#mend their bodies together at the shoulders and stuff

[i-dared-myself]

You and I

Bang Chan x reader

In which Chan finds someone like him, and he believes you need his help, no matter how much you protest.

18+

Cw: Yandere Chan, murder, blood, torture, a bit of gore but not too much, smut, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome honestly, fucked up stuff, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (DO NOT DO), um… kinda nasty ngl. It’s inspired by Railway, so that should be enough warning.

Your body is broken, slowly mending- but broken nonetheless. You can feel your bones shifting as they fuse back together, and you gasp out at the pain. You have no idea how you got here, or why you’re in so much agony.

You’re on a metal table in a room with crooked IV poles and bars for windows. Sunlight streams in between the bars and it makes you wince, your pounding headache bothering you.

You slide off the table and limp to the door. It’s open by just a hair, and you push it the rest of the way. You gasp at the sight of bodies life reed on the ground, bodies slick with blood.

You shuffle over to someone, raising shaking hands to check for any signs of life. You move from person to person, but nothing. No one’s chest rises, and no one has a pulse.

What happened here?

You’re only faintly aware of a heavy weight at your shoulder blades, but ignore it. You don’t have time to examine your own injuries. 

But still, you collapse near the final body, letting out a cry of defeat. Everything hurts too much, and no one is else is alive. Something terrible occurred to them all- and to you.

Something splashes, and you glance behind you to see a man in a long, black, leather jacket that swirls around his ankles. Some of his black hair falls into his face as he tilts his head at you, mismatched eyes locking in on your face.

“You weren’t here earlier,” he muses to himself before running his tongue over pointed canines. His lips curl up into something resembling a smile, but it’s too menacing for that. “You’re like me, aren’t you?” 

You swallow, mouth suddenly dry. “I’m not.”

His shoulders shake as he laughs. It doesn’t sound humorous. It comes off as crazed.

He catches his breath, gaze flicking over you. “You have wings. You and I are alike. You have wings, and I’m… this.” His arms spread wide, revealing silver chains dangling from the inside of his coat and a set of handcuffs.

You frown, but do look. And damn, you do have wings. You flex them absently before returning your attention to the man.

“I’m Chan,” he tells you. Someone that you hadn’t checked for life stirs, and he kicks their abdomen. They groan weakly, and he crouches down next to them, holding eye contact with you as he snaps their neck.

You cover your mouth with your hands, horrified. He’s the one who murdered all these people. 

Chan’s gaze is hooded as he stands, studying you for a moment. “You and I… We’re different.”

You shudder, still staring at the person he just killed. Did they have a family? Did they deserve this?

Chan holds his hand out, smiling softly. “Ready to go?”

You take a wary step back. “Go? Go where?”

His easy expression falters before he pastes it back on. “With me. Outside of this place. To the world outside.”

Outside of the dim hallways and broken concrete. Away from the bodies crumpled across the floor, with gaping mouths and empty eyes.

“No,” you say, surprising even yourself. You bring your wings around yourself in a sort of protective shield. “I- I’m not going with you.”

Chan’s outstretched hand curls, fingers digging into the palm of his hand. His shining black shoes take another step closer to you. “Careful… I’m in a good mood.”

You sob, feathers fluttering anxiously. If this is his good mood, killing all of these people, then what is considered bad? What’s he like when he snaps?

“Don’t… Please,” you weakly say, shivering in fear when he continues to approach you. “No-“

His hand wraps around your jaw, tipping your head back. Chan pats your cheek before ripping into his wrist with his teeth, black goo oozing out. “Open wide…”

Tears stream from your eyes and you clamp your mouth shut. He doesn’t like that, and squeezes tighter. A thumb pokes at your lips and forces its way in, quickly followed by two digits.

Chan spreads your lips apart and drips the black goo into your mouth, grinning maniacally as you gasp and splutter on it. “Swallow it like a good girl. There you go.”

You have no choice but to swallow. You choke it down and slowly lower yourself to the ground, balancing on your hands and knees. The taste of it is still in your mouth, making you gag on the bitterness.

Chan’s foot lands on the space between your splayed out wings, applying a steady pressure. Your arms shake until they give out, and you fall to the ground. Chan presses harder, resting his forearm on his bent knee. 

“There you go,“ he croons. “Just give in. Relent.”

You struggle one last time, attempting to stand up. But you cannot with the strength he is using to keep you down.

You let out one last pathetic whimper before going completely limp. Chan removes his foot and crouches next to you, stroking your hair.

Then you’re unconscious, fading into a realm of darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You awaken, stretching out. There’s a lingering taste in your mouth, and you scrape your tongue over your teeth in an attempt to remove it. You sigh heavily, getting rid of the remnants of sleep.

You sit up as your memories come back. Of then metal table and extreme pain. Of the lifeless bodies, blood mixing with tears.

And of Chan.

You grip the sheets of the bed you’re in, pulling them around your form. There’s a set of clothes sitting on the edge of the bed, stacked neatly atop each other. You reach for them warily.

You don’t exactly want to use whatever it is Chan has provided you with, but you despise the ripped and torn fabric you wear. So you throw it on, looking around the bedroom you’re in.

It’s scarcely furnished, with a bed covered in pillows, and a desk off to the side. There are two doors, and when you push one open, it leads to a bathroom. You wander to the second, heart pounding as you turn the handle.

There’s another hallway, and you’re overcome by a sense of deja vu. Except this hallway is covered in polished marble that gleams. You pad softly down the corridor, wings dragging behind you.

Maybe there’s something around that you could use as a weapon. Something to defend yourself from Chan with.

You enter a living room, and find it empty. No Chan.

You feel a grumble in your stomach but push your hunger aside. Escape is your top priority, and you want to get as far away from this sick bastard as possible. Ignoring the kitchen, you head straight to the only other door.

But it opens before you have the chance to touch the handle, and you’re met with the sight of a blonde man with long hair. His freckles scrunch up in alarm when he sees you, and he darts back out the door. You lunge for the door, but now it’s locked.

You hammer your fists against it. “Let me out! Please! Before- Before he comes back!”

You’re met with silence. There’s no response, and you slump against the door.

“Please,” you beg one last time. “Just… Just let me out!” When there’s still no answer, you turn and head for the kitchen, intent on locating a knife.

You hiss out a breath as your wings hit the edge of a counter, drawing them closer to yourself. It’s like your body isn’t quite aware of itself. It’s a strange feeling.

“A little birdie told me that my guest is awake,” Chan sings as he enters, slamming the door shut behind him. His eyes land on you and his shoulder shake with laughter at his own joke. “So it’s true. Felix wasn’t lying.”

You haven’t yet found a knife, so you open drawers at a furious pace. Chan simply watches you, fingers laced together behind his back. When you do pull a knife out, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and squeezes, loosening your grip.

“None of that,” Chan chides, kicking the blade away with a clatter.  “I don’t want to have to send you to your room again, so behave.”

You fight back, flapping your wings out in an attempt to throw him off. But he holds on, grasping tightly to your wrist with a patient smile. You let out a yelp as his fingers encircled around your wrist clasp harder, causing something to audibly pop.

“Oh, no,” Chan says, releasing you. He bends at the waist to take a closer look at you as you huddle on the ground, clutching your wrist. “Did you get hurt?”

You whimper and try to crawl away further, but he hooks his ankle around your calf and yanks you closer. He tsks and peers down at your wrist. 

“I can fix that,” Chan murmurs, hovering over you. He smiles, flashing his fangs. “Would you let me touch you to fix it?”

You tremble, shaking your head. “N- No! Just g- go away!” 

“No?” Chan sharply demands. His tongue rolls against the inside of his cheek, forcing out a strained laugh. “No? Did you say no to me?”

You stand and lunge around him, but he grabs you by the back of your neck, squeezing firmly. You go limp when you remember the way he so easily snapped someone’s neck. Your wings slump and your body shakes in terror.

“Oh,” Chan softly says. He slowly lowers you and presses his knee to the small of your back, applying enough pressure that you can’t get up. “Are you scared?”

You hide your face with one of your hands since you can’t move the other, bottom lip wobbling. Was he not aware that he terrified you? Did he not know how much he scared you?

“Don’t be like that,” Chan coos, reaching to the side. He pulls a roll of bandages out from somewhere and wraps it around your injured wrist, humming to himself. “Why would I hurt you? You’re like me, and not like those motherfuckers that did this to us!”

You watch as he treats your injury, sniffling. “W- Who?”

Chan cocks his head, tonguing one of his long canines. “The ones behind the experiments. The pain and the torture so they could mutilate our bodies and turn us into these. But don’t worry, darling. I killed them all. Or, almost all.”

You let out a cry as his knee digs into you further. He’s too distracted by his ramblings to even notice the pain he’s causing you, lips twisting into a sneer. You scramble to tap his thigh, signalling that it’s too much, not that you think he’d care.

“Oh, did I hurt you?” Chan picks you up from beneath the armpits, arms looped under yours. He drags you to the couch, sitting down. He places you on his lap and wraps his arms around your waist.

You’re tired. Tired of all of your memories being of blood and death and fighting. So you give in, and slump against him.

“There you go,” Chan whispers, shifting you so you’re flush against him. He trails his fingers along the feathers of your wings, and it feels wrong and right at the same time.

Wrong in the sense that it’s Chan. The murderer, who’s touching what you’re now learning is such a sensitive part of your body.

Right in the sense that it’s Chan. In some inexplicable way, this feels perfect.

A door creaks open, and a muscular man steps inside. He ducks his head out of respect, avoiding eye contact. “Sir.”

Chan scowls, baring his teeth as his grip on you tightens. “What is it, Changbin”

“We, found him.“ Changbin’s eyes flick to you, a hint of pity showing. “We left him alone for now, but we followed your instructions.”

Chan relaxes, beginning to toy with your hair. He seems to consider everything for a minute before he glances up at Changbin again. “Bring me a hairbrush.”

“Sir?” Changbin questions. As soon as Chan’s eyes narrow, the man bolts out of the room. 

“Chan,” you unsurely say. “Who are these people? Felix and Changbin?”

“They work for me,” Chan says simply. “I’m better and more evolved than them, and they know it.”

So he’s threatening them. 

Changbin returns, handing Chan a brush. He stands there for a moment before he’s dismissed, locking the door again when he leaves.

“Darling,” Chan sings, his voice carrying a teasing lilt. “Stay still.”

He runs the brush through your hair, his free hand cupping the back of your head in a gentle caress. It’s… nice, being cared for this way. You could almost see yourself letting this be a common occurrence.

Almost.

“Do you remember it?” Chan asks as he works. You try to think of what he’s talking about, but there’s no need for it when he continues to talk. “I do. I remember every moment of it.”

You turn your head to look at his face, but he steers your gaze away so he can brush your hair out. You fidget with your hands in your lap, listening to his voice.

“It hurt,” Chan says, voice cracking at the end. “I don’t know what they did to me, but now… Now I’m this. You’re scared of me since I’m a monster, and it’s all their fault!”

You flinch when he raises his voice, and he notices.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Chan nuzzles at the back of your neck, nose digging into your skin. “But you don’t have to worry about that anymore. You’ve been through what I have, and now I’ll keep you safe.”

“Did they- You said you killed them all.” You stare down at the ground, mind reeling with everything. “Isn’t that enough? Isn’t your revenge complete?”

Chan huffs out a laugh, hands falling down to your waist. The hairbrush is placed off to the side as Chan just holds you. “No. It’s not enough. It won’t be enough until I find the one in charge and make him suffer like I did.”

You try so stand, but he prevents you from doing so by tugging you back down to him. You somehow aren’t alarmed by this, and settle down again. You straddle his lap, hands on his shoulders.

“There you go,” Chan praises, thumbing at your bottom lip. His fingers seem to shake before he drops his arm to his side again. “I’m not only doing this for me, but for you. You’ll be safe once he’s dead.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, oddly comforted by his words. Maybe it’s because he’s one of the only people you’ve known since you’ve woken. Maybe you’re as fucked up as he is.

