#maybe if at least one human still cared for the state of the park

[dynjay]

Need a light?

[mmogurl]

Daddy Issues Part 1: Savior

18+ | 1.7k | Homelander X Female Reader | protective homelander, reader's back story is a little dark, reader might be a bit of a nympho, mentions of suicide, rape, assault, alcoholism, emotional child abuse. My Own Writing Prompt: What if Homelander became your Daddy and was really good at it? This is my first attempt at writing for a 'Reader' character! I usually always write it as an OC, so this should be a fun challenge. There will be more, but I'm not sure how many yet - maybe 3 parts. I wanted to keep these side ideas shorter and easier to pick up and put down. Part 1: Savior | Part 2: Baseline | Part 3: Spoiled | Part 4: Comfort

You’ve not had the best childhood. You were raised by an alcoholic, neglectful mother who cared more about getting laid by strange men that she met at the bar than you. This was paired with a father who would literally do anything but spend time with you, even when you flew fifteen hundred miles via airplane and stayed for the whole summer. Love, affection, attention, validation. These are all things that have been acutely missing from your life and so it should come as no surprise that you might be tempted towards the more hedonistic side of things.

After all, there is no better way to pretend that someone loves you, then when they’re fucking you.

Your bedroom has been a revolving door of men, much like your mothers had been when she was still alive. But, she’s left you alone in this world, long since dead from cirrhosis of the liver, and you’d really rather not have anything to do with your piece of shit father. With no siblings or family to call your own and nobody left to really give a shit, your life feels kind of empty. Fucking is the one thing that makes you feel alive, at least until it’s over and all of the feelings of guilt and shame come flooding back in.

That’s alright though. That’s what the beer is for. When too many voices start to nag you about your choice of lifestyle, you just drown it out. And no, you don’t think of yourself as an alcoholic like your mother. You are just self medicating, and find this over the counter prescription much more effective than the ones your psychiatrist had given you. You’d rather feel something than nothing after all. Maybe this makes you a hypocrite, but you really don’t care.

Perhaps it is this very state of inebriation that has led to your current situation though. You really should start taking accountability for the way your life has turned out and stop playing the victim. Sadly, there may not be enough time to make any serious life changes because things are looking pretty grim. A chance encounter with a good looking man named Mark that you’d met, ironically at the bar, has turned into a complete catastrophe, and even you with your insight and feisty spirit, especially when drunk, cannot see a way out of it.

Mark said he was parked just down the road, and there were so many lights and people walking down the main throughway that you really hadn’t considered you might even be in danger. That was until you’d both walked a ways down the alley, past the point of lights and still there was no car. Who the fuck drives a car in New York City you found yourself thinking, but by then it was too late. By then, Mark’s lackeys had jumped out from hiding, dragging you down an intersecting alley and against the wall of some abandoned building.

You are pressed painfully against the cold and dirty brick wall with two men holding you in place, one on either side of you. One heavier set man has a knife against your throat while the other laughs in a way that makes your skin crawl. Mark stands before you still looking like the handsome bait that he was and you can’t help but wonder what they might possibly want with you. You are too old at twenty eight to be thrown into some kind of grooming gang or human trafficking and you have nobody for them to extort funds from for a ransom.

Maybe they are just interested in raping and killing you and this is just more shitty luck that life has thrown your way. It is always so easy to play the victim, even when you are still partially responsible for how the cards fall in the wake of your bad decisions.

You try to jerk your arms free, thinking it better to be cut than to be raped by these scraps of human excrement. You had already intended to fuck Mark or you wouldn’t have gone home with him, but this show of depravity has most definitely changed your mind.

You feel the heat of dripping blood from your neck as the bigger guy with the knife actually nicks your skin. Mark already has his paws on you, a look of disgusting lewdness on his face as though he’s so pleased with himself for cornering you. His hand rounds your breast and the feeling of him touching you like this elicits the most gut wrenching scream from the very depths of your chest cavity.

Then the raw, searing pain erupts across your face. Always the consummate gentleman, Mark has struck you and he didn’t pull any punches. You can’t help but hear the rimshot play in your head and you wonder how it is that even as you’re about to die, your struck with the plaguing of your morose sense of humor. You supposed in the end, it was just a way to make light of how messed up things were. And right now, they were definitely about as bad as they had ever been.

As Mark once more closes in on you, the friend not holding the knife joining in at groping you as well, you attempt to scream again. Another throbbing fist hits you so hard in the cheekbone that it literally takes away all the fight you have. You’ve never been hit so hard before in your entire life and you feel a wave of defeat roll over you like the most hated white flag flapping in the wind.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to zone out the disgusting mitts clawing at you. For a moment you consider shoving your neck into the knife to avoid letting them take this any further. But, graciously, your thoughts of escape through suicide are averted when the ground shakes as though an asteroid had just been ejected from space and landed right beside you.

There is another flash of pain as the stout man with the knife slips and cuts you once more. Free from their grip for a moment in light of the confusion, you feel your neck and are relieved to find that the cut is shallow and not gushing blood. You slowly look up and find that all the men are turned away from you, looking at something incredulously.

Your eyes grow wide when you realize they are staring at the fucking Homelander. Your jaw drops in shock as he hurls forward, grabbing the neck of the man with the knife and popping it like a grape. Blood splatters everywhere as your blond savior’s eyes flare up with bright orange light, straight into Mark’s crotch creating a massive hole that you can actually see through. You almost laugh at the thought of his likely raging hard on getting evaporated to charred bits and nothingness. Serves him right you think as his body hits the pavement with a fleshy thud.

The last man attempts to flee and you follow the outline of his backside as he runs. Homelander’s eyes glow once more and you watch as the plasma hot lasers cut across the distance, starting at the assailant’s groin and carving all the way through his head, leaving him cleaved in two even pieces.

You barely have time to think about it before Homelander’s gaze returns to you, a look of concern in his eyes as he crowds you against the wall. “Fuck!” he shouts and you startle as he starts wiping the gore and blood away from your face, your neck. “Did I hit you?”

“N-no,” you manage to squeak out. “I think it’s the fat guy’s blood.” You say this with a little more humor than you probably should, not being able to resist the idea of insulting your attacker.

Homelander stops his fussing and regards you with eyes that are so much bluer in person than they appeared on television. He raises up one hand, finger pointed at you as though you’d just fooled him, in quite a clever way. The grin on his face almost makes you forget that you’d just had strangers threatening your life and your right to choose who you spread your legs for.

“You’re funny,” he finally said, looking you over, his expression growing more grave, almost irate. “Especially for someone who just narrowly avoided getting raped and thrown in the Hudson fucking Bay.”

You can’t help but wonder why he cares. You always thought he was just a pretend super hero for the cameras, for the mega corporation known as Vought to make big bucks. It all seemed staged and as far as you knew it was. Yet, here he was, America’s patriotic golden boy, making a very unscheduled save.

“What the fuck are you doing anyway!?” he asked cynically, interrupting your thoughts. “Do you have a death wish or something? You like the idea of serving yourself up to any guy who shows you a little bit of attention?”

His line of questioning was strangely personal, as though he knew more about you than he was letting on. Even though he had just come to your rescue, exactly when you had needed him most, you can’t help but feel a little indignant.

“It’s not like I wanted this,” you retort with a furl in your brow.

“You have to know you’re beautiful,” he sputters out, eyes darting around with discomfort at the topic, barely containing his frustration. “You deserve better than this.”

“Well, God has not seen fit to bestow me with anyone better yet. I’m still waiting,” she quipped back, but she could feel her shoulders getting weak and shaky as the shock of her encounter started to weigh on her.

“Fuck God,” Homelander barked back and his countenance relaxed significantly as his anger turned to worry at the sight of your trembling body. “You’re coming with me,” he stated more than asked.

Before you knew it, his arms were scooping you up, holding you securely against his chest as he shot into the night air. Despite the sound of rushing current in your ears and the tendrils of hair whipping at your cheeks, you felt safe and comfortable. You closed your eyes and waited for the ride to be over, but little did you know that it had just begun. Continue to Part 2

[back2bluesidex]

Dear Darling - JHS [Chapter 1]

Pairing: Serpent king (imoogi)!Hoseok X Human!Reader

Theme: Angst, dark romance, smut, fantasy au.

Wordcount: 3.1k+

Summary: After his bride flees from his clutches and reaches the realm of mortals to reunite with her lover - Hoseok has no choice but to chase her. Upon his arrival to the land of obnoxious humans, he crosses paths with you. You are a small, driven mortal who walks with a load of despair on her back. You are nothing but a delicious meal to him and he wants nothing more than to suck your life out of you, find his runaway wife and return to his kingdom. But much to his dismay, you ruin his plans, make him do what he never imagined doing in 600 years of his life - like making him fall in love and keeping him bound to you.

Warnings: Toxic family dynamics, reader is depressed, mentions of self-harming and su*cide. NSFW!!

Accepting Taglist Requests.

A/N: Let me know what you think of it.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

Masterlist | Patreon (Early access to the chapters)

People say snakes are the most poisonous creatures in the world. 

They actually haven’t seen or met your family. For that, your own family members, your own blood, are the most poisonous creatures you have ever come across. 

Your sister taps the butt of her fork on the glass table making an awful sound. Why is she doing so? Of course because she knows you have misophonia and these kinds of sounds trigger you badly. 

“I should get going now” you announce, taking a last sip of your orange juice. 

“Why so early, Y/N? It’s only ten in the morning!” your sister says in a whiney voice. 

“I have work, unnie.” you reply calmly but don’t forget to emphasize ‘work’ because that’s something your sister lacks in life. 

“Only if you listened to me and got married like your sister, you would be living a much more comfortable life.” your mother objects from the other side of the table. 

“Mother, I am more comfortable in my lifestyle than I ever had the privilege of being. Yes maybe, I don’t have a hefty paycheck, or shiny cars like you all. But I earn, all by myself, and don’t have to beg my father or husband for parking fees.” The last part of your statement was directed to your sister.  

She is way too proud of her beauty, her popular state among the wealthy-family-community. She often bragged about how she had thirty-two suitors at one time who were ready to bring her the moon if she had asked for it. 

And she chose the most humble man among them (aka the wealthiest one). 

Your sister scoffs at your accusations, “admit that you are jealous, Y/N. I at least have a husband who is ready to worship the ground I walk in. What about you? You are 28 and still alone? No one even approaches you since you decided to become independent. If I am not wrong, you had to buy yourself a cake this year on your birthday. Have you forgotten that already?” 

Your grip on the glass goes tight at that. She is not completely wrong. You lost most of your friends one-by-one since you moved out of the house and denied inheritance over your father’s business. All of the guys who approach you knowing your family’s status are either unaware of your situation or just want to use your name as a pawn. 

As a result - you are left alone. 

Completely alone. 

There are days when you think you should just end it all. Jump off a bridge and no one would actually care. 

There are also days when you feel hopeful, when you like to believe that you, too, will find someone to love you, to call you their home. 

There are days when you accept your fate of being alone. An unsupportive family, mean friends, unfaithful partners have already taught you enough lessons about how cruel life can be, so it’s better for you to just accept it all and move on - even though you hardly know where to move on, where to go, if there is anything to look forward or not. 

“Move back to the house, Y/N. Listen to us and I promise I will revise my will.” Your father chimes in with his suggestion. His voice is so soft that anyone would think he is actually concerned about you. 

But that’s a facade. 

He only wants you back so that he can sell you off to a wealthy guy just like your sister. His business, which is a few steps away from being a conglomerate, will grow much faster. And that will be his key to more power, more money. 

“If I had wanted your money from the start - I wouldn't have moved out in the first place.” you offer your final statement as you take your bag and storm out of the dining place, and then the house. 

One more moment in this house with these people and you might kill yourself. 

As if your family wasn’t enough to annoy you, now everywhere you look, all you see is: Couples. 

Couples of various ages, various stages, but all lovey-dovey and cringey. 

Reminding you how you are 28 and still so partner-less. 

You usually love this little walk from the bus-stop to your workplace. You get to enjoy the fresh air, get to witness the changing colors of seasons, the setting-sun while coming back home and the stars if you end up over-working. 

This is one of the few luxuries, feel-good materials that you allow yourself. 

Other than these small things - there is hardly anything that excites you, makes you happy. 

You shove your hands inside the pocket of your jacket and focus very little on your surroundings. Just when you are a couple of feet away from the building, you see a tall figure standing in front of the entrance, very probably, checking himself out in the glass exterior. 

He is unfamiliar. So you initially decide to ignore him and walk past him to enter the building. But as you take a few more steps towards the man, you notice his side profile, his tall, lithe body, fitted dress suit and heeled boots. 

Your breath gets stuck in your throat as you drink him in little by little. 

He is immensely beautiful. 

His chiseled jaw, perfectly mounted nose, sharp eyes, immaculately styled dark hair and full lips - everything makes him the most handsome man you have ever seen. 

He is glistening in the sun.. as if there is an invisible outer layer added to his skin. 

It’s not that you have never seen handsome guys - Kim Seokjin from the finance department and your uni friend Kim Taehyung are the epitome of beauty but you have never seen anyone as beautiful, majestic as this man. 

You feel an instant, unexplainable pull towards him. 

It’s something that drains all of your feminism out of your body. You want to walk up to him and sacrifice yourself on his feet even though you don’t know who he is. 

Probably upon feeling your burning stare on his face, he turns his head to look at you. And he looks dead into your eyes. His stare is so intense that it feels he is reading you out like an open but untouched book. 

You stand there dumbly, holding a boiling eye-contact with him, not knowing how to walk forward or how to even use your legs anymore. 

The pretty heart-shaped lips of the man soon turn upwards, bending into a smile. A smile so beautiful, so addictive, so hypnotic that you find yourself gulping a lump that you never knew formed in your throat.

That’s when you realize that you are ogling at an unknown man like a creep. When men stare at you like you are their next meal in public places - you hate it. But the undeniable beauty of this has turned you into one of those people you hate. 

So you gather your wits, look away from him and try to walk away from the man, only for him to stop you with his smooth voice, “Miss, are you an employee here?” 

