin #one arm #st. louis #disabled

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heyclickadee · 2 years ago

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Thanks for tagging me in this! (And sorry for taking so long to respond!) Going back to the etymology of “redacted” is really neat, and I think the interpretation you found could fit with the rest of the poem. I think the only thing I could add to that is whether the “redacted” bit is the next line, or whether it’s covering the next line. Looking at this in the context of a lot of the other cryptic tweets, the Kiners do use “redacted” in a little square to cover things up. But looking at it in the context of the other little mini text that’s been making up the rest of this poem, it could be more relevant to what the line actually is, since they haven’t been covering those mini lines up. So it could go either way. (Though honestly, I want “bring me back” to be the next line. I really, really want that to be next.”) (Some attempts at analysis below the cut):

Looking at the rest of the poem, one minor thing I did find is that the third line reads, “My words can’t reach you,” instead of “My words cannot reach you,” which doesn’t make any difference to the meaning whatsoever, of course, but does make a difference to the rhythm of how the lines scan. So you have:

1. Can you hear me? - Four syllables, all one syllable words, all unstressed. I think.

2. I’m down here at the bottom. - Seven syllables, two anapestic feet with the stresses on “here” and the first syllable of “bottom.” (Again, I think—it depends on if you read “here” as stressed or not stressed. I just always read it as stressed for some reason.

3. My words can’t reach you - Five syllables, all one syllable words, all unstressed.

4. And you can’t reach me - Five syllables, all one syllable words, all unstressed again.

5. But you are with me - Same as the previous line, so theres a pattern.

6. Here at the bottom - Five syllables still, but three unstressed, one stressed, one unstressed, so a small break in the pattern.

7. At the end - Three syllables, and it’s either all unstressed again, or there is a stress on “end” and it’s an anapestic foot like back in the second line. This line reads to me as unfinished, but I’m not sure if it’s going to follow the five syllable pattern of the previous four lines, meaning that we need another two syllables; or if it’s going to return to the meter of the second line and have two loose (really loose, because I’m still not sure if “here” and “end” should be stressed) anapestic feet followed by one unstressed syllable, meaning we need another four.

I’m also kind of wondering if “Can you hear me?” Is intended as a line of the poem, or if it’s the title, because it doesn’t really fit with the rhythm of any of the other lines. I’m leaning towards title at this point, but I don’t know.

Either way, I agree with @eriexplosion in this post that it reads like lyrics to a song, especially since it’s coming from two of the series composers. I don’t know if it’s something that will actually end up on the soundtrack, or if it’s lyrics the Kiners wrote to one of the instrumental pieces but won’t ever show up on either the soundtrack or the show.

As far as who the “I” in the poem is, I’ve seen a lot of people guessing it’s Crosshair, and other people guessing it’s Omega. It’s maybe too early to say, depending on how much more there is of this, but I think it’s probably both, and that in both cases the “you” of the poem is referring to Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, and Echo. Omega and Crosshair have kind of been set up as sort of parallel foils to one another, where on the one hand they are emotional foils, but on the other hand their experiences and places on the teams directly parallel on another. This could be either of their mindsets at different points in their lives.

For Omega, this could be her thoughts back before the series started, stuck in Nala Se’s lab in the lower levels of Tipoca City, separated from her brothers and unable to reach them, but always carrying them in her memory until she’s able to reunite with them. For Crosshair, this could kind of be him at any point in the series so far—him stuck as a prisoner in his own head and out of his family’s reach because of the chip, being stuck at the bottom of the ocean in Kamino and out of reach because he’s put himself out of reach and won’t listen; or in The Outpost, at his lowest point and physically and emotionally separated from his family, but still feeling their presences through Mayday.

Whatever it is, though, I think it’ll start to be clearer as the Kiners more lines and we get closer to the end of the series. The fact they do stuff like this is honestly really fun!

@phis-writing NEVERMIND WHAT I SAID ABOUT NO CRYPTIC TWEETS

WTF IS THIS KEVIN??? REDACTED???

For context, this is what the rest of the memes have said 👇

I think I'm losing my mind 😵‍💫

#the bad batch #tbb spoilers #tbbspoilers #the bad batch spoilers #kiner brother crypticisms #Sean and Dean I am gnawing on your furniture #I don’t know what any of this is I’m just throwing stuff out there

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years ago

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Anakin and the Jedi Babies: A Child's Ink

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

WARNINGS: underage characters get tattoos/piercings

Word Count: 5680 Rating: T Ships: primarily Gen (Disaster Lineage + Shmi), offscreen JangoShmi, past Obitine, past Anidala ----

Ylliben Skywalker is known as a preternaturally calm and quiet child, serious and pensive.

He jokes. He roughhouses. He is as responsive to tickle attacks and shoulder rides and warm hugs as any other child.

But he is Jetii'Manda, not just Mando'ade, and that fact is impossible to forget.

This is a child that can read before he can speak, a child who can talk at length about 'grassroots antiestablishment propaganda and its influence on rural sociological development' before he can say the words without a lisp. This is a child who looks a man in the eye and tells him to check over his blaster one last time, or it will explode in his hand only minutes into the next engagement. This is a child who is not only willing, but capable of discussing the plausible ramifications of Duke Adonai Kryze's latest decrees with Jaster Mereel himself, while still in possession of all his baby teeth.

(His father is not worried by this. Upset, sometimes, pained and tired, but not worried.)

(His sister only laughs.)

It is, as a result, not as surprising as it could be, when a six-year-old wanders his way into Na-Tsuyon's parlor and asks her what the risks of getting a tattoo at his age are.

"I'm not having that conversation with you unless your parent is here," she says. A few of the other artists crane their heads in her direction, but she waves them off.

"I'm not trying to get it right this moment," Ben protests. "I'm just gathering information. He said that was fine."

"Still need your parent here here," she tells him.

He leaves for about ten minutes, and then comes back with a tall, gangling figure in tow.

"I hear this isn't the place for unaccompanied minors," Knight Skywalker jokes.

(She has heard him called a General. She does not know which war he fought. Nobody does.)

(They no longer ask.)

"Well, he is young," she says, brushing her tentacles back over a shoulder. "I don't let anyone under human-fourteen get tattooed without a parent on hand, and giving preliminary information to anyone under twelve is... generally not worth it, shall we say."

Skywalker smiles, oddly amused in the way he always is when someone points out his children need supervision. "Glad to hear it. Are you the Na-Tsuyon whose name is on the door?"

"I am," she says. "And you're Knight Skywalker."

He's pleased at that. She can feel it in the chemical receptors of her head tails, and wonders. "Yep. So, do we jump right into the discussion or do you need me to sign something, or..."

"No, it's enough that you're here," she assures him. "Now, the main reasons we discourage tattoos for younger sentients is the distortion factor. While the level of pain is much lower than it would have been several millennia ago, and we have the technology to remove ink from below the skin, a tattoo before your body stops growing will distort as you grow and your skin stretches. You would need to come in yearly for touch-ups, to remove the sections that have moved out of place, and fill in where the ink is no longer settled."

"That makes sense," Ylliben says. He looks up at his father, and then back to her. "You'd be able to tell me if any of my choices would be... bad for a Mandalorian, yes?"

"I would," she confirms. She glances up at Knight Skywalker. "I don't suppose you have any history of getting tattoos?"

"No," he says. "I'm from Tatooine, so..."

Different connotations to the very act of it, for him.

She ducks her head in a nod. "I understand. Generally it's easier if the parent has experience in the process, but it's far from mandatory. You're willing to work with the distortion maintenance?"

"Yes'm," Ylliben says, and his father shrugs and gestures, as if the word of a six-year-old is thus law.

"I'll walk you through the details of the process, including the care, relevant allergies, and so on. I don't suppose you have anything in mind already?" she asks.

"I do," he says. He doesn't tell her what it is, yet.

Anakin Skywalker stays there the entire time, and they make an appointment for later in the week.

----

"My buir isn't my only father," Ylliben says quietly, when it comes time to get details on what he's getting tattooed. "I had another father before him. A Jedi. He died, to protect me, and a lot of other people. So, um..."

He shoves a picture to her, the symbol of the Jedi, plain and simple. She looks at him.

"In red," he says, shifting on his feet, looking up at his father and then back down at the page. "For, um, to honor a parent."

"Your first father was a Jedi?" she asks, gentle as she can.

"Mm-hm," Ylliben says. "He died, um... he saved buir from slavery, too, a long time ago. Both my dads were Jedi, and I'm going to be one, too, and so is Sokanth. It's--it's about where I come from, and--"

"You don't have to justify it if you don't want to," Na-Tsuyon tells him, reaching out to place one hand on his. It's very warm and dry, in her opinion, but she finds that most humans are. Mandalorians are some 80% human, or near human.

Nautolan Mandalorians aren't unheard of, but she's a rare one.

Ben sucks in a breath, and says, "I want it up here, on my right shoulder, like a pauldron."

Na-Tsuyon nods, and looks up to Skywalker. "You'll have to sign some papers to approve it, Master Jedi. You approve of the design?"

Skywalker hesitates, and then goes to one knee in front of his son, and speaks so quietly she can only hear "--remind you of the generator complex?"

Whatever Ben's answer is, it's too quiet for her to catch. It satisfies Skywalker, though, and he stands. "Alright, let's see this paperwork."

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a year later to get his slightly-twisting tattoo fixed, it's with Miss Shmi in tow. Na-Tsuyon greets the middle Skywalker, for all that she's still not entirely sure how to address the girl. "I heard you've been attending the university at Sundari. Some kind of engineering?"

"Mechanical, yes," Shmi says, oddly soft. "I'm going to spend another year to specialize in vehicular engineering. I'd like to design starships, since I already know how to fix them."

"A worthy goal," Na-Tsuyon says, as she leads them over to one of the stations and starts sanitizing Ylliben's inked shoulder. She doesn't entirely see why a university education is needed for something that, in her opinion, an apprenticeship could more thoroughly cover. It certainly worked well enough Na-Tsuyon herself. "You're on vacation, then?"

"I am," Shmi confirms. "It's... unfortunate that Anakin couldn't be here a the same time, but we'll see each other in a few days."

Ylliben fidgets for a bit as his jedi symbol is fixed, and then finally asks, "Ori'vod can approve new tattoos, right?"

"Sokanth, no. Shmi..." Na-Tsuyon looks up at her. "I have no idea if you're listed as his legal guardian anywhere, and I'd need proof of that."

"Secondary to Anakin," Shmi confirms. "Ben would like this to be a surprise for Ani."

Ben pulls out a sheet, with a careful design on it, and presses it into Na-Tsuyon's lap when she lifts the tattoo gun and he's not at risk of ruining his own ink. It's simpler than the Jedi symbol, though it's two colors instead of one.

"It's the Open Circle Fleet," Ben says, shy in a way she's given to understand he usually isn't. She thinks his shyer moments may be connected to admitting to emotion, something that he's tying quite closely to his choice of Tattoos. "I thought, um, since I'm already--already honoring one buir, then, er..."

"The Open Circle Fleet was under the command of my brother's Jedi Master," Shmi explains, one hand on Ben's. "And I am given to understand that the symbol was designed as a subtle nod, of sorts, to the two of them as a team. Ben's looking to honor Anakin as he has his first father."

Ben looks down at his lap, and doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes.

"Bring me proof of guardianship," she tells them. "And I'll make sure you get it finished early enough that the bacta comes off before Knight Skywalker makes it home."

She holds true to her word, and talks her way into being there to see the reunion and reveal.

The emotions that cross Skywalker's face are complicated and unexpected in ways that she can't identify.

Then it's all too simple, because he starts crying on little Ylliben in the middle of the hangar.

----

It doesn't take a full year for Ylliben to come in for another set. It's only five months, maybe six. He has a sketch again, a geometric design of something she doesn't recognize, but still pings as familiar for some reason.

"It needs to be the right shade of blue," he tells her, serious as anything. Knight Skwyalker is right next to him, smiling all soft and indulgent, and maybe a little sad. "It's for Soka."

Oh. This is based on her facial markings, then. Or... what they will be, maybe. This doesn't look quite like what she's seen on the girl, but everyone knows little Ben is more touched by visions than his father and sister.

Na-Tsuyon thinks she knows where this is going. "The same blue as her montrals and lekku?"

Ben shakes his head. "No, 501st blue."

Or not.

"It's close, but a little darker and more saturated," Skywalker offers, and shrugs when she looks his way. "It's a long story, but the 501st was the legion I led before I arrived at Mandalore. It had a specific shade of blue assigned for armor paint, so legions could easily identify each other in the field."

That's... odd. She doesn't ask for more detail, though. It's not her business. "Where do you want this one?"

Ben shows her his left forearm and frames a section about two-thirds the length of it, along the outer side. Like a vambrace.

She has a feeling all these symbols will be on his armor, once he's old enough for it.

"Let's go through my inks and see which one will work best," she says, and does not comment on the rest.

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a few months before his next touch-up appointment, he doesn't have an image on hand. His father is trailing him again, and Na-Tsuyon has a guess.

"Time for Shmi?" she asks.

Ben ducks his head, flushing and not meeting Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "Yes'm."

"I thought as much," she says, and smiles at Skywalker. "General."

"Don't start."

"There have been oh so many rumors flying since the last Jedi run-in, you know."

"I don't care," he grouses, dropping into a seat. "Hells, a man takes emergency command for one battle, and it's all anyone can talk about."

"You ended a civil war, sir."

Ben giggles into his hands as Skywalker groans and slaps a hand over his eyes.

"No respect," the man complains. "Ben, be nice to me, I'm your dad."

"Nuh-uh," Ben says. "I know all the most embarrassing secrets."

"A cruel child," Skywalker accuses. "Ruthless."

"You're the one raising me," Ben says, swinging his legs back and forth. He's got plastoid training vambraces, now, and greaves that clink against the legs of the chair.

"Somehow, yes." Skywalker sighs, with great drama and all such things. He drags himself up to sitting. "Anyway. Moving on."

"Do you have something in mind already?" Na-Tsuyon asks.

"Binary suns," Ben says. "Just two overlapping circles, coin-sized, one bigger than the other, in sunset colors. In a gradient, with a sort of... flare to it? Halo? The... oh! The stellar corona. Buir knows the colors better."

"I want to see what you have to work with before I sketch out the design," Skywalker says. "But yeah, sort of pink and yellow and peachy."

"I can do almost any color," Na-Tsuyon promises. "Especially on fair human skin like Ylliben's. I won't have a problem getting those to show up the way I would on myself."

Na-Tsuyon is a color most would call 'aquamarine.' She's a light shade between blue and green, and much as she likes her skin, it's an absolute pain to make red and orange show up.

She can do it.

It's just annoying.

Ben asks for this one to be on the inside of the left forearm, high and opposite to the widest point of the mark for Sokanth.

----

"Can I see your fonts?"

Ben's alone, for the moment, but Na-Tsuyon knows that when he makes his decision, his father or Shmi will approve it without question. It's no harm to let him browse.

"Basic, Mando'a, or Huttese alphabet?" she asks. "Or something more esoteric?"

"Mando'a, please."

He's eight years old, now. He's still far younger than most of her clients, but she's long gotten used to him. Even when he's acting like a child, there's something to it that doesn't quite sit right. 'Born middle-aged,' a few of the other civilians on base had joked.

She wasn't sure if she thought it was just a joke, these days.

Na-Tsuyon passes her fonts book to the boy, and settles back in her chair for a long afternoon of running numbers. He, meanwhile, goes to sit in the lobby, legs still not long enough to reach the floor, paging through with unwavering, unsettling gravitas.

Half an hour, and then Ben returns.

He points to a font. "This one."

"What's it going to say?"

"Vode An," he tells her, as serious as can be. "In black, over my heart. It's important."

"It's a fairly common phrase," she notes idly. "Should be quick."

She doesn't expect much of a response, and certainly not the one she gets.

"It was different for them," Ben mutters, not looking at her. She sees him twisting the toes of one shoe into the floor. "It was... it was different. I can't talk about it. They were brothers, actually brothers, and they had--they had nothing, they were basically slaves, but--"

"You don't have to talk about it," Na-Tsuyon assures him, a hand on his. "You don't have to explain it to me. If it means something to you, that's all that matters. I just need you to be sure."

"And buir to sign the paperwork," Ben quips, smiling at her. She notices that several teeth are missing. It's cute. "You need that too."

"That too," she agrees.

When Skywalker shows up, he hears what it is that Ben would like, and makes a few suggestions for a border--a gear that sounded too much like the Republic's symbol for a Mando'a phrase, a building on stilts from a city she's never heard of on a planet that rings no bells, a human genetic strand for reasons she can't imagine--most of which are soundly ignored, until Skywalker sketched out a stylized ship of... some sort.

"Venator," Skywalker says, and taps the image. "Nobody will know it except us, but it'll mean something to you, for them."

Ben looks at it for a long moment, and then takes the scrap of flimsi with Mando'a on it and lays it overtop the center of the sketch.

He stares at it for a few long moments, and then nods sharply and pushes it to Na-Tsuyon. "This, please."

He's such a polite child.

It makes it easier to ignore the more confusing parts of his presence in her parlor.

----

"Hi!"

Sokanth Skywalker is in her shop.

That's new.

"Hello," Na-Tsuyon says. "I didn't know you were thinking of getting ink."

"I'm not," she says, hopping up on a stool across the counter. She holds out a hand, and Na-Tsuyon clasps it with bemusement. "But you guys do piercings too, right?"

"We do," she confirms. "You're... ten?"

"Yep!" Sokanth chirps, kicking her legs back and forth. "Is that old enough to get these without permission, or should I ask my dad to come by?"

"At least twelve for piercings without in-person, signed approval from a parent or guardian," Na-Tsuyon says. "Though if you're anything like your brother, I don't imagine that'll be a problem for you."

Sokanth grins at her, bright and a little wild. "Nose, bottom lip, eyebrow. I don't know the actual terms, but I know what I want. Which do you suggest getting first?"

"I'd say nostril," Na-Tsuyon tells her. Most species even vaguely humanoid kick off with the ears, but that's not exactly an option for a togruta. "Let me get a chart and you can figure out what type of piercing you want, and what kind of hoop or stud. I don't actually do the piercings myself, though. Comm the General if you want this done today, though."

"Thank you~!"

----

Nostril, labret, and a horizontal brow, the piercer notes down at the end of the latest Skywalker visit. Na-Tsuyon wonders if the brow piercing will look strange with Soka's markings, and then doesn't think on it further.

----

Ylliben, almost nine, is silent as he gets the touch-up.

His father isn't here. Neither is Shmi. It's pre-approved, signed permission and all, but it's still odd that neither of Ben's adults is here.

Sokanth is, but she's almost as quiet as Ben is.

Na-Tsuyon has heard the rumors, but she's not going to say anything. She's not. It's not her business.

"Ben," Soka speaks up, towards the end of the appointment. "Ask her the thing."

Ben shakes his head. "No way."

"She knows more about tattoos and how important they are than anyone!" Soka urges. "Ask her!"

"Do you want to wait for your father?" Na-Tsuyon suggests.

"No!" both immediately yelp.

She pauses, glad the needle hadn't been to skin, and levels a look at Ben. He flushes and settles down, mumbling an apology for jerking as he had. She goes back to fixing the stretch of the binary suns tattoo.

Soka shifts in her seat, watching them intently.

"Shmi's upset with buir," Ben suddenly says. He doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "I'm... I don't know if you heard what's going on."

"I do my best to avoid rumors," she says, keeping her voice as neutral as she can. "I did hear that the Mand'alor is about to have a grandchild, and something about an upcoming wedding. That much has been announced officially."

"Dad freaked out," Soka says, legs kicking back and forth. "He's happy for her, and he's fine with Jango being the other parent, but it kicked off a... philosophical crisis? Ben, what do you think?"

"Metaphysical, maybe," Ben mumbles. "Definitely existential."

"And he told Shmi some stuff and now she's hurt that he didn't tell her before and it's all a mess," Soka finishes. "So, uh, we don't... want either of them involved. Until. Um. Until that's settled."