“We’ll go tomorrow,” Chan tells you, letting his head loll back. His eyes flutter shut and he sighs heavily. “Go to your room, darling.”

You lick your lips nervously. “No.”

He peeks an eye open in confusion. “No?”

“I- I don’t want you to kill him.” You squirm, afraid of how he might react. There’s a fairly large chance he’ll remove whatever special treatment you get. 

“Why?” Chan asks, voice dangerously low. He tries to sit up properly, but your weight on his lap keeps him down. “After what that motherfucker did to me? Did to us?”

“Chan-“

“No.” He stands, throwing you off of him. His lips are curled downwards in displeasure and he wraps his hand around your injured wrist, using it to drag you down the hallways.

You yelp at the pain, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. It hurts, but you know that’s the point. You’ve pissed him off, and there’s a possibility you won’t ever change that.

Chan tosses you into the room you woke up in, lingering in the doorway. “Sleep. I’m bringing you with me tomorrow, even if I have to tie you up and throw you over my shoulder.”

You stand and glare at him as strongly as you can, even though he doesn’t seem intimidated by you. “I don’t want this! I don’t want to see anymore death! Stop the bloodshed, Chan!”

“You’re lucky that you’ve forgotten!” Chan screams. His chest heaves with the exertion of his breakdown, and he slumps to the floor. He covers his face with his hands and his shoulders shake.

He’s… crying.

You swallow unsurely, crouching next to him. You bring your wings around him in a comforting bubble, but you don’t know why. 

“It’s okay,” you murmur before you catch yourself. You stroke his hair, and he wraps his arms around you.

“I- I remember it all,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. When you ask if he wants to talk about it, he shakes his head.

He falls asleep in your arms, exhausted from whatever had been haunting him. You gently roll him to his stomach, lying next to him with your wings splayed out over him as you drift off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Darling.” Chan’s voice breaks through your slumber, and you shift as you wake. His hand is stroking your face with a gentle touch. “It’s time to get up.”

You ache from sleeping on the floor all night, but Chan looks well-rested. His smile is soft as he gazes at you, kneeling next to you.

“What are we-“ You remember what’s in store for the day and sit up. “No! No, I won’t go!”

Chan’s expression hardens, a flicker of disappointment flashing across his features. He reaches for the handcuffs clipped to his wrist, shaking his head. “I didn’t want to do this. I thought you had finally understood why I’m doing all this.”

You scramble away, only for him to pin you. Your upper portion is bend over the bed, while his body presses against your lower half. You whimper as he secures the handcuffs to you, fighting the urge to cry.

“I’m doing this for us.” Chan runs his fingers over your feathers and you shiver at the sensation. “You’ll be safe with him gone.”

A man hovers in the corner, bottom lip a bright red from worrying it so much with his teeth. “Sir, the car is ready.”

“Leave us, Jisung.” Chan doesn’t bother to glance over as he tightens your restraints. He lets out a snarl of frustration when you fight back. “Stop that! I’m helping!”

“Chan!” you exclaim. “I need you to realize that this isn’t helping! You’re trying to keep me safe as therapy for yourself!”

Chan wrenches you to your feet. “You’ll understand. Just wait.”

You sit in the back of a car, Chan seated next to you as a driver takes you to the location of a man about to be killed. Chan’s hand rests on your thigh, more of a reassurance to himself than a move on you. You stare out the window at the rapidly changing landscape, mind racing.

Chan helps you out of the car, lifting you by the waist and setting you down carefully. You shoot a desperate look to Jisung, who turns away.

Chan’s fingers flex on the cane he’s holding, tipping his head to you. “Shall we?”

You gaze at the building with apprehension. It doesn’t seem like much, being filthy and nearly torn-down, but Changbin had assured Chan that the man was here. You are about to see the one behind Chan’s gruesome past, and the events that led to you being kidnapped by him.

Chan gives you a nudge, clicking his tongue. “Move.”

You enter first, closely followed by Chan. You can hear the ominous tapping of his cane through the pounding of your heart in your ears. You’re terrified, both for yourself and the man.

A dull thud echoes from somewhere, causing you to freeze. Chan chuckles lowly, stepping past you. “Ready, darling?”

“Please,” you beg one last time. “Don’t do this.”

Chan ignores you and presses further into the building. You reluctantly trail behind him, stomach tumbling with nerves.

A man in a lab coat spins around, gasping when he spots the pit of you. He blanches as he catches sight of Chan, horror swimming in his eyes.

“Hello,” Chan simply greets. He tilts his head, pupils dilating as he locks in on his prey. 

“You!” he gasps again, covering his mouth. “You- You weren’t supposed to get out!”

“Because you knew I would come for you?” Chan slithers closer, hands clasped behind his back. The cane dangles from his grip. “Why would you be scared? Do you have something to confess?”

“Chan,” you weakly say.

“I- I’m sorry!” The man in the lab coat sweats profusely, wringing his hands. “But it was for science! Surely- Surely you understand that?”

“Surely I understand what?” Chan arches an eyebrow. “That my suffering was interesting to you?”

The man lowers himself to his knees. “Please… But look at yourself! It’s- It’s magnificent!”

Chan falters, forehead creasing. “Magnificent? You- I cried myself to sleep every night that I was strapped to that table! You personally stood over me and laughed!”

You no longer feel pity for this man. Every ounce of sympathy in your heart for him has dried up, replaced for the same longing for vengeance that Chan craves.

“But- But-“ The man looks to you, scrambling closer on his knees. “You! You were always so perfect! You were the perfect specimen! So sweet and lovely!”

Chan kicks the man away from you, disgust etched into his features. “Get the fuck away from her. You don’t deserve to breathe the same air as her, you vile creature.”

The man sobs, clutching at his hair. He tugs at the strands, taking another attempt at getting closer to you. “Please! Don’t let him do this!” He grabs at you, fingers snagging at your shirt.

You flinch away from him, wings twitching. That seems to do it for Chan, causing him to snap.

Chan swings the cane, hitting the man in the chest. He bends over, blood spurting out of his mouth when he coughs. 

Chan smiles and laughs as he repeatedly beats the man, and you watch. You watch as he’s brought closer and closer to the brink of death, and until his teeth are stained red with blood. His breaths are ragged and his face is streaked with tears.

“That is nowhere near the fraction of the suffering I have gone through,” Chan hisses out. He pinches the man’s chin between his fingers, glowering at him in pure fury. “But I will end you now.”

“Chan,” you softly say, drawing his attention to you. “Chan, my love.”

Chan immediately drops the man, and he goes limp on the ground. He rushes to you, eyes filled with a mix of apprehension and hope. “Yes, darling?”

“Can I do it?” you rasp. You can’t tear your eyes from the man, his once perfectly clean lab coat now splattered with red. “I know you’ve waited for this moment, but-“

“Of course.” Chan pulls a knife out from somewhere, flipping the handle to you. He removes your handcuffs as well. “You’ve suffered as much as I, my darling.”

You kneel next to the man, whose pained expression contorts into one of desperation.  But that quickly changes when you sink the blade into him, over and over again.

You feel the warm wetness on your face and your hands, and you feel the weight of Chan’s gaze on you. You are the one to take this man’s pathetic life, and you are the one to drop the knife to a clatter.

But Chan is the one to initiate the kiss, clasping your face with his hands. It’s full of longing and built up desire. 

You return it with as much enthusiasm, opening your mouth for his tongue. His fangs knick your lip, but you’re covered in so much blood anyways.

“Here?” Chan pants out, groping at any inch of you that he can touch. “Do you want me to fuck you right here?”

You whine and bare your throat for him, eyes fluttering as he kisses up your neck. “I- No.”

“No?” Chan pulls away, tongue wetting his lips. “Darling-“

“Not here.” You yank him back to you. “I- I want a bed, because we’re doing this a bunch tonight.”

He moans at the prospect, kneading at your hips. “Can I- Can I bite you? Make you mine?”

“Sure,” you breathlessly agree. “Make me yours.”

You shriek as his fangs plunge into your neck, right where he had been kissing earlier. It’s a burning hot pain, but it slowly transforms into molten pleasure.

“You like that?” Chan licks a stripe over the wound, closing it up somehow. When you moan as an answer, he scoops you up into his arms and carries you out to the waiting car.

“Sir?” Jisung tenses in alarm.

“Drive,” Chan orders, laying you out across the backseats. You’re dripping now, and he can’t wait to ruin you. 

Jisung wordlessly obeys, and you’re back home before you know it. Chan dumps you onto your bed, wandering to the attached bathroom while you writhe, fuelled by an aching need.

“I know,” Chan soothes as he returns, bringing you with him to the bathroom, where the tub is filling with steaming water. “The bite is making you needy, isn’t it?”

“Y- Yeah.” You nod as he strips you of your clothes, quickly following suit. You both climb into the bathtub together and rinse away the blood and the grime. 

You keep attempting to slide onto Chan’s dick, but he stops you each and every time. He merely kisses you again, assuring you that it’s coming. You’re growing frustrated and as soon as he steps out of the bathtub, you launch yourself at him.

You straddle his chest, bending down to kiss him. You’re both slick with water and droplets of it roll down Chan’s abs as he stands, pushing you off.

“Darling,” Chan taunts, gaze hooded. “Careful, or I’ll have to restrain you again.”

You ignore the warning and shove him again. Chan lets himself fall onto the bed, arms spread out. You’re instantly atop him again, using your wings as balance so he can’t throw you off again.

“Gonna fuck me?” Chan croons. He flicks one of your nipples before circling it with his thumb. “Well, get to it already.”

“I’m trying!” you hiss, grabbing his hard and leaking cock. His head is thrown back when you drag your hands up it. 

You marvel in how much control you have over him in this moment. You had been so afraid of him and what he could do, but now here you are. You’re touching one of his most intimate places, about to have him fuck you.

You get distracted by your thoughts, which allows him to flip you. You fight in protest as the handcuffs return to your wrists, but he smirks down at you.

Chan rubs two fingers through your folds, pupils dilating again at what he finds. “Oh, you’re soaked.” 

You try to grind down on his hand, but he removes it. You struggle in the handcuffs, glaring down at the metal.

“Aw, poor thing.” Chan tilts your chin up with his fingers, shuffling on his knees to straddle you. “Do you need it? Do you need my thick cock to fill you?”

“Need it!” You nod eagerly, scrambling to grab his arm. It’s a tricky maneuver with your hands bound, but you make it work. “Please, Chan!”

Chan stares down at you, seemingly considering something. “You want to be mine? Forever?”

“Forever!” You wrap your legs around him and tug him closer. You want him as close as it gets, so much so that you can’t explain the need that has overcome you.

Chan’s fangs appear to lengthen as he moves them to his forearm. More of the black goo bubbles up and he tips it back into his mouth. You know what he wants and part your lips, sticking your tongue out.

He cups your face with two hands, drooling it out into your waiting mouth. This time you don’t gag, effortlessly swallowing it down.

“Good,” Chan says, lips still stained black. He sticks three fingers past your lips suddenly, making you choke. He checks that you’ve truly swallowed it all, smiling at you. “Ready for it?”

“Uh-huh.” You stare at his cock, and know it will stretch you out. But the bite he had given you has gotten rid of the need for prep. You’re wetter than he could have imagined, and you can feel your pussy throbbing.

Chan likes himself with your entrance, slowly pushing in. Your back arches at the sensation of him filling you, and he kisses you again. It’s messy and sloppy because you’re both panting, but you want more.

“There you go,” Chan softly says as he begins to rock into you. He turns you onto your stomach, with your hands behind your back. “Finally mine. All that fighting for nothing, huh? Don’t you feel stupid now?”

He thrusts into you harshly, and your entire body shifts with the movement. You moan and try once again to get out of the handcuffs.