Your steps halt as soon as his words enter inside your ear. “Are you talking to me?” you ask dumbly. Of course he is talking to you, there is no one else close enough for him to direct his questions at. 

But he seems to be kind. The man nods and murmurs a little, “yes” 

“Yeah. I work here. Are you looking for someone?” you offer, trying not to choke on your own spit.

He steps closer to you, sun rays playing on his dark orbs.

Fuck! He’s even more beautiful up close!   

“Not particularly. Can you, kindly, tell me where the executive office is?” He answers your query. 

“Executive office?” you frown, “there is no such office but there is an entire floor for executives. Do you want me to take you there?” 

“Yes. I’d be grateful if you would lead the way.” he replies softly. 

Your heart leaps a little at his gentle voice. You can hardly remember when for the last time anyone has been this gentle to you. 

Giving him a small smile you start walking towards the building. 

During the small walk from the entrance to the elevator, the mysterious stranger gets all the attention of the spectators. You find some of the front desk employees squealing like high school girls. 

Even though you cringe at such reactions usually, this one time you know it’s justified. You were very much spellbound a few minutes ago. 

Thankfully the elevator is empty when you get inside it with the man following you closely behind. But all of your thankfulness vanishes as you stand there alone with the enigmatic man inside the metal confinement. 

His fragrance envelops you. 

Fuck. he smells so nice. You think. But it’s not the kind of smell that you usually get a whip of. Neither he smells earthy, nor like aftershave, nor he emits the strong manly fragrance. 

He smells kinda sweet - no, not floral or fruity. It’s something you can’t quite explain. It’s hypnotic - dizzying. 

“Are you here to see anyone?” You break the silence. Because you might faint from the overwhelming attraction that has started clouding your judgements. 

“I am here to report to work, Miss.” he replies simply without even looking at you, while you are staring at his side profile as if he is one of those modern abstract arts pieces in art galleries that you find a hard time understanding. 

“Report? W-who are you reporting under?” Is he reporting to someone from the executive floor? Then is he an executive himself? That makes sense because he is wrapped up in wealth from top to bottom - his suit dress, his shoes must cost six months worth of your paycheck. 

“Min Yoongi himself.” he whips his head towards you and gives you one lopsided smile. All of a sudden your knees feel weak to withstand your own body weight. 

You only nod, reluctant to say anything when he clearly isn’t much interested in conversing with you. 

The fifth floor approaches, the elevator door opens with a ding. 

“This is my floor, I must get to work now. You need to get out on the seventh floor. I have already pressed the button so you don’t have to.” you bow a little. When you stand straight you find him regarding you with those dark eyes. His irises are shining like black pearls.

“It was a pleasure to meet such a kind soul. Thank you for the help, Miss….” his sentence doesn’t end completely. 

You take the hint and say while stepping out of the elevator door all while facing him, “Y/N. My name is Y/N.”   

“Y/N” he says with a breathy voice. The fine hairs at the back of your neck stand in protest, “I am Hoseok… Jung Hoseok.” 

“Hoseok…” You murmur under your breath, your heart rises inside your ribcage. Your chest feels tight, stomach feels light as you keep looking into his eyes until the elevator door shuts, parting you from the mysterious man who has very clearly encaptured you unlike anything you have ever experienced before. 

Hoseok’s heeled boots clink against the expensive marbles of the executive floor. For a moment he dares to compare the interior decoration with his own palace. But the Mins would surely go penniless if they start decorating their office with the priceless stones and gold that serpent king Jung Hoseok’s palace boasts. 

The receptionist at floor entry has shown him the way to Yoongi’s room and his super powers easily help him glide around the corridors without having to make him look like an unearthly creature. 

So he finds the room rather easily. 

He knocks before pushing the door to enter like the human he is pretending to be. 

When Yoongi sees him, he stands up abruptly and bends half in a deep bow, “My king, you have arrived.” 

“I have.” he replies, “so healthy, full of life and above all so pure, would make a perfect meal for me.” he speaks with a smile tugging at his lips as he recalls your face - a beauty indeed. 

“May I have the pleasure of knowing what you are referring to, my king?” Min Yoongi gestures to Hoseok to sit down on the luxurious sofa before he takes a seat himself. 

“I had the opportunity of coming across one of your employees. She lent one kind hand to show me the way.” Hoseok pauses and recalls your face, your eyes, the purity that spills through them, “I must admit, she is the purest creature I have ever found. You know Min, my lifespan can get longer with such purity. I need to feed on her, suck her sweet soul out of her body. Will you allow me to do so?” 

A smug smile tugs at the corner of Hoseok’s lips. He knows there is no way his obedient servant will not allow him, he is just enjoying the flustered state of Min Yoongi’s pale face that his proposition created. 

“Th-that goes without saying, My lord. You may do anything you please. This lowly creature is no one to object. However..” Yoongi bows his head a little more and continues, “May I ask who the employee is?” 

“Her name is Y/N. Such a kind human she is. She lent me her lead and showed me the way around this building. But I could see her true self. How unhappy she is with the way this world works. So I have come to this decision of setting her free by feeding on her.” 

The smile that now envelops Hoseok’s entire face is nothing but evil. Just the thought of having your soul and being able to live more, rule more already excites him. 

He hasn’t felt this excited, enticed in a long time - not even when he found his perfect mate, Soojin. It was probably when he defeated the king of Gumiho and conquered his kingdom, that was the last time he vibrated with this much excitement. 

Serpent king Jung Hoseok’s visit to the mortal world is going quite well so far. 

“What do you think it is?” Segyeong asks from the seat beside you. You only shrug as a reply as you focus on the stage.

Every team lead and managers have received an email this noon informing that Min Yoongi has an important announcement to make. Hence, everyone who receives the email has to be present in the auditorium before 3 pm.

Since you are leading the strategic planning team of Min corporation - you were automatically invited. 

You wait patiently as your colleague goes on and on about her boyfriend, his annoying habits and how much she loathes her life right now. 

You are a good listener - you know. But there are occasions when you wish you could stop listening to everyone. You are their outlet, but who is yours? Who listens to you? Whose arms do you fall back on? To whom you go seeking warmth, some comfort? No one. 

When will you have someone to love you? When will you fall in love? 

Suddenly the question paints a very vague picture of someone in your eyes. It remotely looks like the man you met this morning. It remotely looks like Jung Hoseok. 

You shake your head to get rid of the desire that has started bubbling inside your chest since the moment you have seen him. 

All the chatters of the auditorium come to a stop when Min Yoongi walks inside the room and stands on the podium. 

He clears his throat before starting with the announcement, “Good afternoon everyone. I hope your work has been going well. Today is a special occasion and even though I know it’s sudden, I couldn’t help sharing a very good news with you all.” he pauses for a brief second, as if scanning the room for once then he finally continues, “As you know, the position of Vice President is vacant for a couple of months now after Mr. Choi’s sudden demise. While the board of directors have tried to choose an eligible candidate to grace the position, there have always been one fall out or another. But finally we have come to a conclusion and chosen the next vice president of Min Corporation.” The room grows kind of loud with noises of surprise and whispers. You, too, can’t help but wonder who is going to be the next president. Segyeong is the office-gossip-queen. So, if there was an election going on, she would have known and naturally you would have known as well. 

“However, the thing is that… he is not anyone from the company itself. He has been requested to take up the position because the Min Corporation you know would have been nowhere without his help. He is a close friend of mine, a mentor, a genius. Please raise your hand in applause and welcome your new Vice President Mr. Jung Hoseok.” 

Your mouth opens on its own accord, your eyebrows shoot up to reach your hairline. Why hadn’t it clicked before? Hoseok said he is reporting directly under Min Yoongi! That definitely was enough of a clue. 

Your brooding session comes to an abrupt halt when you feel Segyeong holding your arm in a vice grip threatening to cut blood circulation at any given moment. 

“Fuck fuck fuck, Y/N! Who is this Greek god???” she squeals without averting her eyes from the stage. 

A loud thunder of claps ring as you look at the man, now standing on the podium. 

There he is, Jung Hoseok, standing as if he owns the world. His sharp features, expensive dress suit and million dollar shoes gleaming under the blaring lights. 

“Good afternoon everyone. I am Jung Hoseok, and I am honored to be taking up the position of Vice President of Min Corporation. First of all thanks to Min Yoongi for thinking of me to be capable enough. Secondly, thanks to you all for joining me and accepting me. I am grateful to you all.” Hoseok dips his head in a small bow. 

When he strengthens his posture, you find him looking directly at you, despite you sitting on the fourth row, despite the dim lighting of the seating area. 

“Let’s get to know each other so that we get close.” he concludes his speech with a blinding smile. Something floods in your chest as you feel those to be oddly dedicated to you.   

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[filmbyjy]

like a already married ff but like it’s so cute fluff

a/n: idk if this was connected to the ‘taking care of s/o whilst on period, hyung line ver.’ anyways! since you didn’t specify who…i’m gonna be doing my man jay🫶🏻 since we all know he is the most husband material🤭

pairing: park jongseong x fem!reader

genre: fluff! married life with jay

synopsis: being married to jay brought so much different emotions, mainly happiness. you couldn't be more delighted being married to jay.

warnings: slight suggestive but it's just a sprinkle.

word count: 1K words

married you

you could remember the day. the day where you married the love of your life.

park jongseong

the most perfect human being on earth was now your husband. prior to the marriage, you could remember the most perfect proposal he created.

— placing this in case the read more messes up —

it wasn’t a spontaneous proposal. rather, he decided to create a more stay at home dinner date. a candle lit dinner he prepared 5 hours for. when you had came home from work, you were surprised to see jay in a suit and tie. his hair was slicked back and he wore the most charming smile as he watches you enter the living room.

“welcome home, my love.”

you were shocked to say the least when you witnessed the boy in a suit and tie. he looked amazing. you had imagined jay in a suit and tie as he watches you walk down the aisle but you knew that would be in the future. little did you know, it would be soon.

you felt an arm wrap around your waist and small peck on your shoulder. it knocks you out of your zoned out state.

“morning, my love.” the deep voice that startled you a little. it was still raspy, he must’ve just woken up.

“morning, honey.” you say. jay hums. you could feel him snuggling into the crook of your neck.

“you weren’t in bed so I got a little scared.” he pouts, his voice a little muffled. you turned to meet the eyes of your husband.

“sorry, honey. it’s already 10am and I was getting a little hungry. i was also struggling to get out of bed, my legs and thighs hurt.”

“oh, why didn’t you wake me up? i could’ve carried you down and save you from the potential pain.”

“well if you didn’t go hard last ni-” you paused suddenly feeling the embarrassment rise. you cheeks quickly heat up. jay smirks, he goes to whisper.

“you were the one who wanted it hard last night.” he pecks underneath your earlobe. you shiver.

“s-shut up.” you smacked his arm. he laughs before he takes notice of the food you had prepared.

“thanks for the food, angel.” he swiftly grabs the second plate you had created. the both of you happily had breakfast before deciding to just chill on the balcony of the Airbnb.

“it’s so pretty.” you say as you watched the waves crash against the sand. the smell of sea salt invading your senses. jay backhugs you and sways you slowly.

“you’re pretty.” he says. you snort.

after the honeymoon, the both of you went back to your normal lives. jay had his business to attend to since he was about to become the CEO of his dad's company. he'd always come home and you had prepare a feast for him. he couldn't feel more content.

lately though, you have been getting pretty lethargic. you have also been feeling a little unwell. you thought maybe that the flu season was here but none of your friends got sick and even if they were sick, they would not throw up.

"try taking a pregnancy test." your friend suggests on the call.

"i don't know. both me and jay aren't exactly ready to have kids. besides, he is really busy with work. you know he is about to inherit his dad's company."

"(name), no one is ever ready to have kids. however, i do know both you and jay would be amazing parents. you've taken care of your nieces and nephews."

"that's true but i'm still afraid."

"how about this. do the test first. you can tell jay after."

"alright."

after the call, you had went to the grocery store and got a pregnancy test. you were nervous of the outcome. what if jay didn't want kids? what should you do? would this affect your relationship?

"honey?" jay calls out. you were in the bathroom currently, waiting for the test to fully show. you haven't looked at it yet and you were afraid.

"in the bathroom!" you yelled to let jay know. he doesn't enter since it was privacy. you could hear him humming. you flushed the toilet and wait a minute before picking it up and revealing it.

double lines on the first test and a plus sign on the second.

you felt your stomach drop.

"are you okay in there, love?" jay calls out. you opened the door.

"jay." he takes notice of two sticks in your hand. he tilts his head before realising what they are.

"i'm pregnant." you finally revealed. jay's breath hitches, he could feel his eyes starting to water.

"i'm going to be a dad?" he says, it almost sounded like a whisper. he was in shock but a good kind of shock. he quickly hugs you.

"i love you." he says.

28 weeks later, you were happily carrying your child. jay helps you out with the chores before he leaves for work. since, he had already settled into being the CEO, he could easily leave early if there wasn't much schedules for the day. he would spend his free time with you and the baby.

2 years later, you were happily living with jay and your daughter. it was actually quite hard to be parents but you learnt to cope well. there were times where you wished to have some time alone with jay but your child would walk in and insist to play dolls. jay would usually go over and played dolls with her since he loved to spoil her.

"it's about time we have another little one, hmm?" jay says as he backhugs you. you shook your head.

"lily is barely 2. besides, who will take care of her while we 'make another one'?"

"i can send her to my parents? you know my mom would be delighted to babysit her." you laughed.

"so are you going to send her tomorrow?"

"is this a yes for another little one?" jay asks.

"we could just try-"

"alright! let's send her tomorrow. let me call my mom!"

"jongseong-"

before you could even say anything, jay had left the kitchen.

let's just say 5 months later, you were eating for two once again and jay was definitely exhilarated.