Na-Tsuyon bites back any deeper questions she might have. "Alright. I won't pry. What did you want to know from me?"

"I had a plan for what I was going to get next," Ben says, staring at the fold of fabric over his sister's knees in lieu of something more pertinent. "A peace lily, on the inside of my wrist, for..."

"You don't have to tell me," she reminds him.

Ben bites his lip, and closes his eyes, and breathes in deep. Neither of the girls comment.

"She was important," Ben finally says. "In the big memories. But she doesn't... she's not... she isn't here. And Jango is. And he's marrying Shmi, and they're having a baby, so I should put a mark down for him first, right?"

"He's gonna be Mand'alor, too," Soka adds.

"He is," Na-Tsuyon says, as neutral as she can.

"He's joining the family," Ben says, his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him. "And there's going to be a baby, and that's. That's important."

"There's no order that you have to get things in," Na-Tsuyon assures him, squeezing his shoulder in a light gesture of support. "You've prioritized family so far, so I think it would make sense to get a mark for the coming cousin, at least. Unless... is the lily for your birth mother?"

Ben's face twists, uncomfortable for some reason she can't begin to guess at.

"No," Ben says.

"Skyguy's Jedi Master did almost marry her when they were younger," Soka explains. She glances at Na-Tsuyon and then away and at the wall. "They had a whole dramatic 'forbidden romance' thing going on, 'cause Jedi aren't supposed to get married. She died before Ben came into the picture, though."

It's a neat enough explanation.

It feels fake, but much of what the Skywalkers say about their pasts does.

She's sure it's true in some way. In some perspective. From... from a certain point of view, maybe.

"Alright, then," Na-Tsuyon dismisses. "All things aside, I would suggest adjusting your order of tattoo acquisition, but there's no particular requirement by Mandalorian standards. Your choices are rarely anything that intersects with set traditions, nor do you have a historic clan or house that comes with mandates of the sort. It seems that you're leaning towards prioritizing something for the new additions to your family, though; you've made it clear that these things are important to you, and I think you should pursue it if you're comfortable with it."

Ben nods, eyes somewhere far off.

"It'll make him flustered," Soka pushes, kicking lightly at her brother's ankle. "Jan-Jan's still worried you don't like him anymore."

"He is not," Ben huffs. "He's just scared of buir."

"Nah, your opinion matters too," Soka argues. "And you've been avoiding everyone 'cuz Skyguy freaked out and Shmi's upset, so Jango's worried you're mad at him about the baby happening. If you get a tattoo about him, he might actually cry."

"Is that why you want me to take that route?"

"Not the only one," Soka says, utterly guileless. She blinks at him, bright and innocent. "But I definitely do want to see the future Mand'alor crying because you made it obvious he's family now. It'll be funny."

Ben sighs, very clearly being dramatic about it. "Soka, I'm not going to pick a tattoo based on what you think will be funny."

"Imagine his face, though."

Na-Tsuyon doesn't comment at the expressions Ben makes as he very clearly does exactly that.

"Well, kriff," Ben sighs, and Soka giggles at the swear. "I'll have to get a tattoo for Jango, then."

----

Ben is already nine by the time he comes in with his father to actually get the tattoo for Jango's addition to the family. The choice he makes isn't particularly imaginative, but it'll suit well enough. A mythosaur skull, the symbol of the Haat Mando'ade, in a grey the same shade as beskar.

There actually are traditions to this one, specific adjustments to the framing and stylization meant to indicate how one fits into the faction, but also how one is associated with the Mand'alor. Ben is family, and close family, but not related by blood, nor adopted directly by the Mand'alor, rather a relative through the riduur be alor.

Na-Tsuyon explains each element and adjustment in detail, lets them process and agree, until she's taking a needle to Ben's skin once more.

"Will you be getting one for the coming child as well?" Na-Tsuyon asks while shading in a curve of bone.

"Not yet," Ben tells her, quiet and oddly contemplating. "I need to meet them, first. Figure out who they are."

"Sensible," she agrees. There's the usual oddity in his phrasing, and she ignores it as ever. "Did you tell Fett that you were getting this?"

"No, it's intended as a surprise," Ben says, watching her work.

She can almost feel the coming question.

It does not come from the human she expects.

"Do you know any Mando tattoo artists in Little Keldabe?" the General asks, voice low.

She finishes the line she's on, lifts the needle away from skin, and turns to him. "You're leaving for Coruscant?"

"Not yet," Skywalker says. He meets her eyes evenly. "But... soon. The time's coming. A year, maybe two. The Force will let us know when the time is right."

"Uh-huh," Na-Tsuyon acknowledges this. She does not comment further. The Force is not her wheelhouse. If they think it wants them back on Coruscant, with the Temple, then that's what they believe.

"These are Mando work," Skywalker continues, almost painfully earnest, "and I'd like to ensure whoever maintains them until Ben stops growing knows the right way to handle Mando art."

It's really not that different from a standard tattoo artist, but she's a little charmed anyway. Enchanted, almost. The man really does care.

"I can get you some names and addresses next time you stop by," she promises him. "It's been a few years since I checked in on their work, and I'll need to look them over before I make any recommendations."

He smiles at her, relieved in a manner she finds appallingly open for a Jedi like himself.

Ben mimics his father.

----

She gets to attend the wedding, months later.

The food is very, very good.

(Ben waits until the reception to show off his new tattoo, and the future Mand'alor does, in fact, cry.)

(So does Shmi.)

(So does their eight-week-old daughter, but that's probably unrelated to the tattoo.)

----

"Do you think getting a belly button ring would be good?"

Na-Tsuyon doesn't lift her head from her paperwork when Sokanth poses the question to the piercer. She's in for the horizontal brow bar, this time, and the labret is going to be somewhere a few months down the line.

"That's really up to you," the piercer says. His name is Hujnak, and he's a Devaronian that's been working here since Na-Tsuyon opened up the place. She loves him dearly, but he stole the last piece of cake and for that he will have no help with difficult customers for the next fortnight.

Or until she gets bored.

"I'm leaning towards 'no,' but I'm not sure," Soka muses. "I like the idea of it, but I feel like it might get snagged on things more easily. Plus, it's going to be a point of higher damage and pressure if I get a gut punch. It's one of the parts of my body I'm never really going to armor up, you know?"

They do know. There have been screaming matches about all the Jedi's refusal to wear enough armor on many occasions. The Jedi prioritize their agility to such a degree that armorweave is more reasonable than actual armor, in their opinion. This is an opinion that Fett and Mereel both take issue with.

At great volume.

(Shmi has vambraces, a gorget, and greaves, Na-Tsuyon knows. Some of it was exchanged at the wedding. Shmi doesn't wear much armor, certainly less than even the children. Shmi, crucially, isn't a warrior or otherwise planning to see battle.)

"Then I would say it may be best to hold off."

"Phooey," Soka says, though she doesn't seem particularly upset. "Ben's gonna be cooler than me forever, then."

"You think tattoos are cooler than piercings?" Hujnak challenges. "I'm offended."

"He can just get more," Soka protests. "Without it looking weird or getting dangerous, I mean."

Hujnak hums, noncommittal. "And you're worried about being cooler than the younger brother you have told me is, and I quote, the biggest nerd ever?"

"Well, yeah," Sokanth scoffs. "He's gonna start acting older than me as soon as he thinks he can get away with it. I gotta have something to hold over his head, you know?"

"Seeing as you are the older sibling..."

"Ehhhh..."

Nope.

Not paying attention.

----

"These are House Kryze colors."

Ylliben's breath hitches.

He is ten. He doesn't seem ready to provide answers. She turns to the father instead.

"Will that be a problem?" the general asks, calm and even.

"Yes," she says, and Ben slumps. She continues, because this is her job, and for a reason. "Unless you have a ready justification for when House Kryze asks, yes, it will be a problem. If it were a landscape or an animal, it wouldn't matter, but the pairing of the colors and the peace lily is an explicit statement of loyalty to Adonai and his heir, Satine. Unless you've suddenly decided to adjust your political stance to total pacifism instead of your Jedi approach, or have another reason to take on House Kryze colors, I'd warn against it at all, and would refuse to perform the work myself."

Ylliben's eyes are fixed somewhere behind her, and shining wetly.

"Okay," the general says. "Ben, do you have any other pallettes in mind?

"These were her colors," Ben whispers, and then he swallows thickly. "I just..."

"Simplify," Skywalker suggests. He fiddles with a necklace half-hidden in his Jedi layers; the japor one is visible, but a dull gold glint is all Na-Tsuyon can see of the other before it's tucked away again. "She'd understand, yeah? There's political ramifications. Dangerous ones, especially to you."

Interesting thing to say about a woman who, by Soka's earlier statements, died well before Ben was born.

They could at least try to stop dropping hints about their oddities. She doesn't want to know more.

"Lilac," Ben finally decides. "And... pale silver. With a filigree pattern in the shading?"

"I can do that," Na-Tsuyon promises.

She does not ask further.

----

"We're moving to Coruscant in a month."

Na-Tsuyon's head snaps up, head tails jolting almost painfully with the movement.

Sokanth is getting her labret, finally. She's gossiping as Hujnak prepares the tools, as usual, and Na-Tsuyon tries to ignore it when they Skywalkers do that, she does, but...

"You're leaving," she repeats, feeling oddly blank.

"Um... yeah?" Soka answers. She scratches at one stubby montral. "We've talked about it before. I thought you knew."

"I didn't realize it was so soon," Na-Tsuyon defends. She's more upset than she should be. "I thought you'd be waiting until the little princess was older."

Sokanth blinks at her, slow and... not judging, no. Evaluating, maybe.

"I'm almost thirteen," she says, slow and deliberate and heavy. "And Ben's eleven. There's no hard age limit for becoming a padawan, but I'm getting into the peak years for getting chosen, and I've been living here instead of in the Temple. I haven't had years to impress a potential Master like the others. That might not matter; sometimes a Master sees their future student and just knows, but... I need to have other Jedi to spar with, not just Skyguy and Ben. And Ben's visions are getting stronger, and Dad was never that good with his own in the first place, so he's worried about being able to help at all. We could stay longer, but..."

She trails off, and shrugs, and the weighted air disappears. "It's not the same thing as a verd'goten, at all, but it's about the same age, you know? I should be in the Temple for it."

"What would a verd'goten equivalent be?" Hujnak prompts, when Na-Tsuyon fails to find her words. "Being an adult and equal member and all such things?"

"Knighthood," Soka answers immediately. "Dad got knighted when he was twenty, but that's really young, usually. His master was knighted at twenty-five, which was a bit late, but apparently there was a whole dramatic thing going on there that Dad never got all the details about."

"Becoming a Padawan is a sign that your teachers see you as someone that is ready to take on the responsibilities of a Jedi, yes?" Hujnak asks. "That you may not be ready to go out on your own, but that you're old enough to understand your oaths and choose how to follow them, and to protect others?"

Sokanth considers this, and then nods. "Yeah, I guess it's similar to using the verd'goten to gauge if someone's ready to swear the Resol'nare, that way. Still not moving out, and just about entering an apprenticeship, but enough of an adult to make the choice of how to change the world."

"I think most cultures have something like that around the same age," Hujnak comments. "Some do it a bit later in the teens, but it's usually around your age that most... well, most cultures who age at the 'human standard' rate--"

Na-Tsuyon can't help the reflexive snort of derision. Neither can Soka. Hujnak, the closest to human in the room and yet still very much not, smiles like this is exactly what he intended.

"--most who age at that rate do have it somewhere in that eleven-to-seventeen range, I'd think."

Soka shrugs. "Yeah, well. Still gotta go to the Temple for it, you know?"

"Are you going to take the verd'goten at all?" Na-Tsuyon asks, suddenly a little desperate to keep the Skywalkers here, with Mandalore and all its people, just a fraction of a moment longer.

"I don't think so," Soka muses. "I've been thinking about it, but I should probably talk about it with Jango, yeah?"

"Yeah," Na-Tsuyon says, and feels like she's swallowing down around rocks.

----

As it turns out, the timing is very deliberate. Three weeks later, Jaster transfers the title of Mand'alor to his son.

(Though Na-Tsuyon does not know this, twenty-six is older than Jango was when he lost the title, once upon another life.)

There is a week of festivity. There is food, and drink, and dancing. Some people get married. Some people make announcements of impending births. Some people reveal songs they composed in preparation for this very day.

For a week, Mandalore celebrates a new king.

Then, the Jedi and his children leave.

(Ben gives Na-Tsuyon a hug before he goes.)

(She tries to understand why she feels like she's losing something when he does.)

#Obi Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #Shmi Skywalker #JangoShmi #Jango Fett #Disaster Lineage #star wars #time travel #de aging #mandalore #mandalorian culture #phoenix posts #Anakin and the Jedi Babies #tattoos #original characters #outsider pov #this is part one of three I think #it's two in the diddly darn morning and I am going to bed

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arvinsescape · 3 years ago

Text

Choices.

A/N: Another Mob!Tom fic, a longer one. It’s another darker one and I hope you all enjoy! Do not engage if the topics make you uncomfortable 💕 (side note: I managed to get switch!Tom in there).

Summary: You become the product of someone’s torture and now you have to decide what you want.

Warnings: Smut (oral, f rec), unprotected sex (wrap it up, stay safe), Violence, blood, injuries, bruises, language, misogynistic views. Minors do not engage. I think I got everything, possibly a few typos.

W/C: 8K.

The sound of skin-on-skin contact resonated through the halls, the sting in your cheek burning as Caleb shook the sting from his own hand.

“What did he do with my shipment?” Caleb hissed as he crouched down so he was eye level with you.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that, when he finds out what you’ve done, he’s gonna kill you.” You said, probably a stupid thing to say as it earned you yet another smack to your already bruised cheek.

“I’ll give you one thing, you’re tougher than you look. Shame you think you’re worth more to him, he’s known for the last twelve hours I’ve had you and he’s done nothing.” Caleb laughed as he stood to full height.

“Bullshit.” You hissed and Caleb laughed.

“Oh come on, you don’t think men like us put women above our businesses do you? More women like you will come along, more cunts to keep our cocks warm. Let’s be real, that’s really all you are and ever will be to him.” He laughed and you winced at the harshness, maybe he was right. He wasn’t here, wasn’t here to help you.

“Now,” he announced as he made his way over to a table, taking a hammer off it. “I’ve quite frankly grown bored. Tell me what he did with the shipment, tell me where it is.” He said, he was yet again in front of you. He’d taken your hand in his and if your wrist wasn’t roped down to the chair you’d have slapped him.

“You have quite dainty little fingers.” He said as he stroked over them. “Shame I’m going to have to break a few.” He said and you felt defeated, utterly defeated.

“I don’t know what he did.” You answered in a breathy whisper. “He doesn’t get me involved.” It wasn’t strictly a lie, you knew he’d stolen the shipment just not how.

“Given up? I would to, must be disappointing.” He laughed again as he crouched down to your level, stroking your sweaty hair out of your face, running a thumb harshly over the bruise on your cheek. “Maybe he hasn’t even noticed you’ve gone, that spot you occupy in his bed probably isn’t cold, already filled.” He taunted and you felt the tears fall.

“Just let me go. I can’t help you.” You said, your heart was broken. He knew you were here, and he’d done nothing. Maybe it was all bullshit, maybe he didn’t love you like he said he did.

“But we’re having so much fun.” He said as he stood up again. “I know you know something, you must, you sauntered around that mansion enough.”

“I don’t.” You said, completely defeated now.

“Tell you what, you can serve as a lesson, I’ll give you back to him. Since you can’t help and show him what happens to his stuff when he messes with mine.” He said and you succumbed to the tears.

Tom was panicking he’d not seen you all day, you’d gone out for lunch and now he couldn’t get a hold of you. His mind was racing, he’d sent all of his staff out to find you and no such luck, it was like you’d disappeared into thin air. He was pacing his office, running a hand through his hair when he heard it. Three loud knocks to his mansion’s door. He hastily made his way downstairs, Harrison in tow.

As soon as he opened the door, a body collided with his own. He only just caught it in time, the body almost limp in his arms. It took his brain a moment to catch up as he realised just who it was that had been thrust into chest.

“Caleb sends his regards.” A man laughed and Tom felt frozen. How had this happened? Not you, not his precious princess. Tom watched as the man disappeared, Harrison giving chase.

It was your small fist on your right hand that grasped his shirt that brought him back to reality, he picked you up, one arm around your back, the other in the crook of your knees as you winced in pain.

“I’m sorry princess.” He mumbled as he took in your features, you looked so tired, bruised cheek. Tom felt his anger rise, Caleb should count his days lucky because when Tom found him it would be the last day he spent on Earth. He took you into your shared room, placing you carefully on the bed as he took in the rest of you. The outfit you’d worn that day was dirty but still intact, your wrists were raw, evidence of the rope that had tied them down, the same with your ankles.

You had bruises almost everywhere, face tear stained. You were half awake, weak as you fluttered your eyes occasionally before closing them again. Tom sat with you on the bed for a while, thinking about his next move, of all the ways he was going to torture Caleb for doing this to you. He heard commotion downstairs and knew Harrison had caught whoever had brought you back to him.

Tom didn’t leave you, he knew Harrison would take over, bring the men back and make sure whoever he’d caught was dealt with until Tom could deal with it. Harrison was his right-hand man, one of his most trusted advisors. Tom looked down at you, moving stray strands of hair from your face, he almost cried at the sight.

He kept a hand on your chest, evidence you were alive. He brought his lips to your forehead as he kissed it, a tear making its way down his cheek. You didn’t deserve this, and he couldn’t protect you, he failed at the one thing he’d promised to himself. It wasn’t long before your eyes fluttered open to look at him.

You took in Tom as you opened your eyes, he looked tired, upset as he held a hand to your chest, hair a mess and those brown eyes had seemingly lost their usual spark. You looked at him, no energy to speak. He’d left you, didn’t come for you when you wanted him to, you briefly remember begging for him, pieces of the beating you’d taken coming back in flashes. You’d lost consciousness through parts, the pain too much.

“Hey Princess.” He breathed out, voice soft, quiet. It almost sounded like there was an ounce of care in there, but you must be delusional. You just looked at him and he sighed before disappearing. You didn’t really wonder where he’d gone, what he was doing, you were thinking about how to get yourself home, away from this and away from him.

It wasn’t long before he lifted you again, you were too tired to fight with him as he took you to the bathroom, stripped you of your clothes and put you into the bath. The first bath you had was to get rid of the dirt, Tom ever so carefully washing your body and hair, it almost had you fooled into thinking he cared. He’d fooled you for almost two years now though.

He almost cried again as he took in the bruising that was all over your body, he took your left hand into his own and you winced, almost crying out in pain. He studied your hand, as if in some sort of mocking he took in the bruising of your left finger, the one he intended to place a ring on. He could tell just by looking at it that it was broken. He whispered out an apology, he needed to call his personal doctor to come and see you.

He lifted you again, carefully, before running a second bath, placing you in there, probably hoping the hot water would relax your tired muscles. It was silent, the only sounds being your winces, Tom’s quiet apologies and his soft kisses to your skin. Tom was the first to properly break the silence.

“I’m so sorry princess.” He said softly and you wondered how this man, your Tom could have left you like that, left you to die for all he knew. You didn’t speak, too tired for an argument with him. He sighed as he sat with you, sitting on the edge of the bathtub as you got lost in your own thoughts.

Your gut was telling you it couldn’t be true, your Tom wouldn’t have left you like that, he’d have come for you if he’d known but your head was full of the things Caleb had said. Full of the doubt he’d put there, the doubt that Tom loved you at all, that he felt anything for you. You felt more tears slip down your cheek as you hastily and angrily tried to wipe them away.

“Hey, hey, I’m here, I’ve got you.” Tom said as he lowered himself to take you into his arms. Your good but wet hand fisting the dry fabric of his shirt as you cried into his shoulder. “You’re okay. I’m here.” He repeated as you cried for what felt like the millionth time that day. “I’m gonna take you to bed okay? I won’t leave you, not tonight.” But he already had hadn’t he? He’d left you with Caleb, maybe you were just a good fuck, and he couldn’t be bothered to find anyone else now that you were back.