“Enough,” Chan scolds, smacking your ass. You yelp, and he rubs the pain away by smoothing his hands over where he had just hit.

“Chan!” Your eyes roll back at a particularly well-aimed thrust. “Please! Please, please, please!”

“Please what?” Chan taunts. He presses your clit firmly and you squirm away from the pleasure. But he uses his other hand to grip the handcuffs and pull you back to him. “I’m already giving you my dick, you needy thing. Are you asking me to fill you further? To fill you with my cum until it’s dripping out of you, and then fuck it back in?”

You drool onto the sheets, aching and burning and full. You swear that he’s rearranging your guts for his own pleasure. You never want it to stop.

Then you’re clenching down around him with an orgasm, cunt spasming and body trembling. He works you through it by grinding into you, toying with your clit.

“Gonna give it to you,” Chan gasps out, mouth parting as he cums inside you. It’s your turn to help him through it, and you push back against him, rolling your hips.

“We’re the same,” Chan whispers as he slips out of you. He pulls you flush to his chest, arms around your torso. “You’re mine and I’m yours. You and I will be safe, now.”

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic @imeverycliche @iwuberic @strawberryscentedd @lezleeferguson-120 @mbioooo0000

[transformers-spike]

Heyy I noticed that you put TFO among the stuff you might write for. Pls pls, if it's alright w/ u, Megatron x reader angry sex? Like, you might be a human he found after being banished and kept with him, and he trusts you bc u are nice, pose no real threat and ur good to blow off some steam :))))))))) but ofc he cares abt u, so it's more like angry sex + tender aftercare thank uuuuuuu i love my big metallic man with anger issues

My brain decided to do its own thing and for the sake of not writing a full length novel about it, I had to cut it short (and of course I made it sad because the boy is just dripping with angst - so I'm going to give him more.) So here:

He was advised to abandon you. Found in the deepest recesses of a Quintesson ship they’d shot down, you were still shaking from the crash. Not Cybertronian. Nor Quintessonian. A completely different being, with soft mesh, warm extremities and strands of something falling from your helm. An animal perhaps? Much like the strange quadrupeds traveling the surface? No, your optics move with intention, taking in your surroundings and wrinkling your optical ridge in clear contemplation. You are incredibly tiny, even next to a cogless miner. He wondered, briefly, when he first saw you, if you were another casualty of Sentinel’s tyranny, a forgotten being he sold off to the Quintessons without a second thought. He does not understand your language, nor can you speak his, but you observe the context and carefully come to associate certain words with objects, actions and designations. You cannot reproduce the subtle tones of Cybertronian with an organic vocalizer, much like the Quintessons – but you do not reject it. You learn to live despite your muteness. Many times he’s watched you draw figures in the sand with a twig the size of your arm, depicting what he could only assume to be a spaceship flying away from a distant planet as the Quintessons surround it. Sometimes you draw more of your kind, together in an embrace. You would stand over your creation, watching wistfully as the wind erased the fine traces of sand. A memory of your people. He wishes he could tell you about him and Orion, the pain of losing him, the crater in his chassis that will never mend – but guilt keeps him at bay. Soon enough, your provisions will run out. What they found on the Quintesson ship were rations made for your specific type of biology, with no guide to recreate them from, not even Shockwave could reverse-engineer the process. It’s simply too late. One orbital cycle, your life will come to an end, but he will give you the dignity of dying at his hands, painlessly. He is no stranger to starvation, but unlike him, you must refuel at various intervals during an orbital cycle, else he senses how you grow restless on his shoulder, fiddling with your servos, mesh growing pale and optics sluggish, growls emanating from your inner mechanism. You are not made for suffering Your life will come to an end, and you know this better than any other Decepticon; as though reading his thoughts behind the permanent scowl scratched into his face. Perhaps this is why he indulges in you even if he’s been advised against it. You’re eager despite your size, pressing yourself against his frame, ignoring your discomfort. He’s still getting used to his new body, including his strength for better or for worse. Yet you do not fault him when he leaves bruises. You kiss him and rub up against his spike, transfluid trickling down to his valve even before he comes undone. You squirm and laugh and pull him into a hug, helm to helm, a moment so perfect he’s ready to rip the cog from his chassis if it means staying like this forever, servos clenched into fists as he curses at Primus for the happiness he will shatter.

[gingerteawrites]

teehee are u able to write a fic about geto and y/n baking together and having a movie night in? yes im delusional LMAO

A/N: Omg my very first Anon request?? Girl if you're delusional, I'm the president of the club! I'm so happy you asked for this, and hope you enjoy this little thing. Unfortunately I am still busy as a bee, so expect slower updates on this account for at least a couple of weeks😔🤚🏾

Content: Geto x female reader, fluff, established relationship, non-sorcerer AU

Some days, life pressed heavy upon your shoulders, a weight borne in weary steps and silent sighs. Obligations clung like shadows-- engagements to honor, duties to mend, and the world, ever unkind, offering only the worst of itself.

It came to a point that most interactions began to feel like a chore. The mere presence of others acting like a draining force on your already dwindling energy.

But when the *ding* sound of a notification on your phone pulls your attention to the device, you feel part of the exhaustion melt away as your lover's name pops up on the dim screen.

[Hey there pretty girl, are you still up for movie night?] The text from Suguru immediately brings a smile to your face, and your fingers are quick to type a reply.

[Yes! Your place at 8, right?]

[Yup, I'll come pick you up. See you later, love]

The anticipation for the evening gives you the strength to push through the mountain of work you have to do. And as soon as you register the roaring of Geto's bike outside your building, you are quick to grab your things and rush to the door, leaving behind the chaos of your own world.

You unlock your door, breathing in relief as fresh air filled your lungs.

"Hey," you smile, letting him engulf you into a warm hug. You smell the sandalwood of his cologne, closing your eyes.

"Hey," he replies, rubbing your back gently. He pulls away to let you close your door, and then interlaces your fingers as he leads you over to his bike.

You slip on your helmet with ease and climb on the vehicle, wrapping your arms securely around his torso. A routine that your mind welcomed, slowly silencing your spiraling thoughts from the day's events.

As if sensing your fatigue, Suguru rides a bit slower than usual. The quiet rumble of the bike's engine fill the silence. And his hands, rubbing your thighs occasionally when stopped at red lights fill you with peace. His own little way of saying he was there, that he cared.

When you finally walk into his apartment he strides into the kitchen, tying a dark apron around his waist.

"You can just relax and pick a movie, baby," he speaks from behind the counter, while you're still putting your stuff down. Incense sticks fill the room with a soothing smell, and like everything about Suguru, the apartment's ambiance makes your body relax further. But you perk up at his words.

"But we were supposed to bake together," you walk over to him, a slight frown over your features.

His expression softens even further, reaching out to hold your cheek. A large hand settles on your face and you feel his warmth seeping into your skin. "You look exhausted," he sighs, watching you nuzzle into his touch. "You could have canceled for tonight, you know?" He would never want for you to feel forced to be around him. He wanted to be your peace after all, and never a source of weariness.

You look up at him, stepping closer. "I'm glad you're trying to be considerate, but I really want to do this with you,"

His other hand finds your waist, rubbing soothingly along it. The movement sends pleasant shivers down your spine, and you relax further against him. Suguru smiles, placing a soft kiss on your cheek, "Alright then pretty," he pulls back. "Cookies it is?"

"Cookies it is." You confirm.

Suguru wraps his spare apron—unofficially yours—around your waist and queues up a bossa nova playlist before you both get to work. A relaxed ambiance settles over the room, the sweet aroma of batter curling through the air.

At last, you slide the cookies into the oven, turning just as you close the warm furnace. Before you can step away, Suguru pulls you close, his arm slipping around your waist.

There were birds in the sky But I never saw them winging No, I never saw them at all 'Til there was you~

You giggled lightly as he swayed with you around the small kitchen, humming along to the lyrics. The deep rumble of his voice reverberated through his chest and to yours, making your own body thrum with the rhythm of love.

"You're such a romantic," you whispered when the flute outro drew to a silence, your body still firmly planted against his.

"Only because I love you so much," he replied with that same easy smile. As if the depth of his affection did not rock you entirely. "Do you still want to watch [comfort movie]?"

You smiled, "Of course! Unless you want to watch something else," you secure your arms around his neck, enjoying the proximity as you still gently swayed to the instrumental suite that began to play in the background.

He shakes his head, drawing closer to give you a quick kiss on the lips, sweet and soft, almost too fleeting. "Your pick tonight."

No time passes until you're curled up together on the couch, the movie score ringing melodiously in the background.

But your attention is not on the screen, you could recite the whole movie without watching anyway. All that mattered was Suguru's arms around you, his chest pressed against your back, his hair tickling your cheek as it fell away from his face, the feel of his hands absently caressing you. The way he quietly hummed along to whatever tune that he recognized from the movie. Him, with you.

In his arms you felt safe, warm and loved. You could forget the weight of obligations, even if for a moment. And that was something the chaos of the world could not take away from you.

I hope you enjoyed it! Please feel free to request anything else :))

comments and reblogs are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)

[electricbluebutterflies]

“It’s fine, I’m used to it” for Frank and Karen

Post-whatever, PG-ish, also on ao3.

New experience of the week – using cheap vodka for sterilization.

It is one in the morning, somehow that feels early for such an encounter, and Karen is on her knees on her bathroom floor and hoping to a god she stopped believing in a long time ago that she’s just blown through her what-even-is-my-life quota for the week because otherwise…

“You sure this is a good idea?”

Someday, she thinks, someday she’s going to learn not to ask questions like that.

It is one in the goddamn morning and one of the most dangerous men in New York City is sitting on her bathroom rug, shirtless, looking like his body got used as a knife sharpener and that may just be close enough to what happened that Karen isn’t inclined to confirm and-

“Could do it myself.”

But he’d rather not, the implication is. He’d rather not, and they have their whole don’t-ask-don’t-tell thing going on that might just ruin her life but has also saved it, and fuck some of these look awful, and-

“Tell me what I’m doing.”

She’s not a field medic, she wants to say, but that’s not the point. She is a pair of steady hands that are not attached to the damaged body opposite her, and she trusts experiences she has not had, and-

“Get the washcloth… maybe not soaked, I don’t know how much of that stuff you even have, but-“

“I can get more in the morning. If this is something I’ll need to have.”

For when this happens again, she leaves unspoken. For when this becomes yet another routine she never asked for.

She pours more vodka onto the cloth than she probably should – it’s not like that was something she ever drank for the taste – and figures out the next step, gentle application to wounds and-

Frank makes a noise she did not know he could make, an involuntary reaction to the burn of it, and her heart breaks a little.

Her face must do something she loses control over because next thing she knows his hand is over hers, comforting even through this. “It’s fine,” he murmurs. “I’m used to it.”

Like hell, she wants to say and doesn’t. He’s used to a lot of things he shouldn’t be, and why should this be any easier, why should this be-

“What now?”

“You ever mended anything?”

She likes that it’s a question, that there’s no assumption she has that skill just because of how often she wears skirts, and-

“I don’t think you’re that desperate. Are you?”

“Could go either way. Shoulder isn’t the easiest to-“

“I can try.”

Why this is her problem…

Right. Because of everything she’s not saying. Because of everything she’ll never say to anyone. Because for all her weaknesses, she’s as committed to this disaster as it gets, because she sees the man more than the motivations, because he’s burning bright and she cares too much and-

“It’s just the one. Everything else… don’t know what you’ve got for bandages, but…”

“I think I’ve got those. You do owe me a decent first-aid kit though.”

“’Course.”

She dips a needle in the vodka because that’s what they do on TV, either alcohol or burning it and she figures this option will hurt less, and-

“Do you mind that your stitches are going to be green?”

“Don’t think anyone else will see them.”