[nickfowlerrr]

know my name - 2

GIF by justarandomgirly

series masterlist

pairing: soft!dark bucky barnes x single mom!reader

warnings: 18+ only. a little bit of angst. not much to warn in this part.

words: about 1.9k

notes: a little context if you care to listen. (more to come. thank you for reading!)

the before:

It’s quiet as Bucky watches Steve from the window of the cafe; a small smile threatening to break out on his face as he watches Steve attempt to figure out how to feed the meter.

It’s not too long after he’s parked that Steve makes his way inside the cafe, spotting Bucky instantly as he sits in the far back, darkened corner of the place - right next to the window. Similar spot every place they meet at. As secluded as he can get while still ensuring he has his vantage point.

A cup of black coffee he hasn’t touched sits before him as Steve moves to join him at the small table.

“Long time no see, Buck,” he greets with an easy smile as he scoots his chair in.

“Did you see her?” Bucky asks, skipping the pleasantries altogether. He doesn’t want to be asked Steve’s typical questions; he knows he means well, he’s just worried about him, just wants to look out for him, but he isn’t in the right state to be around anyone for long right now. Especially not the people he cares about the most.

He still isn’t himself. He knows it. He can feel it. He’s a living, breathing, barely human, killing machine that could be triggered at any moment.

He won’t risk it.

Steve is maybe the only person in the world who could stand a chance at stopping him god forbid anything happened.

Steve knows this, and even without Bucky having told him, he still would’ve known exactly what he was thinking. Why he kept his distance, why he kept moving around, too paranoid to settle anywhere, to let his guard down even just a little and get some much deserved peace…

Bucky would keep him in the loop on where he was and let him know he was okay, despite the fact that they both knew Steve was tracking him still, too. Bucky didn’t mind, though- it almost gave him a little peace of mind. If anything happened, if he did anything, Steve would come running. He’d stop him, in his dedicated fight to ‘save’ him.

He always had some speech ready every time they met up, trying to convince him to come with him to the compound, to join the team.

It’s not that Bucky didn’t want to, it was that he couldn’t. He was nothing more than a ticking time bomb. And until he was deactivated, he had to keep his distance.

From everyone.

From you.

There were so many times Bucky almost gave in. So many times he almost went to you. He had your name, knew where you lived, where you worked, he knew where to find you, but he didn’t trust himself enough to. He didn’t know if…

It was torture not being able to see you in person, to know if you were okay or not. He finally decided that if he couldn’t let himself check on you, he needed to get someone he trusted to do it for him. And there was only one person he trusted.

He doesn’t know why, doesn’t know how, but you’ve never left his mind - not once from the day he first saw you. You were always there somewhere. Your eyes haunting his restless nights in the most beautiful way. A constant. A comfort. Not one he deserved, but one he treasured nonetheless.

He needed to know how you were. Needed eyes on you. So the last time he met up with Steve, he asked him this favor.

“There’s a girl,” he’d said, “I need you to check up on her for me. Don’t mention me,” he’d looked away, “just…just make sure she’s okay. Please.”

Steve agreed, didn’t ask a single question why or how he knew you. He just agreed.

Then once more before he left that day, he tried to push a bit again at getting Bucky to come with him. He always had that little bit of push. He had to try.

But Steve wouldn’t push him today, at least not on a hello. He had a lot to talk to Bucky about.

“I wanted to talk to you about that…” he began, a little unease audible in his voice, “were you two.. I mean, was it..?” he trailed off, unsure exactly how to ask the question that had been pulling at him all week.

Bucky understood what he was getting at instantly. He didn’t think much before he answered, maybe a bit too harshly.

“No,” he denied sharply, looking almost embarrassed. “No, it’s not like that. I just,” he took a breath, looking off for a second out the window. He shook his head before returning his gaze back to Steve, “You saw her then?”

Steve stared back at him, quiet for a moment while worry lingered in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he answered, “I did.”

“And?” Bucky prompted, wholly invested as he leaned in closer to him.

“She seems fine. Good,” he assured him. “She’s,” Steve looked down at his hands for a split second as he thought about his words, “she’s nice,” he decided on.

Nice? The word stuck out to Bucky but he didn’t harp on it. He didn’t need your personality analysis, he just needed to know you were okay.

More, he needed to ensure you would stay that way. Especially if he was going where he was planning on soon.

“So, you two never…” Steve raised his brows as he tried to wordlessly get his meaning across.

“No,” Bucky groused. “I’ve ne- we’ve never,” he cleared his throat, “she’s never met…me.” He couldn’t look Steve in the eye. Didn’t want to see his reaction when he understood what he meant. “Not me as me.”

He could hear the breath Steve took before he responded. “Oh,” was all he offered. A long moment of silence stretched between them, or so it felt. Really it was only a few seconds before Steve continued.

“Well…Will she ever?” he asked sincerely curious, eyes soft and understanding.

Bucky looked at him then. He had to fight the emotions that were suddenly threatening to overwhelm him. Yes. No. Maybe. Never. Maybe… one day. He knew what he wanted, what he hoped and longed for… but he didn’t know.

So he didn’t answer.

“That place you were telling me about,” he changed the subject, squeezing his hands together as they were folded in front of him on the table, “Wakanda?”

“Wakanda, yeah,” Steve affirmed as he sat a bit straighter, surprised and hopeful at Bucky’s mentioning of it.”What about it?”

“You said they, you think they might be able to help me. How sure are you?”

“One hundred percent, Buck.”

“And you trust them?”

“With my life,” he nodded.

Bucky nodded in turn.

“How soon do you think I’d be able to go?”

“Within the week,” Steve answered. “Suri’s been asking about you. She wants to help, she has some treatment ideas - nothing you can’t object to,” he added, “but we can call her and arrange a jet. I can go with you, get you settled over there if you’re serious, make sure everything is good.” Steve’s hope was palpable, it finally got a small smile to Bucky’s lips.

“You’ve done a helluva a lot for me already, Steve,” Bucky breathed a humorless laugh.

“You’d do the same for me,” Steve said easily, smiling back. “So do you really want to go? I can start getting everything set tonight.”

Bucky swallowed hard.

“Yeah,” he answered, his vulnerability breaking into his voice as he spoke quietly, an almost ashamed murmur under his breath, “I think I need to.”

Steve didn’t say anything, but not a second after Bucky spoke, he felt Steve’s hand on his shoulder. He squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

“I’ll be right there with you, pal.”

Another set of soft smiles was shared between them before they started making their plans.

Time flew by like it always did when they were together and soon enough they were parting ways again. Not for as long this time, though. Thursday would see Steve picking Bucky up from his latest stay and heading to the jet that would take them to Wakanda.

Steve kept his word, stayed by Bucky’s side until everything was settled there. Suri would keep him updated, and he was sure things would work out.

When the time finally came for him to head back to the states, back to the compound, back to work, he did so with one more promise to keep.

When they were saying their ‘see ya later’s, Bucky stopped Steve’s departure with one more request. The only one, in Bucky’s mind, that truly mattered.

“The girl,” Bucky spoke lowly, “I need you to watch out for her, Steve. Make sure she stays okay, stays safe,” he urges, the importance of his request clear in his intent gaze.

Steve couldn’t help but scoff at the request, not maliciously, more disbelieving.

“What do you expect me to do, Buck? Become best friends with her?“

Bucky didn’t know, but that would probably be easier than his words would imply telling from their first meeting. Steve pretended to accidentally knock into her at her frequented coffee shop, spilling her drink and getting her name before buying her a new one - plus a scone. They ended up sitting at a little table together, talking for longer than he’d intended before she gave him her number and they parted ways. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t tell Bucky that part… He seemed very protective of her, so he told himself he didn’t want to cloud Bucky’s mind with any needless details - didn’t want to distract him from his healing here. And that’s all he wanted to know, wasn’t it? That she was okay? She was okay. And nice.

Sweet.

A little shy, but still friendly…

Beautiful, the stray thought wandered into his head.

Bucky huffs a laugh, shaking his head, “Do whatever you have to do, just,” he sighs, “please, Steve, make sure she’s okay.”

Steve nods, “I will. I promise, I will.” He goes in for a hug that Bucky returns, continuing as they’re embraced, “And I’ll be back next chance I get.”

“Lookin’ forward to it already, pal,” Bucky says as he pats Steve’s shoulder when he pulls away. “Thank you,” he says, sincerity shining in his eyes, “for everything.”

Truly, his entire life he’d been grateful for his best friend. But even more now. With Steve’s help, he felt like once he was done here, when he was himself again, he’d be able to live a life he’d always wanted. A normal life.

And maybe, if he was really lucky, that life could include you.

“And what if she asks about you? What do you want me to say?” Steve questions as he turns at the threshold of the door. Bucky winces at the question but neither of them mention it. He swallows hard and clears his throat.

“She won’t,” he says assuredly. “I told you she doesn’t…” he looks off, a little agitated - pained. “And don’t bring me up, don’t mention me. Alright?”

Steve nods, not convinced but again, not wanting to cause any more distress to him right now.

“Alright,” he agrees for the moment. “You need me, you call me,” he points, shifting the energy between them.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky brushes off with a wry smile. “Will do, punk.”

A/N: thank you for reading! we will get into how bucky knows reader in the next part…

[crying-fantasies]

Racing date

Masterlist

When Sideswipe said he wanted a change of pace for game night you really didn't mind, in reality there was some expectation, a cybertronian game, a real alien game, the curiosity of how it worked was enormous.

The fact was, you didn't ask yourself if you could play a cybertronian game in the first place.

"It'll be fine", he said, "we'll have a lot of fun", he said, and you believed he was referring to only you two.

You were a little surprised, maybe a little confused, but your confusion paled in front of Sunstreaker's once he noticed you were seated inside of Sideswipe, of course, that surprise changed quite quickly to disgust, or that's what you can decipher from his tone "you got the human, here, to our race".

Sunstreaker wasn't asking, just flat out stating the obvious, Sides just ignored his annoyance, or was trying to get a rise out of him, "I got my friend here, yeah" his engines revving, moving around inside his alt mode, everything seemed to stop when he twisted you inside of him, moving all that he was and putting a very scared and fascinated you on his driver seat, "and my friend is going to kick your tail lights".

Was it the first time Sideswipe used you as a way to enrage Sunstreaker? Well, not really, he seemed to do it frequently but more in the "you're here with me" than "you're with us".

No matter the case, Sunstreaker is fast to make you less than you already feel, "are you really letting the human ride you? Have you no shame?"

Was it the first time you heard something similar to amusement on Sunstreaker's voice? It seemed like it was that at least, it was difficult to read him, know the subtle way his tone would fluctuate, not really doing or showing much on alt mode; but Side's decision, even when you remind him you don't know how to ride a car yet, is proclaimed silently when his seat belt puts you in place, wheels moving fast while all Sunstreaker can do is vent in exasperation, his pretty, clean wheels move slowly, finally choosing to let his brother have this.

"Don't worry your pretty helm", Sides whispers, "I'll take care of him, just relax and enjoy the ride".

But Sunstreaker is Sideswipe's brother, and he shows it, while in different ways, as he pokes his brother's own ego, "Not even with a driver you would beat me", and so, all bets are on as you can only have so much little time to hold onto Sides' driver seat.

A few minutes after, it was total chaos.

It was another calm night, no decepticon activity, just some casual human doing what they called pickpocketing and what not, but his peace was cut short.

"We need enforcement! Two vehicles without plaques are-!", just in front of where Prowl was parked he saw two very familiar Lamborghinis, going full speed as the golden one heads first to full speed just to be tailed for the red one and then 2 police cabs all along he could hear a human screaming inside one of the cars, horror downed on him when, at least for slow clicks, he got a glimpse of the human that lingered close to the twins in a regular basis inside of the red Lambo, holding to his steering wheel for dear life, "-we need help! ANYONE THAT CAN HEAR ME! THESE FUCKERS AREN'T NORMAL! THEY DRIVE LIKE SOME POSSESSED SHITS!"

Prowl had just some moments to really try and understand what was happening, still under the stupor of the absolutely mess he just saw which was really bringing up some fragments of how Kaon was before the war, with all about the illegal street races done not only by speedsters, his computer did the math as he knew the Sporters twins were way more sturdy and able to do pretty bad damage with only opening a door in the worse timing.

Prospect of Designation: SIDESWIPE and Designation: SUNSTREAKER end up being captured: 0.56%

"IF NEEDED OPEN FIRE TO THE DRIVERS, SOMEONE STOP THEM"

Occurrence of Designation: SIDESWIPE and Designation: SUNSTREAKER react to the persecution with 12% of physical force: 2.08%, occurrence of Designation: SIDESWIPE reaction to dangerous factors directed to Human subject #4: 87% chances of physical protection to Human subject #4, probability of using lethal force: 31.4%.

Prowl only had a moment to think to himself before entering his internal communication, "Prime, we have a problem".

"What-"

"Someone was THREW from one car to the other, DON'T LET THEM GO!"

"These are parkour psychos, I'm telling you!"

Bullets in the distance made him grimace and the leader to ask if everything was fine, Prowl finally turned on his own lights and sirens, following the ruckus, hearing Sunstreaker shout in Kaonian things that would take him to the bridge for undefined time if Ultra Magnus was present, Prowl didn't need his tactical computer to know that the humans may have scratched him.

Prospect of Designation: SUNSTREAKER using physical force against the humans: 49%.

Just in cue, Prowl had to evade a flying police car and both twins from crashing him, Sideswipe winding, now being the one shouting obscenities and Sunstreaker driving backwards, the human now on the latter's cab, nursing poorly a leaking olfactory ridge with both hands over it, he tried to comm the twins, declined in every chance, both were overcharged ominously, their EMF showing off murderous intent for different reasons, and he could only count with Optimus to stop them from blowing everyone's cover or from exacting vengeance over the human, "make it two".

[drwernicke]

I started writing about Miles' feelings in this one-sided camerashipping AU where he's living with the Parks, but then I decided to explore Waylon's side of things as well, and it turned into something like a fic. So uh. I'll just put it down here?