He lifted you for the last time out of the bath, draining it as he stood you on your feet, wrapping a towel around your fragile frame. Rubbing his hands along your arms in an attempt to help you dry off. You didn’t fight him as he placed a shirt, his shirt, over your head, helping you get into bed. Everything about him was so soft in this moment, so gentle, it made it hard to believe what he’d done tonight or on the contrary, what he’d not done.

Tom’s doctor came and left, securing your finger, whatever he said to Tom was drowned out by your own thoughts. You tuned back in to hear the doctor say that your bruises were okay, you were going to be okay. But that was lie, you weren’t okay, far from it, not emotionally at least.

You fell asleep that night, hand fisted into his shirt, it was keeping you grounded, reminding you that you were here, with Tom, in his room, not back there. It was a reminder you weren’t dreaming. Tom held you until you fell asleep, coaxing your not broken fingered hand to interlace with his own, you knew you were probably grasping his hand too tight, but you needed to keep yourself anchored, stop yourself falling apart. You were tired and in no mood to fight and being here with Tom was a far better alternative than being back there with Caleb.

Tom was drifting into his own sleep when your scream jolted him awake, probably woke the whole mansion. Your body suddenly moving from his own as you became completely unsettled, face contorting in pain. Tom was quick to move as he tried to wake you, dodging your flailing arms, he took them in his hands, careful of your finger, pinning them above your head.

“Princess, it’s okay, it’s me. It’s Tom, it’s just me. You’re safe.” He repeated as he watched your eyes snap open and meet his, he was shocked to see the rage in them.

“Get off me.” You screamed at him, and he did, instantly, releasing you from his hold as he sat up, you sitting up onto your knees as you looked at him.

“Princess, it’s okay, calm down.” He reassured as he carefully went to take your hand in his, you slapped it away and stood up off the bed.

“Stay away from me, Tom. I want to go home.” You snapped and he stood from the bed as well. He heard a knock at the door, ignoring it.

“Baby, you are home.” Tom was utterly confused at your turn towards him, you looked so angry, so hurt with him and he couldn’t understand it. He’d spent all day looking for you, used every resource he had to try. He made his way towards you again, placing his hands on your shoulders.

He watched as you cried again, falling into his chest, you were tired, confused, that much he could tell. Like you were fighting an internal battle with yourself, one he knew nothing about, and it was frightening him, your sudden anger towards him setting him on edge. He heard a knock on his door again and bit back his anger, for your sake.

“Whatever it is, I’ll deal with it in the morning.” Tom snapped, hands moving to cover your ears as not to startle you. You suddenly moved, ripping yourself from his grip as you looked at him wildly.

“You left me.” You said and Tom looked confused, he felt confused.

“What, princess, I don’t know what you mean.” He said calmly.

“Bullshit. You left me and you know you did. Why is it you keep me around? A good fuck? The minute my life is in danger, you do nothing. You really had me fooled.” You ranted as you paced the room and Tom felt more confused than he ever had in his life. Left you? He would never, had he known where you were, he’d have come straight for you.

“I didn’t leave you princess, I promise. You know me, I love you. You know I’d do anything to make sure you’re safe.” He said as he carefully approached your figure, stopping your pacing and forcing you to look at him, tears streaming down your beautiful face again. You looked at him almost desperately, like you wanted to believe what he was saying but couldn’t.

“I, Tom. I can’t get these thoughts out of my head. I don’t want to believe that you left me, but you did. How do I know that what you’re saying isn’t bullshit?” You spoke, voice broken, and Tom almost cried again.

“If I’d have known where you were, I’d have come for you. You know me, Y/N, you know me.” He said sincerely.

“I want to believe you but I can’t. Caleb said-“

“Whatever he said was bullshit, baby, you know me. You know I’d move the world for you.” He said as he stroked your hair.

“I need to get away.” You spoke and you looked at him, you were begging him not to argue with you. “I need to think.” You said and it was so desperate that Tom couldn’t deny you, you needed it and he’d give it to you.

“Okay baby, I’ll let you go. Wherever you want, but tonight please just stay here and I’ll take you where you want to go tomorrow.” He pleaded and he watched you fight an internal battle with yourself, he knew what you were thinking. He knew you were thinking that if you spent the night in bed with him, you were scared you’d wake up tomorrow and all will be forgiven. Tom’s heart tore in two as he opened his mouth to speak.

“I’ll sleep next door. If you need anything that’s where I’ll be.” He said as he kissed your forehead and made his way out of the room.

It was 5 o clock in the morning when the door opened in one of his spare rooms, a body colliding with his own as it clung to him. He didn’t fight you when you climbed on top of him, wrapping yourself in him. His heart hammered in his chest, he was conflicted, you’d just asked, begged, for space and here you were making sure there wasn’t an inch of it.

You were on top of him, trying to pull his arms closer around you and he didn’t fight, not when he heard the small sigh leave your lips. He was careful not to hurt you as he placed his arms around your trembling figure on top of him.

“I just, I can’t. I need to feel safe.” You cracked voice reached his ears. He was conflicted, he knew this would have you feeling differently in the morning, but he couldn’t forget the pleading look in your eyes when you told him you needed space. He’d let you have this, give you what you needed tonight but tomorrow he had to let you go. As much as it would rip his heart out he had to let you go.

He held you, carefully as your breathing evened out in the crook of his neck. He was used to you wanting his touch but never like this, not this much. It was almost like you wanted to get inside him, wrap yourself completely in him, like you couldn’t get close enough. He did his best, did his best to make you feel covered and only when he heard your soft snores did he know that he’d been successful at making you feel safe.

“I love you so much.” He said as he held you and let his own tears fall.

He woke up and felt no weight on top of him, you’d moved. He thought you’d be downstairs and was shocked to see you sat cross legged on the bed next to him.

“I’m sorry about last night.” You said.

“You’re sorry?” He asked, what?

“I just, I couldn’t sleep without you.” You clarified and he nodded as he studied you carefully. He knew what was about to come, knew he needed to be a better man than he’d ever been in his life, for you. “I was thinking,” you started as you cleared your throat, although it did nothing for the croakiness of it. “Maybe we should talk.” You offered and his heart shattered, last night you were scared of it happening and it had.

He sat up as he rubbed his hands down his face, collecting himself because this was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. He just couldn’t forget that begging in your eyes. The way you pleaded with him to let you go and in his mind this was the right thing to do. Be the man you’d begged him to be last night.

“You’re mind was pretty made-up last night.” He grumbled and he didn’t miss the way your eyes melted at his morning voice.

“I’ve had a chance to sleep.” You ran your uninjured hand through your hair as you shrugged.

“Y/N,” He hated using your name, he hardly ever used it but pet names? Not right now. “With me.” He continued and you furrowed your brows.

“So?” You huffed back.

“You begged me to let you leave last night.”

“I’ve changed my mind, I can’t sleep without you.” You said.

“Don’t do this to yourself, last night you wanted, no needed to leave, you told me so.”

“I was confused. Tommy,” that fucking nickname. “We can talk it out and I can stay here.” You were making this hard.

“I can’t. Y/N, you need let me do the right thing here, the right thing for you.”

“So you just want to leave me again?” You huffed out, anger rising on your ever beautiful features.

“Again? I told you last night that’s not what happened.” His voice still soft. “You need to clear your head and you and I both know you won’t do that when I’m here.” He reasoned, he knew you had to find a way to process this, and he knew what would happen if he let you stay.

He’d done his own thinking last night and he knew if he let you stay, if you allowed yourself to just get wrapped up in him instead of process what had happened to you and the cause of it, the cause being his lifestyle. He couldn’t do that to you, he needed to let you think even if that meant letting you go forever. He was ripping his heart out here and the look on your face was stomping it hard into the floor.

“But I don’t understand.” You whispered as you let a tear fall, Tom was quick to move and wipe it away, you caught his hand and brought it between your own.

“You will, you need to process this, need to think about what you really want. If you weren’t with me this never would have happened.” He said and you let out a choked sob, you knew he was right.

He’d moved you into a flat, well Harrison had moved your things in, Tom knew if he did it he’d become selfish and let you come home. Tom made sure it was secure, bought it in your name so you wouldn’t be attached forever if you decided to leave, it would be yours. He kept it safe but he stayed away, you’d been gone a week when you first called and out of instinct he answered.

“Tommy?” You sniffled down the line and he knew a nightmare had just woken you up.

“Y/N, this isn’t a good idea.” He warned softly.

“I know, I didn’t call you any of the other nights, but I just need to sleep.” You said and he sighed, running a hand over his face.

“What do you need?” He asked and he hoped you wouldn’t say what he thought you were going to, that would make it harder on both of you.

“Can you, I know you won’t come here and I can’t come there, can you just talk to me? Please?” You asked in a whisper and Tom couldn’t refuse.

“What do you want me to talk about?” He asked and he heard you sigh down the line.

“I don’t know, just anything.” You said and he heard you shuffle around presumably to get more comfortable.

That was the first of many phone calls, the two of them indulging themselves late at night when neither could sleep. Tom never called you, you always called him. He was becoming conflicted, he probably shouldn’t be doing this but he was too selfish.

“Tom?” You said and he knew that voice, already feeling blood rush downstairs. It’d been a while since he’d had any sort of relief.

“Y/N/N.” Tom groaned and he heard you giggle slightly, in that seductive way that could get him going at the most inconvenient times and you knew it. Yeah you were definitely horny and this wasn’t a call to help you sleep.

“Tom, I need you.” You panted down the phone at him and he threw his head back into his pillow.

“Y/N, no.” Tom said, firm tone and he heard you shuffle around and hoped to god you weren’t gonna start doing what he knew you were probably thinking. If he heard you moan that would be it, he’d drive over and he couldn’t let that happen.

“Come on, Tom don’t be a killjoy. You always want me.” You said and he heard you shuffle again.

“This isn’t a good idea.” He said, cursing himself for growing hard.

“Come on Tom, we’ve done it before.” You said and then he heard it, your little whimper that meant you’d probably touched your clit.

“Y/N.” He said firmly. He couldn’t let this escalate as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t. He heard you huff. “Please don’t.” He said.

“You don’t want to hear me take care of myself?” You tried again, a moan slipping down the phone.

“No.” Yes.

“Fine.” He heard you huff in defeat.

“We need to stop these phone calls, they’re not doing you any good.” He spoke, voice firmer than he thought it would be to say his dick was currently straining in his boxers.

“I don’t want to, I won’t, I’m sorry.” You stumbled over yourself.

“It’s not just about calling me for phone sex, it’s all of it, it’s not a good idea.” He said, he’d never gone soft as fast in his life, the atmosphere had changed massively. “Y/N/N,” he sighed. “I want you to stop calling me, until your head is clear I want you to stop calling me.” He said, voice soft and he heard your sharp intake of breath.

“Okay.” He heard you say after a while before you hung up.

That was two months ago, he knew you were okay, of course he did but he had had zero contact with you. You were slowly processing what had happened to you, thinking about what you wanted. No matter how many times you thought to yourself that Tom’s lifestyle wasn’t the reason you’d been practically tortured a bruise would remind you that if you weren’t with him it wouldn’t have happened.

It wasn’t until you went to bed that you realised how much you wanted him even if it wasn’t a good idea. He made you happier than anyone ever had, he cared, fuck did he care. He always wanted the best for you, you wanted to be angry at him for doing what he did but you couldn’t. Every time you took a branch of that anger it led you back to the same trunk, the same reason, he’d done it for you, been the better man for you.

Tom was a selfish man everyone knew that, if he wanted something it was his but with you? He couldn’t, he never had been. It made you realise that Caleb was wrong, he had to be, Tom hadn’t behaved like a man who used you to keep his dick wet. There was no way he could have faked that for so long. He was always faithful, not like half the men that rivalled him, he just wouldn’t do that to you.

You love him, that much is clear to you, the way he makes you feel and looks after you is something you know you’ll never have again and ultimately it’s what made your decision. Although you knew that what happened before could potentially happen again, you found yourself unable to care, Tom was it for you. You had to follow your heart, it couldn’t take the pain of being away from him but it didn’t mean you’d turn as much of a blind eye anymore.

You knew who the man was, who you wanted to be with, you wouldn’t be the naive girlfriend anymore, the one who pretended none of it happened. You had to take some responsibility yourself, toughen up, if you were going to be with him, you needed to toughen up and wake the fuck up. Realise how dangerous his world can be and if you were going to make yourself a part of that then you had to make some changes.

As long as you could have him the way you loved him behind closed doors then it was a risk you were willing to take. You couldn’t stop yourself as you brought up the contact you’d not used in two months.

In the two months since Tom had asked you to stop calling him he’d still not managed to find Caleb. Every lead was a dead end. He missed you. Missed everything about you, he took solace in the fact that he knew you were safe and probably healing. He found himself wishing you would call and he’d gotten so drunk one night that Harrison had had to take his phone from his hand to stop him calling you.

He lost hope daily that you were going to call him, that you were going to show up and realised you’d probably done the smart thing and decided not to have anything to do with him. It hurt him, truly it did but was he to do? Make you stay? He knew if he’d let you stay another couple of nights in his bed then you’d just consume yourself with him and not think about what you wanted.

His phone made him jump when it rang, he wasn’t used to this anymore, wasn’t used to seeing your contact pop up, not over the last two months. He almost declined the call until he thought about why you might be calling, you’d made no attempt to contact him in all this time, maybe you were ready to talk, maybe you’d cleared your head. His thumb swiped at the green button as he put it to his ear.

“Can you come over?” That was all he got, no explanation, nothing.

His fist banged on the door, you knew it was him, you knew immediately. You knew him like the back of your hand. You opened it and couldn’t help the small gasp that left your lips, was he trying to drive you insane? Those dress pants, white shirt tucked into his pants, rolled up sleeves? Fuck, he always looked like he was formed by the gods themselves.

“Hi darling.” He spoke and you couldn’t stop yourself as you threw yourself at him, hugging him tight. It was nice to feel him hug you back, be back in those arms that did nothing but make you feel safe, at home.

“Hi.” You whispered as you pulled back and pulled him into your flat, he was yet to see it.

“Why the late-night call?” He asked.

“I wanted to see you.” You shrugged, licking your lips that had become dry just from looking at him. “I miss you.” You spoke honestly.

“I miss you too.” He said back so easily, no time to think about the words.

The atmosphere in the room felt thick, thick with tension, the last time you’d spoken to him you’d wanted him to help get yourself off and you grew aroused at the thought. Your fingers just didn’t quite cut it, nor did the vibrator. Nothing would feel as good as having Tom wedged between your legs as he fucked into you.

He looked at you like he was thinking the same thing, he’d always said his hand wasn’t as satisfying as your wet heat. You grew hotter the more you thought about it, the more you thought about him getting himself off to the memories of the two of you fucking, just like you’d been doing. He watched your every move ever so carefully, your bruising was now all healed, finger free from its bandages.

You looked like you again but you had a shine to you that Tom liked, you looked happier, almost healthier. Like you’d been properly taking care of yourself and he smiled, it was good too see you happy after his last memory of you. He cleared his throat after a moment and spoke.

“Do you want to talk?”

“Not right now.” You answered as you approached him. “I did, but I don’t, not right now.” You rambled out as your mind became clouded with lust, it’d been so long since you’d had him, you’d not had anyone else, why would you? They wouldn’t give it to you like Tom would.

“Is this a good idea?” He asked quietly as he studied you, you didn’t say anything as you leant up to kiss him, tenderly, far more tender than you’d initially thought you were going to. You both sighed at the contact, you wanted him. He studied you for a moment, looking for a sign of regret and when he didn’t find it he captured your lips again.

This time a little more forcefully, but not by much. You kissed tenderly, carefully, almost like you were remembering each other, basking in the way one another felt against them again. You pushed your lips more forcefully against his and he groaned slightly as your hands weaved into his hair. It was still careful, neither wanting to overwhelm the other.

His hands found a firm place on your waist as he pulled you closer to him, lips growing slowly firmer until Tom’s tongue was tracing your bottom lip and you granted him access. You both moaned in pleasure as your tongues found each other’s after so long, neither of you forgetting how they almost danced together. The sound of your lips finally uniting being the only sound in the quiet flat.

It wasn’t long before Tom had picked you up, carefully, and your legs were wrapped around his waist as he carried you down the hallway and into your bedroom. Your kiss had grown much heavier along the way, your arousal for each other settling in properly as the only emotion left was lust, need for each other. You untucked his shirt as he carried you, hand trailing up his toned back.

His hand was carefully squeezing your waist, grabbing a handful of your arse every so often. You felt him harden against you and you knew he knew how wet you’d be for him when he took your shirts off. He kicked your bedroom door open and when he turned to shut it he pinned you against it.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.” He was the first to say as he placed kisses along your throat, your hand fisting in the back of his hair.

“Feels like it.” You spoke as you felt his hardened length again.

“Like you’re gonna be any better.” He teased and as if to prove his point he ran a hand up your thigh and into your shorts, running his finger through your folds. “So wet.” He hummed.

He moved you and placed you on the bed, something digging into your back as he did. You moved your hand around until you found whatever it was and when you pulled it out you heard Tom mutter a ‘fuck.’

“Not quite the same but it took the edge off.” You said as you threw it down the side of your bed.

“Thinking about me?” Tom asked as he pulled your shirt over your head. “Did you touch yourself? Thinking about how well I fuck you with my fingers, tongue, cock?” He asked as he took in your braless and now topless figure. He couldn’t get enough of you.

“Always.” You panted when he brought his mouth over your hardened nipple. He hummed in response and it sent vibrations through your entire being. It ignited you in a way it always had, in a way only he could.

“That’s fucking hot.” Tom said as he popped your nipple from his mouth and as you attempted to undo the buttons on his shirt. You grew frustrated when they wouldn’t play ball and sat up, Tom moving with you, he looked at you confused for a second before you quite literally grasped the middle of his buttons and ripped it off, buttons flying everywhere.

“Fuck me.” Tom said, never had he seen you so needy for him, so desperate. It was doing things to him he couldn’t explain, he didn’t have much time to think as you latched your mouth onto his neck and sucked. You knew exactly where his sweet spot was, not hesitating to suck, you moved his now open shirt off his shoulders and it dropped to the floor. It wasn’t until you pulled back, eyes darker, completely consumed by lust that he realised what you’d done.

“Have you just left a mark?” Tom asked, almost astonished, it turned him on to no end. You just shrugged as you laid back on the bed, looking up at him and he swears he lost his dominant side for second. Completely in awe of you.

“Oh baby,” he didn’t miss your breath hitch at the nickname as he regained himself and crawled back on top of you. His own lips found the top of your breast, sucking his own mark onto it. “It’s cute, watching you try and take dominance from me, but we both know who’s in charge, don’t we darling.” He asked as he sat back to look at his handy work. He’d kicked his shoes off by now as he laid on top of you.

“Tom, please.” You begged and he chuckled, completely consumed by desire, the pair of you were by this point. His cock was throbbing for you and he knew you’d be clenching and unclenching around nothing, around the idea of him being inside you.

“What does my princess want? My fingers?” He asked as he made quick work of your shorts, placing a finger inside you that had you rolling your head back and moaning in pleasure. His kisses trailing down your body as he looked up at you through hooded eyes. “My tongue?” He asked as he placed it carefully on your clit. Teasing you by halting all movements, watching you squirm as you tried to create friction. “Tell me baby.” He spoke before oh so slowly dragging his down your folds to meet his fingers and dragging it back up. You sat up to look at him between your legs, god the look on your face was something of pure pleasure in itself.

“All of it, Tom, I just want you.” You panted out and he chuckled as he moved his finger, carefully sliding in and out of you, mindful that it’d been a while and while he knew your own fingers had been inside you, your fingers were smaller than his.

��I suppose it’s been a while. Should fuck you like you deserve to be fucked, the way you’ve missed.” He said and before you could respond his tongue was back on your clit as he sucked and licked at it, watching, and groaning as you threw your head back, body arching off the bed as one hand fisted his hair and the other your bedsheets.