Apparently this is something one eyeballs until it feels right. Karen has never attempted to sew human skin together before, and honestly she’d prefer to never do this again, and she suspects this too will become the fucked-up kind of normal they’ve ended up with and-

He doesn’t finch. Doesn’t do anything one would expect under the circumstances. He’s done this to himself too, she knows that part and is trying not to think about it, and what she’s doing now may qualify as an improvement and that’s goddamned terrifying and-

“That look okay?”

“Don’t matter how it looks, only matters that it holds. And that should. Thank you.”

“You’re willing to risk a weird scar because you asked someone to-“

“You’ve left marks on me, Karen. Might as well add some physical ones too.”

She des not have the active brain cells to process that statement right now, she decides as she turns her attention to the rest of him, to cuts that need to be wiped down and-

This better not become a routine, she thinks as she bandages what she can, and at the same time she wouldn’t be remotely surprised if it does, and she’s not sure she’d mind either.

“Did mean what I said about the kit,” he says when she’s finished, still too close and not close enough.

“Planning to make me need it?”

“If you don’t want-“

“Don’t give me that look. If I didn’t want you here, you’d know.”

She’s not sure how she ends up with his arm around her shoulders, both of them sitting against the wall like this is normal and comfortable and good and oh, someday she wants to trace the countless lines on his skin, someday she wants-

“There’s space between not wanting and-“

Fine. She can’t imagine anyone else reacting as easily to any of this as she has. She doesn’t mind.

“You’re staying.”

“You’re not negotiating.”

“You look like your body went through a paper shredder, and that’s just the parts I can see. If there’s anything you’re hiding…”

“You trying to get me undressed?”

“Do I need to be?”

“No ma’am. Everything was above the belt.”

“If you get infected because you didn’t want me to see your thighs…”

“Promise.”

She believes hi just enough. There are no other movements for a while, no attempts to get her off him, nothing-

“You’re staying,” she repeats. “On the couch.”

“You’re good to me, Karen.”

“I try.”

And if they don’t make it that far, if they end up asleep on the bathroom floor…

They’ve both slept in worse situations, Karen thinks as her eyes close, as she decides his good shoulder will do as a pillow. This is fine. Really.

[according2thelore]

oh GOD that ask answer was everything i dreamed and more. es!dean literally cannot imagine the kind of torture sam went through with lucifer. (which, incidentally, is one reason why ls!sam could never really replace ls!dean with him. he wakes up hyperventilating in the middle of the night and that slender boy is not enough. he needs his mountain man of a brother who Knows what’s out there.) and that kills him because he needs to know Everything About Sam. but sam is so so right to keep it from him - i don’t think es!dean could live with the knowledge, say, that sam is raped one day. i think it would actually end him.

ugggh i lvoe this au so much. you are a genius.

GRAHH you're so right!!!

sam wakes up one night straight from a nightmare and stumbles into the hallway, needing to find dean's room. he runs into ES!Dean, who's all it's okay, sam. it can't hurt you, it's just a vision--because he doesn't know! ES!Sam's nightmares can be soothed with gentle hands on his neck and shoulders, brushing bangs out of his eyes, dean promising that they'll fix it, and sam's safe.

but LS!Sam is going to throw up because this isn't a fixable thing. he feels suffocated by ES!Dean's firm hands on wrists, held down, and he pushes him away, hard.

LS!Dean shoves ES!Dean further away like you can't restrain him like that and ES!Dean pales bc he things he's caught on: someone held sam captive, maybe because of his powers. how could LS!Dean have arrived so clearly late, late enough that sam still carries the scars into his dreams?

and LS!Dean keeps muttering about first stones and c'mon sammy breathe with me and look at me and this is real. and LS!Sam kind of crumples and shoves himself under LS!Dean's arm, trying to make himself small and holdable, and ES!Dean just stands there and burns.

because there is clearly something here that's not right. something that LS!Sam&Dean have survived together, learned how to deal with, spent years adjusting to each other, and that's something ES!Dean is starting to realize they'll never tell him.

sam has always been a little inaccessible--he used to refuse to tell dean details about his girlfriend-of-the-weeks, he kept stanford a secret until he got his acceptance letter, he wouldn't tell dean what he was writing in all of those notebooks--but never the truly big, life-or-death stuff. and now sam--LS!Sam, anyway--is inaccessible. and it kills dean. dean wants to shrivel up and die because sammy is his. his responsibility, his to watch out for, his to mend, his to kill for.

he has never felt more purposeless or rudderless than he does right now--watching someone else comfort sam.

what he doesn't know, of course, would kill him. the fact that sam asks to be locked into a cage in hell, and dean will let him. the century of torture and rape and psychological hell that sam went through is a chasm that dean will never be able to fix. he can build a bridge, but that's all he can do.

it would kill ES!Dean. and LS!Sam knows it. so he reaches out a shaky hand in the gap between LS!Dean's arm and body, where he's wrapped sam in a bear hug.

ES!Dean rushes forward and grabs it, life finally having meaning again as sammy looks up at him with bloodshot eyes, with fingers that shake, and a voice that cracks when he says, "i'm okay, dean. thank you. i'm fine."

AGH!!!! anon, you get it <3 <3 hurt/comfort is my FUCKING bread and butter!!!!!!!! esp when it goes both ways!! because with these bozos, it literally would be!!

-lizzy

[redheadspark]

Hi! Mind if I request a number 8 for Jack Russell?

A/N - Here you go, friend! I hope you like it!

Angel

Summary - Jack remember when he fell for you

Warnings - Just Fluff

“This broth is going to get you up and going before you know it,”

“Is that a promise, Amor?”

“Come on, take the sip,”

Jack chuckled as he leaned into where you had the spoon hovering, taking a massive bite to have the broth seep down his throat with ease.  You watched as his eyes rolled to the back of his head in relief and delight as he groaned from the taste.  You giggled as you pulled out the spoon, then gently placed the bowl in his hands and the spoon back into the rich broth.

“Here, feed yourself,” You hummed as you leaned up to kiss his forehead.  He grinned as he tilted his head at you.

“But I love it when you feed me,” he said, making you roll your eyes as you got up from the bed where he was perched and went to the dresser to rummage through the drawer that had his pajamas in it.

“Oh, do you?  Am I just a wet nurse to you?” You asked in a tease over your shoulder, knowing that he was watching you with his bright eyes zoned in on you as if he were a werewolf eyeing his prey.  

“You know you’re more than that, my love,” he reassured you as you got out of your pajama pants and thin T-shirt. Do you remember when I fell in love with you?”

“When?” You asked as you looked back at him with a raised brow, seeing him nod his head with a smile.  You shook your head as you went back to sit on the side of the bed again where you were perched before.  Placing the pajamas on the bed near Jack, you watched and waited as he took another sip from his spoon to eat the broth before speaking again.

“Some time ago, back before we got together, there was a job that went bad over in the Pacific Northwest Mountains,” He explained to you as you were trying to remember what he was talking about, but it seemed like a blur.  He’s had close calls before when it came to his line of work, he knew he would be not just a monster hunter but a werewolf.  You two were simply friends then, though your line of work was on the safe side as a nurse.  

“It was a rainy night in February, 6 years ago,” He reminded you, seeing you were struggling to remember what he was talking about.  It was then he reached over with his spare hand and laced it with your own.  He turned his wrist slightly, making you look down and notice the sliver of a scar along his skin.

It hit you like a bolt of lightning: You knew what night he was talking about.

The rain was pounding on the roof of your little home as Jack was passed out cold.

The air was chilly, he was sweating through a massive fever as a deep and infective cut on his wrist was close to infecting all his arm to the point of infection.  You were hunched over his body, Jack out cold from the medicine that you gave him.  He already sweated through his clothes thanks to the fever, not to mention several cuts and wounds that he infected when he stumbled through your home in the dead of night.

He called you an hour before desperate for you to help him since going to a hospital would be out of the question for him. You were his go-to when it came to more severe wounds that had to be mended out of the public eye.  Being a werewolf was a hindrance at times, especially when it came to him getting help when he needed it. Most of the time he could handle it himself since he learned from past experiences.  But that was basic first aid, stuff he learned as a kid and with trial and error in his earlier years as a werewolf.

What happened to him in those mountains was beyond his own work and knowledge.

 The slash on his arm was lethal, whoever was trying to kill him almost succeeded.  You were counting your lucky stars that he was still there and breathing, though he was out cold in your bed in the dead of night.  You were glad that you had some energy left in you since you recently got home from your shift at the hospital.  Yet when Jack staggered in, covered in blood and falling to his knees in your living room as the thunder clashed overhead, you were no longer tired. 

You were worried beyond words.  

 It took some time for you to work your magic on Jack after you half carried him to your spare bedroom, having some of your own medicine that you kept at home and your bag that was used strictly for the hospital or in the case of an emergency.  It was a good perk of being a nurse at a hospital: plenty of supplies that you got to keep and use at your disposal.  

By the time it was nearly 3 in the morning, you could see he was going to be okay and was going to make it through the night.  Although you’ve had plenty of experience and practice in mending wounds and stitching, you still felt as thoughyou could do better.  The stitch on his wrist was well done, it would leave a scar for certain, but better a scar than an amputation.  You cleaned him up well enough, making sure no wounds were going to have the risk of being infected, then decided to pull over a chair and sit next to him.  {perhaps to give him company or to keep a close eye on him.

You ended up reading a book while drinking some tea until the wee hours of the morning.

“You fell in love with me then?” You asked, Jack was sipping his broth now steadily as he nodded his head. You grinned and leaned back a bit on the bed as you chuckled, “The night was one of the scariest nights.  I didn’t think you were going to make it through the night,”

“Well I did, thanks to you,” he hummed as he placed the bowl on the nightstand, “And I remember that night very differently.”

“How can you when you were out cold most of the night?” You questioned him as he let his smile stay on his face.  He paused, once again looking at the scar on his wrist and then back at you.

“I remember waking up for a brief moment that night, still tired and feverish.  But something was a pinch better in that moment, even in the pain I had all over and the flash memories of what happened.  You were there, sitting in your dining room chair and reading your book.  I don’t know if it was the fever that I was battling or the relief I had for being alive, but I thought of you as an angel,”  He explained, his voice soft and calm as you were listening to all he was saying with a small smile and some tears in your eyes, “You were an angel, an angel who saved me.  It was then I knew…that I basin love with you,”

You felt so lost, almost like you were walking in a dream.  You never heard this from him, he has confessed he loved you after you two got together as a couple.  But this was a first, and it felt like you were hearing something so intimate and divine.  It would be coming from someone as kind and sincere as Jack.

“For someone as selfless and kind as you to tend to someone as tortured and damned as me,” he admitted, you tutting as you held one of his hands in both of your own, “You saw me as me, not as a monster or a cursed being as most others do.  Our friendship was always something important to me, thinking of you when I was alone on my darkest days made them a pinch brighter.  All simple because you chose to be my friend, and you never saw me as a burden,”

You were crying at that point, Jack sighing as he sat up and cupped your face in his palm to wipe away the tear with his thumb.  

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” You asked, trying not to sound all blubbery with your tone but you weren’t caring at that point.  Jack laughed and shrugged his own shoulders.

“I never got around to it if I’m honest,”  he admitted, “We got together soon after that night If I remember, and it was something I would hold close to my heart until now,”

You grinned, his palm now pressing against your lips as you kissed his skin.  Jack always had a way with words, for as long as you have known him and he's your boyfriend. He knew what to say and how to say it to move you.  Even now, hearing this new information, you were moved.  On one of the darkest days you’ve ever had, it ended up one of his brightest days.

You leaned in and kissed him, not being able to do anything else to show that you fiercely loved him. You knew deep down he loved you back just as fiercely.  