_______________________________________ Miles feels like… what the fuck even is he anymore? Undead? He's a monster, certainly, and that monstrosity is useful, but he feels like a strange warped, mockery of his former self. There's a power in hosting the Walrider, but it comes at the cost of his humanity and he knows he's frightening to Waylon. He's always told himself he doesn't need anyone else, and bringing down Murkoff is what matters, but now that's what he's been locked into, there are no other options /at all/. It's what he's wanted, isn't it? He does want it. But he's also been through something he can't even begin to process, and being the Walrider's host is deeply violating on even the cellular level. But he's not allowed to process that either, because where does that lead? He can't stop it. He shouldn't even want to stop it. He's always been fine alone, he shouldn't want company now.

But still human or not, trauma is a powerful neurochemical. Waylon is the only other man who's been through the same hell, and he's also risked everything he has to bring down Murkoff. They're aligned in their goals and were both willing to risk everything. And Waylon's still human, he has a family who loves him. Miles isn't jealous, but it also drives home how definitively, unchangeably isolated he is now. He's never really been able to connect even with any of the men he'd dated in the past, simply because they weren't ever 100% politically aligned with him, or he found something about them offputting, they were too superficial, etc. Maybe he was making excuses because life was easier alone, and nobody would care about the world like he does. About the things he fucking gives a shit about, like children in third world countries not dying of dehydration. Too bad fucking Brad wanted to talk forever about the shitty coffee at 7/11 instead.

Miles knows he should be grateful for what he's become. But there's so much he misses, now that he can't have it ever -- and he supposes that at least shows he still has a human mind in some way, weak and stupid and flawed. If he's never wanted it, why does he mourn it now? Why does it feel like every time Waylon is kind to him, that his sanity is teetering on the edge of some awful precipice overlooking some awful abyss, at the bottom of which rests a beast known as resentment and violence?

Maybe he's taking everything he can't have, can no longer have, and projecting it on Waylon as a symbol for it all. But there had been a few moments in hell itself, perhaps in the administration block, when he'd wondered what their lives would be like if they survived this nightmare together. There's things you can't go through without it changing you fundamentally from the ground up, and then whether you want it or not, you're entangled with whoever else went through the meat grinder with you, like quantum states. Waylon has more commitment to setting right what he can of the world than any man Miles had ever been with. But Waylon Park is fucking alive, and Miles Upshur is a rotting corpse of a man held upright by a murderous nanohazard.

And the fucking punchline to the whole shitshow: Waylon Park has a wife, and two kids, and there was something comical in that the first crack in Miles' sense of self would be to latch onto a married man. He can tell Waylon's kindness is strained. And why the fuck wouldn't it be? He has a dead man living in his house, and that dead man is a weapon. You show kindness to the weapon, because you don't know if it'll kill you, or worse, make you feel guilty for indirectly killing what it was in the first place.

Most nights, Miles drinks enough coffee it would give him a heart attack if he still had a working heart, because he doesn't trust himself with REM sleep. _______________________________________

Not everyone goes through hell and brings the devil home.

It's not a kind thought, and Waylon hates it, but there's always a kernel of truth at the core of the operating system. Or something like that. Miles Upshur is great company, and most days, Waylon doesn't even think about the fact he's living with the Parks for their own protection. That feels reductive; Miles is far more than that. If it weren't for Miles, Waylon would have never returned to Lisa's arms, bloodied and broken, but whole. But this isn't just about what Miles has done for him, or what he can do for them. If it weren't for Waylon, Miles would have never ended up in Mount Massive. If it weren't for Waylon, Miles would still have his fingers. He does complain about it so often, always in the tones of gallows humor, but Waylon knows there's a deep hurt behind it.

If it weren't for Waylon, Miles would have never become the host.

But this isn't about gratitude or guilt. Miles is genuinely great to have around; he cooks breakfast sometimes. He walks around singing along badly to Madonna, the B-52's. He gets along great with the kids. He's shit at Mario Kart, but so is Waylon. When he, Waylon, and Lisa work together, compile notes and liaise and network with other anti-Murkoff operatives, Miles is efficient and determined on a level that inspires Waylon. He cracks jokes, he rips people to shreds, and it makes Waylon and Lisa laugh. He makes Waylon type up the reports because it takes him forever, and Waylon does so, guilt heavy in his heart.

But this isn't all about guilt.

Miles encourages him through his rehabilitation, as Waylon slowly gains sensation and stability in his leg. Miles likes shitty beer, and Waylon's learned not to complain too much about it. Sometimes--many sometimes--Miles screams in his sleep. The boys have learned to expect it. There's nothing conventional about their childhood, not anymore.

Waylon has learned not to look at Miles through the night vision of a camera.

When Simon Peacock emails them warnings of potential intruders, Miles stays watch like a guard hound, sipping another one of his shitty Pabst Blue Ribbons. On one of those nights, there are terrible screams, but they're not from Miles.

In his dreams, Waylon hears Lisa screaming, his boys, and finally, himself.

They are mutinous dreams. But more mutinous is the waking thought that Miles sometimes lingers in his presence. He always looks away when Waylon looks, and it makes Waylon wonders if he's accidentally fostering something far worse than a monster. But Waylon knows he has his own trauma to work though; he sees attraction where there is none, and wouldn't it make sense to fear something that already elicits fear in most?

Someone. Not something.

There was the time his eldest had cut his hand playing, and Waylon had been so afraid of what in the air could seep into his blood.

He worries himself sick about Lisa. All those phantom pregnancies.

In the early morning, Miles is painstakingly typing away on his laptop, seated at the breakfast table. The sun's rising, warm golden light streaming in through the windows, and Waylon has no doubt Miles has been up all night; the scent of coffee hangs heavy in the air. Waylon wonders if Miles needs, or even wants, to sleep anymore.

Waylon doesn't know what Miles is, aside from on a purely codified level. He doesn't know what Miles wants, aside from on a purely ideological level.

He pours himself a cup of coffee, and wonders what he's breathing in.

[writing-whump]

Hurt leg

Hector's hurt after a fight with a wolf pack. His estranged brother Isaiah happens upon him. Reluctant comfort, broken leg, emeto out of pain, angsty reunion.

Hector was glad he was alone.

There were tons of things he had to deal with upon his return to the city. Many packs who have gotten ideas, while he was away. Conflicts his pack wasn’t sure to start, but that he could put a very quick end to. The first night he got back, he had already visited two pack leaders.

The confrontation today marked the third. He didn’t take anyone with him. As a show of strength, that he wasn’t afraid of bad odds and uneven numbers.

And a little out of concern that someone might see him like this.

The fight was vicious, physical and over quickly. If Hector didn’t have such excellent control over his shadow, it might have been worse, but he could heal himself with unrivaled speed. So it didn’t really matter how badly he got slashed with other powerful shadows. Not having to worry about getting hit gave him an edge in battles like these.

Except maybe he had a bit overboard tonight. His shadow healed all the slashes that would have been mortal - the one over his throat, the hit to his spine, the one that almost ripped off his arm from the shoulder down. 

As it happened, it was out of capacity for healing today. 

And his leg was very much still bleeding and broken. Hector couldn’t stand on it without agonizing pain shooting through him. Afraid he would black out, he limped his way to a nearby bench and resolved to spend the night in the park. It was alright. He was alone, it was calm and cold. His shadow would likely regenerate enough until morning that he could show up back at his pack’s central unbothered and healed, bringing news of victory that would only solidify his position as branch leader in the city. 

Uncle Grayson had been reluctant to give him command here, despite the perks the branch extension would have for the pack. Hector knew it was because of Isaiah’s presence. All the more reason to prove himself capable and unbeatable as quickly as possible. 

Hector leaned against the wood of the bench, careful not to jostle his leg. The wound didn’t look so bad, hidden under his jeans. It bled only a little on the back, and that wouldn’t be visible to humans in the dark. He felt the break though, the pain was pulsing through him with every heartbeat. At least it was in the right position, not sticking out in any weird angles.

Hector didn’t risk closing his eyes. Checking his phone, he found messages from Delaney that bordered on concerned. He typed a quick reassurance that everything went according to plan and ordered her to leave him alone. She was his second in the pack, but he didn’t want her around any more than he did anyone else. Maybe more than that.

His senses prickled with a new presence. Someone was coming in his direction.

Hector straightened up on the bench, stretching out his good leg and leaning against his elbow, like he was simply relaxing. If this was a human, it wouldn't matter, but a wolf could smell the blood. Well. He had enough of foreign blood on him that would probably mask his own. What an unexpected advantage of this night.

The figure appeared from the shadows at a slow pace. Unhurried. Without raising his exhausted shadow, he couldn't tell if it was a wolf or not until he was closer. 

The figure came closer, a long black coat flapping behind. Black slightly wavy hair was longer than Hector remembered, framing his face in an unruly way. The comb and gel were missing, though the suit was still the same. Leave it to Isaiah to never leave without his suit on. 

Jesus Christ. Just my luck. 

It truly couldn't have been a worse person to witness him in such a weak state. 

Not weak. Just unseemly. Hector wasn't weak and he wouldn't be intimidated.

"Hello, brother," Hector said with as much disdain and mocking as he could. Isaiah was a joke of a brother and Hector liked to remind both of them of that fact.

Isaiah said nothing, regarding him carefully. Hector immediately felt irritated by the silent judgment sweeping over him. The bloody splotches of his enemies on his shirt. The rips in his leather jacket. He couldn't have moved his injured leg if he tried, not even bothering to identify the exact place of the break. It simply hurt all over and blindingly so if he tried to stand. 

Hector crossed his arms over his chest. "Well? All done? Cause now you can hurry along. Nothing for you to see."

Isaiah's face was completely devoid of any emotion. "Do you want my phone? To call someone?"

Hector gave him a disbelieving look. "And what for?"

He had gone alone to fight the troublesome pack. He had overdone it and he would not call anyone to help him with a mistake or temporary weakness. He couldn't just as much as he wouldn't. Weakness was not something wolves allowed and not something the Wolfson pack would forgive. 

Hector was sure that was obvious even to Isaiah. They grew up in the same pack after all. 

"You are pushing yourself too hard. Again," Isaiah said.

"I fail to see how that's any business of yours. You don't belong to our pack anymore." 

Isaiah said nothing. 

Hector scoffed. He wished for a reaction. He wanted a pained wince, shock, anger, anything. Anything that would show what his brother was thinking. How much he regretted leaving, how hard it was on his own. 

Hector dreamed of following Isaiah into the city since he left. Leading his own branch and showing him how he succeeded him, how he would replace him as the next leader. He wanted to bask in Isaiah's misery, that surely came with being a lone wolf. No one would choose that fate willingly. 

Instead, Isaiah had seemed stronger, not weaker for his experiences, famous all over town as the wolf who didn't need a pack to get by, to be important and solve every argument. 

Now Hector was hearing he moved in with a wolf and a witch. They didn't call themselves a pack, not yet, but Hector didn't think they were far from it. It was an obvious move, an obvious betrayal of Isaiah's promise and just made Isaiah's leaving all the worse.

"Can't someone pick you up?" Isaiah asked, his gaze sliding to Hector's leg. How did he know, damn it all?

"I'm fine. Just a few hours until dawn and I will go back on my own." Just a bit of time for his shadow to recover and heal him. If admitting this helped get Isaiah off his back, then so be it. 

Isaiah gave him a long look and then stepped closer, offering his hand.

Hector glared at it as if it was a deadly viper about to bite him. "I don't need your help." 

"Yes, you do. Come on. My car is close by." 

"I'm fine on my own."

"It's 1 in the morning. If someone comes across you, you will make an easy target. Don't make such a drama out of it. Anyone sensible would have accepted help by now." Isaiah said, hand still in the air. "It won't change anything between us," he added quietly. 

Hector growled at him, flushing at Isaiah's words. Then he relented, uncoiling his hands and motioning for Isaiah to get closer. "Just to your car." 

Isaiah jumped into action immediately, sliding his arm around Hector's back and arm. "Lean on me," he commanded, hoisting him up.

Hector clenched his jaw, but Isaiah did hold his weight securely. He pushed himself up with his good leg, letting the other hang limply in the air, not touching. This way, maybe he could function. 

"Why the sudden urge to help?" Hector asked, his own arm wrapped around Isaiah, grabbing a fistful of his coat. 

"Don't flatter yourself. I would have helped anyone."

Hector clicked his teeth in annoyance and hurt. "Go somewhere and die already."

Isaiah only chuckled at that, unfazed. 

They made their way through the park, Hector's hurt leg hanging between their encircled arms. Hector hopped a bit awkwardly, but they were making progress, so he didn't complain. 

It wasn't until they turned the corner and left the sidewalk, that his hurt leg grazed against the asphalt. The road was lower than the park ground and neither of them noticed in their effort not to look at each other. 

The tiny pressure from the tip of his foot shot up his leg, jostling the break around the knee. Hector's breath caught in his throat in surprise and then the shock of the pain razed through him like lightning. He shut his eyes, trying not to scream through his clenched teeth.

"Sorry, sorry," Isaiah whispered in his ear, readjusting his grip. 

Hector tightened his grip on Isaiah's coat, but the white-hot pain made his whole body shudder, sparks exploding in front of his eyes. He couldn't form thoughts, he couldn't control anything, the world disappeared in pain, titling backward.

Isaiah cursed, his hold tightening as he stood between Hector and the gravity. And good thing he didn't let go. Hector pitched to the side instead, stomach jumping into his throat and shooting out of his mouth.

He couldn't stop himself and he didn't care. Only gradually, as the world came back into focus did he feel the dripping liquid on his lips. A puddle of whitish vomit formed under him. Hector blinked at it in confusion, before he felt the rest of it in his mouth and spat it out on the pavement in repulsion. 

"Sorry. Just a minute longer and you can lie down," Isaiah said, something urgent entering his voice for the first time. 

Hector looked up at him, his stomach flipping angrily. He swallowed, trying to hold it at bay now that the pain was subsiding. Isaiah squeezed his arm and pushed him into a vertical position again.

Hector gave up all pretense of toughness after that, looking only down at his leg, afraid of anything that could touch it again. 

So he didn't notice, when Isaiah suddenly stopped to get his keys out, opening the front door of a building he never saw before.