It wasn’t long before you were squirming beneath him as he added a second finger, opening you up for him, your body shaking as you neared your first mind blowing orgasm in almost three months. He could have blown his load just from watching you as you arched off the bed, screamed his name and tightened so well around his fingers as you came. Panting, body shaking as he helped you through it.

He expected you to be all fucked out when he climbed back on top of you, what he was not expecting was for your still just as lust blown and wild eyes looking into his own. You took him by surprise when you pushed him onto his back before climbing on top of him. You didn’t ride him often and when you did, it was never with so much confidence. It was like he’d awakened something primal in you and he fucking loved it.

You made light work of his pants and boxers, straddling him as you confidently took his cock into your hand and placed him inside you. He couldn’t stop the moan that left his lips at the feeling and also the sight. This was not what he was expecting as you placed your hands on his chest and moved your hips of your own accord.

You’d never been shy in bed, not when it came to being beneath him but every time he’d relinquish control and let you be on top you’d ask for his guidance. Not tonight, tonight you were using his cock to get yourself off and he loved it, loved the way it made him feel. He moaned as he gripped your hips, you’d taken control, he hadn’t given it and fuck if it made him almost finish inside you right there.

You moaned as you moved your hips, feeling every inch of him as the angle had him brushing that spot you’d not felt stimulated in a while and it made you almost scream his name as you fucked him. You wee both moaning, sweating and you expected Tom to take control back but he didn’t, he let you have all the control.

“So much for we both know who’s in charge Tommy.” You moaned and you expected a cocky response but none came, just a moan of your name. “Fuck, you feel so good.” You said as you felt your high approach, felt as you tightened around him and it only served to make you moved faster. Tom became something of a moaning mess underneath you, something you’d never seen before and that urged you on as you chased both of your highs.

“Just like that baby.” He said and your eyes rolled back into your head as you felt your orgasm fast approach. “Shit, Y/N/N, I’m gonna come.” Tom moaned and you don’t know what came over you, a feeling of pure power maybe, but you’re glad that it did.

“Come for me Tom.” You whispered, voice laced in lust and command as you placed your lips to his ear, leaning back to watch as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he moaned uncontrollably, moaning profanities laced with your name. You’d never seen him like this, you felt powerful above him, the ever so powerful Tom Holland reduced to a moaning mess because of you. It urged you to finish chasing your high as you fucked him through his. You collapsed onto his chest, with an almost scream of his name as you felt euphoria wash over you.

“Fuck.” Was all Tom had to say when he came down from possibly one of the most explosive orgasms he’d ever had. He loved being in control he really did, but watching you like that? You could have the control whenever you wanted it.

“Yeah.” You mumbled against his chest as tiredness washed over you. He flipped you over whilst staying inside of you, carefully drawing himself out as he cleaned you both up. Whilst he was busy doing that it gave you time to realise just how much power you had over him. He could have easily taken back the control, shown you who was in charge and he didn’t not even when you practically dared him to.

He came back into the bed as he massaged your thighs that were now aching slightly. You shivered as he did, body feeling sensitive all over after your orgasms. You played with his curls as he rested his head on your stomach.

“Where did that come from?” He asked, amused tone.

“I don’t know.” You said honestly, you didn’t, maybe it was the fact that you’d not been able to have him for three months. Maybe it was the desire to hold power over him, even if just in bed, you weren’t sure but he’d woken something in you that you liked.

“I’m gonna have to let you take charge more often.” He laughed as he continued to massage your thighs, your hands still in his hair.

“How come you didn’t take it back? The control?” You had to ask.

“Didn’t want it, not then. Fuck, you looked you so hot. It did something to me, watching you use me to get yourself off, taking your own pleasure like that, fuck.” He said as he kissed your stomach.

“I hope this doesn’t mean you’ll be a sub now, I’ll miss you railing me into whatever surface we find ourselves on.” You laughed and he joined.

“No, but you can have the control, whenever you want it.” He spoke and it sounded so honest that your heart soared. Tom Holland did not give control to anybody, it wasn’t his style yet here he was telling you could have it whenever you wanted it. That’s how much he loved you, how much you were different to everyone else in his life. It solidified your decision.

“I want to come home.”

You’d worked things out between the two of you, a week’s worth of late nights and talking. You’d told him you wanted to be more involved, you didn’t want to shy away anymore, Tom was hesitant but agreed. You asked him to train you, make sure you could a least attempt to defend yourself, although that wasn’t going so well, every time he was teaching you one of you got distracted and you usually ended up underneath him.

Tom liked the change in you, you were tougher, more confident and he wondered what had brought the change. You were still the same woman he fell in love with, the same woman who was kind thoughtful and free but now? Now you weren’t afraid to speak your mind, you commanded a level of respect from his men now and he loved it. He loved everything about you and you him.

It was a month later when you both heard the commotion downstairs, you jolted up. Tom had only had to wake you from a couple of nightmares, they were seemingly leaving you, slowly but surely. Tom placed a hand on your arm, sitting up, your eyes frantically looked for his and calmed when they locked.

Tom got dressed as he made his way downstairs, he was shocked to see Harrison carrying the very man he’d spent just over four months looking for. He was struggling against Harrison but to no avail, Haz had a firm grip around the man’s arms.

“Found him, hiding out in some club.” Harrison spat as he threw the man down at Tom’s feet. He spat blood onto the tiled floor of the mansions entrance.

“Tom! How’d you like your girl? Sent her back nice and pretty for you.” Caleb said, laughing as he did. Tom felt his anger rise again, images of what he’d done to you filling his mind. Tom wasted no time in kicking him in the gut.

“Take him into the living room and tie him up, I’ll be back in a minute.” Tom said, he was going to say goodnight to you, this was going to take him a while. He huffed as he made his way into the bedroom and shit the door.

“What happened?” You asked as you rushed over to him.

“Haz found Caleb.” Tom said and he watched as panic flashed in your eyes for a moment before they found Tom’s.

“What are you going to do?” You asked, voice steady.

“Better question is probably what I won’t do.” Tom said as he took you into his embrace. He held you for a moment and kissed your head. You thought for a moment, this man had been your tormenter, the man who’d taunted you, made you feel heartbroken. This was the last part of getting over what happened to you. “I’m gonna be a while, so I came to say goodnight.” He whispered as he kissed your head.

“I want to come.” You spoke before you could stop yourself.

“What?” Tom asked, voice faltering.

“I want to watch you kill him Tom.” You spoke more confidently as you moved away from him.

“Absolutely not.” Tom said, sure he was willing to let you know about everything in his business, but seeing him deal with someone? No.

“Tom,” you said as you pinched the bridge of your nose. “I need this, I need to see him die. I’ll know it’s over then.” You whispered.

“Sweetheart, you don’t, I know you think you do but you don’t. You’re not gonna wanna see what I’m gonna do to him.” He said firmly.

“Tom, please?” You begged as you looked at him and you knew he was fighting an internal battle within himself. “If it gets too much, I’ll leave, I promise. I won’t think of you any differently, Tom I know you’d never hurt me.” You said, hoping to win him over.

“It’s not for the faint-hearted love. It’s not like in films, this is real life and what you’ll see, what you’ll watch happen it’ll change you. Make you more like me, darken you.” Tom said and you looked at him with all the confidence in world. This was the life you wanted, the life you’d chosen and you didn’t hold a single regret.

“Good.”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #mob!Tom #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff

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distracteddegenerate · 4 years ago

Text

Carnation

Yuta x Fem!reader

Warnings: period sex, lots of blood mentions, yandere undertones for Yuuta, TW.Dubcon if you squint I just want to be safe lol, unprotected sex, smut

Got super carried away with this one which is why it’s so long lol. I decided to combine the asks since I have got a lot for Yuta. Second anon if you’re uncomfortable with this fic which is understandable lol just shoot me another ask and I can do something else for you.

You lay curled in your bed, the sheets and pillows a mess around you, a fluffy hot water bottle cradled tightly to your front. The side of your body you laid on was beginning to ache from pressure, and you felt flush from heat, but you dared not move. You dreaded the intensifying of the stabbing pains your own body was wretchedly subjecting you to. Of course today would be the heaviest of your period, the day you had scheduled for a study session with Yuta. He was due to come over in about half an hour, and your pains were yet to ease up at all, despite the painkillers you had recently downed. You could cancel, yet, this was the first ever study session you had set up with your handsome friend, and you were loath to cancel it over something that would clear itself up eventually.

You closed your eyes, and pulled the hot water bottle you gripped like a lifeline closer to the source of your suffering.

~~~

*knock knock*

Fuuuuck. Was it that time already? You groggily sat up, releasing your water bottle and in replacement lightly pressing your hand against the throbbing pain that was starting to surge more strongly in the pit of your belly. You gently placed your feet on the ground off the side of your bed, and rose onto the balls of them just as delicately. You began your gloomy shuffle towards the entrance of your room, fixing your ruffled hair into place.

You pulled the door open on yourself slowly, croaking as Yuta’s tired but docile face materialised into view.

“Good evening, (Name)-chan.” Yuta had his hands in his pockets and wore a kindly smile, the only thing betraying his pleasant demeanour being those familiar dark circles dusking the underside of his eyes. Dreary though they appeared, you could swear you saw a specular shimmer dance across his irises when he registered your form.

“Ah good evening to you too, Yuta! Come in and make yourself at home, I have some stuff set up on the coffee table.” You tried your best to look as perfectly in humour as you could, to not draw any attention to your current pain stricken condition. Must have been good enough, as Yuta had nodded in response and was now making his way over to nestle himself onto one of the pillows you had placed next to your make-shift study station.

You yourself was headed to the kitchenette, about to ask what Yuta wanted to drink when a sharp stab erupted from your core. You threw your hand onto a countertop and visibly winced, when you noticed Yuta’s widened eyes had been following you.

“(Name)! Are you okay?!” Yuta’s expression was alarmed, prepared to pounce up from his seating.

“Uh- I er uh- tripped over! Nothing to worry about!” You were blushing slightly, but righted yourself regardless and tried to stand as straight as you could. Yuta seemed slightly confused, and whilst he opened his mouth to speak you interrupted him with a casual “So what would you like to drink?”

“Er.. I’m fine actually, I had something before I left home... actually I think you should come sit down, er, carefully.” He still looked a little concerned. You nodded your head and made your way over to his side. Settling yourself down, you could feel more pain pulsating within you, a low rumble threatening another great stab like you had experienced just. You drew your legs to your chest in an attempt to alleviate it slightly, and picked up your copy of “a comprehensive guide to the relation of curses and the law”; holding it open in front of you.

You could feel Yuta’s gaze still trained on you.

~~~

“So, although the police would have to intervene if someone was hurt or killed in the incident, sorcerers still have the right to- er - (Name)?”

Crap. You were too focused on the waves of torture oscillating in your guts to keep your attention on Yuta explaining the info that went over your head in class to you again. And he noticed. You looked up at him softly, and offered a subdued “sorry.” You didn’t really have energy to maintain your act of being fine anymore. His eyes looked concerned. You turned your head to the floor and fiddled with your hands.

“Hey, (Name).” You heard him shift and alter the positioning of his legs. “Is it that time of the month?”

What?! Who asks that like this?!

You threw your head back up to look at him, your face red and mouth agape. He threw his hands up defensively.

“Sorry, sorry!” He hurriedly turned his gaze into the distance and rubbed the back of his neck. “I just.. I have a little sister, so I’m used to this sort of thing, or at least I know a bit more about it than other guys.” He looked back to you. “It seems like the pains at least are distracting you from your studies, if you need painkillers or something.. I can go get them for you.”

“I er...I already tried that… doesn’t work out that well for me.” Was your meek, barely audible reply. You played with the tassel of the pillow you were sat on. Yuta looked pained on your behalf.

“Y’know… I read online somewhere that there’s always something you can try out failing all else.” He caught your gaze, and held it intently.

It must be too good to be true, how would Yuta know some hidden method that you (as someone who experienced periods) didn’t know about for dealing with the pains?! Your eager look betrayed itself when a switch flicked in your head and your expression turned into one of astonishment. There’s no way he’s gonna suggest…

“Org*sms.”

You’d known Yuta for awhile now, but you had no idea just how… artless he was. Where was his tact?! Your cheeks burned from embarrassment. You felt like your face was about to explode.

Looking at him though, he was practically unfazed! As if you were going about some matter-of-a-fact order of business. What was this situation!

“I-is.. that a joke Yuta?” Your hands were curling into tight balls.

“Of course not, (Name). You look like you’re in so much pain. I just want to help alleviate it.”

What the hell did he mean by that? Like you will just hop up right now and go jerk yourself in the bathroom as casually as using the toilet.. Or.. could he have meant..

You felt Yuta’s hand settle on your thigh, as he leant down further towards you. “I can help you out (Name)-chan.”

You couldn’t deny, you’d always found Yuta handsome, but for things to move along this quickly… and of all times! Surely his level of straight-forwardness defied all social conventions, and yet, it was working. The feel of his hand resting on you, his hungry stare, the way he loomed over you, chest rising and falling intently. You could feel a different kind of ache emanating from your lower parts.

His hand drifted further up your body, coming to stop just below your belly button. “I want to help you… (Name)-chan.” You looked into his dark eyes. They were intense, hungry. You could swear he was salivating.

“B-but Yuta.. I-I’m.. You know! Isn’t that.. Gross? For you?” He shot you a sheepish grin, hiding his eyes in an evasive fashion. His hand travelled downwards once more, snaking up the inside of your loose-fitting shorts and looping his fingers over the sides of your panties. He toyed with them, rolling the cloth over your skin and lightly pulling at them. “I don’t think any part of you is gross, (Name)-chan.” His eyes flicked open again, drawing you back into his intensity. “I think every part of you is beautiful, even.” You could sense his earnestness, and it made your cheeks burn. You went to throw your hands up to them, but he quickly caught them in his. “So, what’s your answer?” He planted a kiss in your palm. “Do you want my help? (Name)-chan.”

Fuck.. the way he looked at you. Those ferocious, hooded eyes. Those calloused hands, usually wrapped around a katana, wrapped around yours right now. The burning you felt between your legs. God yes. God, you wanted it.

The alleviation of pain (and studying) was an afterthought.

~~~

Yuta had returned back to your living space with a towel from the bathroom. What? you didn’t want to get the floor messy. You could see an erection straining tightly against his black pants.

Fuck, you were really gonna do this. He set it down flat on the floor, and invited you to come situate yourself on it.

~~~

After removing his shirt (It was white, after all), Yuta knelt himself down in front of you. He had a certain glint in his eyes, almost conflicting the harmless smile that he also wore, as if he wasn’t about to blissfully pound your bloody c*nt into oblivion. He undid the front buckle of his pants, a bulge emerging, the explicitness of his bare dick concealed by gray underwear. He began palming at the protuberance. You eyed the display curiously, when you had a sudden realisation.

“Y-Yuta, w-what about… protection?” you asked, uneasily.

“Hm? (Name)-chan, you’re on your period, remember? You won’t get pregnant.”

“B-but..”

He cut you off. “I don’t have anything. Trust me.”

You nodded and grunted in acknowledgement. Yuta was always a trustworthy figure for you. Your strong, reliable friend who you could always depend on. He always took care of you, even during skirmishes with curses, arriving at your side before things even had the chance to get particularly hairy.

You watch Yuta as he tilts his keeling body forward, his hands landing on your ankles before travelling upwards, spreading your legs open in the process. You feel yourself blushing once again, tossing your head to the side. You can feel the front of your damp p*nties being touched, jumping in slight surprise at the abrupt action before Yuta starts rubbing at your cl*t through the fabric. He notices your breathing falter.

“Do you like it, (Name)-chan? Do you like how it feels when I rub you there?”

You mumble a small “yes.”

He’s applying more pressure to his administrations now. “Do you want me to take your p*nties off? So I can touch you properly?”

You answer yes again, this time more hastily.

With that, he curls his fingers over the sides of your p*nties, dragging your legs into the air as he twists his body appropriately in order to shimmy the restrictive fabric off of you. He casts them to the side, before pulling your trembling limbs back into their previous position. Once he settled them back down, he kept his hands on your thighs as he drank in the glory of your exposed c*nt quivering before him, the string of your tampon peaking out in a taunting manner.

You heard him cooing at you quietly. “Beautiful.”

You cringed, wondering if he’d still be thinking that when he’s stained with blood. Even so, you couldn’t help but melt under the feeling of his fingertips tracing circles into your inner thighs. The way you felt a thumb flick over your n*ked sex.

“Is your stomach still hurting you?” The sudden question snapped you out of your stupor.

Truth be told, you’d almost completely forgotten about your pains you were so caught up in the moment, but something held you back from saying so. As if Yuta would stop touching you if you let him know the “reason” for the two of you doing this was almost completely resolved. And, you were relishing in the tenderness of his comforting too much for it to stop.

“Y-Yes..”

Yuta bent further over you, his head looming over your core. He sunk down, his face leaning into the space of your skin where your tummy and pelvis met. He planted a light kiss there.

“Well, I’m gonna make you feel better.”

His grip on your thighs tightened as his head lifted, his presence shadowing over you once again as he held himself higher. Your heart pounded. He leaned further on your left thigh and removed his hand from the other, as you felt fingers poking at your aching heat again.

Could you feel… pulling?

You felt a horrible, obscene slick escape you suddenly when Yuta yanked out your tampon. He pinched it limply in fingers, observing it slightly before placing it on the towel you shared.

“Yuta?!” You whelped. It was ironic. The two of you were sharing an intimate moment with each other, almost completely exposed. But this? It felt somewhat... invasive.

You could sense Yuta shrugging. “It needed to come out.” Before you even had a chance to respond, you could feel him caressing your folds. He was circling his thumb over them, the peak of the eclipse swiping over your cl*t. “Don’t worry, (Name)-chan you look beautiful.”

You looked to him, but he didn’t return the gaze. His stare was boring into your most private parts, hungrily eating up the view. The calloused hand still wrapped around your leg was gripping on tightly, as you felt Yuta dip a finger into your sopping c*nt.

“Fuck.. it’s so.. wet.”

Well, that was a given you supposed. But you knew a lot of what was down there was also probably your usual feminine slick, with the way he was making you ache. He continued pumping his finger in and out, the motion becoming deeper and rougher, him gaining confidence in what you were willing to take in. You could feel your muscles strain around it.

“That’s three.”

“Wait, w-what?!”

“Three fingers, (Name)-chan. You’re drenched down here.” You felt him remove his digits, Spreading them out across your lips. You then felt him draw a line across your inner thighs that intersected your p*ssy in the middle. Was he… playing in it? You decided not to question, you were too caught up in a wanton haze, hips bucking upwards, begging for his touch to return to your most sensitive parts.

“Y-yuta..”

He looked at you and smiled sincerely. “-just need to make sure you’re nice and loose for me, (Name)-chan.” Before you could react, plunging fingers speared your weeping c*nt, pumping with violent pace. You yelped and crumpled in on yourself when you felt his fingers curl against your velvety walls, yielding against the pressure. You squirmed underneath him even more when he began spreading them, parting your insides. You hummed, laying your hand over the top of his head, entwining yourself in the strands of his hair.

He shifted into your touch. “God, love this. So fucking beautiful.”

He peered at you from beneath those dark lashes. “You think you’re ready?”

“Hm?”

“For my cock.”

At that, you nodded, releasing your grasp on his hair and trailing your hand down his chest as he straightened himself, looping his fingers over the sides of his boxers, staining it with blood. He tugged them down, his painfully erect dick springing out into open air. You found yourself surprised at the length. Yet, He was focused on you. Pointing at your top half he asked you, “Can you take all of this off?”

You nodded and complied hurriedly.