The End

[marzbix-crystal]

[Image ID: A page of annotated and fully-coloured digital drawings featuring an interpretation of the character Apophyllite from Land of the Lustrous, on the right is a full body drawing of the character facing the right, they have grey-blue hair that reaches their chin with one side partially covering their face, they wear the winter uniform with a shirt, tie, puffy sleeves, flared shorts, and flat shoes with bows on them, they also wear white knee-socks and elbow-length gloves, In the lower centre is a headshot of Apophyllite looking towards the left with their hair obscuring their face, in the lower left is a stylized drawing of them with one hand on their hip and the other holding a broom, finally in the top left is an image of Apophyllite crystals, and a Manga screenshot depicting a Lunarian mentioning the gem, with a red circle and arrows pointing to the name. /End ID]. Annotations will be rewritten below

APOPHYLLITE She/Her Pronouns Mohs Hardness: 4.5 Nicknames: Phyll or Poppy The Fourth Elder Gem. She pulled everyone together when Kongo Sensei lost consciousness. She's a lovely gem, but very strict on how she runs things- she's always fussing the youngsters about their uniforms, sleeping quarters, and even their posture. Apophyllite is a jack of all trades, she can teach, fix broken gems, mend clothes, she can even make quality paper. But she prefers cleaning above all else- dirt and clutter beware!! Some stuff I didn't write on the drawing: She is the Head Cleaner, and while she has a team of cleaners to keep the school tidy all year-round, she begins rallying every gem to get things (mostly) spotless before winter hits.

[Image ID: A page of annotated and fully-coloured digital drawings featuring an interpretation of the character Pink Fluorite from Land of the Lustrous, on the right is a full body drawing of the character facing the right with their head turned to the left, they have long, sleek, reddish pink hair that hangs around their shoulders like a scarf with a strand of hair drooping from the top of their head, they wear a suit with a waistcoat, shirt, tie, rolled-up sleeves, trousers, and high-heeled shoes, In the lower centre is a stylized doodle of Pink Fluorite from the waist up, they have their hands on their hips and they have a disgusted expression on their face, the word "disgusted" is written in bold letters on their left, in the lower left is a bust drawing of the character facing the left while looking over their shoulder at the viewer, their hair is tied into a bun, finally in the top left is an image of a Pink Fluorite crystal, and a Manga screenshot depicting a strategy board where the character Phosphophyllite mentions them, a red circle and arrows point to the name. /End ID]. Annotations will be rewritten below PINK FLUORITE She/He Pronouns Mohs Hardness: 4 No Nicknames: Use their full name or refer to as "Sir" A total etiquette freak, far too strict to be a Mediator, but she still does her best to uphold the rules to the best of her ability. He was once the Delinquents' worst nightmare, but he started to mellow out a while ago. She had a weird one-sided rivalry with Labradorite, but she has mostly grown out of it. Mostly. Several-hundred years shy of Elder Gem status, but he still pulls the age card like it's a badge once in a while. She's weirdly agile for a gem that doesn't fight. He often ties his hair up into a bun, a very prim and proper gem. Some stuff I didn't write on the drawing: Pink Fluorite is actually quite elusive nowadays, he's usually holed up in the Library, making sure everything is in the right place. Despite her cold demeanour, she gives pretty good advice to those looking for it. --------------------

ALRIGHT OK ALRIGHT!!! I'm so happy with these I posted them together because I didn't want to just, idk bloat?? my profile?? I don't know how to say it but ANYWAY I realise these are a bit messy but I don't really mind it? I got my thoughts down and that is what matters. All three of these gems (Sphalerite, Apophyllite, and Pink Fluorite) looked VERY different to when I first thought about them, it's a shame I didn't draft those out, but I' so so happy with how they ended up. Although it's been very hard not to write "Pink Floyd" instead of Pink Fluorite I will be doing some proper art soon ish, I have several ideas, but not not all of them will be pretty rock related, so if you're tuned into my other blogs you can keep an eye out if you want :]

[moondust-imagines]

Who gets the girl? (Adam Copeland x Fem!reader)

Reader isn’t the nicest person in this one :)

2000 Backstage at Monday Night Raw

Adam’s hands felt heavy on your hips as he guided you to grind on his jean clad thigh. His lips captured yours in a steamy kiss to dampen your quiet moans. The cool wall behind you was almost a welcome contrast to the heat radiating from you. Neither of you had time for this, someone was bound to be looking for one of you by now. He just couldn’t help himself.

“Adam!? Where the fuck are you we need to get ready” Christian called

Adam pulled away from you reluctantly. You instantly missed the warmth of him pressing against your body. He threw you a quick wink before disappearing around the corner, hopefully to divert Christian long enough to let you tidy up your dishevelled appearance before he suspected something.

Adam reappeared with Christian in tow not long after. You were touching up your lip gloss in the mirror, Adam caught your eye in the reflection and flashed you a grin.

“Think you can fix his ugly mug?” Adam joked as Christian sat in your make-up chair.

“Not a miracle worker I’m afraid but I’ll see what I can do” You teased, earning a playful glare from the man. You attempted to run your fingers through his hair to get it out of his face but got tangled in the knots.

“What have I told you about using conditioner? You’ve got a damn birds nest up here” You scolded

“Maybe you should shower with me to remind me” He replied quietly. You gave him a gentle slap to the shoulder, hoping Adam hadn’t heard his flirtatious comment.

“You’ve got the Hardys tonight right?” You asked while searching for your comb in the slightly organised chaos of your table.

“We sure do, speaking of which I should go find them while you’re dealing with bird brain here” Adam said, making a quick exit.

“He’s going to get suspicious if he hears you say stuff like that” You chastised Christian quietly, trying to brush through his hair as gently as you could

“So what? He’d probably congratulate me on following in his womanising footsteps” He joked “You know I’d tell the whole damn roster about us if you’d let me”

“I don’t get involved with co-workers Christian, you know that” You sighed

“Yeah? You seemed pretty involved with me in the locker room shower last week” He replied with a grin

-

You hadn’t meant to hurt Christian, you were young and too wrapped up in your own feelings to think about what you were doing to him. He was devastated when he had finally caught you and Adam. His sadness had quickly turned to rage then simmered to resentment over the years. You thought they had mended bridges a few years ago, Christian had been one of the groomsmen at your wedding.

Then Adam made his debut in AEW a few years later and that resentment reared its ugly head once more.

-

“I should go out there and talk to him” Your husband muttered. You were clutching his bicep while watching a monitor. Christian was running his mouth in the ring and you could feel the agitation rolling from Adam.

“You’re not going to change his mind Adam” You sighed “If you go out there, all that bad feeling is going to be out in the open again”

You shuddered at the memory of the harsh promos he had cut on you and Adam when the wound of your betrayal was still fresh. Being put on blast in public like that wasn’t fun, but maybe it was what you deserved.

“Baby, we have a whole life together! We’ve been married for years, we’ve got two beautiful girls. If he can’t see that we were meant to be, then he’s no longer the man I grew up with” Adam exclaimed

So Adam went to the ring and confronted him. And you watched on anxiously.

“You think you get to come out here and give me the big nostalgia speech? One last run? Hell no. You’ve taken everything from me: championships, recognition, you even got the girl! This is my turn, my turn to get my flowers!”

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears not to run. You knew he was right, he deserved his time in the sun. You just wished he didn’t feel the need to step on his best friend to get it.

[ethanhuntfemmefatale]

i just wanted to say that i am a huge fan of dick (your oc not the appendage -_-) from what i've seen in his tag he just fascinates me. your mind is magnificent etc etc..

I cannot thank you enough for saying this. He says hi

:-) <-thats him

he's my player character for a ttrpg im doing...his name is dick wayne, erectile dysfunction joke partially intended (he's trans!) & also batman reference intended. he's basically a play on the stereotype of the dumb brute, I made him to play with a lot of ideas about vigilantism and violence in the family that are woven throughout the rpg. He's become a bit murky and complicated as a character because I use him so much as an outlet. The core concept of him is as a powerful guy who treats his body like a tool that he hands over to someone else to use however they see fit. He ran away from his mom as a kid but he never was able to get away from the ideas she taught him...when he was fresh out of (dropping out of) college he fell in with an older man who stoked his anger issues and taught him to fight crime. They took in a kid together! And in the end he wasn't able to stop the man from teaching those same ideas to their kid, passing the violence on.

A LOT has happened in the rpg at this point, he's almost died about 20 times, he's got like one and a half boyfriends and the one boyfriend has another version of himself who's pretty hot, etc. Now he's at a crossroads and he's trying to get better for the wrong reasons. Trying to rid himself of violence so he doesn't "infect" anyone else with it, not because he wants to get better. He's struggling with the growing horror of realizing that he has power over his own life, which means that everything that's happened because of his passivity is on his shoulders. And things are about to get worse! He's gonna die and get resurrected, for the SECOND TIME, and come back as a shambling zombie who's also kinda fey, still very powerful in all the wrong ways.

My concept is that he'll ultimately learn how to give up the one thing that he believes makes him useful and loved--his ability to fight for & protect people--in order to have a shot at real peace and contentment. before he died the second time (a really great phrase) he was a mechanic! it was the only thing he had that was his, that brought him satisfaction even through everything. he's constantly commenting on people's cars in the rpg, which is partially my own way of living out my car guy fantasies. and he has a car that's his best friend (named daisy.) I have this idea that after he gets resurrected, he'll have lost all the knowledge he had about cars, all the muscle memory, everything from this one skill that kept him tethered to the world and grounded in his own body and humanity. And at the end of the story, he'll slowly start to teach himself those skills again. Because it's not about competence, it's about the love of the work, and the love is still there! It's basically the idea of--there's no going back or undoing what's been done to you, or what you've done to yourself. the conventional happy ending (the world is saved, the status quo is restored, hurts are mended) is essentially impossible after horrible trauma. Things have changed, there are still scars, you're still older and you're still in the life all that stuff happened in. But taking the step to take care of yourself despite all that is better than a happy ending--it's meeting your life where it's at, looking at it honestly and making a commitment to it.

forgive me for being sappy i just am very invested in this. Dick is important to me at all times but especially right now cause I'm trying to use him as inspiration to deal with my own struggle to . well. give up the one thing I believe makes me useful and loved in order to have a shot at real peace and contentment.

anyway. dick wayne! he's a bear! he's a slut! he's even aro!

i love you thank you for the ask. hope you're doing great<33

[paranoidginger]

Lab-rat part 10

Tw: N/A

Bait sat in the common room, a small smile on his face as he listened to one of the Scout's many stories, a blanket wrapped snugly around his shoulders.

"So I'm out with my brothas, right? All reallllll rough and tumble types ah' guys, I'm only fifteen, and I see this person who I think is a cute chick, I'm only seeing her back, and she's got this super nice long hair. My older brotha, he notices me eye'n this broad, and he's all 'Shoot ya shot, man' so I look at him, all nervous n' crap, and go walk over to her. This. Now this is where it starts to get good, right? Because I go over and try to talk to her, and she turns around and turns out she was a whole man. He's got this super thick moustache, and I immediately recognize him. Dude's wearin' a wig, and he looks at my brotha and they both start losing their damn minds, 'cause the guy was my oldest brotha's best friend! Then the pieces fall together, 'cause my brother would never be that encouraging to me when it comes to a cute chick, he'd always, and I mean always, be the one to start hittin' on em, and then I think, and I realize that it's April freakin' first. They went through this whole plan, just to make me have a crush on my brotha's best friend. It didn't work though, I mean, I already decided to like girls, and I couldn't just go back 'n betray all the hot babes that wouldn't ever have a chance with me if I liked fellas, you know?"

Most of what the man said didn't make much sense to Bait, but Scout sounded so happy whenever he told his stories... It felt nice to be the one he could share whatever he liked with, just because he would listen...

The pair were interrupted as the Medic approached them, his boots clicking softly on the hardwood floors of the base.

"Sorry to intrude, but zhe shipment came in for our friend! Bait, if you are ready, we can get started on getting you put back together." The Medic smiled slightly, although it wavered slightly as he spoke the Clone's name. It felt wrong, filthy, even... But it was what the other team had called him, and what he continued to answer to while he tried to think of a name for himself.