"Where is your car?" Hector asked weakly. The pain waves always came with such heat he was sweaty all over. 

"At its parking place, as always," Isaiah said nonchalantly, opening the entrance door with one hand awkwardly to shuffle Hector inside. 

They took the elevator up to Isaiah's apartment. Hector was too tired and sweaty and gross to question it. The pain made him so helpless and panicked with the mere possibility of returning he didn't care to argue. It could hardly be any worse anyway.

Isaiah brought him inside, not bothering to take off his shoes in favour of positioning Hector on the couch in the living room. Hector sighed in relief at being able to finally sit, leaning against the cushion and closing his eyes. The nausea was still there, rising and ebbing with no rhythm whatsoever and he was trying to breathe through it.

He opened his eyes only as he felt Isaiah unlacing the shoe on his good leg before inspecting the injured one.

"No. Don't touch it," Hector said through gritted teeth, face going white.

"Do you want to put it up?" Isaiah pointed to the empty space on the couch beside Hector. 

"I can't stretch it. It's the knee." Even adjusting to sit was jostling it enough to make Hector's breath hitch. He buried his hands into the couch beside him, curling his fingers.

"I'll get you some painkillers for it," Isaiah said gently. He gripped his shoulder again before leaving.

Hector wanted to glare at those casual touches that his older brother had no reasonable excuse for. Except he disappeared out of his sight, which Hector didn't like at all. Isaiah's measured calmness was steadying and his judgmental perfection made Hector hold onto the remnants of his composure. He was afraid he would crumble without it.

Wolves ought not to be good with pain, since their shadows carried their injuries. Hector had gone overboard and asked too much of his shadow more than most, but even he wasn't used to such prolonged pain. His breathing was getting fast with the strain, as if we were running and it was making the nausea stronger.

Then Isaiah returned, holding a glass of water and two white pills. Hector refocused on him, feeling his face going lax immediately. 

"Wolves don't use painkillers," Hector said angrily, reaching for the pills. He could wait out the pain till morning and be up and about as if nothing had happened.

Isaiah watched him with a small amused smile. "Obviously they don't need it." 

Hector rolled his eyes, swallowed the pills and grinned back at him. 

"What's going on here?" A new voice joined. Hector turned his head to catch the sight of a girl with long blond hair, a thick woolen sweater over her shoulders. 

"Hey. Nothing much. Just my brother came for a visit." Isaiah stood beside the couch, hands in his pockets, obviously trying to look unconcerned. 

The girl's eyes widened as if that was the first time she even heard Isaiah had a brother. Hector rolled his eyes again. That actually wouldn't have been surprising. 

"So you must be the witch," Hector said, straightening up. It was a welcome distraction. And she obviously was, for the smell of ozone and jasmine coming off of her. 

"No, this is Seline," Isaiah said chidingly.

The girl turned to him abruptly and then gave him a dazzling smile. Isaiah's face softened at the sight so visibly Hector frowned. That was way more emotion than he was ever allowed to see. So a witch touchy about being introduced as one? He had never seen that either. Witches were always proud creatures, angry at anything mundane that threatened to distract them from their magic. They wore the term as a title. 

Even if they become a pack, it will be one of weirdos. 

He let out a deep breath, leaning back again. The pain was becoming duller and he actually felt sleepy now. It still surprised him that after all these years and unfinished grudges between them, Isaiah's presence still put him at ease that way. 

He was not in the mood to fight it. Just for today.

@bellysoupset

[dani-luminae]

Thinking about Haley in Phoenix's Heirs (and even the future of her main canon stories) and her popularity as a rockstar. I have thoughts I don't know will ever make it into the story, but (inspired by some theme park attractions, general headcanons and stuff)

When Aerosmith was retired from Rock'n Roller Coaster at DHS, Haley was the replacement. At least one of the songs she recorded for the attraction was a tribute medley to the previous band, who had been one of her favorites growing up. Rock'n Roller Coaster is as a result one of Hadley and Blaise's favorite attractions at Walt Disney World, and not just because they get immediate front-of-the-line privileges for it.

It was a surprise when Universal contacted Haley to ask if she wanted to be a part of their yearly Halloween Horror Nights event. She happily agreed (she loved a good scare just as much as family-friendly fun) and recorded a brand new song for the new house which would be based off of it; telling a story of a talented musician who made a deal for fame with some powerful entity, in return for a thousand human souls offered in sacrifice. This was the plot of the haunted house, claiming that Haley was throwing a "charity concert" but it was actually a ploy to lure in souls to be sacrificed, and so the guests had to "escape" various creatures and even "Haley" herself trying to capture them and kill them. (Funnily enough this entity may or may not have been implied to be Hades)

(Haley had to train about twenty actresses on how to portray her in this haunted house. It was fun, and Hadley helped)

Haley has no problem shouting at the paparazzi and is very protective of her family

She has a PR manager of course, and they get along well, but there are days when she stresses him out a lot. He takes frequent vacations (which Haley encourages). Haley doesn't care to be online much herself or have social media accounts, though she's very vocal about this in interviews.

Politics is tricky for her. She thinks her music speaks for itself, especially when it comes to rebelling against authority, but of course she also has the problem where the wrong people (fascists, idiots, that lot) think her music is an anthem against "government tyranny" (read: social programs, etc.) And she's never one to mince her words to tell those people that they're deeply wrong

She is, however, vocal about telling people to participate in government at all levels - local, state, government. That's what it's there for.

She has argued with her agent, Janes, to take her "world tour" to more than just the usual "USAmerica and maybe a few European cities" route that so many world tours end up being. So far she's succeeded in taking her show to Rio de Janeiro and Tortola. She's still arguing for more and wearing him down with sheer insistence.

For a short while her record label did try "pairing" her with a male colleague, a fellow rockstar stage-named Octavian Roksolana. They appeared at concerts together, and interviews, and Haley got the feeling that the label was trying to pass them off as a 'couple'. Octavian, however, wasn't into romance, and Haley wasn't into him, so it went nowhere, and the label gave up after a couple of months. She sharply warned them not to try it again.

That being said, Haley and Octavian are still friends and like to send postcards if their careers take them anywhere interesting. He got to go to Athens for a concert and she was jealous.

[the-wizard-writes]

URBAN FANASTY WORLD-BUILDING LONG POST// The People who built our city... Literally!

Lunch atop a Skyscraper: September 20th 1932, This photo was taken up-top on a skyscraper with the help of an unnamed giant construction worker by C.C E. (allius) The photographer was said to balanced on the giants shoulder to take the photo. Giants have been apart of the American construction, infrastructure and architecture since the beginning of the late 1800's and early 1900's. Large species such as orcs, cyclops and ogres have used their size to help humans and non-large folk to carry large objects such as lumber and other material to create structures. However, species exceeding 9ft tall [Half-giant, and giants] were not very common within the more populated areas of America. Most giants in the early days were considered a rarity. They lived in the mountains like some of their European counterparts as well as some more magically inclined giants living in the clouds cloaked in magic to hide their existence. The first "modern" giant within history that made contact with humans is usually stated as being Paul Bunyan. Paul Bunyan is the first giant to live within a human/non-large folk due to being raised by a human and witch couple. Even though that was the case he is still considered to be one of the first pioneers of construction work and the relationship between giants and humans in a professional sense. Giants due to their large size can care 20x more than a orc or even an ogre thus, large scale projects such as sky scrapers, oil rigs and windmills are installed more safely. During the late 1930's through the 50's when infostructure in America really boomed more giant-folk were being contracted for labor to help out in building cities and buildings. At the times these were a spectacle to behold by regular people. Seeing a being 200x your size lift a 400IB beam with only a finger and hold it like a stick is amazing. Thus, tons of buildings at the time were built with the help of giants and some of the buildings still stand till this day. Thus, nowadays there is at least maybe one giant working with one construction sight. In modern times, giants have branched out from just physical labor within construction and architecture but, they also are a huge help in search and rescue operations. Many wildlife rangers and park rangers have enlisted the help of giants to help with mountain and mudslide recuses which has helped significantly in time and efficiency when finding people.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for singlehandedly ruining my brother's life with my complacency?

For context, I (20NB) was frequently psychologically tormented by an entity that takes the form of a forest/state park near my town (no clue how old it is or if it has a gender) for a few years when I was a teenager, and once it had eroded my humanity enough it turned me into an extension of its power. It let me keep my free will, if you choose to believe in things like that, so when I was eighteen I fled to a different state under the guise of going to college, hoping that distancing myself would weaken the entity's grip on me. It didn't, but at least I was 600 miles away from it now, and I made sure to keep myself isolated from everyone else at college so I couldn't hurt them.

Fast-forward to last January. After two years at college, I found out about a kind of... medication, we'll call it, that I thought would loosen the entity's grip on me. The medicine functions by fogging over your memories of supernatural things existing, inducing a sort of... weaponized executive dysfunction, for lack of a better phrase? Anyway, that stops you from acting on your knowledge, which exploits the fact that these sorts of entities don't care about much other than how people who know they exist choose to act on this information- so, if you're physically unable to act on your knowledge they exist (which you barely remember anyway), they can't affect you. After giving the medication a trial run, I went back to my hometown to visit my brother N (17M).

Since I'm not all that human anymore, I found out early on that the entity retained its hold on me and was able to pull me back towards the state park even when I was medicated, but it never did anything once it'd got me there, so I got cocky and figured it must not be capable of affecting me past that. Plus, the entity had never done anything to anyone but me before, at least not that I knew of, so I'd spent years figuring I was its only victim and getting complacent because of that... and if it did finally kill me one of those times, I honestly think I would've welcomed it. Things were fine at first, though the entity somehow managed to break down the medication's effects once or twice, and I got to feel like a normal person again for the first time since middle school. But after a few weeks, the entity broke through the medicine's effects again and revealed to me that its real target had been N the whole time. That was why it kept pulling me back to the state park while the medicine was preventing me from consciously realizing what a bad idea that was: it wanted to get ahold of N, who I'd been bringing with me the whole time like an idiot because I still thought I was the entity's sole target. To make matters worse, when it told me this it was referring to N with the same kind of title it'd given me, which I knew it wouldn't have done if it wasn't absolutely sure I wouldn't be able to remove its influence from him.

I panicked and rushed N back to his car, which was when I had the idea that maybe if I overdosed him on the medication I'd been using, he'd go from mere brain fog to outright amnesia. I was still panicking and didn't take the time to think that idea through, so I just tackled N, shoved a bunch of my pills down his throat, and ran. I was too afraid of what I might see if I stuck around to make sure he was okay long-term (I guess it was kind of a Schrodinger's cat mentality or something?), so I went back to college and tried to pretend none of it happened. I did keep an eye on the news from our town and didn't see anything alarming, and that was enough that I could lie to myself that maybe N was miraculously fine.

N did end up forgetting the time I'd spent back in our hometown as planned, but I forgot to account for the fact that he'd been recording videos during almost all of the times we went to the state park, wanting to use them as B-roll for a film class project. He didn't even make it a month before finding those recordings on his camera and starting to piece things together on his own, during which his mental health and personal life started falling apart for obvious reasons. (He also started getting intermittently stalked by an unrelated entity during this time, but it's more a pest than anything else, I've already got plans for disposing of it.) Once I found out about all this, I came back to our hometown to clear things up for N, especially making sure he was aware that all of it was my fault: I wasn't about to pretend I'd been controlled by the entity the whole time or something, he deserved the whole truth. I'm pretty sure he's only tolerating my presence now because he needs my knowledge about how supernatural things work. It hurts, but it's not like I was expecting him to take it well, so I'm not planning to stick around once I've made sure he knows everything he needs to.

That's everything important. The answer seems pretty obvious, if you ask me, but... AITA?

[invisiblegarters]

23.5 Episode 6

Halfway mark, here we come!

Last ep, Ongsa almost told Sun the truth about Earth but then bottled it like we all knew she would, and Sun was kinda dumb. Sorry not sorry but if someone just sent me a package to a random park I would have some questions.

Meanwhile Aylin was getting picked on for the crime of being herself and that did not sit well with Luna, who offered to be a safe space for her and then got very very bashful about it and it was the cutest. Aylin then wondered if she could feel human emotions and it was also the cutest.

Alpha is still a great big sis and cousin. Only "normal" one or not, that girl cares a lot about her family. If she also hooks up with a girl in this I might cry tears of joy.

Lol poor Aylin being pushed into interaction again. Or bribed. But Aylin veggies are delicious I don't know if I can get behind this part of you, lol.

Okay I think I might officially be over the Earth thing. I think it's because there's not enough conflict for Sun between her feelings for Earth and her feelings for Ongsa. I'm not getting enough of a Bruce Wayne v. Batman vibe and that was what I was most looking forward to.

Oh Ton. You were doing so well.

Lol my god did Ton just discover gay people exist? If he were less of a himbo I'd be madder about it. But as it is, he's just too dumb to be really mad at. Like a giant pretty puppy.

Oh Aylin no. But also it's sweet she trusts Luna that much. And she's lucky in that I don't think Luna has a mean bone in her entire body. Still. Not your secret, babe. That said, have more cute moments with Luna. Please.

Mawin's crush is adorable.

Open your mouth and use your words, Ongsa, that's how you tell her. Because when she finds out on her own it'll be worse.

Hahahaha oh man I don't mean to laugh but Sun, babe. They don't mean that he's not as attractive as you imagine. They mean that he's not even a he to begin with. Although in this case that's probably going to be a plus, lbr.

She's not gonna confess in front of people, Dear lord girls get it together.

Hahaha Aylin. Sun really is the most oblivious thing ever though, can she not see how strangely everyone else is acting?

Aw I knew Luna would find her way to sleeping in Aylin's room. Just accept she likes you, Aylin.

AAAAH THEY ARE SO CUTE.

Aw I think Luna finally won her over completely. I swear I want to have things to say besides aaaaaaaw but well. They're too cute, the cuteness kills me. I am only human here.

It is probably that I am watching The Eclipse with a friend but I swear, sometimes this show reminds me of that one. Like Ongsa very clearly thinking the idea of angry Sun is hot. If you know, you know.