When you were done Yuta was quick, grabbing your knees to hold you in place, leaning over to plant yet another doting kiss on your body, This time in the space between your bare breasts. You felt him begin to push into you. He managed the entirety of his length, before pulling himself almost all the way out again. You noticed how he looked down, admiring the sheen of your blood now coating his member. He quickly snapped his hips back into you again, and began assuming a steady pace of rutting. Your legs found themselves wrapping around him, your ankles cross sectioning across his taught upper back. You wanted to tell him it felt good, but the most you could manage was a weak moan.

That seemed to set something off within him. He lunged over you, enveloping your entire body with his own. He planted one hand on the towel beneath you, firmly beside your head. The other found itself groping a t*t, clawing over it to pinch your hard nipple, surrounding the ar*ola with petals of red. His pace was raw and piercing, but the slight discomfort you felt was laced with a more intense pleasure.

You heard him groan. “-god.. You feel so good. Fucking you like this.. It’s just so.. primal.” He was lightly scraping his nails against you, tracing trails of scarlet down your body. You understood what he meant by that perfectly. The way he was looking down at you, almost slavering at the lips at your vulnerable form, like some wild animal lost in it’s lust.

The feeling of it, the sounds of it. It was also so expl*cit. Yet so gratifying.

You lost yourself, allowing Yuta to abuse your lower half as he pleased, even matching your hips to his punishing motions. The l*wd squelching noises as he fucked into your excessive wetness, the way he played with your sensitive nipple at the same time, your entire being yearning into his ministrations.

“I-I’ve always dreamt of this, (Name)-chan” You were too lost in a fucked out haze to really respond, humming lightly as you stroked the arm gripping your breast. His pace got even quicker then, rougher. His form that was already entirely draped over yours weighed down on you with even more pressure, the slap of his bucking hips against your buttox resounding loudly. It’s all too much, your legs weak when you cream his c*ck, a wave of release gushing out of you as your heat throbs wildly.

Your limbs go weak as you reel from the org*sm, your walls spasming around Yuta as he continued his bucking.

Yuta’s gaze rests on your dazed expression, his dark eyes settling over you. “You needed my c*ck didn't you?” He moves the hand that was on your bre*st to caress over your face. “Desperately. I know you did.”

You felt Yuta’s pace get rougher, losing it’s steady tempo as he chases closer to his climax. He thrusts into you heartily a final time before his release spills into you, closing his eyes as he rides out his orgasm out slowly and tenderly. He remains inside for sometime after, rubbing your hips with his thumb as he admires the mixture of c*m and blood streaming out of your hole and cascading down his dick.

“Beautiful.”

He looks to your face now, smiling gently.

“So, do you feel better now, (Name)?”

#jjk #yuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu x reader #jujutsu kaisen #okkotsu yuta x reader #reader x jjk #jjk x reader #dark jjk #period sex #okkotsu yuta #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #tw.yandere #tw.blood #tw.periods #tw.dubcon #smut #jjk smut

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mandos-sluts · 4 years ago

Text

The Payment

The Mandolorian x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings: Smut, fingering, vibrator usage, bondage, dubious consent

Summary: The Mandalorian detains your criminal boyfriend you barter for his release

A/N: Please message us or comment if you want to be on our tag list!!

You’ve been tailing the Mandalorian for about half a mile, keeping a long enough distance behind him so that he doesn’t know he’s being followed. He and his bounty finally reach his ship and enter the open hatch. Once he disappears behind the walls, you sprint to the ship and tip toe up the ramp. You’re lucky he didn’t close the door as soon as they entered.

“Let him go.” You say holding a blaster in the air with two hands. It’s pointed directly at the Mandalorian’s back. He jumps and turns around quickly, reaching for his blaster on his hip. Once he lays his eyes on you, however, his stance relaxes and his hands fall back to his sides.

“Who are you?” The Mandalorian sighs in annoyance.

“Let. Him. Go.” You say as confidently as you can, staring him down, arms straight out in front of you. Why isn’t he alert? Why isn’t he trying to get you to drop your blaster? Ugh, why isn’t he intimidated by you?

“He your boyfriend or something?” He returns casually.

“I’ll say this one more time.” You state slowly. “Let him go, or I will shoot you.” Your arms begin to shake.

“Listen sweetheart, your little boyfriend is already in carbonite, and I'm wearing beskar, so good luck shooting me.” The Mandalorian says in a condescending tone.

You lower your blaster in irritation. This is not at all what you had envisioned this playing out. You thought he would at least be semi threatened by you?

“How much do you want for him?” You ask bluntly.

The Mandalorian let out a chuckle.

“Come on.” You say. “The bounty on his head can’t be that high. How much do you want?” You honestly weren’t even certain the exact reason for the bounty. It was probably embezzlement or fraud or something involving the illegal methods he used to amass his wealth.

The Mandalorian is barely paying attention to you. He’s unloading and his blaster, or organizing his blasters, or doing some trivial task in his weapons armory. “I’m not gonna let him go, I don’t care how much money you offer.” The Mandalorian says without lifting his head. “But consider yourself lucky.” He turns to look at you. “Now you can go off and find yourself a real man. Someone who can actually satisfy you.” He turns back to whatever it is he was doing.

“Excuse me?” You say, crossing your arms. The Mandalorian doesn’t respond or look up, and you stand there in silence for a moment. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but my boyfriend satisfies me just fine. Now...how about two thousand credits.” You ask awkwardly.

“That pretty boy?” He asks pointing at the carbonite chamber, not acknowledging your offer. “Ha. The fight he tried to put up was laughable. There’s no way he can fuck you good.” The Mandalorian says with ease. “Which is a shame, because you seem like you need a good fuck.”

“I–”

“I’m gonna depart now.” He cuts you off. “So unless you wanna go to Nevarro, I’d get off my ship.” His voice is deep and unsympathetic.

Who does this Mandalorian think he is? Why does he think he knows anything about your relationship? You feel like you should feel insulted, but it’s your boyfriend he’s insulting, not you. In a fucked up way, he is sort of complimenting you– implying that you deserve better than your boyfriend. You have a feeling the Mandalorian knows exactly what he was doing.

You open your mouth but pause for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. “Five thousand credits.” Is all that you can think to say.

“Little girl.” The Mandalorian exhales. “Your credits are worthless to me.” He says peering at you. “...but...” He pauses as he considers if he actually wants to do this. The Mandalorian is a highly respected professional bounty hunter after all, and proposing this kind of trade is anything but professional. Yet at the same time, you are one of the most beautiful women he has ever seen; he’s never wanted to fuck someone more. And he just apprehended your pathetic and weak boyfriend, he knows you haven’t been properly taken care of. He knows he can take you to a level you’ve never been to before and give you the best pleasure you’ve ever felt. That concept in and of itself fills the Mandalorian with arousal.

“...but perhaps we could arrange a different form of payment.” He says taking big, slow steps closer to you. *see gif*

“….A different form?” You say hesitantly as he continues to approach you. You can’t believe what you are hearing. You’re well aware of the reputations that Mandalorians boast, and you would never guess that one of them would propose something so risqué. To be honest, you’d be lying if you said that a small part of you wasn’t really turned on by the situation at hand. The Mandalorian was the opposite of your boyfriend. Sure, your boyfriend was conventionally handsome, but he is cocky while the Mandalorian is confident. The Mandalorian is big, strong, and tough, and your boyfriend has been waited on his entire life.

You’re frozen where you stand and your heart is racing as the Mandalorian creeps into your personal space. He puts his gloved hand on the bottom of your chin and pulls your head up so that you’re looking directly into his visor.

“Let me fuck you, and I’ll let this loser boyfriend of yours go.” The Mandalorian says in the deepest, sexist voice you’ve ever heard. But snap out of it! Your attraction to him doesn’t matter. You’re here to save your boyfriend.

“Fine.” You say, trying your best to project a neutral demeanor. “But I’m not going to pretend to enjoy it.”

The Mandalorian lets go of you and presses a button on the wall. “You won’t need to.” He says removing his gloves as the hatch closes. He sits on a bench and leans back, spreading his legs. He has an unmistakably large bulge that he’s not at all trying to hide. His arms stretch out on either side of him to rest on the back of the bench. You’re standing a few feet away from where he sits, and his helmet is glued to your image.

“Take off your clothes.” He commands in a flat modulated voice.

Your heart has fallen to your stomach. The idea of this was hot, but now that it’s actually happening, you’re terrified. What have you gotten yourself into? Why would you agree to have sex with a Mandalorian? Mandalorians are ruthless. They are feared across the galaxy for a reason!

You shake with fear as you struggle to get your shoes, pants, and shirt off your body. You discard your clothes on the cold metal floor and are left standing in just your tiny thong.

The Mandalorian stares at you for what seems like forever. “C’mere.” He says sitting up straight.

You walk over to him and he pulls you to stand in between his legs. You look down at him with what you hope is a poker face. He runs his bare hands all over you. His hands are so big wrapped around your waist, you feel like he could snap you in two. He gropes your ass and your tits and pulls you even closer. Your skin is so frikin smooth against his rough hands, and the Mandalorian can’t get enough of it.

“Fuck.” He spits out. “You’re so fuckin sexy. I can’t believe you settle for such a coward. He must be loaded or something.” He maneuvers one of your legs over his.

“Why you with him, huh?” He asks in a patronizing tone.

“None–”

“Doesn’t matter.” He interrupts. “I’m gonna show you what you’re missing.” He says as he lifts his thigh to meet your crotch. He begins rubbing his thigh between your legs, and the friction against your clit feels amazing. You bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from letting out a little pathetic moan.

He removes one of his hands from your butt and brings it to his belt. All of the sudden, he clasps handcuffs on you, binding your hands in front of your body. Your body tenses up. “What are you doing?!” You exclaim. Any arousal you had is now overridden by fear. If you were nervous before, you are petrified now. The panic you feel is written all over your face.

“Don’t worry, little girl.” The Mandalorian says in a low, soothing voice. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He says as rubs your cheek with the back of his hand. Then, he abruptly stands up and throws you over his shoulder.

“Ah!!” You scream. That’s it, you’re pretty sure you’re gonna die. He carries you deeper into the ship. Your ass is in the air, and your handcuffed hands are swinging down by the Mandalorian’s legs. “Wha– what are you doing?! Where are you taking me?!” You shout as distress pulses through your veins.

Without responding, he enters a room, and gently lays you down on a bed. Then he reaches over you and attaches your handcuffs to the head of the bed frame. You lie on the bed with your hands bound and stretched up above your head, completely naked except your panties. The Mandalorian loosens the handcuffs and lengthens the cord between your hands so as to spread your hands further apart from each other.

You take a deep breath and begin to feel a little bit better. Although the position he’s put you in screams danger, you for some reason feel safe with him. Your body still trembles, though.

The Mandalorian can sense your unease. “Relax, pretty girl.” He says with his modulated voice. He’s standing on his knees with one of your legs between his on the bed. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. Just breath.” He says quietly as his hands travel down your sides. He alternates between softly caressing and aggressively kneading your body. The way he’s touching you, the way his visor is swallowing every part of your body, it makes you wet. You feel so small as he kneels over you, you can hear his breathing, and you can tell he’s holding back.

The Mandalorian is holding back. He can tell that you’re scared and shy, and he knows you’re inexperienced, so he’s trying his best to be gentle. He’s restraining himself from treating you like the whores he fucks the shit out of in brothels. The Mandalorian scoots back and runs one of his hands up your thigh before dancing his fingers on your clothed cunt.

“Fuck. You’re already leaking through your panties.” He spits looking up at you. You say nothing in response and try to give off an uninterested look. The Mandalorian moves your thong to the side, exposing your glistening pussy. “What a pretty little cunt you have.” He says as he drags his fingers through your wet folds.

The feeling of his fingers trailing through your pussy sends shocks through your body. You let out a high-pitched breath and bite your lip to stifle any more from escaping your lips. You really don’t want to give the Mandalorian the satisfaction.

The Mandalorian slyly reaches under the bed and grabs a small, roundish cylinder-shaped object of metal, of which you could tell is beskar. He gently pushes your thighs apart, and repositions himself in between them, your legs laying flat on the bed. He flips a switch on the object and it begins vibrating. He brings it to your groin and starts circling the vibrator on your clit.

You gasp and bring your knees into the air and plant your feet on the bed. Your back arches and your legs impulsively open up wider, almost inviting the Mandalorian in for more. You can’t even attempt to look inexpressive anymore. Your breathing picks up and your exhales are laced in moans. His other hand is on your thigh, and his thumb is stroking your skin. You close your eyes.

“Open your eyes. And keep them on me.” The Mandalorian orders, squeezing your thigh. He wants you to be looking at him as you come apart at his will. He wants you to see the things he’s doing to your pussy. He wants you to have to face the fact that he is bringing you such immense pleasure. The Mandalorian flips another switch and the object begins vibrating faster. You clench your teeth down on your bottom lip as you try to keep your moans as small as possible. Your pussy is so wet you can hear its gushing sounds over the vibrating.

“You like that?” He asks.

“N–no...” You respond. You wish that was true. It should be true. You’re handcuffed to a bed on a dirty old ship, forced let this vulgar Mandalorian fuck you to save your boyfriend. You should not be liking it.

He scoffs. “Your mouth is telling me one thing, but your pussy is telling me another.” Your denial of the obvious truth just turns on the Mandalorian even more. He loves watching your pathetic struggle to hide and contain your reactions. It makes him all the more determined to break you; he loves a good challenge.

Keeping the vibrator on your clit, he teases your entrance with his middle finger before pushing it inside of you. “Fuck.” You mutter out between breathy moans as he starts thrusting his long thick finger in and out of your hole.

“Of course you’re tight as shit.” The Mandalorian says under his breath. “Tell me, baby girl, have you ever cum?” He asks in his deep voice.

“I– I don’t know.” You respond as he continues pumping his finger and circling your clit with the vibrator. Frankly, you didn’t even know if you could cum. You know that it's possible for women to orgasm– you’ve heard your friends speak about it before. But you're fairly certain you’ve never cum before.

“Awww, poor girl.” He says in an arrogant tone. An “I don’t know” is a “no” and both of you know it.

Suddenly, he starts circling your clit and thrusting you even faster. He adds another finger and this just about sends you over the edge.

Alright, you don’t have the energy to pretend anymore; you’re over trying to put on this charade, which you know isn’t fooling him. Now all you care about is chasing this high you’re feeling creeping into your pussy. Your body has never felt this way before, you can feel the pleasure pulsing in your cunt. Your heaving breathing is now unapologetic moans.

You can tell you’re approaching a climax. Your legs are twitching and your back is arching so much. But then the Mandalorian begins slowing things down, though still persisting.

“Plea–Please.” You moan out, looking at him with puppy dog eyes. If you could, you would grab his arm and guide him to finger you faster, but your hands are still bound above your head.

“Please what?” The Mandalorian inquires. “You want me to stop? Or you want me to keep going? Be a good girl and use your words.”

You wrap your legs around him. “Keep going. Harder. Fas–Faster. Please!”

The Mandalorian lets out a satisfied grunt as he grabs one of your legs and brings it on his shoulder, opening your pussy up even more and affording him a better angle. He cranks up the vibrator’s speed and his two fingers pump you with unmatched rapidity. Your mouth is open wide as your chest heaves. Your eyes fall shut as you can feel your orgasm on the horizon.

“I said, eyes on me.” The Mandalorian orders with a stern voice. “I want you looking at me while you cum for the first time.” You force your eyes open and glue them on his visor.

He watches you scream out and come apart on his hand. “Ahhh!! Mando! Fu– fuck ahhh yes Mando! Yes!!” You cry, maintaining eye contact with his visor. Your entire body is shaking as your orgasm rips through you, a sensation you’ve never felt before.

“Good girl.” He says, pushing a strand of hair out of your face. “You look so pretty when you cum.”

“Mando, I– I want your cock.” You stutter out, coming down from your orgasm.

“Oh yeah?” He asks caressing your thigh.

“Can you let my hands go, please?” You ask in the most begging-little-girl-voice you can.

The Mandalorian sighs out. “Sure...You’ve been a good girl.” He says taking your handcuffs off. You bring your hands down and sit up while you move your hair behind your ears. You take a deep breath and move your hand down to cup his bulge. You’re so turned on that you’ve completely forgotten why you’re here. All you want to do is release the Mandalorian’s cock and pleasure him the same way he did to you.

TO BE CONTINUED

The Payment Part Two

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Masterlist

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Taglist:

@pinkninja200 @raspberrymama @stevie75

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars smut #mando x reader #pedro pascal smut #mandalorian smut #star wars fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #star wars x y/n #star wars x you #star wars x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #mando x you

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punkgrogg · 3 years ago

Text

Doorway Duo pt.3

Pairing: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader, Hybrid!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Hybrid!BTS, Non idol AU, fluff

Warnings: Pregnancy

Summary: Y/n was abandoned by her long time boyfriend and moves back home to help prepare for the baby. She’s surprised to find two unfamiliar hybrids at her house.

Length: 3,074

Notes: Sorry I took so long! I had to split this update into several parts because I ended up typing out over 6,000 words so another part will be posted in a couple days hopefully I can fix my laptop by then.

Date Posted: 9/4/2021

“Share the heat,” Hoseok complained, tugging the blanket from my cocooned form.

October ‘s days were chilly but as soon as the sun set, it was freezing. I was propped up on the couch, surrounded by pillows and a king sized blanket tucked around me. Mom sat on the recliner to my left, the reason behind my assortment of pillows, and Hoseok was shoving his way into the occupied seat on my right. Well, my legs were occupying it.

“There’s a while couch right there ass hat.” I whined as he lifted my legs and placed them on his lap. This wasn’t so bad- he was warm- but the sibling bond between us made sure to complain.

“I don’t want to sit next to dad, he’s way too excited over the game.” Hobi pulled out his phone and scrolled aimlessly.

“When’s Namjoon gonna be here? His team is kicking ass.`` Dad was lively when it came to soccer. It was cute though and I loved how animated he’d get with each goal. But the kicker is that he and Namjoon rooted for other teams. Hobi, Jin, and I all sided with dad on the sports front but Joonie picked a shitty team that’s been coming up in the last couple of years. Maybe the heart attack he nearly gave dad ten years ago was worth it- if the pride in my dad’s eyes were anything to go by.

Joonie was our wild card, he seemed to pick the most difficult path just because he liked the challenge. He’d always do the opposite of what we expected, whether it was the sudden law school decision or boycotting Christmas one year. But today was probably the most surprising.

Jungkook apparently wasn’t a sports fan until this season started, my dad’s enthusiasm rubbed off onto him and now it was funny to see him white-knuckling a sprite over a bad call. Taehyung was taking a nap upstairs and mom was idly reading some seedy romance novel if the blush on her face was anything to go by. Well it was probably the shirtless man emblazoned on the cover that truly gave it away.

Hobi sighed and tossed his phone over onto the side table, he closed his eyes and melodramatically threw his arm over his face as he rested against the back of the loveseat. I rolled my eyes, “what’s it now buttercup?”

He huffed at my nickname, “Jimin isn’t responding.” He dropped his arm to pout at me as if I could help the situation at all.

“You know he’s probably working right now?” I nudged his arm with one of my feet.

His pout turned into a full blown frown as he made puppy eyes at me. “Yeah but that doesn’t mean i can’t miss him.”

“OH, so you’re going to finally admit that you’re dating him?” The delighted smile that ripped it’s way across my face made the frown completely fall off of his.

“Oh shit.”

His shock made me full bellied laugh, “Mom! Hobi finally sa-”

“Shut up! You tricked me!” he hissed as he covered my mouth, I smiled evilly as I licked the back of his hand to deter him.

“The baby.” Jungkook snapped, ripping Hobi's hand off my face. How did he manage to get across the room so quickly? Beyond me. There was a cloudy sort of anger in his face, one where he knew he shouldn’t be angry but couldn’t help it.

“Kookie, I'm fine.” I reached up to hold his wrist as he let go of Hobi's hand. He looked down on me tersely, his eyes colder than usual.

“Hoseok, how many times do your mother and I have to say to be gentler with your sister? You two are honestly getting too old for this.” Dad scolded, his hand on Hobi’s shoulder. I could see him curling into himself and suddenly I felt small.