"I'm ready..." He spoke quietly, getting to his feet and extending a hand so that he could be guided to the infirmary.

"He's... He's gonna be okay, right doc?" The Scout asked cautiously "I know you've got a knack for that kinda stuff but... I don't know, I'm- I'm just nervous. After what happened the other day when he wasn't wakin' up..."

"You know Zhat he is in safe hands, I von't let anyzhing go wrong, Junge." Gently, the medic took the clone's hand, beginning to lead him down the hall to where the procedures would be done.

Hours passed in an unconscious state, Bait's body laying on the Medic's operating table as he diligently worked, removing the horrid stuffing within the clone's body and replacing it with what belonged, saving his eyes for last.

The most delicate of procedures as nerves were mended together, and fine muscles reattached until finally, he could look at the clone's face and see that it was whole again. All of him would be whole again, for the first time in who knows how long.

Eventually, the young man slowly came to, a strange pressure in his face that he wasn't yet used to... And yet he still could not see. It wasn't the same as it had been before, though, his vision filled with simple darkness, as opposed to the void beyond it... But why was it still so dark? Slowly, he sat up in his little recovery bed, carefully touching his face, finding himself bandaged with gauze covering his eyes.

He turned his head to the door as he heard it open and shut, the familiar voices of the Medic and Spy.

"I'm glad to see zhat you're awake! Herr Spy vanted to be here for vhenever I took zhe bandages off." The Medic explained moving to sit on the edge of Bait's bed. "I have zhe lights off for now, being able to see again vill most likely be a very big transition for you." With that, the Medic carefully unraveled the bandages from around the clone's head, and he was finally able to open his eyes.

He took a deep breath, the motion easier than it had been before as he looked around the room, in shock as he was able to take in everything around him. A shaky laugh escaped him, and he began to smile. After a moment, he pulled the medic into a firm hug, his laughter turning to small sobs, tears of joy running down his face as he felt an extra set of arms around him, just for a moment.

As he pulled away from the Medic, wiping his tears with the heel of his palm, he looked up at the Spy, who had a rare genuine smile on his face.

"I told you the docteur would treat you well. Everyone here has been rooting for you, mon garçon... Myself especially."

Part 9

@thatonesimp-e @realccre

Another sweeter chapter, before everything goes to hell.

[vilevenom]

This piece is so pretty! I couldn't help myself but to write some fic. Sorry 😖

Sonic laughed as he fired off another bullet into a seeking, grasping siren, watching in fascination as its watery body scattered like glitter into the wind.

Tails had warned the crew of the dangers of the waters they were sailing into, instructing everyone to stuff their ears full of cotton, for the sinful song of the sirens were known to drag even the strongest men to their death. Sonic, of course, had scoffed that their crew were the most steadfast and strongest on the seven seas, and no siren call could ever sway their decidedly stalwart and stoic captain from their goals, even as he obediently shoved scraps of fabric into his own ears. After all, everyone knew that there was no one the captain could be swayed towards, and nothing he would relinquish their lofty goals for.

At least, that's what Sonic had thought.

Turning sharply as what looked to be the last of the sirens escaped from their ship, Sonic was eager to share in the ships victory with his captain. Although bickering and fist fights weren't abnormal for the two, Sonic liked to think that, as first mate, he and his captain were thick as thieves, often sharing meals and drinks together over shared stories of combat, victory, and even the occasional loss. So, it was to his greatest surprise to find one last siren perched over the railing of the upper deck, the scraps Sonic had seen the captain shove into his ears himself held aloft in the creatures hands. Its sweet song must have wormed its way into the captains mind, as his hands were limp at his sides, pistol loose in his grip and sword laid out on the deck, forgotten.

"Captain?!" Sonic shouted, watching in abject horror as the watery beast stole his face as it pulled his captain in, tenderly stroking at his face as a lover would. His feet felt frozen as his captain stepped forward, towards the railings, as the creature crooned, luring its prey to what would surely be a watery death.

It was Knuckles who acted, his sword slicing through the creatures arms as he shoved their captain back, an unearthly screech ripping through the air, heard even through the crews makeshift ear plugs as the last siren leapt away from the ship. At last, the crew rejoiced, bits of fabric and cotton flying into the air as the ship swept away from the sirens hunting grounds.

But Sonic stood still, unable to even think as raucous noise exploded around him. His eye met that of his captain, who stared right back for only the briefest of moments, before turning away, shamefaced.

"The time for celebrations comes after clean-up," Captain Shadow barked, a snarl of his face only partially covering the flush on his face, "Make sure those scallywags didn't knick anything necessary, and fix anything the filthy beasts broke! Tomorrow we make for land, where you can wile away your day, but tonight we must mend and make sure we're still fit to sail!"

A rowdy shout of affirmation from the crew was all the captain needed, before he was sweeping through the crowd to his quarters, Sonic short to follow on his heels.

"Captain-"

"Not a word!"

Sonic jumped as a dagger dug into the wood door frame next to his head, thrown cleanly from across the room where Shadow was already hunched over the maps strewn across his desk.

"...Shadow," Sonic soothed, slowly striding across the room, being mindful of any other weapons that may come flying at his head. He took it as a good sign when he was threatened with no further bodily harm, and sidled up next to his captain. He reached towards Shadows hand on the desk, only to fall back as it was quickly snatched away, the captain turning his back to him.

"Y'weren't supposed to see that," Shadow rumbled, head bowed slightly.

"I think the whole crew saw that," Sonic tried to joke, only for it to fall flat as Shadow's shoulders inched towards his ears. "No. No, sorry, that wasn't funny," Sonic sighed, reaching out again to gently touch Shadow's elbow. He was rewarded by the captain tilting his head slightly towards Sonic.

"M'sorry," Shadow sighed, "You're my first mate. That was...T'won't happen again."

"What if...I want it to?" Sonic dared to breath, only to take a sharp step back as Shadow whirled towards him. He froze as Shadow stared him down, an unreadable expression flickering over his face in the dim candlelight of the captain's quarters.

"And how's that?" Shadow finally asked, tilting his chin up in curiosity, even as Sonic flushed and bit nervously at his lip.

"Obviously, not the nearly being pulled to your death thing," Sonic hummed, gingerly taking a step into Shadows space, "but, perhaps the staring at me longingly part?" He gained a bit more confidence as Shadow continued to watch him curiously. "Perhaps, even...a further part, where," he lifted his hands, mimicking where the siren had so tenderly held Shadows face, "where I kiss you?"

"Aye," Shadow breathed, lifting his own hands to cup around Sonic's, brushing his thumbs gently over his knuckles, "I do believe that, perhaps, that could be arranged."

Sonic snickered quietly as he drew their faces together, his toes curling in his boots as the please little hum Shadow let out as their lips met.

sinbad sirens but they appear as the person you desire

[littlewalken]

mar 11

Okay depression is a choice think happy thoughts people- I'm all moved in to one of the nicest safest places I've ever lived, I have food and utilities, I am able to pay my current bills, I have three years of projects that have been in gay baby jail to catch up on, my body hasn't found any new aches and pains that I wasn't expecting with my current age, so why do I still feel like shit?

And why is feeling like shit such a normal feeling for me that my brain appears to be fishing in my memories for Bad Things to bring up when I had previously been doing well with processing my past traumas?

~sigh~

Now that I've got a good stitch setting on my mending machine between the pattern and number dial I was able to put the Xmas strips together in preparation for becoming a bargello. They're even, the one red one is smooshed because of bed lumps.

If the sewing muscles want to cooperate today I'm going to do some pairing up of the purple precuts with some black precuts, if not they'll wait until next designated sewing machine day. But it looks like when it comes to machine sewing that having a designated day will work well in the scheme of having astronaut time.

I made all the string things in the picture too. The pastel blanket is a repeating sc-dc-tr-tr-dc-sc shape in alternating colors. The thing in the lower right is a shoulder warmer in the Eagle colorway from the lion mandala yarn. The brown thing peeking out in the upper right hand corner is a bunch of lion Homespun put together in a thing that is too warm for hot flashes and too much little itchies so it'll probably go. Nothing on there is worth frogging.

Got to go out and give more things to the thrift store, the Mormon one loved our collection of ustaholds, and half the crap is the smothering unit's shopping habit going back to them. Her money her choices as long as her half of the bills are paid. And she discovered how much more she had when not covering the mooch's bills too.

On the writing side one of the leads in the Hollywood story will definitely be a butch bisexual who lives publicly as a man for several reasons that finds herself wondering what to do when she falls in love with a lesbian.

I'm glad I reread, took notes, and decided to start the story again because it just sort of... A combination of the story its self sort of falling apart and as I said before I must have been really mad at a couple of the characters.

I know it's stuff someone not so deep in the story could have helped me spot and fix but... Whole sub plots had to be dropped, the character who's the butch had to become more sympathetic, and apparently too many activists have pooped in the pool to make me even want to consider a couple of the plot roads I was going to go down.

Keep it up and I might go back to describing the appearances of some of the characters I left a bit more ambiguous because I thought it would make them more relatable, in the sense that ___ has a distinct nose or ___ looked like their face had been in a sand blaster.

[cybrsan]

Treasure — J.WY [Pt.5]

SUMMARY: Don't let yourself get too comfortable; the desert is full of danger.

PAIRING: Waterbender Jung Wooyoung x Non-Bender F!Reader

RATING/GENRE: M ; angst, fluff, eventual smut ; ATLA au, enemies to lovers

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: Violence, injury, slight gore

LINKS: Ode To ATEEZ Masterlist | Together in Harmony Masterlist | Cross-posted on AO3 and Wattpad

↞ Previous | Masterlist | Next ↠

“Morning,” you say, nodding your head in Wooyoung’s direction. He doesn’t respond, instead focusing intently on packing up his supplies. You frown; did he not hear you, or is he ignoring you? “Morning, Wooyoung.” Again, silence. You roll your eyes. “I thought we were past this!”

You continue to ramble, but then you notice his shoulders are shaking slightly. He bursts into laughter. “Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t help myself. We’re good, promise.”

“Asshole,” you say, chucking your crumpled-up blanket at his face and smiling when he isn’t able to swat it away in time.

He quickly retaliates, opening his waterskin and bending some water out of it, forming it into a small, rippling ball. It hovers menacingly in the air a few inches from your face. “Don’t start a fight you don’t plan on finishing,” he teases. “I’m sure it would be uncomfortable to travel with your clothes soaking wet.”

Just then, San peeks his head into the tent and immediately panics. He sends a small burst of flame out from his palm, causing the water to dissolve into steam. “Wooyoung, what the hell?”

“What is it?” you hear Yunho yell from outside the tent.

“It looks like they were about to fight!” San replies, heading back out. “Yeosang, I thought you said this was supposed to make them get along?!”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes at the theatrics. “Let’s get out there and explain before they really start to believe we were gonna kill each other.”

Laughing, you quickly pack up the rest of your stuff and throw your bag over your shoulder before you and Wooyoung walk out one after the other to rejoin the group. Seonghwa immediately rushes over to the two of you, eyes flitting over your bodies as if scanning for injuries.

“Everything okay?”

You lightly pat his arm. “Seonghwa, it’s fine, really.”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung continues, “We weren’t fighting.” He says the second part loudly enough that the others can hear.

San looks between the two of you incredulously. “You had a water orb aimed at her face!”

“We were just joking around,” you laugh. “Promise. We’re all good.”

“Good.” The mood drops instantly as Hongjoong leaves his tent and pulls his hood up over his face. The bags under his eyes have worsened as if he didn’t sleep at all, and you feel a pang of sympathy for him. “We can’t afford any distractions if we’re going to find Pandora.”

Wooyoung’s lips form a tight line, and he nods stiffly. “Of course.”

You frown watching their interaction, unease settling in your gut. It’s none of your business as you are only a temporary addition to their group, but you can’t deny the fact that you want to help Wooyoung and Hongjoong mend the rift between them, even if it is only for Wooyoung’s sake.