Spit. It. Out. Ongsa.

Ugh it is so frustrating watching her bottle it and bottle it and bottle it. I am not like that as a person so I just want to grab her shoulders and give them a good shake.

Oh thank god. Not sorry, I'm ready for some fallout already.

I am not mad at Ongsa. I want to say that right up front. But also, girl. All Sun was asking for was an explanation. At least give her that before running off.

Well that was quick. But well. I think we all knew Sun would be like that. Genuinely I wish I could be more like her. Maybe not the total obliviousness to things around me, but she's so positive and lovely and I...am not. I felt the same way about Sand's ridiculous patience and gentleness in OF. I have no clue what it must be like to be able to do that.

You know I'm more like Ongsa lol. Except for the not facing things head on thing. Optimism is not my default state lol.

Sun girl. You might have not registered your friends' shock that you were into a guy, but I haven't. You and Ongsa will do just fine.

[seokjinsonlyone]

BTS Baby-daddy discussion:

I love that you opened this discussion because I have thought about this far too much and am stoked to share my take:

First of all, your reasons and assessment were highly sound.

Secondly, for my baby-daddy I choose Yoongi.

So, non-idol AU he's still a producer. And probably a rapper. I'm so certain he would have still taken that path and made it (though probably with less notoriety). He would be a lower-key celebrity who had more time for things like family and could still show his face at the local park without causing a riot. I also feel that provided he surrounded himself with good people like he did in BTS, he would have eventually still become the very healthy version of himself that he is today. That being said, why do I choose him? Okay, yes, he's my bias and I will probably be single forever because I'm practically in love with him, but also I have two major reasons:

He would be an amazing father. He would be loving, and nurturing, and committed, and responsible. Everything I've ever heard him say about his probable parenting style has sent me straight into the deep end of delululand. And even if he wasn't your romantic partner, he would still be a wonderful person to co-parent with because he's just so fucking respectful and so desirous to understand others and exist well alongside them. I also feel like he's the smartest financially, and your child would never want for anything, no matter the state of global economics.

ALSO, I am convinced that he is most likely to fall for his baby-mama under the domestic circumstances of co-parenting. I feel like as opposed to some of the other guys, learning he was going to be a parent wouldn't be a frustration to him for more than a second. I feel like he would be really happy and excited regardless of the circumstances, especially after the baby was born. The man lives to serve others, and he's soft as hell. He would be so in love with that little baby. He also cares a lot about character, and if his baby-mama was a loving mother and he was in this co-parenting circumstance with her, I think he would fall fast and hard. He's a sentimental sap at his core. I'd give him one Chuseok with his little unplanned fam and it would be game over.

Now who would I least want as a baby-daddy? Jungkook.

Jungkook, non-idol AU is probably a pro-gamer or an athlete. I'm gonna go with professional athlete. In this universe, even if he's surrounded by people who ground him, he's a lot more cocky and self-absorbed. The man is gorgeous and good at everything. He'd have women eating out of his hand and no idol-culture rules cramping his style. I think he'd be kind of a mess.

Again, I have two major reasons besides him being less adjusted as a human:

At this point he seems like he's still growing up and learning to care for himself. I don't think he'd be prepared to care for a child. I think he would feel like his youth was cut short a bit, which, hey, I would understand. I feel like he would would think of his pre-baby days as the "glory days" and refer to them as such. I think he would love his child, but I think it would be a struggle for him to adjust to the parenting lifestyle. I think as a mothering co-parent in the situation it would sometimes (oftentimes) be like having two kids you had to keep track of.

Also: emotional whiplash. Jungkook is a flirty flirty flirt. He is also a romantic at heart. I think he'd be the kind of guy to lead you on, even if he didn't intend to. He'd always see you as a maybe and he'd blur those lines as often as he was allowed. He'd be the type to be carousing around the country and then come visit for Christmas and have you wrecking a good solid relationship you were in by ending up in bed with you because you're always gonna wish it would stick, that he would want you for keeps, that he would stay. Like, I get Christopher Hayden from Gilmore Girls vibes from this mine and that shit would fucking destroy me.

Anyway, this was way too much fun and please excuse the novel I just wrote 😅 😅 😅

I love your delulu hours! 💜

OH???? MY GOSH??????? i'm not even gon lie i may be a bit more neurotic bc i am one with mother nature rn but this made me shed a tear LSKCLSDK LIKE??????? OH???? MY GOSH?????? i agree with you completely you have completely convinced me in both directions like 100% see where you're coming from on all sides you made me think of some things i can't even write down here bc i need it to be in the build a bridge prequel i will someday actually get into AND THEN JK OH LORD THE EMOTIONAL WHIPLASH PART LIKE YO UARE SOOOOOO RIGHT BESTIE LIKE HAVING YOU ON THE HOOK ALWAYS i just this is making me so much crazier than i already am you got me flying to my wips fr so many thoughts SOOOO many of them GENUINELY i thank you for this contribution please stop by with thoughts of this nature as often as you wish

[fairy-lights-and-blobs]

You know how, in so many AU's Danny is comprised of mostly sentient goo?

Unfortunately my brain kinda latched onto the BNHA Queen Been thing.

But instead of a parasitic relationship, Danny finds an exhausted, injured bee queen (probably being chased down by a lone wasp or something), and thinking how most people would kill the poor thing when he KNOWS it can still live, he just opens a honeycomb in his shoulder, plops the bee in there, and off he goes to school.

Because school stops for no sleep-deprived teen hero.

Later on, and after trying to draw it out with honey, lo and behold, his Core has bonded to the little bug. He can tell her state disturbingly accurately, and how relieved his new tenant is that this gentle giant blessed her with shelter and food.

Maybe, Bee can stay? Bee make honey, and Giant Friend keep Bee safe?

In his current state as a newly-dead Baby Ghost, Danny's Core has yet to settle in it's true and final manifestation. It studies and mimics the bee, and the little workers that come curiously poking at Danny to investigate. Bee does as bees do, and now Danny's very happy about his Sentient Goo composition, because he knows for a fact that humans would NOT be ok with being a walking beehive, even if his Core is always happily purring with every little buzz his new friends send out to him when they come and go.

Jazz is...concerned. Her little brother's eyes have little flecks of gold in them now, and his nails have started tinging black at the base. And he's always...buzzing? And always attracting bees. There's always at least one bee on him, usually hiding in his hair, although she thinks she's seen one crawl under his shirt and not come out until way later.

Every single beekeeper in the city takes one look at Phantom, and his slowly changing form, and start leaving bee care stuff as offerings to the dead child guardian of the city, and manuals on proper beekeeping practices, and bee behaviours. Edd, on the farm up North saw the poor boy, with a shiny new beekeeper's suit held up by too-big boots and a hastily tied belt, run a typical beeline path over the orchard, and then stop confused, hovering in the air and chittering at a little swarm of his new bee friends, and took it upon himself to wave down the boy to teach him some of his own years of experience.

The first time the Fentons try to chase down the Ghost Boy in front of the beekeepers, they get sat down amidst frankly terrifying farmers of all genders and backgrounds, and get a good, stern talking-to about what kind of damage they're doing to that poor boy. "He's the literal Guardian of Beekind, and you're out here threatening to shoot him?!?!?"

Sam is very happy about this. Her friend is living his best bee life, and connecting with his hive. Truly, his mind is abuzz with theories. She's never seen him bee so eager to study something, like he is to learn more about bee-ing a living hive. Tucker would rather they DIDN'T pun about the little fuzzy menaces, but he's happy that they're happy.

Just...the Fenton parents going past the park, and seeing their son whistle, and a swarm of bees lift from his hair and under his shirt, to buzz happily over the flowers Sam's conjuring, with whatever piece of Undergrowth's powers that her body processed and assimilated for itself.

They go back home.

The portal is turned off for the first time in too long.

There's a shadow on the back wall of the tunnel. It's in a shape they know too well. The handprint that was charred over the dreaded button (and why was it even in there? They're scouring every blueprint and theory, evey wild stray though that got scribble down. Even the little drawing their kids made on the edges of the blueprint paper), and have a Disturbing Realization. Except there's no actual human matter in there, asides from some black and white hairs that were caught in a slightly loose panel when, they assume, their boy bumped into the frame of the portal when crawling out of it.

It's...well, the result are a statistic impossibility. They're horrifying to look at, and even just this much proves so much...wrong...their little boy is a ghost, in some capacity, and he's made friends with bees. Jazz gets the dubious honor of sadly holding her parents as they break down.

A month later, and Danny quietly walks into the lab, sees a properly warded and secured portal, and sighs in relief as he presents Mom and Dad (and he's been so terrified that they wouldn't want to be Mom and Dad anymore if they knew...) with a little test vial sample of...red honey?

Danny says it's Blood Blossom honey with the brightest grin, while his parents have flashbacks to the first Moment of Clarity in the portal. Their boy is playing with such dangerous things that could kill him, and he doesn't even know it!!!

Meanwhile, Danny's Core had to adapt to sustain bee life. Instead of whatever wonderful rainbow marble Frostbite was expecting it to become, it has started turning into a little honeycomb piece, with every slot coloured for the powers he's developed against and/or copied off his foes (perhaps, even, straight up stole them? Little bee friends that steal bits of ectoplasm from the Ghosts to feed to Danny's Core, like how the workers will feed the Queen honey?).

It has learned Plant and Not Plant, and has decided that it needs to be Immune To Plant to make better honey.

Danny's happy, bright grin is a big contrast to his horrified parents. They're all going to have a big laugh about it later on. But right now?

Right now, Danny's telling his parents that, after sticking a fork in an outlet, baby has decided to drink bleach!!!!!!

They're...in a panic. Danny's getting shaken like a pepper shaker. His bee friends are...not happy, but the Baby Sentient Goo that makes up their Giant Host whispers that Mama is worried and Papa is scared Baby will die fully.

Jazz would just like them to stop screaming and think...

Danny taps his now fully black nails together while he has to explain himself on why in his brain did he THINK it was ok to eat Blood Blossom honey?!?!?!? Blinks adorable golden-blue eyes at his still slightly haggard parents, and whines that he got curious about what it tasted like. Then proceeds to present a whole case study on how his Core adapted to process the honey version of Blood Blossom nectar and make it safe for Ghosts to eat.

He doesn't tell them about the mangled flowers in the backyard. No, that's for Maddie to wake up at 3 in the morning and see the bee version of Mothman hunched over her freesias, munching on the flowers like and staring at her with sleepy golden eyes.

.

.

.

Danny gets sprayed with water like an unruly cat.

Then in the morning is presented with his own special spot of yard to plant all kinds of flowers that he likes.

Which he tests...by going to the park and chewing on one flower of each species available.

There's A Lot of types to try.

His ghostly tastebuds interpret classic poison as "spicy"...Jazz will never again see foxglove in the same way.

(as a matter of fact, there's a pretty worrying amount of fox gloves where I grew up, and they're just...there. No one's going to touch them, but they're out in the open, especially around the exposed parts of a little stream that runs through the city, so I wouldn't be that surprised to see Danny also gets his hands on some of them)

(This is mostly rambles and stream-of-consciousness thoughts, so uhhhh...enjoy my scatterbrained ideas?)

Danny Phantom AU where he’s a beekeeper

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: For The Greater Good.

Commissioned by the very lovely, very patient @meri47.

Pairing: Yandere!Batman x F. Reader (DC).

Word Count: 2.5k.

TW: Implied Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Physical and Emotional Abuse, Codependence, Slight Infantilization, Mentions of Blood/Violence.

You used to pass the Wayne Manor every day, twice a day. For your commute.

You never really thought about it. You were a transplant in Gotham, an outsider who never quite made yourself into anything but an outside, but it was cheaper to live outside of the city, and safer, and you didn’t mind the drive, a little over an hour, mostly on roads devoid of all other signs of life and tunnels with bright yellow lights and dirty grey tiles. You liked how quiet it was, considered it a break before the bumper-to-bumper traffic, and you liked the Wayne Manor, too, tall and sprawling, distorted by acres of trees and foliage but no less imposing for its distance. You liked the way it glowed at night, how welcoming it seemed compared to your tiny, run-down apartment.

Imagining what it looked like beyond the gates, inside of those ancient brick walls, was one of your guiltier pleasures, but you’d always written it off as a harmless fantasy, a meaningless daydream. You never thought you’d actually get to step across its threshold, to be allowed to explore all of the winding halls and dust-covered, forgotten rooms you were sure it had. You never thought you’d actually be invited inside, much less find the confidence or the time to accept that invitation.

You never thought you’d have to fight so hard just to leave, again.

You were bleeding. You could feel it, dripping down your arms, over your hands, staining the shards of glass still stuck in your fist, your forearm, your bicep. The cuts hurt, stung, burnt, but the adrenaline dulled the pain, and you’d gotten used to swallowing this kind of thing, blocking it out until you had time to take care of the lesions properly. You should go to the hospital, after this, have professionals note down every scar, every scrape, every lasting injury, but you pushed down the temptation, smothering it before it could manage to rise to the surface. Hospitals were public, loud, crowded, and more often than not, funded with generous donations made by some fabricated branch of Wayne Enterprises. You were better off spending as little time in Gotham as possible, finding a city he didn’t have such a vice-grip on and looking for help, there.

It was all you could do to give yourself the small luxury of pulling over, taking momentary refuge in a near-empty parking lot on the outskirts of the city. It was one of Bruce’s cars, the keys stolen from the pocket of a jacket one of his pet-projects had been careless enough to leave where you could get your hands on it, but you tried to ignore the polished leather, the symbols on the dashboard you didn’t recognize, focusing on your arm, instead, on picking out the more noticeable shards while you thought about what you had to do, next. You should’ve taken cash, too, enough to buy a plane ticket, or enough gas to get you over the state line. You didn’t have family in Gotham, but you had friends, here or there, some close enough to maybe, maybe, maybe believe you, if you made up a lie that didn’t involve billionaires and obsessive fixations. Something with an abusive ex-boyfriend, or…

You heard something, in the background. Footsteps, almost too light to be human, then a slow, quiet hissing.