“Dad, I'm okay, Hoseok and I were just playing. You know he’d never hurt me or the baby.`` I let go of Jungkook's wrist and tried to sit myself up more. It was hard this late into the pregnancy.

“You need to be more careful too, you’re way too rowdy these days.” he chastised me and I could feel the anger at being talked down to. I’m not a child anymore.

“No, this is my baby and my body, I get to decide when it’s too rowdy. We weren’t wrestling or fighting and I could easily breathe. We were doing nothing wrong, why are you acting like this?” My tone was cold and I forced myself up into a standing position. Jungkook stepped away from the couch so i could have enough room.

“y/n baby, you know i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings-” i cut him off; i was fuming.

“Well you did. You basically said that either my big brother is going to hurt me or that I'm incapable of judging how much energy I can exert. We’re all adults in this room, why did you two have to intervene?” my glare turned to Jungkook, he hardened his gaze.

“The baby’s hormones are-”

“No more baby excuses,” I cut him off. “I know he’s fine, he’s twisting and kicking just as he’s always been.”

“The baby’s hormones are-”

“Stop Jungkook.” I held up a hand, the anger bubbling up to the surface. I needed to cool down before I lashed out. I could feel the heat coursing through my arms and filling my chest.

“No, Y/n he’s right I didn't notice it till you stood up but the baby’s hormones have gotten really strong all of a sudden.” Hoseok chimed in. still seated, he reached out and touched my stomach. Mom crossed the room and shoved her way through Jungkook and dad to kneel in front of my stomach, accessing my state.

“What? What does that mean?” I cradled my bump, the fear seeping into my words. He felt normal there, my doctor told me if anything were to feel wrong then to trust my instincts and immediately go to the hospital. But this was different, nothing felt wrong.

Taehyung thundered down the stairs, “Y/n? What’s going on down here? I can smell the stress from upstairs,” he took a backseat to the worry on my mind.

“Is something wrong with him? Nothing feels wrong.” I turned to Jungkook, the worry overpowering the shame of the argument we had just had. He was the first to notice so maybe he knew what was wrong.

“I was wrong, holy shit, we should make a doctor’s appointment.” Hoseok suddenly exclaimed, he jumped up and held me at arms length by the shoulders. He looked down to my stomach with a shocked expression.

“Honey, get the keys we’re going to the hospital.” mom barked out. I didn’t even notice her leaving the huddle but she was back at the recliner as she tugged on some tennis shoes.

“No! It's okay! The pheromones are showing that she’s okay too.” Jungkook finally spoke up, he threw an arm around me and pointed at the baby.

“She?” The confusion in my father’s voice was only a mirror to the rest of the room.

“Yeah, the pheromones got so strong because there’s two.” Hobi explained as he crossed the room and relieved mom of her purse. He placed a calming hand on her shoulders. Shoulders that seemed to be leveled with her ears with the abrupt stress.

“You mean twins? It's a bit late to find that out don’t you think?” she all but hissed at her third son. Mom was visibly anxious right now, something I had never seen before. She was usually so calm and cheerful around us.

“Mom, you’ve said it yourself, y/n is bigger than most pregnancies.”

“I mean yeah but we’ve gone to the doctor twenty times over the summer and I think he’d find another baby in there.” I chimed in, coming to mom’s other side. I think it helped with calming her down because her shoulders lowered a bit.

“I can smell both, I can smell her all of a sudden alongside him.” Taehyung wrapped his arms around me, his head burrowing into my shoulder. His grip on me was tighter than usual.

“But Tae that doesn’t make sense.” I turned in his grasp, facing the snow leopard hybrid, my disbelief written across my face.

“He’s had a very strong scent and a very strong heartbeat, maybe he just masked hers.” Jungkook stepped into my bubble once again. He was on the other side of Tae but seemed to block off any others from joining in the clique.

“But the ultrasounds only show one baby.” I reasoned out, my right hand reaching behind me to rest on my mother’s shoulder. Accepting there was a second was terrifying, I was barely holding myself together for the one pregnancy. Adding on another? Was I eating enough? Taking enough precautions? Maybe dad was right in intervening today.

“Back in the day they couldn’t find Seokjin’s penis and told us we’d be having a girl. It was a bit of a shock when he came out.” Dad. Of course, I've heard this story before, ultrasounds weren’t always perfect.

“What should i do?” I was scared and it was evident in the shake of my voice, Taehyung only hugged me harder.

“Hey guys, what's going on here?” Namjoon’s voice shattered the tension of the room. Seeing him and the dark haired male next to him gave me a chance to breathe.

Hoseok flitted across the room, his excitement at seeing our older brother evident in the wagging of his feather duster of a tail. “Joon, you're going to be an aunt and an uncle.”

“What?”

“Hobi that’s not how it works and you know it.” Mom chastised with a small shake of her head. Hoseok was a blessing to us all when tensions were high. “Who’s this?”

Namjoon seemed to freeze up a bit before throwing an arm around the guy hovering behind him a bit. Said man flushed lightly at the attention turning to him and in the soft light of the living room I could barely make out a pair of silky black ears atop his head. “This is Min Yoongi, he’s my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” I sputtered out, breaking the moment of silence that enveloped the living room. I could see dad from my peripheral making his way to the doorway with a smile.

“Yeah, problem?” Joonie’s eyes were narrowed at me but eased up at the grin I was sporting.

Pulling away from Taehyung a bit, I sneered at Hobi. “Hoseok- he told us about his boyfriend before you could. How does that feel?”

Hoseok groaned before stomping over to me to grind out: “Oh my god you're annoying and technically i said it first.”

“But you didn’t tell mom and dad.” I taunted, the faux misery on my brother’s face would fuel me for months. Taehyung sat on the loveseat behind him and tugged at the hem of my shirt for me to join him.

“They’ve met Jimin before though and according to you i’m not subtle.” Hobi argued, his hand on his hip. Jungkook followed Tae and I down to the seat and I was wedged between the two with my legs in Kook’s lap. He gently rubbed circles into my swollen ankles as Hobi and I glared at each other.

“Anyway, what's this about me being an aunt now?” Joonie interrupted the stare down with Yoongi by his side, our parents must have finally let them out of their interrogation.

“These three are suddenly claiming I'm pregnant with twins.” I explained with a flick of my wrist, the stress of the situation (that was only a few minutes ago) seemed as if it were twelve years in the past.

“Um, I can smell two scents too.” Yoongi’s soft spoken words brought back the fear.

“Holy shit, mom! What am I supposed to do? Should we go to the hospital?” I tried to push myself up into a sitting position but Taehyung held me gently to his chest.

“The babies are happy, I don't think they’re in danger. “He hummed softly into my ear. I could feel the sincerity behind his words. He rubbed a hand up my arm gently and started to purr. An attempt to ease my anxiety.

“Danger or not- we still need to confirm if there are actually twins. That’s a nightmare in itself. That’s double of everything I was sort of ready for. Wait, what if I give birth prematurely- don’t twins come early?” there was panic rising in my chest.

“Mom and Dad went to their room, they’re recovering from the unexpected news but Y/n it’s going to be okay. We’ll go to the doctor’s tomorrow, together,” Hoseok reminded me, he softly ruffled my hair as he leaned down to kiss the top of my forehead. Still I looked around the room for my mother. The one who holds all the answers to my pregnancy fears. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi, all stood above us three, all showing a different expression. Namjoon looked apprehensive, which was normal for him. Hoseok looked as if he were trying to tame a wild animal. Yoongi thought he looked stunned, his eyes blown wide.

“Hobi you’re banned from my ultrasound appointments. You almost broke the equipment.” I reminded him with a forced smile. I could still feel the panic but it was ebbing away. I wasn’t dying, I was safe. The babies were safe. Everything will be okay.

“That’s so rude, I apologized and everything.” he crossed his arms, generously taking the bait. Knowing that Joonie would laugh at his expense.

“We’ll go with you, we haven’t been able to go since Hoseok has been.” Taehyung declared, way too happy for me to decline, and I smiled softly at him. I was held up against his torso, his head just a few inches above my own. He leaned down and rubbed his forehead against my own.

“You’re going to scent mark my sister in front of me?” Namjoon sputtered indignantly, causing Tae to freeze all of a sudden.

“Namjoon, that’s not scent marking.” Hoseok laughed and shoved at his shoulder playfully.

“Actually, we feline hybrids scent mark like that instead of that mess you canine hybrids do. I scent marked Namjoon earlier in the same way.” Yoongi crossed his arms and seemed to glare down at Tae. I was a bit shocked to say the least.

Hoseok had explained it to me when we were younger, scent marking was a hybrid instinct, and it had two different connotations. There was a familial way and a romantic way to cover another person in their pheromones. Hoseok would hug us and hold our hands growing up to rub just enough of himself on us to comfort himself that we were his family. Especially when we were younger and playing with larger groups of children or when there was a big event. The familial way would only last a few hours and was more of a comforting thing for family and very close friends to help with bonding.

Hoseok had explained the more romantic way was to imbue another’s scent for a much longer time and it was done by stimulation to the scent glands which meant that they would lick each other’s scent glands. He had been tomato red explaining this to me when he had found another hybrid’s scent on me that was much stronger than his own. When I explained that I was just playing with a hybrid at recess and they hugged me he seemed to melt into the floor in embarrassment.

Taehyung was staring up at Namjoon with an indecipherable expression. The massage on my ankles had stopped at Namjoon's exclamation and my glance at Jungkook showed him to be in the same emotionless stare down but instead he was staring down Yoongi. He knew too, but why hadn’t he told me?

“She’s part of our pack, of course I would scent her.” Taehyung had no emotions in his words, the monotonous response seemed to aggravate my brother.

“Wait,” I held my hand up to the seething man before turning to his boyfriend. “I’m confused. Hobi said that licking my neck would be romantic scent marking and hugging was familial scent marking. Which would this be?”

My question caused all four hybrids to freeze up, Hobi’s face once again lighting up in embarrassment.

“Uh, he said that? Well, uh, that’s wrong.” Yoongi forced out, his face turning a light shade of pink.

“Hybrids themselves decide what the type of scent marking it is when they release the pheromones, and there’s a lot of different meanings that could exist. Typically a more familial scenting would be a hug- so that part is right- but also kissing the top of your head could work. Licking your scent glands isn’t a romantic way for scent marking, it’s more sexual.” Yoongi's face almost matched Hoseok’s at this point. “Romantically speaking there’s a lot of ways you can scent someone- like rubbing your necks against each other which is common amongst the canine hybrids. For us feline hybrids we rub our faces against the person, like he had done to you. The pheromones typically let us know, but he’s not releasing heavy enough pheromones for us other hybrids to notice, but rubbing his face against yours is claiming you as his in feline standards.”

“Oh,” I could feel the hybrid underneath me tense up as Yoongi's explanation came to an end. I glanced up at him to see him still staring down my brothers.

“I’m still a little confused but thank you Yoongi. Namjoon, Hoseok, I’ll take it from here, I don't need you hovering over us for this conversation. In fact, I think I'll take this conversation elsewhere, you three have fun watching the game. Joonie, dad recorded this and last week’s matches for you.” I worked my way into a standing position with Taehyung’s help and made my way to the stairs, both Taehyung and Jungkook glued to my sides.

“It was really nice meeting you Yoongi,” I smiled at him and waved my goodbyes as I made my way up. We made our way into my room, the two hovering in the doorway. Just like I had met them. I took a deep breath and settled onto the bed.

#doorway duo #bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #hybrid!bts #hybrid hoseok #hybrid jungkook #hybrid taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x you #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #pt. 3

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lexosaurus · 3 years ago

Text

Invisobang: Morge pt 2

It was a beautiful day outside. The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming...a corpse was found in the woods.

Or, Amity Park's local cadaver dog trainer was walking her dog in the woods when they discovered a little surprise waiting for them six feet under.

Pairings: none WC: 9886 read on: [ao3] part 2 of 2, read: [part 1]

---

some amazing accompanying art by @ghostkiin

---

“It’s like you’re not even trying!” Plasmius barked, throwing Danny an exaggerated yawn while blocking the ectoblasts thrown his way. “Really, Daniel, you were always woefully incapable compared to me, but this is just abysmal, even for you.”

Danny gritted his teeth and glared back, allowing his glowing eyes to glare to toxic levels. Plasmius picked the wrong week to try to steal blueprints from Fentonworks.

“What, are you going to hit me with a little ectoblast again?”

“Oh I’ll show you an ectoblast,” Danny growled, charging ectoplasm in his palms so concentrated that the green glowed a fierce white. He flung his hands out, releasing the energy with a venomous, “eat shit, Fruitloop!”

But just like the rest of his life, his attack was uncontrolled, wild. It flew several feet to Vlad’s side, nailing a road sign and burning it like acid until there was nothing left.

Plasmius grinned at its charred remains. “Was that supposed to hit me? My, Daniel, I’m quaking in my boots!”

Danny felt his aura increase.

This week had already been shitty enough, even without Vlad’s help. He felt like his brain was trapped in a hailstorm, with constant unavoidable attacks pelting him from all sides. His core was a ball of energy and anxiety, not allowing him to sleep or eat or even breathe without the constant fear about his body and how it was being messed with and he needed to protect it and how he’d failed so miserably at protecting it and now his secret was going to be revealed and he was screwed.

“Well? I’m waiting! Tick tock, Little Badger!”

Ancients, Vlad was such an asshole.

“Shut UP!” Danny yelled, releasing his ghostly wail.

Just as a pink blast slapped him across the face, sending him flying into a brick building.

Plasmius tisked, flying nonchalantly towards him. “We can’t have you using that particular power, now can we? Not while you’re so obviously in control of yourself.”

“Fuck off.”

The older ghost smirked and brushed dust off his red and white cape. “Teenagers. Always so hormonal. What, did a girl at school reject you?”

“What are you talking about?” Danny launched himself back in the air and powered an ice blast. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t care what you have to say.”

“No, I’m sure you don’t,” Vlad said, releasing a plasmius blast just before Danny released his own. The pink blast travelled across the air like a bullet, punching Danny in the gut and sending him crashing back into the building.

Meanwhile, Danny’s ice blast flew a foot above Vlad’s head, webbing itself into a tree and coating the branches with thick icicles.

Danny tried to push himself back onto his shaky feet, only to be pushed back down yet again by another plasmius blast.

Brick tumbled onto his head, coating his vision with dust. His body ached, and his neck was sore from the whiplash.

From his clouded vision, a glowing white figure with red eyes and gaudy horn-like spikes for hair hovered closer to him.

“My, my. You really are out of sorts today,” Plasmius said. “This is almost too easy. I could just take you out right here and go take your parents’ entire spectre speeder straight from your lab.

“What do you even need a spectre speeder for? You can fly,” Danny asked, rubbing a lump from his skull.

“A simple minded teenager such as yourself couldn’t possibly understand my reasons.”

Anger flared through Danny. He gripped some wreckage next to him and forced himself back onto his feet. His legs shook and he felt something wet drip down his calf.

Great, he was bleeding. Just add that to the list of reasons as to why this week was the worst.

“Shut up. I won’t let you do that.”

“Oh?” Plasmius powered a pink blast in each hand. “Then prove it.”

Danny tried, but with each attempted blast, kick, or punch, it seemed like Plasmius was one step ahead of him.

And worse, it felt like he was reveling in the power trip.

A burn here, a kick there—everywhere Danny looked, there was Vlad, glowing fist at the ready. It reminded him of the first time he’d encountered Vlad, back at the mansion. Having Vlad so openly destroy him had been shameful.

Danny collapsed onto the pavement, heaving, his entire body searing in pain.

Plasmius paused to survey him up and down with suspicious eyes. Finally, just as Danny was one breath away from turning invisible out of sheer discomfort, did the ghost finally open his mouth. “Alright, spit it out.”

Anxiety gripped Danny’s stomach. “What are you talking about?”

“Something’s troubling you enough to make you pathetically weak. It’s honestly embarrassing. I can’t stand here watching my future ward make a fool of himself any longer.”

“I’m not moving in with you, creep,” Danny bit back.

“That’s what you think. No matter, tell your dear old uncle what’s troubling you.”

“Go play in traffic.”

Plasmius’ eyes narrowed. “I’d nearly forgotten what a brat you are. Now tell me before I take methods into my own hands.”

Danny sighed, and attempted to stand. But the moment his foot touched the ground, a sharp pain shot up his shin. He hissed, and lowered himself back to the pavement.

“Well? I don’t have all day.”

“It’s nothing,” Danny grumbled, glaring at the pavement. He felt small under Plasmius’ critical gaze. “Nothing at all.”

“It’s obviously something,” Plasmius said, landing in front of Danny. “Now quit wasting my time and tell me what it is before I—”

“Then why don’t you leave? If I’m just wasting your precious time, then go home! It’s not like you even care about me anyways.”

Vlad leaned in, flaring his aura. “In case it’s not clear to your simple teenage brain, your actions represent the both of us. You fuck up, I have to pay the consequences.”

“Who says this is even about ghost stuff?” Danny hissed. “For all you know, I got in a fight with Jazz.”

Vlad scoffed. “Do you seriously believe me to be that stupid? Of course it’s about your identity! Why else would your core be acting so wildly if its Obsession weren’t at stake?”

Danny flinched.

“You did something, and I want to know what it is so I can determine if I need to run damage control on you or not before you blow this for all of us.”

“It’s...” Danny felt his aura pull back. “It’s about...you know…”

“I can assure you I do not know.”

“I...I might have…the police may have found...it…’

Plasmius sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand. “What did they find?”

“My—my, uh...body?”

“You mean your identity?” Plasmius’ eyes widened.

“Not exactly.” Danny felt his face burn. “You know...the body I left when I...after the accident.”

Plasmius reacted instantly. He shot up, glancing around, before grabbing Danny and pulling him through a hastily erected portal.

Danny felt his body squeeze through the portal and then seconds later, he was in Vlad’s study. The ghost threw Danny on his loveseat and heightened his aura. His brows creased, and his eyes glowed a dangerous shade of red. “What exactly do you mean when you say the police found your deceased body? How did this happen? What the hell did you do?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Danny cried indignantly. “They found it with their freakish police dog! I swear I buried it deep in the ground.”

“Well not deep enough, apparently!” Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Of all the stupid, childish things you could do!”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

Vlad ripped his hands away from his face, his eyes snapping back to Danny. He took a step closer to the teen, his eyes narrowing until a red glow peaked underneath. “Then whose fault would it be exactly, hmm? What, is this yet another piece of blame you’re going to cast upon my shoulders? Me, the halfa who has managed to keep this a well kept secret for over twenty years when you apparently can’t even manage to keep it to yourself for one?”

Danny let his own ghostly strength shine through his eyes. “Quit acting like I invited them all over. I didn’t, it was a coincidence. A mistake.”

“Oh, goodness me!” Vlad let out a sardonic laugh. “I guess when the Ghost Investigative Ward appear at my doorstep in a month, I’ll just tell them it was all a mistake. That’s sure to turn them right around!”

“Shut up.”

“No I will not.” Vlad’s face set back into a scowl. “You have proven yourself to be a liability again and again, and every single time it’s me who has to clean up your little messes. Messes that you don’t seem to realize could be the end of our kind!”

Anxiety shot through Danny’s stomach. He gripped the arm rests of the chair, squeezing them so tightly he heard the faint sounds of cracking in the wood.

“And now you mean to tell me that the police have your rotting, ectoplasm-drenched inhuman corpse in their possession?” Vlad yelled. “And you’re really trying to argue with me that it was just a simple mistake?”

Danny’s shaking hand slipped, tearing off a chunk of the armchair. It clattering to the floor. “I don’t—I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t…”

Vlad closed his eyes, but Danny could still see the wisps of red shimmering through his eyelids. “No, of course you didn’t. But that doesn’t mean we can let them keep it.”

“I’ve tried.” His voice cracked. “I keep trying to convince them to stop, but they won’t—”

“What, you actually thought they’d listen to you? A ghost? My boy, I know you were dim, but this is truly extraordinary.”