Curse you and your bleeding heart. You hoped that after a good night’s sleep, you would wake up refreshed, ready to focus on the mission and not on Wooyoung. You have your own problems to worry about—the last thing you need is to get involved in someone else’s. Though a nagging in the back of your mind has you realizing you probably already are.

Wooyoung smiles at you before walking over to Jongho, and you practically melt. Okay, you definitely are.

Yeosang flits over to you, eager for you to fill him in on the obvious change in your relationship with Wooyoung. “How was your night?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You know, I really underestimated you. You’re a menace.”

“Me? Never.”

“Mmhmm, sure,” you laugh. “Anyway, it was… good.”

“You talked?”

“Yeah, we did. We aired everything out.”

“Really?” His entire face lights up. “I’m so glad. Wooyoung is a good friend to have, and I think you guys will really get along.”

You watch as Wooyoung teases Jongho about something and Jongho grapples him into a headlock, unable to keep from smiling at their antics. “I think you’re right.”

Noticing your gaze, Wooyoung frees himself and jogs over to the two of you, throwing an arm over Yeosang’s shoulder. “Come on, Yeo, don’t hardball her.”

Yeosang grimaces dramatically and shrugs his arm off. “I am doing no such thing.”

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow at you. “Y/N, do you confirm or deny?”

“Confirm.”

“Alright then. He’s off the hook—for now.”

It’s weird the way things have fallen into place between the two of you so naturally. One night was all it took for all the animosity to fade into affection. Though you suppose a lot of it has to do with Wooyoung; you think he probably acts like this with most people. If it wasn’t for his premonition, the two of you probably would have been like this from the start.

With the entire group getting along—minus Hongjoong—the second day of traveling goes a lot more smoothly. The heat isn’t as blistering after the rain, and everyone seems in good spirits, eager to find Pandora. At one point, Mingi makes an offhand comment about the ground shaking, but no one but him feels it. He shrugs it off, saying it must have just been a dune collapsing in the distance or something like that.

Oh, how you wish it was.

It’s near sunset when the ground splits open beneath your feet. If not for Wooyoung grabbing you and pulling you out of the way, you would have fallen into the fissure. Your group is now split into two, with you, Wooyoung, Yeosang and Jongho on one side and Hongjoong, Mingi, Yunho, San, and Seonghwa on the other.

Before you can even comprehend what just happened, a gigantic sandwyrm emerges from the earth, towering over you. Sand cascades off of it as it rises, sending particles flying. You tug your hood down over your eyes, trying to protect yourself from it as much as possible. When the wyrm extends to its full size, it seems to dwarf the sun. Everything seems to fall into its shadow, yourself and the others included.

You find yourself almost instinctively looking toward Hongjoong. You aren’t sure what for—reassurance, maybe? As if his not being scared would mean everything is going to be alright. But even his eyes are wide as he takes in the behemoth, and his clenched fists tremble slightly.

You’ve been scared many times in your life, but nothing could possibly compare to the primal fear that you feel now.

The beast surges forward, its gaping maw lined with three rows of spiked teeth threatening to swallow Hongjoong whole. He immediately dodges, flipping out of its reach as his feet kick out a blast of fire. The flames sizzle on impact, burning away some of the sand that surrounds the wyrm like a shield, but more takes its place as if nothing ever happened. The others jump into action, using their bending to attack it, and you watch, wide-eyed, as the same thing happens. Their bending won’t penetrate, and neither will your weapons—not until you figure out a way to get rid of its shield.

Mingi stomps his right foot and a wall of hardened sand and dirt shoots out in front of you, protecting you from the monster’s wrath and any misfired bending. You curse and crouch down, feeling useless. You can’t help them in combat, at least not until the shield is down, but you can strategize. You rack your brain, trying to think back to your time in the Earth Nation.

You remember your mistress boasting about her sandwyrm tooth necklace to a potential client, trying to sell some matching jewelry. You overheard their conversation because you were on cleaning duty that day and were dusting some bookshelves in the sitting room. The client, knowing how ferocious these creatures could be, was hesitant to believe the teeth were authentic. She dazzled him with a story about how a trained bender had apparently cleared away the shield just enough to expose a weak point on the underside of the wyrm’s belly. You don’t know if the story was true, or just one of her many lies, but it’s the only information you have to go off of.

Here goes nothing.

You sprint out from behind cover, running over to Hongjoong and filling him in on your plan. His eyes harden with determination, and he quickly barks out orders. Though Mingi doesn’t specialize in sandbending, he’ll try to part the sand just enough to clear a path to the weak spot. Then, using his windglider, Yunho will carry San in the air so he can pierce the wyrm’s underbelly with his lightning as everyone else continues to hurl attacks as a distraction.

It seems to go well, at first. Mingi is able to make an opening, exposing the weak spot. You cringe away from the sight—it’s a beating heart, glowing red from the inside as it presses against the translucent skin of the wyrm’s underbelly. Yunho is able to bring San close enough, but for some reason, the lightning doesn’t pierce. San even tries a second time, the air crackling with energy, but it doesn’t work. It doesn’t make any sense—even from here, you can feel the force of impact.

After deploying a wall of fire to protect Seonghwa from being whipped by the wyrm’s tail, Jongho gets everyone’s attention as best he can. “Look! Once you attack, a piece of its shield breaks off and covers the heart! You need to get underneath it.”

“Shit,” you curse. Of course, it couldn’t be easy.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong shouts. He sprints towards you, forced to slide on his knees to avoid another attack. You cringe, watching the way blood stains his tattered robes when he stands, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “If Yunho flies you up there and Yeosang propels you with an air blast, do you think you’d be able to figure out a way to get access to the heart?”

You hesitate, watching as the wyrm flails, attacking whoever is in its reach with devastating power. Before you can answer, Wooyoung joins the both of you and, having overheard Hongjoong’s suggestion, looks just as anxious as you feel. “You can’t ask her to do that; it’s too dangerous.”

“She’s our best chance. If she doesn’t try, we might as well give up and die here.”

Even as they continue to bicker, Wooyoung notices the wounds on Hongjoong’s knees and silently bends some water out of the pouch at his hip. You watch as it moves to engulf the firebender’s skin, glowing white as it heals him. He jumps at the sensation and almost stutters over his words; you can tell he wasn’t expecting it.

“Don’t think healing me will get me to drop this argument. She needs to do this—it’s our only option.”

“She doesn’t need to do anything—”

“I’ll do it.”

Wooyoung whips his head, looking at you in disbelief. “What? Are you insane? You can’t get close to that thing.”

“Hongjoong is right. I’ve got the best shot at actually killing this thing.”

“Y/N…” Wooyoung trails off, frowning. He knows you’re both right, but he obviously isn’t thrilled about it.

You pat him on the shoulder. “Careful, Woo. You keep acting like that, and I’ll start to think you actually like me.”

Without waiting for a response, you sprint over to Yunho, ready to jump into the action and finally help the others. You fail to notice the way Wooyoung’s eyes trail after your figure as you go. Not long after, the group is ready to give the plan a try for what will hopefully be the final time. Yunho nods at you, the determined look in his eyes matching your own.

“Ready for this?”

“Let’s do it.”

He runs, windglider spread behind him, and takes off into the air just barely before grabbing you with his free arm and propelling himself with a burst of air. Wind rushes past you, caressing the skin under your robes, and any other time you would bask in the feeling of it. Maybe you can ask him to take you for a lift again when you aren’t headed directly toward a giant sandwyrm.

Once you get close enough, he counts to three and drops you. You free fall for a terrifying moment before you’re launched forward by a burst of air. Unsheathing two of your kunai, you dig them into the wyrm’s exposed skin, latching on as best you can. The wyrm wails and tries to retreat into the sand but is stopped by a barrage of firebending, making the ground too hot for it to traverse.

You try to gain purchase on the wyrm’s underbelly with your feet, but it’s near impossible with the smoothness of its skin and the way it flails, doing its best to fling you off. Gritting your teeth, you begin to climb your way upwards to the heart, relying solely on your upper body strength to do so. It doesn’t take long for your arms to begin shaking and you waver, your grip loosening. Just as you’re about to fall, water envelops your feet, helping you continue your ascent. You look down to see Seonghwa smiling up at you, giving you a nod of support as he helps you as best he can.

Black blood seeps from each wound you inflict, but it’s not enough to put a stop to the wyrm. You need to stab the heart. It’s right in front of you now, a disgusting, pulsing thing. Sensing that danger is near, a tiny shield of sand rotates in front of it. You try to disperse it with one of your bolas, but it reforms each time in less than a second. The wyrm thrashes erratically, and you know it won’t be long until you’re thrown to the ground. You have no other choice.

Gritting your teeth, you maneuver your right arm underneath the shield while holding on with your left, screaming as the sand cuts into your skin like a blade. You bear the pain as best you can and stab at the heart, but the grip on your kunai is too weak and, though you manage to puncture it, it’s not enough to kill it.

“Y/N!” You hear Wooyoung shout your name and the fear in his voice makes your head swim. You wonder what he sees that is making him sound so scared.

The blood loss is making you dizzy, but you can’t give up. You won’t let this monster kill you, or him, or anyone else. You have to make it to Pandora. With the last of your strength, you thrust your kunai forward, plunging it into the sandwyrm’s beating heart. And then, suddenly, you’re falling. 

NETWORKS: @cromernet @kflixnet @pirateeznet

TAGLIST: @nebulousbookshelf @ad0rechuu @seonghwaddict @sanniesbunnie @wooya1224 @tournesol155 @ja3hwa @pocketjoong-reads @lovandr @yeoyeoland @huachengsbestie01 @baeksofty @deltamoon666

[viviwritesss]

The Songcord

Neteyam × female! Omaticaya! Reader

Some believe waiting is the strongest act of love one could ever do, for time is ever so ungrateful and cruel that it never hesitates to tear longing lovers apart. But when the pain of loss is too much to bear, perhaps one last glimpse at him could mend your broken heart.

Word count: 2.5k

Tags: angst, mentions of blood, mentions of death, soft Neteyam that dislikes killing and all that stuff.

A/n: Hello again! First of all, I'd like to thank you all for supporting the last post I made! I received a couple of requests, and I'll try to get to them as soon as possible! If any of you wish to make a request, I'd be glad to receive it! Anyway, remember reader's name is Zoraya, and also I would recommend you to listen to 'The songcord' by Zoe Saldana while reading this, it's a beautiful song :)

It had been a while since you last saw Neteyam. 

Perhaps such a turn of events was for the best. Not knowing about him, not speaking to him, not touching him, not seeing him, made the whole situation more bearable, if only a little. Yet your mind couldn't help but wander everywhere but on the tasks you had to get done. Wander back to when you would look at him and smile without this pain in your woeful chest, when the two of you would laugh over his pitiful attempt at braiding your hair, when he would carry you around on his back because he knew how much you enjoyed it, back when your heart didn't seem to burn whenever you laid eyes on him.

He used to swear you two would stay together forever. Back in your childhood days, on the most distant memories your tired brain can still fathom, Neteyam often mentioned how he wished to be your loyal knight, like those his father used to tell him about in fairytales. Only the best of knights is suited for a princess such as Zora, he would repeat, before taking your hand and running off towards the forest. And as little time went on, Neteyam pronounced, now with a smidge more of common sense, that, rather, he wished for you to be his bride. For you to be his.

Perhaps neither of you understood the weight of such claims all those years ago, however, you would always answer with an enthusiastic nod, and a big smile on your face.

Since those days you knew you were betrothed to Neteyam. At least you felt like you were, even after he grew up and, little by little, stopped bringing up the idea. 

In time, his eyes darkened, tainted and forever stained with burden, with responsibility and a duty that, one day, would abruptly befall onto his shoulders. And his hands –before soft and tender– dripped blood since youth, blood of his enemies, carrying on his palm yet another burden; the burden of murder. Of spilling the blood of those weaker than him, unable to stand against a trained warrior such as himself. 