You had a hand on the gearshift and a foot on the gas by the time the door swung open, something latching onto your hair, dragging you out of the car entirely and onto the cement, below.

“What the hell were you thinking?” It was Dick’s voice. You would’ve known it anywhere, despite the harsh, stifled whisper he’d taken on. He sounded angry, which made sense. You’d lied, destroyed property, stolen a car. You’d tried to run away, and he hadn’t been able to stop you. Not for a few hours, at least. Not quickly enough to deny it ever happened. “Do you know how worried he is? Do you know what his expression looked like when he found your fucking blood smeared across the floor? Alfred’s still trying to convince him that you’re not dead in a fucking ditch.”

You didn’t respond, only leaning back, keeping your eyes shut. They’d slashed your tires, obviously, so the car wasn’t an option anymore. In a small, insignificant way, it reminded you of how you’d first met Bruce, of the tire spikes you hadn’t noticed as you drove by his estate and the hour and a half you’d spent in his parlor, waiting for a tow-truck as he sheepishly apologized for his youngest son’s newest hobby. He’d paid for the replacements, and for the dress you’d worn to the gala he’d invited you to – a charity function, he’d promised, nothing too formal, nothing you’d feel out of place at. A charity gala you'd attended, as Bruce's friend. Only ever as Bruce's friend.

There’d been so many gifts, back then, jewelry and clothes and rent paid months in advance, invitations disguised as suggestions, presents you were too starry-eyed to turn down. You’d been greedy, charmed by the idea of opulence. The staring had started later on, then the soft, lingering touches, then the hidden cameras, scattered around your apartment. While you were still allowed to stay in your apartment.

Dick might’ve known. He probably had. He was the closest to Bruce, aside from Alfred, and you knew they tended to confide in each other. You wondered if he helped, installed security systems, slipped something into your drink the night you stepped into Wayne Manor and failed to leave. You wondered if they all had something to do with it, some minor role in your captivity.

“Save it. We’re better off getting her home and saving the lecture for Bruce.”

Or not.

You doubted Tim would get himself wrapped up in all this, if he had a choice.

“The others can only play damage control for so long. The sooner we get back and prove that she hasn’t been kidnapped, or hurt, or murdered, the less clean-up we’ll have to do while Bruce calms down.” Tim, always the voice of reason. He'd always been more sympathetic than Dick, more likely to let you get away with small things, disabled security cameras and walks in the garden and hiding yourself away in dark, unused guest-rooms, tucking yourself into the smallest corner you could find while Bruce called your name, on the other side of the estate. He was willing to acknowledge that you were miserable, even if he refused to act on it, even if you doubted there was any amount of sympathy that would force him to look the other way and let you escape. You doubted he’d be the one to buckle underneath it, if there was. “Getting her back to Bruce is our first and only priority. He probably has Barbara working on another microchip, by now.”

You perked up, at that, opening your eyes. “Another?”

“Keep your mouth shut,” Dick snapped. He’d caught you in one of your hiding spots, once. You couldn’t remember what he’d said to you, what he muttered before he turned around and shut the door, again. Something about ‘not doing that where Bruce might find you’. You’d found better places to hide, after that. “Why should we? We’ve been through this so many times. We keep doing this, and she’s not getting more cooperative, and he just keeps getting worse—” He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a deep, exasperated groan. “This isn’t what we’re supposed to be doing. This isn’t making anything better.”

“It’s making Bruce better.” Tim, always the voice of reason. “This isn’t what any of us want, but you’ve gotta remember how bad it was before we had (Y/n). He was pulling himself in too many directions, and the stress was getting to him. He was losing it, Dick. He has something to focus on, like this. He can hold himself together, if he has something to focus on.”

“I know that. I know that.” Another groan. There was a storefront, a few hundred feet away. It was dark, clearly closed, but there might’ve been an employee inside, a stranger waiting for the strange men in strange costumes to leave before they locked up. If you let Dick groan himself to death, you might be able to make a run for it. “But, there’s a difference between starting a new hobby and kidnapping a civilian.”

That caught you off-guard. It was a numb sense of shock, but it was there, somewhere inside of your chest, a slight pang followed by a steady, pulsing ache. It’d be better, if he didn’t care. It’d be better, if none of them genuinely thought what they were doing was wrong.

It made you feel less guilty about refusing to fall into line, if you could tell yourself they didn’t feel any guilt about trying to force you to.

“You don’t have to help.” It came out quieter than you meant it to, muttered under your breath. You half-expected one of them to tell you to shut up, to glare or move on with their own conversation and ignore you completely, but Dick looked away, and Tim sighed, and you took that as a sign to go on. “I could get away, on my own. You don’t need to buy me a train ticket, or break me out yourself, just…” You nodded towards the car, made dysfunctional by a dagger with a bat-shaped hilt, still embedded in one of the back tires. “You could just not do this.”

Tim frowned. “We’d still be letting you escape.”

“You would be.” You moved to stand, to push yourself to your feet, but Dick shot you a warning look and you settled for crossing your legs, preserving as much dignity as you could. “But, it's better than forcing me to go back, right?”

Dick, this time, back to staring at the pavement. “Bruce would be inconsolable.”

“For a few weeks. A few months, maybe.” You let your head lull to the side. “He’d find someone else, eventually. Someone who doesn’t mind being locked in a bedroom and spanked when they misbehave.”

“Does he actually…?”

“Do you honestly want me to answer that?’

Neither of them responded.

They were quiet, for a few seconds. Tim broke the silence first, but even that was hesitant, reluctant, his mouth opening long before he anything made it off his tongue. You’d never noticed how young he was, before – Dick, too, even if he was taller and stronger than you’d ever be. Younger than you, probably. Too young to have to deal with this, on his own. “He cares about you,” Tim said, and Dick nodded absent-mindedly. As if it was something they’d already discussed, something they’d already agreed on. “He wants to keep you safe. Would it really be so bad to just…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can’t you just let him?”

You thought about the last time you’d tried to escape, about the week you’d spent handcuffed to your bed, afterward, only ever allowed as far as the en-suite bathroom, and even then, under strict surveillance. You hadn’t been allowed to see Dick, or Tim, or anyone aside from Bruce, pale and paranoid, desperate to know you hadn’t managed to get yourself killed in the handful of hours he’d been away from you. He’d been quieter than he usually was, more prone to holding you in his lap, against his chest, to burying his face in your neck and muttering about villains and criminals and big, bad things that could get to you, if you ever left him, if he ever let you leave him. He’d been angrier, when you said that he was the only big, bad thing that’d ever hurt you. He'd done things to you that he'd never done before. Things you couldn't let yourself go back to.

“He doesn’t treat me like he treats the rest of you.” Hands on your hips, on your chest, around your throat. You’d been gone for longer, this time, gotten farther. He’d be worse, when you got back. “I can’t live like that. I can’t just hope and pray it’ll get better, if I play along.”

“No need to be such a pessimist, angelface.”

You jerked forward, clenching your fists at your side. Tim didn’t react, but Dick crossed his arms, straightening his back. Regaining a fraction of his confidence, if only for the sake of appearances. “You’re late.”

“Had to lose Damian,” Jason said, coming into view, his voice muffled by his mask and a silver pistol already in his hand. “He wanted to help, but I managed to shake him off. I thought the adults deserved a chance to talk.”

“We just finished.” Any doubt he might’ve had was gone, now, replaced with an even tone, an expression so impassive, it was hard for you to believe he’d been on the brink of a breakdown only minutes ago. “She says she won’t stop trying to get away. All we can really do is take her home and let Bruce decide what he wants to do with her.”

“And, let me guess, you know this because you asked her?”

“What else are we supposed to do?” Now, the agitation was back, but it was barely a shadow of what it’d been before. A glimpse at the pure, unfiltered exhaustion he must’ve been used to neglecting, by now. “Not all of us are willing to hospitalize our problems, Jason.”

“Hey, nobody wants it to get that ugly. I wouldn’t suggest anything Alfred couldn’t fix. But, if she tries to run, and we’re afraid she might actually get away, or worse, get herself hurt…” He gestured vaguely with his pistol, and you felt yourself go cold. “I’m sure Bruce won’t blame us for making sure she can't. As long as we bring her home in one piece.”

“What?” Your vision blurred, panic overriding your sense of caution. “You’re going to shoot me?”

“Just your legs. I’ll aim for the tendons, try to make it clean.” He shrugged, and you felt something start to claw at your throat. “Unless one of the batboys want to do it.”

Tim shook his head. Dick remained still.

Until you tried to move, at least, to stand, to run, and he caught your wrists, forcing you back down. Holding you there, while Jason cocked his gun and positioned himself in front of your thrashing legs.

You tried to curse them out, to yell, but Tim stopped you, covering your mouth with one hand and resting the other on your shoulder, like he was trying to calm you down. Like he was trying to comfort you. “It’s not that bad. I’ve been shot, before - all of us have, and usually by Jason, too! In a few hours, you’ll forget it’s even there.”

You screamed into his palm, the noise muffled but no less desperate. Tim only looked away, a smile drawn tight across his lips, pretending he hadn’t heard anything at all.

“It’ll heal,” He tried, instead. “It will heal, won’t it, guys?”

Neither of them said anything, for a moment. For a long, silent, painful moment.

Then, Dick scoffed. "Better hope it doesn't."

There were gunshots, too close, too loud, and suddenly, you couldn't hear anything at all.

[80s4life]

Little Dove*

Word Count: 3,949

Status: Not Requested!

A/N: Had a thought lol

Fandom: Karate Kid 1985

Relationship: John Kreese x Student!Female Reader

Summary: You had stayed around throughout all of his bullshit. Throughout the beginning of a forever-long battle with Daniel LaRusso, throughout losing all of his Cobra Kais, going through crippling debt, and now, more than ever, as he tries to put himself together. You’ve been there, the whole time. So why is it, that when a random man from his past appears, all of his problems are fixed without a glance your way? What does this Terry Silver have that you don’t (besides endless money and a history)? It’s unfair. It’s selfish. It’s Kreese.

Taglist: @intersellars-the-alien-of-human @snapessecretdiary

Warnings: smut, teasing, jealousy, age-gap paring, language, Terry being an overprotective cockblock, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slight dubcon, daddy/little girl kink, degrading kink

Masterlist Karate Kid Masterlist

{not my gif, credits belong to @atmostories​}

I just love how innocent he looks here lol ^

Staring into the window of his office, you make no attempt in engaging in the conversation your peers were having, the people on the other side of the glass proving to be more interesting at the moment. Besides, it’s the same conversation over and over again, “Terry’s so great,” “The money,” “The brawn,” “The elegance,” you snort. All that Terry was anyway was trouble with enough money to pay off his stupidity. 

The other man, however, was different. He did not become as fortunate as his younger companion. He went through many hardships that Terry would simply never understand. The proof: you. You had been there, through thick and thin. You can still remember the fights, injuries, and brokenness of a man like a slideshow constantly playing in your head, haunting your dreams. You should’ve left a long time ago, but you didn’t. There were points in your life that made you consider dropping him and everything he was in contact with at one point. But, yet again, you never did. All you did was forgive and forget, most of the time without apologies.

But no matter how much you’ve tried, there was always one outlier that couldn’t be erased. 

Holding onto your brothers shoulder, you congratulate him on how well he’d done. He lost the tournament, but it was his heart that shined through it. Johnny was the one who handed LaRusso his trophy even as they were beating each other senseless moments ago. Pulling him in tightly, you whisper, “You did good, Blondie. We’ll get ‘em next year.” 

He smiles broadly at this, returning the favor, “You didn’t do too bad yourself, Tiny. Hell, maybe next year, you’ll be the one to beat his ass for me... That, or you’ll be the same height as him,” he ruffles your hair.

“Shut up!” you swat his hands playfully, shouldering his side, then making your way over to the man of the hour. “Congratulations,” you outstretch your hand, “You were tough to beat! I’ll get ya one day though!” you point to him smiling as Johnny pulls you out of the arena with him.

“Thanks...Oh, and I’ll hold you to it!” he yells back, lifting his trophy high above his head. You leave with a sly smirk and playful roll of the eyes, not bad LaRusso.

Walking outside, you smile at Kreese nervously, knowing that he wasn’t going to take the loss lightly. Ignoring you completely, he snatches your brother from your grasp within moments, pinning him the the nearest car in the parking lot. With Johnny under the weight of Kreese, you try to yank him off, no longer in fear of your actions but what could happen if you don’t act fast. Shoving you out of the way with a hard jab of his elbow to your eye, Kreese goes back to harming your brother, switching positions as he goes to tighten his arm around Johnny’s neck.

Tommy, fearing for his life, stands still, on the verge of passing out. Dutch goes to help you up, pulling you away from Kreese’s proximity, but not for long. Full of anger and disappointment, you tear you body away from Dutch’s, giving him a stern look that he acknowledges and respects, stepping back. You run towards Kreese once more, putting more force into your pushes and shoves. He catches your eyes for a moment, anger glazing over his own as he gets a good look at the utter helplessness and determination within your own. He doesn’t loosen up though, tightening his hold even more so as if to test you. 

Lunging once more, he blocks you from him and counters with a hard blow to your face. You fall again at Kreese’s feet, Johnny’s purpling face looking down at yours in fear and worry. As you go to make a final attempt, your prayers are answered, a man about your height grabbing Kreese’s fist in a vice grip. In a daze, Johnny is able to slip from his hold to the ground beneath him, falling into your outstretched arms as you lunge, again, to protect his head. Kreese, now turning his fury onto the short man, goes for a punch, missing and smashing the glass beside his target.

As the fight starts to get worse, Dutch gets a hold of Johnny, taking his weight off of yours and dragging him to safety. Jimmy and Bobby, going to help Dutch, leaves Tommy to help you up. Taking his hand gratefully, you are able to see Kreese’s demise clearly, a burning crimson decorating his now busted fists, no doubt shredded and in need of medical care. You turn back just in time for him to look your way, grief washing over your figure as you feel a sense of uncertainty. 