Danny sniffed, keeping his head down. He felt like an egg boiling over, the yolk just one jolt away from breaking.

“No…” Plasmius hummed. “What we need is to take it back by force.”

“We can’t, they have the whole morgue under a shield. We can get in as ghosts, and it’d look too suspicious if we showed up as humans.”

“Unfortunately, you may be right about us appearing as humans. We can’t do that. But,” Plasmius’ tone shifted, “one thing we can do is break the shield.”

Danny froze. He gazed questioningly up at the older ghost, who was facing the window with a renewed sense of determination. “Break the shield? How? We can’t touch it!”

“No, but the shield doesn’t exist on its own. It has to be generated from somewhere, doesn’t it? Do you see? We break the device, we break the shield.”

Danny wasn’t following, and he was sure his face betrayed that much.

“Listen, Little Badger. Ghosts cannot touch the shield or the device, but who says—oh I don’t know—maybe a collapsed ceiling might do the trick? Some torn cables, perhaps? After all, with no energy supply, how could it possibly generate the power necessary to produce a shield?”

Danny felt his eyes widen. Something icy settled in his gut. When he spoke, his voice was hollow. “You want to destroy the building.”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t be so crude, but perhaps a few colleagues of mine might be swayed—”

“No.” Danny stood automatically.

Vlad’s head snapped over to him. “No?”

He could feel Vlad’s confusion, and it blended with his own. Deep down, he knew he needed to stop at nothing to get his body back, but collapsing the building? Putting others in danger?

Putting his remains in danger of ruin?

What if something happened? What if a brick fell on his skull? What if a spike tore his abdomen in half?

No, he couldn’t do it. It wasn’t worth the risk.

This was wrong.

“We can’t,” Danny choked out. “You’ll hurt it.”

“I don’t think you understand, Little Badger,” Vlad hissed, leaning down.

Danny could feel the heat of his red eyes on his skull.

“With the position you’ve put us both in? You don’t get to decide what happens to your corpse now.”

“No, Vlad. I’m serious. You can’t—”

“And so am I.” Plasmius straightened, and his aura tinted to a dangerous pink. “You’ve put us at risk one time too many. Now I’m taking things into my own hands. And no amount of scary eyes is going to sway me.”

In one motion, Vlad ripped open a portal and pushed Danny through. Before he could blink, he was back in the damp alley they’d just been in.

“Good day, Danny Phantom.”

Plasmius shut the portal, and Danny was alone.

---

“Thank you for taking the time to come talk to us about this,” Mark said, opening the conference room door for the consultant before him. “This case is unfortunately a bit out of my expertise, and the lab results are even more perplexing. Hopefully you’ll be able to parse through the documents much easier than I.”

Dr. Maddie Fenton, dressed in her typical turquoise lab attire, stepped through the door and took a seat at the table. “Of course, I’m always happy to help Amity’s law enforcement protect its citizens against ghosts.”

“Well,” Mark pulled out a chair for himself, placing the manila folders against the table. “This is actually a bit more complex.”

“Oh?” Dr. Fenton reached for the folders.

“To bring you up to speed, I mentioned on the phone that we needed your assistance with a murder case involving a ghost. But there’s a bit more to it.”

She opened the folder and leafed through the files.

“The truth is the body we uncovered we believe to be Phantom’s body.”

Dr. Fenton paused, her eyebrows shooting up. She glanced up at Mark. “That’s a rather serious case. What evidence do you have to support that?”

“Well…” Mark started. “When we uncovered the body, Phantom appeared above it, and was acting rather erratically. Like a cornered animal, almost.”

“He felt threatened.”

“Right.” He nodded. “But it’s more than that. When we ran forensics on the body, we found that all our lab results were corrupted with ectoplasm. Ectoplasm that when we ran the ectosignature for, turned out to be Phantom’s.”

Dr. Fenton looked back down at the files. “That’s highly unusual.”

“Well we were hoping you’d be able to piece this all together.” Mark gestured to the files.

“I see…” Dr. Fenton’s voice trailed off. Her eyes scanned the page, hungrily soaking up each word. The silence stretched on for a few minutes as Mark awaited her opinion.

Contacting the Fentons had been something Mark had been pushing off for as long as possible. The Fentons were loud, boisterous, and not at all known for their professionalism nor tact.

But it was either they contact the Fentons or the Ghost Investigation Ward. And despite Phantom’s cold demeanor towards the detectives, Mark still had hope that perhaps he could gain the teen ghost’s trust. And to do that, the GiW could not be anywhere near the station.

Of the duo, Maddie Fenton seemed the most level-headed. And it had just been Mark’s luck that of the pair, she was the one with a doctorate in ectobiology. Which meant that it was perfectly understandable when Mark had requested that she alone come into the station to review the files.

“We’re trying to keep this on the down-low. If Phantom feels like we’re going to turn him over to the government, he’ll clam up. As it stands we’re only barely getting information out of him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t trust anything he says anyway,” she said, not looking up from the paper. “He’ll do whatever possible to keep himself safe. Ghosts are products of their Obsessions, and Phantom is no different. If he feels like this investigation is going to come in the way of him being able to feed into his Obsession, then he’ll do anything to stop that from happening. No matter who he hurts in the process.”

Mark felt a shudder creep up his spine. “Do you think he could be lying about this being his body? Maybe he could have been the one to kill this boy and is trying to cover it up?”

“Hmm…no, that doesn’t seem likely given the labs. And besides, it would be highly unusual for Phantom to be summoned to a body that wasn’t his. Although…” Dr. Fenton mused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this before.”

“Like what?”

“Well, when an animal dies near a cluster of ambient ectoplasm, their body runs the risk of forming a ghost. However, there must be a significant final moment for the neural pathways in the brain to bond with the ectoplasm. That moment translates into an Obsession, which forms the core that the ghost then forms around. If a human dies peacefully, there’s nothing to work with. But if the human dies violently, or if they die with unfinished business, that gives the ambient ectoplasm something to charge with.”

Mark nodded politely, not seeing where this was going. This was all common knowledge for the people of Amity, and Mark had certainly seen enough of the Fentons’ public speeches to understand these basics.

“The ambient ectoplasm comes from the electrical connections in the brain, unrelated to what’s happening in the body. It’s why a human can be paralyzed from the waist-down, but still form a ghost with functioning legs. Do you see what I’m saying?”

Mark nodded, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not seeing how this relates to Phantom specifically?”

“There’s no real reason that Phantom’s human body should have been corrupted by ectoplasm. In fact, there’s never been a case of a human body with an ectosignature embedded in its cells. It’s virtually impossible, in fact. Living cells are completely incompatible with ectoplasm.”

Mark stared down at his own copy of the reports, his mind reeling. “You’ve never seen this before?”

“Not in my twenty years in this field.”

“Do you have any idea what could have caused this?”

Dr. Fenton pursed her lips. “There’s one...it would explain a lot about him actually. Human experimentation.”

Oh.

Shit.

“You don’t think…” Mark’s voice trailed off, his tongue incapable of finishing the sentence. To think that some sick individual would even attempt such a thing.

“It’s the only logical explanation here.” Dr. Fenton gestured at her folder. “Or at least, the only one I can piece together given this information. Phantom would have had to have died after interacting with an intense amount of ecto-technology. Technology with the power to chemically alter every cell in his living body just before finishing him off with electrocution. Of course, it’s just a theory. Only Phantom knows the truth.”

“Right.” He could hardly process what was being said. “But he won’t tell us the truth.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. Ghosts run a different social hierarchy than humans, theirs is far more simple. It’s entirely based on strength. The stronger the ghost, the better they protect their haunt, the more respect they’re given within ghost culture. If Phantom shows weakness, then the other ghosts can use that to dethrone him as the human world’s great protector.”

“But we’re not ghosts.”

“But he is.” Dr. Fenton cocked her head. “This explains other things too. Like the fact that Phantom, a relatively new ghost, is already a level seven on the ectoplasm power scale.”

“I assume that’s unusual.”

“Quite. It would have had to require an extremely intense death at the very least. But human experimentation with ectoplasm, feelling your body reject itself from the inside out, every strand of DNA being corrupted by the essence of death—that’s not an end I’d wish on my worst enemies.”

“And now we have his corpse. Phantom’s going to feel incredibly threatened. He’s bound to lash out.”

Dr. Fenton nodded gravely. “Then you better wrap this investigation up quickly, because Phantom is still a young ghost. He’s impatient, like a child. The longer you take to solve this case, the more unstable he’ll get. And I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end when he finally snaps.”

---

A dull unease panged at Danny’s core. It was calling to him, trying to goad him to his corpse.

Trouble, trouble, trouble, it seemed to whisper.

But he ignored it, just like he’d been ignoring it all this time. Because no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get past the shields, he couldn’t get back to his corpse.

He was powerless. Alone.

Scared.

He tried to focus on his math worksheet, but the numbers blurred together and he couldn’t remember what eight times seven was. He had a calculator, but it was in his bag and he couldn’t remember what pocket he’d shoved it into, or even if he’d remembered to put it in his bag last night after staring blankly at the homework assignment for an hour without lifting his pencil even once.

No, his calculator was probably still on his desk at home.

Trouble, trouble, trouble.

The voices were louder now, and the pull was more desperate.

His throat hurt, and for a moment he was convinced his lungs were collapsing before he remembered that he’d forgotten to release the air trapped in his lungs and he couldn’t remember when he’d stopped breathing.

“Danny?” Mr. Falluca said from the front of the room. “Is everything alright?”

He commanded his head to nod, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. Maybe he did. He couldn’t check, he couldn’t lift his eyes from the desk.

The voices were too loud.

The dull pang wasn’t so dull anymore.

Trouble, trouble, go now, go now.

The pang was solidifying, taking shape. It was becoming sharper, more urgent.

Go now, go now, go now.

The pokes turned into pricks, threatening to rupture his organs, sending needles down the nerves in his arms and legs. A headache sparked before his eyes and his vision swam.

The voices attacked him from all angles, and fingers brushed against his skin, tugging the sleeves of his shirt towards the window, the ceiling, the wall, the door— anywhere so long as it was away from here. Outside. To the morgue.

Go to the morgue.

Ignore it, be strong. Just ignore it and it’ll go away.

Go now.

No.

Go now, go now, GO NOW.

No, he couldn’t.

The pinpricks finally morphed into one sharp, icy cold knife.

It stabbed his core.

Go now.

He stood from his chair, knocking it back.

Vaguely, he could hear the alarmed cries of his classmates, but he ignored them.

The only thing that mattered was his body. His corpse.

Protect.

A hand grabbed his arm, yanking him back, but he could feel the warmth of the human blood running under its veins and he couldn’t be bothered with human problems right now. Not when he was in danger.

He phased through the grip, and ran out of the classroom. He sprinted down the hall, tearing open the familiar looking door and transforming and taking off into the sky nearly as soon as the sun brushed his skin.

This was different than all the other times his core had tried to coax him to his corpse. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong. His body was in danger, and he needed to save it.

He heard an explosion in the distance, and he increased his speed, feeling his eyes sting as the cool air slapped against his corneas. The world blurred, but it was okay. His core was guiding him now, not his eyes. He didn’t need to see, he just needed to close off and follow his ghostly instincts.

“That’s right!” A deep voice yelled from across the way.

Danny pulled to a halt, blinking the sting from his vision.

Then a boulder flew past his body, hitting the wall of a disturbingly familiar building.

His core yelled in protest. The body was in danger. His body.

“You thought a pesky shield could keep me out? Me, Skulker, the Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter? I’ll show you!”

Ice filled his veins, freezing his aura and building in power around his hands.

Skulker hoisted a parked motorcycle from the edge of the street into the air. “Take this!” he yelled, hurling it into the air.

It was heading straight for the door. It was going to break it, it might break the window, it could damage the body.

An icicle stabbed his core, and before Danny could blink, his hands were raised and jagged blue ice was shooting from his palms, catching the motorcycle in midair and pinning it to the street.

“What is the meaning of this?” Skulker roared, whipping around. His eyes locked on Danny and his confusion melted from this face only to be replaced by a triumphant smirk. “Well hello there, ghost child.”

Danny’s palms burned an even brighter blue. “ Leave,” he hissed, the Ghost Speak slipping off his tongue like butter.

Skulker’s grin widened. “It seems I’ve touched a nerve. Fear not, child, I’m just here to procure your pelt. Well, your other pelt.”

He flashed his aura in a showcase of power that would send most ghosts running for the hills. “Leave.”

A look of contempt replaced the humor on Skulker’s face. His eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered. “I don’t take orders from you, child.”

There was a natural balancing act between his human brain and ghost core, one that ensured that neither half of him was in full control one hundred percent of the time. No matter how human he was, his core still lingered in the background, and no matter how ghost he was, his human brain still kept tabs on his movements.

But now, as Danny watched Skulker rip a slab of concrete from the ground, he felt something snap inside of him.

“Then I have no choice.”

Green overtook his vision, and Danny Fenton simply disappeared.

Time passed—or it didn’t—in swirls of blue and green. If he looked out, he could see the power released from his gloves, he could see the mix of ectoplasm and ice that he was hurling at Skulker, to protect the building, to protect his body, to protect himself from Plasmius.

That vindictive, lonely asshole.

Who was Plasmius to encroach on what was his?

There were flashing lights around him, but Danny paid them no mind. The only thing that mattered was protecting his body.

Protect his haunt.

Protect his people.

Protect.

He could feel the newly pointed teeth pinch his gums, and the ghostly wisps of his hair fizzle around him. But oddly these changes didn’t worry him, instead they made him feel safe, secure. Like a child clinging onto their blanket.

He launched another barrage of attacks at Skulker, tearing holes through his armor. Panic struck Skulker’s features, and all Danny could think of was, ‘good.’ If Skulker wanted to try to claim dominance over his body, then he would suffer tenfold.

And just before he was about to launch a blast at Skulker that was sure to disintegrate his armor, an amplified voice behind him called out, “PHANTOM!”

Danny flinched, his power leaking out of its concentrated ball.

Weak.

“Phantom, stand down!”

Not a chance.

“We have the area surrounded. Stand down or we’ll be forced to shoot.”

“Better listen to your human puppets,” Skulker said, his voice too shaken to sound mocking. “I know when I’ve been bested.”

It took everything in Danny’s power to not launch himself over to Skulker and tear off his head. “You tried to steal my body.”

“That’s a fight between you and Plasmius.”

“Don’t try to get out of this.”

“Phantom,” Detective Johnson said. “Final warning. Stand down.”

Ectoplasm surged throughout his body. “Make me.”

Multiple events happened at once. Skulker motioned to leave just as Danny raised his arms, blistering white light moments away from release. Then, pain seared through his torso.

Danny yelped, jerking his hand back and releasing the ectoblast somewhere off into the sky. He fell back and hit the ecto-shield, sending electrical warnings through his bones.

Memories of the portal, of the thousands of volts of electricity, of the feeling of his bones and muscles and tissues and cells being ripped apart and stitched back together flashed before his eyes. It was too much, all too much too soon too present. He tried blasting the portal but his gloves were splattered with green and oh no, not good, not good.

He was dying, wasn’t he?

Again.

Would he have a second body?

His vision tilted, and finally he managed to rip himself away from the shield. He collapsed onto the cement and stared up at the sky, chest heaving.

He was paralyzed. He knew he had fingers, toes, arms, legs—but they didn’t work. He couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t fly.

He was dying.

“Phantom?” Johnson’s cautious voice sounded from somewhere off to the side. “Sit up, let’s talk through this.”

There was a pregnant pause, and then Danny finally managed to blink. The world snapped back into focus, and his surroundings came with it. He looked down at his torso to see a little hole in his side of his suit surrounded by a trickle of green.

“What—?” Danny gasped.

“I’m gonna put the gun down, okay?” Johnson said. “I just wanna talk.”

“No.” Danny slowly pushed himself up. He surveyed the damage along the walls, the falling bricks on the sidewalk, the shattered windows and bent door. “No, no, no.”

His body wasn’t safe. Not anymore.

“Phantom, come on. Work with me here.”

But he couldn’t. That detective and his partner were just human, they didn’t understand. This was his body and Vlad knew about it and was trying to take matters into his own hands no matter the cost to Danny.

This was a disaster. He shouldn’t have told Vlad anything. He was so stupid for thinking Vlad could help him. He should have known, should have known.

“Phantom.”

“No.”

The cloak of invisibility covered his body, and he shot up into the sky.

Towards the city.

He needed to end this.

---

Sarah felt the chill first.

“You have to stop,” Phantom’s voice echoed behind her.

She sighed and put down her pencil. “Phantom, I thought I explained this already. The police can’t—”

“I don’t care about the police!”

The room grew cold.

“I don’t...ugh!” Phantom floated around her desk, clutching his forehead with one hand and his chest with the other. Mark had just called her with a warning, saying that Phantom was unstable. Looking at the ghost now, Sarah had to agree.

Phantom looked awful.

Dark circles pooled under his eyes, his hair stuck up in all directions, and his face lacked the green blush that normally sat below his skin. His jumpsuit was burned and dried ectoplasm crusted around the torn edges. He looked every bit the image of someone quickly coming undone.

Except this wasn’t just some random person, this was a powerful ghost. This was someone who could easily kill anyone who wronged him.

Or who he felt wronged him.

Deep down, Sarah knew Phantom wasn’t a violent ghost. It didn’t line up with his ghostly Obsession, or the theorized one anyway. But this was his corpse they were dealing with, it was an extension of himself.

Sarah had never confronted a ghost who had lost possession of their corpse. She’d never dealt with a ghost who willingly protected the shield that kept him away from his body if only to make sure it stayed safe. She’d never seen Phantom look so rattled.

At this point, there was no telling what he was capable of.

“Phantom,” she tried cautiously. “You need to calm down.”

“No, you need to tell your buddies to call off this investigation!”

“You know I can’t do that. I have no control over the department, and even if I did, we need to follow the law.”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “Why, because I’m a ghost? Because my words mean nothing because I’m not human? I’m telling you that I don’t want to press any charges, I don’t get why that’s not good enough!”

The room grew even colder.

“We’ve been over this. Please, Phantom, sit down—”

“No!” he snapped. “I’ve been telling you guys since the beginning that this was a bad idea, that people are going to get hurt! And no, nobody listened to me because I’m a fucking ghost! And now look, the building was attacked! My body was attacked! Do you—” his voice cracked, and the glow on his eyes wobbled. He drifted closer to her. “Do you even understand? Do you get how dangerous this is? Do you understand the people you guys have pissed off? Who you’re playing with now?”

Sarah took a deep breath. Even as a human, the power Phantom was emitting was palpable. “What people? You mean the ghost who attacked the morgue?”

“Not him. He—he’s just a lacky. Just following orders.” He let out a bitter laugh, running his hand over his forehead and smearing green across his skin. “You guys have no idea, you really don’t…”

Dread crept up Sarah’s spine. If what Mark was saying was true, then this could run deeper than they thought. “Explain it to me.”

“I’m…” He glanced up, looking ill. “I’m not…normal. For a ghost, I mean. I can’t explain it. I really can’t. But the other ghosts...they consider me a liability. And now that you guys have my—my body, they’re afraid.”

“Why are they afraid?”

“Because…” His brow furrowed. “I can’t—I can’t…”

She tilted her head, watching the ghost choke on his words. “Can’t, or won’t?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll stop at nothing till they get my body back. They’ll kill everyone in that building if it means nobody finds out my secret.”

What secret? Sarah wanted to scream, but she held back.

“Phantom,” Sarah lowered her tone. “Are they the reason you’ve been so afraid of us finding out the truth? Have they threatened you in any way?”

“No!” He backed up in shock. “I—I mean, sort of? Listen, it’s not because of him—them, I promise. It’s more complicated than that. He’s just protecting me, you know? If my secret gets out, that would put them all in danger, but it would put me in even more danger. I wouldn’t...I’d have to leave. I’d be on the run.”

“Why?”

“It’s so messed up.”

“Then tell me.”

She already knew. She just needed him to confirm it for her.

He looked to her, his bright green eyes seemingly desperate for help. But he shook his head. “I can’t do this.”

“Wait—”

But he was already gone.

---

“I’ve never seen him look so scared,” Abrams said.

“So you think he’s right.” Crowley took a long swig of his coffee, “Course you do.”

“It makes sense,” Abrams insisted. “Why else would Phantom be so terrified of people finding the truth?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know, maybe it’s because he’s a teen who was playing with electrical equipment he wasn’t supposed to be near and even in death doesn’t want to get in trouble for it!”

“Yes but how would that explain all the ectoplasm in his DNA? That doesn’t come from just any electric shock.”

“Who knows,” Crowley said. “The Fentons have always been crackpots. Always have had ludicrous theories. Now suddenly when it’s convenient, you’re all running to their side?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “We’re not running to their side.”

“Then what do you call this?” Crowley gestured to the duo. “Sure looks like it to me.”

“You have to admit that it makes sense,” Mark said. “I mean, get real. Doesn’t any of this smell fishy to you?”

Crowley slapped his empty coffee mug on the table. “You know what smells fishy to me? The Fentons are the only known ecto-scientists in this whole damn city, the only people who have lab-grade ecto-equipment in Amity Park, and suddenly right when they were getting into some financial trouble, Phantom appears out of nowhere from a death that reeks of forced ecto-contamination. That smells fishy to me.”

Mark paused, but then shook his head. “If that were true, then why would Dr. Fenton even offer human experimentation as a possibility?”

“To gloat? Gain our trust? Test our intelligence?” Crowley threw his hands up. “Who knows? They’re crazy!”

“So you think we need to investigate them?” Mark asked.

“I’d be a damn shit detective if I didn’t. They have the means and motive to create a ghost like Phantom. It’s just like Maddie said.”

“I think he’s right,” Abrams said, nibbling on her bagel. “If this is actually a case of ecto-experimentation, then the Fentons should be on the list of suspects.”

“Finally, some common sense around here. Just about the only case of common sense these days…” Crowley grumbled.

Mark chose to ignore that comment, instead checking his phone. No notifications, damn. The entire department had been on high alert for Phantom ever since the attack on the morgue. Mark was just relieved that the new and improved ecto-guns had finally been issued that morning. If not for the updated technology, that incident likely would have ended far less smoothly.

Not that it really ended smoothly. Phantom had yet again escaped Mark’s clutches, free to run off and break into Sarah’s home.

Guilt clawed at Mark’s stomach, but he pushed it back. Phantom was a slippery ghost, one that had escaped all levels of ghost hunters from the Fentons, to the Ghost Investigation Ward. Mark knew it would take a lot more than a few words of peace and one ecto-gun to stop that kind of raw power.

“What do we even know about the Fentons?” Abrams asked.

“They’re ghost hunters and mostly make weapons now, but before that they dabbled in all sorts of ecto-based technology. The husband, Jack, is the engineer and the wife, Maddie, is the biologist. They have two kids, Jasmine and Daniel. Jasmine, or ‘Jazz’ is supposedly top of her class, likely to graduate valedictorian, while Daniel’s something else. Bad grades, skips class, all around a bit of a loner,” Crowley said, regurgitating information like he was reading a case file.

Mark glanced at his colleague, giving him an impressed smirk. “Did your homework early, eh?”

“I told you, something aint right here,” Crowley said.

“And? What do you think?” Mark asked.

“What I think is that I’m shocked their house is even coded to have a lab inside. I’d like to know whose ass they kissed to give them that permit.”

Abrams snorted. “Jesus, Jacob.”

“What? I’m right!”

“Fine, whatever,” Mark stood, collecting his empty coffee cup and paper plate. “I godda head home, my sister’s visiting this weekend.”

“Alright, tell Susan I said hello. And say hi to her little demon child too.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “She’s four.”

“What, four year olds can’t be demons? I should know, I had two of them.”

Abrams swiped her empty wrapper and tossed it in the trash. “Yeah, I have to feed Atlas. I’ll see you both next week.”

“Take care!”

---

“Well at least we know Phantom didn’t change anything about his facial structure when he became a ghost.” Crowley’s small eyes swiveled between the photo of Phantom in one hand and the new sketch rendition of his human identity.

Mark grunted and stared at his own copy of the photo.

The corpse had been too decomposed to be able to distinguish a face, and ghosts often change their appearance in death. Sure, Phantom looked like a regular human, but it was impossible to know that for a fact.

Fortunately, modern research and re-composition was advanced enough that they didn’t have to wonder for long. Especially with this being such a high-profile case for the city.

And as it turned out, aside from the hair, Phantom really didn’t look all too different when he was alive. He had the same sharp nose, the same angular chin, the same boyish face. The only thing that was different was his hair and presumably his eye color, although that was still a mystery due to the corrupted DNA.

Even though there was little change to Phantom’s appearance, seeing the black haired, brown eyed human boy staring back at Mark was rather shocking, if he were being honest. There was something off putting about seeing this enigma quite literally brought back to life. It took away that edge of lore that the heroic town enigma had.

Now Phantom wasn’t some wild mystery. He was just...a kid.

“This really is something,” Crowley said. “Guess we should put it to good use.”

Mark sighed, turning his attention back to his desktop. Sifting through missing person’s reports was never exactly a fun way to start the morning.

“You think you can handle it, rookie?” Crowley asked.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting.”

Crowley let the photographs drop to his side. “Alright, I’m going to continue doing some digging on our suspects.”

“Good luck.”

“And you.”

The work was tedious and depressing. Face after face of missing minors flickered across his screen. It was almost too hard to believe that Phantom was a part of this list.

Caucasian. Black hair. Eye color unknown. Five foot five.

That was all they had on Phantom. For all they knew, he could have been from another city entirely.

But hopefully Mark would find a hit, at least one kid from Amity who fit the profile.

And in fact, there were a few...sort of. Four teens who had black hair and were about five foot five. But none of them looked quite like Phantom.

Which meant Mark had to widen his search.

How wonderful.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out wide. It was nearly lunchtime now and he felt like he’d gotten no further than where he was before. Mark stood from his chair, feeling a bit defeated. Hopefully Crowley would’ve had better luck on the suspect list than Mark.

He strolled over to Crowley’s desk, only to find the desk empty. Crowley had likely already left for lunch, the bastard hadn’t even bothered to grab Mark on the way.

Not that Mark could really blame him. He doubted Crowley wanted to use his lunch break to talk about the case after the tedious research they both had spent their mornings doing.

Mark dug his phone out of his pocket, intent on sending the older detective an update, when he stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, a familiar face stared up at him.

Mark slowly lowered the device and crept toward the desk, as if his mere presence would disintegrate the paper on his desk.

Inside Fentonworks: the Fenton family’s home-grown anti-ghost business!

It was an article printed from some online magazine that Mark didn’t recognize. Slapped on the cover of the page, just under the title, was a photo of a family of four beaming, waving at the camera. One of the members was a young boy—about Phantom’s age—with black hair in almost the same haircut as Phantom, with that crooked smile that Phantom had been caught adorning all too many times.

Waving at the camera.

Skinny, short for a boy, son to two ecto-science parents who fill their basement with dangerous high-voltage and easily combustible ecto-technology.

His name was listed as Daniel.

Mark glanced at the two images in his hand, and then looked at the article below him.

Holy shit.

No. There was no way. Crowley had been suspicious of them, and he had good reason to include them on his suspect list, but this kid was alive. He wasn’t missing, he wasn’t dead, he was standing right there.

It just wasn’t possible.

His apple watch pinged, alerting him of a ghost attack nearby.

Mark hurried back to his desk, swiping his coat off his chair.

This was impossible.

The police sketch and the copy of the article pressed against his fist.

Phantom was a ghost. Ghosts will do anything to protect themselves. They would lie, cheat, and manipulate humans in order to stay on top.

Mark was just seeing things.

There was no way that this was him.

He beelined for the door, tucking the papers into his pants pocket.

It wasn’t possible.

The drive there was short, and the fight even shorter. It had just been the Box Ghost, so nothing that Phantom couldn’t handle. The ghost gave his little song and dance, captured the ghost, and waved brightly to the crowd. But Mark could see right through it, right past all the cracks in his façade.

Phantom was losing it.

And Mark could end this.

“Phantom!” Mark called out through his cupped hands.

The ghost flinched, his cheery face replaced with a scowl instantly.

“Another time,” he said.

But Mark didn’t have another time. He needed to know now.

Because Phantom could end this insane proposition. He could laugh heartlessly at the mere mention that he was this random living child. He was Phantom, protector of Amity Park, not some human experiment.

Not some impossibility.

Not some kid who’s been dead for a year and only pretending to be human for his family.

Not the greatest act of manipulation from a ghost that Mark had ever seen.

Mark yanked the papers from his pocket and unfolded them with shaking fingers. He held them up hastily, knowing that they were too far away for normal human eyes.

But this was Phantom. He wasn’t human.

Mark saw the exact moment that Phantom recognized the photos. The ghost’s eyes widened, his face paled, his aura dimmed. Then, in the blink of an eye, the ghost vanished.

Mark was right.

---

The air was thick, tense. Phantom slumped in his armchair, his body the equivalent of a white flag. Even so, his eyes were bright, charged with nervous energy.

He was terrified.

Atlas must have sensed this, because the dog had decided to break away from being Sarah’s shadow to lay against the ghost’s feet.

“I don’t know where to start,” Phantom admitted after a few tense beats of silence.

“The beginning, maybe,” Jacob said.

Phantom looked sick at the suggestion, but relented. “You’re right. Yeah...I…” he glanced up at the two detectives and Sarah seated across the coffee table on her dull green couch. Phantom had appeared in her kitchen not even an hour ago, looking like he’d just seen the personification of death itself.

And instantly, Sarah knew.

She’d tried to coax him to let her bring him to the station so he could come clean there, but he refused. He said the information was too sensitive and he didn’t trust the station to not have cameras recording every angle of every room.

And so they settled on her living room instead. Mark and Jacob arrived, seeming none too surprised by the arrangement, and more than willing to follow Phantom’s direction if it meant they would finally get the truth.

Which Phantom didn’t seem remotely ready to give.

“I guess…” He tried again, closing his eyes. There was another tense moment of silence before a pair of white rings appeared around Phantom’s waist, traveling up his body and leaving behind a skinny black haired teenager.

Phantom cautiously opened his eyes. And, to Sarah’s surprise, they were blue.

“You’re Daniel Fenton,” Mark said.

She heard Jacob suck in a breath.

“Yes. I’m Danny Fenton.” Without the echo, his voice sounded much closer, much more down to earth than Phantom’s. “And a year ago, I was in an accident.”

His voice, like the rest of him, seemed softer without the powerful aura of Phantom behind it. If Sarah had passed him on the street, she wouldn’t have blinked twice. Gone was the cocky personality, the perfect posture, the floating white hair, the bright, determined expression. Gone was the jumpsuit, the logo, the strong voice that seemed like it could project for a mile, the banter, the confidence.

It was just a kid. A kid with baggy jeans, dirty shoes, and a plain shirt. He didn’t seem lithe, he looked weak. The green undertone to his skin was replaced with red, and his shoulders hunched in a way Sarah had never seen on Phantom before.

“What happened?” Mark asked.

“When my parents first completed their interdimensional ghost portal, it didn’t work. I decided to—it was my fault. I just decided to go in it. I don’t know why.” He looked up to the ceiling. “It was a stupid idea. The portal was plugged in, but there was a switch inside that wasn’t turned on, and I tripped over a wire and turned it on. From the inside.”

Sarah felt a pang in her chest. “That’s horrible.”

“Yeah. It was,” Phantom agreed. “And then I guess the portal stabilized the connection between Amity Park and the Ghost Zone, because ghosts started appearing in town. So I decided that if it was my fault that they were here, I was going to protect the town. And that’s what I’ve done.”

That’s his Obsession, Sarah realized. It’s protection.

“Why not come out with it?” Jacob asked. “Why bury your body? Why still try to pass as a human?”

Phantom’s head fell into his hands. “I didn’t know what else to do! It—I...you have to understand, my parents would never understand. They think all ghosts are evil. I couldn’t just come out and tell them what happened, they’d kill me!”

“So you decided it was safer to play human,” Jacob said.

“Yeah. I guess I did. Especially since...I sort of still am?” He lifted his head and stuck out his wrist. “I still have a pulse.”

No one moved.

“You’re shitting me,” Jacob guffawed.

“No, I’m being serious. The portal killed me, but then it brought me back to life. Except by then my body was already altered from the ecto-electricity, so the working theory is that I exist in this sort of limbo state between dead and alive. Hence why…” He transformed into Phantom and then back to Fenton. “Hence why I have two forms.”

“And the body,” Mark said. “The coroner report said it only weighed a little over half the weight of a normal body due to all the ectoplasm. But if you’re half alive, how would you have a body?”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know? To be honest, that day was such a nightmare that I’ve mostly blocked it out.”

Mark finally reached over and took the boy’s wrist. He pressed two fingers against the skin and waited.

“Damn.” His eyes widened. “It’s actually there.”

“No way,” Jacob said, leaning over to take Phantom’s wrist. A few seconds passed before he was joining Mark’s reaction. “It is there.”

“I know.” Phantom tucked his arm back to his chest. “I don’t understand it. I have a heart and also a ghost core. I can feel it all the time, even as a human. I have human thoughts and feelings and ghostly instincts playing constantly.”

As confusing and morbid as this was, it made sense in a sort of twisted way that Sarah only reserved for the rambling logic of her paranoid, senior grandmother. It explained why Phantom, a ghost, would willingly risk himself day in and day out over the safety of humans. Phantom was a ghost who was driven to protect his home, and he was also a human who wanted to look after those he loved.

He was truly Schrödinger’s cat. Dead and alive inside his little box, his little town, with no one able to measure him.

“That’s the thing that sets you apart from the ghosts,” Sarah said, tapping her knee with her finger. “That day when you came to my house saying that you were different, this is what you were talking about. You also said it would be dangerous if this information got out.”

The question was implied, and Phantom seemed to pick up on it, judging by his grimace.

“You weren’t talking about your parents.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“So then who is it? Who was trying to destroy the morgue? Who are you hiding from?”

Danny crossed his arms and glared at the floor. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said bitterly. “The government. GiW, all of them. Think of what they’d do if they knew someone could be both dead and alive at the same time.”

“Well fuck the lot of them,” Jacob said.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed.

“And the ghost who was trying to take down the morgue?” Mark pressed.

“I…” Danny’s eyes shifted. “I can’t say. It’s a ghost thing. All the ghosts in the Zone know about me, they call me a halfa. Half alive, half dead. Honestly, I don’t think it took much convincing for them to want to protect me.”

“But you were fighting against them,” Jacob countered. “If they were really trying to protect you, then why not go along with them?”

Danny opened and closed his mouth, the words seemingly stuck in his throat. Words from Maddie’s ecto-biology papers fluttered across Sarah’s eyes, about how ghosts were evil, they were liars, they’d say and do anything to keep themselves safe.

But as Danny let out a defeated sigh, his arms uncrossing to dangle at his side, Sarah couldn’t help but see the face of a scared teen who was just doing his best.

“It’s a ghost thing,” he finally said. “I didn’t like what they were doing because...because I needed to protect my body. If the building collapsed, it would have gotten damaged.”

Sarah blinked, and her and Mark exchanged a glance.

“I see,” Mark said carefully. “So if there was a plan to recover your...body...safely, you would have gone along with it?”

“I don’t know. Ghosts are weird, they all have their own agenda. I’d rather if it were just...left alone. In the ground. Untouched. Like it had been.”

They were silent for a moment, and Sarah watched as Jacob and Mark stared at each other in silent conversation. One that only partners could properly understand.

Finally, Jacob relented. “Okay, here’s the deal. Say I go talk with Chief Davis and he agrees to keep your identity secret. In exchange, all you’d have to do for us is tell your parents.”

For a moment, Sarah thought Phantom was going to bolt out of the armchair.

“Why?”

“Because you’re screwing around putting your life in danger every day, kid,” Jacob said. “Not to mention, your parents’ house is a walking minefield for you. You godda protect yourself.”

“I protect myself just fine.”

“Doesn’t dismiss the fact that you’re running off getting in fights every day with ghosts, and then coming home to a house littered with ecto-weapons that could kill you. You know, all the way.”

“My parents will kill me if they find out though,” Danny said darkly. “You don’t know them.”

“Which is why you won’t be alone. Crowley and I will be there with you. And I know a woman in CPS who can keep this on the down low too. We won’t let anything happen, promise,” Mark said.

Phantom glanced between them, his wide blue eyes betraying just how fearful he was. “You promise?”

“Yeah kid, we got your back.”

---

“It’s going way better than I thought,” Danny said, throwing the stick up the path.

Atlas didn’t hesitate, bounding after the object with an enthusiasm rivaled by no one.

“I’m glad,” Sarah said. “You deserve a safe place to go home to.”

Danny cocked his head. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Getting to know Danny these past few weeks was surreal. For a year now, Sarah had a set mental image of who Phantom was. The hero, the great protector, the thrill-seeker.

But now, as she got to know the quiet yet snarky kid who went to school and stressed over his math exams just like any other teen would, she’d gotten to appreciate the person that Danny truly was, the person he became when he wasn’t trying to hide his ghostly persona or playing the larger-than-life character.

Atlas pranced back, the stick held high like an Olympic medal.

“Good boy!” Danny praised.

At Sarah’s nonverbal command, Atlas dropped the stick in front of Danny, who was more than happy to pick it up and hurl ahead of the dirt path again.

“It’s weird. It’s almost like...I don’t know, it’s just kind of relieving? To not need to hide? Like don’t get me wrong, my parents are still kinda weird about it. I still don’t really use any of my powers at home because I just don’t think I’m ready. But the other day I used intangibility to get a cup out of the cabinet instead of just opening the cabinet door, and my mom didn’t even say anything. I remember back when I first got my powers and I couldn't figure out how to work them. I spent so long trying to hide any weirdness, and to think that now I can just do stuff and nobody cares.” A blissful smile dressed Danny’s lips. “It’s just nice, is all.”

“I bet,” Sarah said. “Must be a huge weight off your shoulders. And your sister’s okay with it?”

“Oh yeah. My sister actually already knew about it.”

“You’re kidding. Really?”

Danny threw the stick again. “Yeah, but I already knew about that. She told me a few months ago. But she’s been really helpful at home with trying to get everyone on the same page.”

“That’s good.”

“And my dad’s already been begging to take me out to the field with him.”

“Have you taken him up on it?”

“No. Not yet.”

Sarah peered cautiously over to him. “Why not?”

“I dunno.” Danny’s eyes tracked Atlas’ triumphant return from the woods. “It just seems a bit weird still. And besides, it would be kinda odd if my parents went from trying to kill me to suddenly Phantom’s new best friend overnight. For now they’ve agreed to a public truce.”

Ah yes, the truce. That had been all over the news when the Fenton’s announced it, citing new research into ghost psychology that showed instances of benevolent ghosts. The news had rocked the city, some calling the duo crazy, while others praising them for their growth.

Even though Phantom and the Fenton couple were still in the growing pains of their new truce, no one could deny how much more smoothly ghost fights had gotten since it began. There was less property damage, less citizen’s hurt, and overall the process seemed far more professional than it ever had.

“I’ve noticed a change,” Sarah said. “I really think it’s for the best.”

“So do I. Even though it’s still kinda weird.”

“It’ll get easier, just give it time.”

Atlas dropped the stick, apparently distracted by some scent on a bush. He stopped to sniff the plant before wandering behind it, his nose glued to the ground.

“Wait, Atlas—” Danny started, watching as Atlas disappeared into the foliage.

Hearing his name, the dog leapt back onto the trail and over to Danny, who paused to scratch him behind his ear. “Good boy.”

Sarah grinned down at the duo.

Who knew a cadaver dog and a half dead kid could make such a good pair?

---

Thanks for reading!

#danny phantom #my writing #morge #invisobang #invisobang 2021

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