The boys get into Johnny’s car quickly, pulling out of the car lot. Tommy, silently turning his calming body to yours, questions you with his eyes. Shaking your head lightly, you signal for him to go with them, your head hazy with the brute force of numerous blows previously clashing with your face. He nods knowingly, smiling weakly, as if questioning your motives or even why you were considering the choice you’d made up. Johnny looks back at you too, but is reassured as the short man, Mr. Miyagi, places a hand on your shoulder. As they peel out of the lot, you sigh and all the strength you’d conjured dropped instantly.

“You need checkup,” the older man states, looking you over.

“Yeah, but I need to take care of him first,” you point at the man.

“Ah. Good heart always forgives. You come by dojo sometime.”

“I’ll think about it,” you answer, kindly excusing yourself as LaRusso runs over to Miyagi, leaving just you and Kreese left in the parking lot.

Slowly, you pace yourself as to not speed too closely, too quickly to the man, walking lightly and quietly. Upon entering a close proximity, he looks up, neutral expression catching you off guard. Blinking once, he looks back down at his continuously bleeding hands, acknowledging your presence but not daring to step the line of communication. He never does.

“Do you...Do you n- ...?” you start, at a loss for words as you try to rephrase the question in a way to still make him feel superior without appearing weak to himself, “Do you want my help?”

He doesn’t say anything as an answer, just simply stares at the reddening hands.

So, following his chosen behavior, you adopt it and act the same. Slowly, you take off your fleece sweater, soft and warm to the touch, and move closer to Kreese. As you move into his personal space, you don’t dare look him in the eyes, and go to rip a piece of the sweater in half. Silently, you carefully take one of his hands in your own, them swallowing yours in turn. Wrapping the now torn cloth around his fists, you slightly tighten the material around the injury to prevent further bleeding, tying off the ends to keep the sweater where you want it. Turning to do the same for the other hand, Kreese never winces, or sucks in a breath, or even grunts in anguish.

As you finish your duty, you step back, parts of your hands and some of your pants now coated in differing amounts of blood from the constant dripping mess he’d left it in for a while. Taking in a deep breath, you look at him directly for the first time of the night, “Get in the car.”

That was the first of many nightmares that litter your mind. You grew into a tough, headstrong, and independent woman not only physically, but mentally as well. You were no longer the child looked down from the tip of Kreese’s nose, and despite your height not making much of a difference, you had filled into your body, soul, and mind. You were a woman nonetheless.

You were understood by Johnny, but to an extent. As you had continued to serve Kreese, it was only right that Johnny distanced himself from him, and with that, came you as well. You accepted this, and knew that you were not at war with him, settling for calls and texts when you missed him most. Johnny still allowed you the time to talk about your problems like you did in high school, and even let you rant about the newest situation with Kreese. Everyday, he worried for you, but he knew that this was what you wanted. 

He knew you fell for him before you even had.

After that night, you went through phases with Kreese: sometimes he was happy and nice to you, other times was full of anger, arguments, and nonstop screaming at one another. You were like an old married couple without the ring, matrimony, and age. You didn’t pay any mind to it, the mixture of feelings for him stronger than the will to leave as you’d wanted to in your youth.

But overall was the feeling of betrayal, or at least a form of it. For 4 years, after the night of the failed tournament, you were with Kreese, and finally, when things started to clear themselves out, another problem arose. Although shit out of luck, Kreese was ready to give up the dojo, give it to the owner, and move on in hopes of wiping the slate clean. You were ready to forgive him. And then, Terry Silver, unable to let the past be the past, convinced Kreese to give it a second try.

Now as you sit in a circle with Dennis, Mike, and Snake on the mat of the dojo, doing some stretches before training starts, you couldn’t help but look at the men excluding you from something you had tried to keep alive as long as they had. Longer than Terry at least. 

Snapping sounds through your frustrated haze, knocking you back into reality by Snake’s fingers. Scrunching your nose in confusion, you look at him, anger now turned towards him instead. “You keep drooling like that and we’ll all be slipping around and breaking shit. Then how would we be at the tournament?”

“Fuck you, Snake,” you get up, stomping to the office without another word. He just turns a mock-offended expression to the boys who give confused ones in return.

Storming into the small cubicle deemed an office, you turn to the men standing side-by-side. “Aw, what’s the matter sweetheart? The boys not playing fair?” Terry teases, trying to push your buttons.

Face now reddened with anger, you spit, “We don’t pay for you to sit around in your office and play with each other’s dicks. You can do that on your own time.”

“You don’t pay period as far as I’m concerned. And last time I checked, you weren’t of much use here anyways, Shortcake,” Terry rebuttals.

“And last time I checked, you're just here to tie your hair back, paint your nails, torture a kid half your age and an man even older than you.”

“Why you-!”

“Terry!” Kreese warns, a hand placed on his comrades’ chest, “It’s not worth your time, just go get the boys readied up for practice.”

“Sure...sure Johnny, I can do that,” he says eagerly, leaving the room with a side glance your way and elbow to the shoulder as he passes by.

Getting up from the back of the desk, Kreese loops around to close the office door, going back to where he was previously. “Wow, you really have that dog under wraps huh? Ready to bark when you say ‘bark’ or growl when you say ‘growl’?”

“Y/N, not now. You better cut this shit out now or I’ll kick you out,” he warns.

“Oh, so now your protecting him?! You’re going to sit here, right now, and threaten me for what? Because he served with you? Because you saved him?! What a load of shit!”

“Watch your mouth! You have no right to raise your voice to me! What I do with this dojo is none of your damn business, and will certainly never concern you. Ever.”

“Oh yeah! For sure! What did he even do, huh? What’s so great about him that is worth protecting his ass for when he’s never had to do anything in return?! I was there John! I was! I dealt with your shit for 4 years! Not 1! Not 2! Not even fucking 3!”

“I never told you to! No one was stopping you from walking out that damn door when everyone else had! I would’ve done perfectly fine without your ‘help’ when all it did was provide extra shit to take care of!”

“Really?! That’s what it was? Nothing? I dealt with your anger issues, your screaming! The god damn punches, kicks, spits, screams, hell anything you wanted to do in order to harm someone else to make you feel better! But that wasn’t me... No... Of course it wasn’t, right?”

“I’ve got no time for this. Stay in this fucking room and don’t move. You even dare come out into that dojo and you’re out. I have a winner to make and not some little girl to argue with.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, tears pooling at the bottom of your eyelids as the door hides you from view.

For hours, you sit in boredom, listening to the repetitive “hut” or “ah” as blow after blow is thrown into the dummies and punching bags. If only they could do that to me, take me out of my misery for fuck’s sake. But, despite the utter pissed state you were in, you did not move from the desk, even deciding to take a nap. It wasn’t until Dennis’ unusually loud laugh is echoed within the whole dojo do you finally wake back up. Looking through the blinds, you see the boys getting packed up. Doing the same, you walk out of the office just in time for Terry to leave with the boys a few moments later.

Speeding across the length of the mats, you take long strides in order to storm as fast as possible out of the cage that holds the biggest chains around your neck. Going for the door, you are unable to catch yourself as Kreese grabs your hand and flips you onto your back, splaying your body on the mats beneath you.

Groaning, you move to sit up, watching as he goes to lock the door to the dojo, throwing the keys somewhere and closing the blinds of the big glass panes adorning the front wall. Getting up, the harbored anger floods your being once more, “I’m done with your bullshit Kreese. Let me the fuck out so I can leave this place once and for all. You seem to be doing ‘perfectly fine’ with your boyfriend, so let me go!”

Without answering, he grabs you by the neck firmly, but not enough to choke you. The memories of Johnny instantly flood your mind, causing you to grab his hand just as tight, eyes peering straight into his. Noticing your change in demeanor, he loosens his hold a little and pushes your back up against the closest wall to your back. As your back collides with the wall, his lips clasp yours.

Whining in surprise, you go to pull back only for him to pull you closer by the neck. Realization dawns on you after a moment, and within seconds, your leaning into his touch absentmindedly. You only break apart once your lungs beg for more air. “There. Is that what you wanted?” he asks you, voice gravelly.

Ignoring his comment, you grab him by the nape of his neck, pulling him into you once again, tongue battling his own. Your tongue dances around, observing every crevice and tasting every bit of his mouth, grazing his teeth, biting his lips, and even tangling it with his. Taking control back, he shoves your body back into the wall, separating your mouth from his, a trail of saliva the only thing connecting your bodies.

His hand, long forgotten and hanging loose on your neck, tightens the grip back up firmly once again and moves his other to pin your arms above your head. Now basking in dominance, he kisses you once more, pinning his knee between your legs in the most delicious way. Taking advantage of the placement, you attempt to grind your core against his thigh to relieve some tension. 

“Ah. Ah. Ah,” he warns, pulling his knee away and moving to unbuckle his belt instead, “On your knees, Slut.”

Obeying instantly, you do as he says and place yourself on your knees. Finally undoing the tie of his gi, he pulls his pants, alongside his underwear, down just enough to let his dick spring free. Gulping in admiration, you take in the view of his girth and length, precum oozing at the tip.

“Looks like your happy to see me,” you joke, loosening your tension in your shoulders.

Stepping closer, Kreese edges closer to your mouth, and, taking the hint, you wrap one hand around the base of his shaft. Your other hand, deciding teasing is the best get-back, wraps itself closer to the tip, thumb grazing the slit. Earning a shudder of pleasure from the man, he goes to move in closer again. Pulling your head away, you squeeze the tip loosely, staring up at Kreese.

At your locked gaze, his cheeks burn bright pink, enabling you to give the man what he wants now that he’s at a loss for words and flustered for you. Taking him into your mouth little by little, you stop just before the barricade of choking. Eyes locked onto his, you place your hands on either side of his hips for support, then take him in as fully as physically possible. Instantly, you are met by struggling moans of relief.

Swirling your tongue around and lapping at his veiny member, he struggles to control himself, the undying need for more consuming him. Pulling away just enough to keep the tip in your mouth, you nod at him, giving him the okay to do as he pleases. That was all he needed to start going, pulling your mouth around his cock again, and tangling his hands in your hair for a better grip. Thrusting into your mouth now, you try your best to breathe as you feel him start twitching, knowing you will be fine in a few minutes.

The closer he gets to ecstasy, the louder he gets, hips thrusting in any possible direction as his pleasure threatens to bubble over. “Look at me,” he orders, looking you in the eyes. Slightly confused, you do as told, looking at him through your eyelashes as he continuously uses your mouth. “That’s it, Good Girl.”

Without warning, he unleashes his load into your mouth, the hot and sticky cum shooting to the back of your throat, forcing you to swallow. Licking up the remains, you make a show of swallowing the contents as well, getting back onto your feet with a help of his hand. Pulling your body into his, he kisses you deeply, tasting himself.

You whine as you are still left in uncomfortable need for him, having not gotten your share just yet, the feeling of being filled a painful reminder. “Don’t worry, Daddy’ll take care of you.” And that, he does, getting to work on untying your gi and throwing the long-sleeved shirt over you head. Doing the same to him, you match his enthusiasm, pulling his shirt off and throwing it somewhere in the room. 

Playing with your clothed breasts, Kreese slips a hand under your bra to pinch your nipples, twisting them between his middle and fore fingers. Moaning, you pull him into your chest nibbling his ear. Gliding his hands down your sides and to your waist, he slowly edges his fingers slightly underneath your pants, pushing them down with your panties. As he busies himself with your clothes, you move your hands behind your back to unclasp your bra, breasts springing free and instantly hardening at the new temperature of the room.

Fingers, teasing your entrance, catches you off-guard, moaning again at the first shocks of pleasure. “Kreese,” you start breathlessly, “Enough is enough. Mgh... Stop teasing me,” you try to order, impatient and horny.

“As you wish, Princess.”

Lifting up one of your legs and wrapping it around his hipbone, he lines himself up with your entrance, entering slowly. Together, you sigh in ease simultaneously. Nodding once, you lean your forehead underneath his chin, starting to thrust slowly. Knowing this isn’t the pace he prefers, and body adjusting to his shape, you pull him in closer, whispering in his ear, “Faster, Daddy.”

Jolting at the name, he fastens the pace, grinding in rougher strokes, rubbing every part of you body in the best way possible. No one’s ever filled you the way he is now, and it leaves you stunned in a trance of utter euphoria. Tapping your other leg, you hop up to warp both legs around Kreese. At the new angle, he thrusts upwards, the overstimulation causing you to shake in a new sensation. 

Squeezing his dick tightly, you try to hold your orgasm off for as long as possible, but the building want of release causes you to topple over the edge quickly, spilling all over the body still within your own. Without faltering, Kreese continues his assault on your body, causing you to scream out in the fury of pleasure being all too much for you. Shaking harder, you struggle to keep yourself around his body for long.

Seeing this, Kreese keeps himself sheathed in your cunt, laying you on your back against the mats of the flooring. Grabbing your legs, Kreese bends them until your thighs meet your chest. Then, thrusting at the same pace as before, Kreese is able to fuck you senseless without further issues. Moaning screams of ecstasy echo throughout the dojo, the combination of yourself and the slapping of skin being the only noises in the room.

As quickly as you’d built up the previous time, your orgasm and need of release forms again, your pussy throbbing in anticipation.  “Kreese..” is all you manage, the older man quickly teetering towards the edge with you. Thrusting the hardest he had the whole night, he manages only a few more before you both come at the same time, screaming as you pull him down by the neck and into your chest, your name falling from his tongue in multiples.

Sucking in as much air as possible, Kreese and you stay in the same position panting before he unsheathes himself and collapses next to you. Catching your breath, you cuddle into his side in a naked heap of sweat and satisfaction. “Are you still jealous of Terry now?”

“It depends, am I still as useless as before?”

“I don’t believe so,” Kreese giggles, “but if you pull another crazy stunt like that, I will really have to give you a good beating. Huh, Babydoll?”

“I like the sound of that,” you say, going to straddle his hips as he lays on his back, “How about round two and I’ll consider not ripping his throat out?”

“Deal.”