You still remember the first time he killed. A memory ever so vivid that you still carry it within your skin. You awaited his return, expectant, scared, for he always expressed with adamant regret how he wished not to rip out someone's soul out of their body, a brutal, cruel act that, according to him and his soft heart, he never wished to commit unless necessary. Yet he was commanded to do so. And so he did. For he was expected to do it, because he is Neteyam Sully, the firstborn.

That day, he returned to you first –before even reporting to his father– in the middle of the night, crestfallen, regretful, woeful and empty, oh so empty he could only look at you with those dark eyes of lacking color. Covered in blood that wasn't even his. 

No words were exchanged that night. He wasn't even able to muster the strength of cleaning himself up, which is why you did, and with a wet, warm cloth, you wished to cleanse both the stain of blood on his skin, and the stain of pain in his heart.

He was always so gentle, so kind hearted and benign, that it hurt your soul to see him so utterly shattered. So delved in his misery, in a weight so heavy upon his back that made him crack.

That cold night, Neteyam held you closer than he ever had, as if you would get snatched from him for eternity. He placed his trembling, bloodstained hands on your waist, clinging to your warmth with such desperation that had you cradling his head on your chest, the sound of your heartbeat being the sole anchor that refrained him from falling apart.

And such encounters continued for a long time, for Neteyam was strong at fights, yet weak at heart. A cursed man, so young yet so haunted. Burdened since birth, condemned since the day he opened his very eyes, all for being a Sully; for being the firstborn.

Thoughts about him swallowed you whole, flooded your brain and drove you mad, mad from love? Who knows. You were losing your mind, that's for sure. Maybe you wouldn't mind such a thing, if at least you had him by your side, if at least you knew he was still alive and well, and if at least you knew how his thoughts had been treating him as of late.

Little more could you do than to cling merely onto a hazy remembrance of him, promising the world to you once he returned.

Once he returned…

Then again… how long has it been…?

The Sully family had been away for more moons than you can count, perhaps even years, and with each passing day, the unbearable pain of getting left behind by your loved one left you dwindling. So much so that the image of Neteyam in your head started fading in time. The thought of forgetting his face terrified you, for it was tied to the idea of permanently losing him; of losing the hope of living the happy life he told you about before he left, a long time ago. It petrified you so much that you found it in yourself to try and draw him, draw what hazy details you remembered of him and of his kind features, to try and at the very least commit him into paper. Perhaps that way… you wouldn't forget. You attempted such portraits many times, yet upon glancing at the finished piece, you just knew something was missing, something was wrong, that is not Neteyam.

And then one day you finally realized. You forgot how he looked. Not only that, but the sound of his voice vanished from your memories. Finally, the only thing left of him you had was the songcord, which he promised would be the beginning of your story together just before leaving you behind.

Time never stopped, and as such, neither did your longing. Everyone knew this yet you were already of age, older, actually, for you were not betrothed out of respect to your decision and Neteyam's of waiting for his return to become his mate.

To your dismay, such an event never transpired, so you were soon to be betrothed to a good male of the tribe. A kind na'vi who knew beforehand that your heart already belonged elsewhere, in the hands of another man, despite the time that passed.

Yes. You hadn't seen Neteyam in a while. In years. Which perhaps made your betrothal more bearable. Yet, even then, you couldn't stop thinking about him. You started to believe you never could.

And one day, the sound of a foreign Ikran was heard. 

"Zoraya!" A young girl approached you frantically and out of breath, tugging desperately at your hand with an unreadable expression on her face. "In the village, the Sullys, they…!" Your eyes widened. "They have returned!"

You left out an exasperated breath, feeling your heart quickly grow mad upon the news. Your chest started feeling terribly tight, as if concealed within iron claws, so much so that it felt as if you couldn't breathe properly.

Neteyam… he… he is back…!

You dropped the basket full of fruit you held without hesitation, to proceed to run desperately towards the village with little concern of your surroundings and without care of the cut and scratches you acquired while sprinting hectically through the forest.

Neteyam… Neteyam came back to me…!

Just the thought had you increasing your speed, ignoring the fleeting pain of wounds, disregarding whatever it was that got in your path.

I want to see him…!

Upon your arrival, you quickly made your way through the crowd, squeezing between the people surrounding the family that just arrived, and letting out quick apologies to try and reach them. Reach him.

Neteyam… finally, I can tell you one more time…

You locked eyes with Neytiri.

How much I love you…!

She looked at you with misery.

Your smile quickly vanished.

The whole family was silent, staring at you with narrow eyes, gazes so pitiful that had you taking a step back, embracing yourself in nervousness.

You couldn't see Neteyam.

"Where is Neteyam?" Your voice wavered, dwindling under sad gazes and the cruel realization that he was not there.

Jake appeared crestfallen, unable to look at you in the eye once more; unable to bear your helpless expression which still tried to seek out his son.

A son that was no more.

Neytiri was the one to look at you, strong face yet weak heart –just like her son– as she locked eyes with you. She choked on her words, obvious rage and sorrow coming out of her expression.

She could only shake her head at you in regret.

Your heart shattered.

A pain like none you've ever felt in your chest got you falling expressionless to the ground, water pooling in your eyes as you grabbed your heart in misery, clinging to the songcord he gave you as you felt your heart get ripped out of your chest.

You couldn't remember more from that day. Memories faded, yet pain lived vivid within you.

You felt empty, even if he left a long time ago and you knew nothing about him, it felt as though a part of you was violently ripped out of you along with his departure.

You often wandered off alone to the spirit tree. It made you feel close to him, even though death cruelly interfered. He finally went to a place you couldn't reach, a realm so far that your feet could never touch, not as long as your lungs drew air. He left, and this time, you couldn't follow.

The tree of voices felt quiet. Awfully quiet and dreadful, as if sensing your loss and the pain dwelling in your chest. 

You sat down, taking deep breaths, trying to remain calm. You couldn't stop thinking about him; your mind, stained with love, would not let you rest, would not let you go a moment without wishing to see him one last time, to finally mutter what remained untold, to tell him how much love you harbored for him ever since you were kids.

You closed your eyes, feeling the wind envelop you in its cold embrace, a surge of emotions flowing through your body and a sense of vertigo coursing through your flesh.

And then you opened your eyes.

And he was in front of you.

You were no longer under the spirit tree, rather, it seemed you were between his arms, a wet, warm cloth in your hand, while he gently placed his hand on your waist.

You still remembered that night, the night he seeked you out, covered in blood. The night he murdered for the first time.

You left out a choked sigh, looking down at him, being met with his head, gently placed on your chest.

The both of you shared a burning warmth, sitting on the floor, with you sitting on top of him, seeking the contact of skin so fervently it hurt.

Your sight wavered upon meeting his form, a striking sadness making your eyes wet with tears. You could feel him, finally, after all this time, the longing within your chest felt less heavy, yet the sense of not being able to see him again lurked deep in your head.

He held you close, strong arms surrounding you with ease, as his big palms caressed your waist with care.

"Neteyam…" you cried out in a whisper, your voice heavy with pain, which had him looking up at you, at your hurt expression.

And then you saw him, his face, and it was as if your memory never forgot about him in the slightest. You placed both hands on his cheeks, smiling weakly through your tears at him and his concerned features.

He was still as handsome as you remembered.

And he was there. He was with you, and you could feel his warmth, feel his skin against yours and, this time, it was not a distant dream.

"Why are you crying…?" He spoke so softly, so tenderly and loving and it made you shatter, realizing how deeply you missed his voice. He removed his hands from your waist, placing them below your eyes to wipe your tears with his thumb, as he worriedly scanned your face for answers.

"I'm just happy to see you." You said, unable to stop the relentless tears from falling off your face, as with your palms you held his cheeks, trying to get this last moment with him ingrained in your brain.

You would never allow yourself to forget. Not again.

"I'm happy to see you too." He said, weakly smiling at you as his forehead connected with yours.

You embraced him like you never had before, knowing this would be the last time you were ever permitted to do so, placing your head in the crook of his neck as he protectively hugged you with the same intensity. 

"Neteyam?" Your voice was worn out, tired, as with your hands you clung to his back, wishing to stay inside this memory for as long as possible. He merely hummed questioningly at the call of his name, and you sighed with delight upon realizing that, finally, you could say what you wished to confess ever since he departed. "I think I'm in love with you." You faced him, a sad smile on your face. "I'm terrible, am I not?" You laughed, further attempts to wipe your tears remaining fruitless. 

He looked at you tenderly, his dark eyes regaining the color they lacked, shining under your gaze.

"Hardly," He mumbled, kissing your eyes, soft lips upon your eyelids. It all felt so terribly real it made your heart stirr. "I feel the same." He all but whispered those words, and you felt your world regain a little color. "You just said it before I could." You furrowed your brows in sorrow. He loved you as well, yet a timeless force separated you both in such a cruel way, that fate would never let you stay by his side. 

You sobbed at the thought, and, once more, Neteyam grabbed your cheeks between his palms in an attempt to understand the cause of your sorrow.

"Why do you cry still, my love? I'm right here. Right by your side." He exclaimed with sageness, as water flowed down your cheeks, staining his hands with your tears. You could never achieve a shared future with the man you love, he would slide from between your fingers ever so gently, and you would get left behind once more. "I'll never leave your side, yeah? I'll stay for as long as you wish. So please, don't shed tears for me."

You could only nod, clinging to him in desperation, as you felt him vanish from between your grasp. You tried to maniacally hang onto his memory, but before you knew it, he was gone. He was not by your side anymore.

You were left alone with your thoughts again.

A pained chuckle escaped your lips.

He lied.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Scrapes and Bruises

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

AKA: When Rooster and Hangman get into a fight over you

Summary: Basically, Rooster is not thrilled about your relationship with Hangman, and their issues with one another bring up some fears of your own.

*Set two months after the events of Wants and Needs, but you don’t have to read it to understand this*

Warnings/Notes: cursing and stuff, fighting, fluffy stuff

Masterlist

Words: 1871

-----

Simplicity was all you wanted for the evening. Just some ease and comfort for one night after your first week of working at the Hard Deck until three a.m. Your muscles ached from standing so long behind the bar, and you could swear your ears were still ringing with remnants of loud voices, cheers, and clinking glasses. Not that you didn’t love your new job, you did. It was just one more place where you and Jake had visual access to one another. One more spot for you to flirt and tease and whisper promises, ignoring the groans and whines of your favorite pilots when Jake would pause their game of pool to come over and give you a quick kiss. But on the whole, everyone was supportive of your relationship—well, almost everyone.

Rooster—though he went to great lengths to mend his relationship with you after the day he discovered Jake sneaking out of your bedroom in just his underwear—still gave your man death glares at every opportunity. Jake itched to give Rooster something more to be pissed about, but you shut him down the moment you saw that look of challenge in his eye.

“Do not, Jake Seresin,” you said when you saw how he practically snarled at your friend when the latter mumbled some snarky comment about your relationship. You pulled on Jake’s muscled arm to get him to look at you, and when he finally did, you were able to get him calm. “Rooster is still my best friend, and if you give a shit about me, you will not entertain him by getting all riled up. He will get over it eventually.”

He had pouted but agreed to every promise you asked of him, and was doing his absolute best to ignore Rooster, despite how much time they were forced to spend together. But you were proud of him. Your relationship, while on the newer side, Jake was taking seriously. And you loved rewarding him for it.

Now, all you wanted was for him to come to your place, cook you food, binge watch a show, and fuck you until you both passed out. And that had been the plan—a perfect one, really—until the ringing of your doorbell echoed through the halls.

You moaned at the damage it furthered to the ache in your head, but then you moved to snatch your silk robe off the back of the bathroom door, slipping it over your shoulders to cover your underwear-clad body, and tying it right before you went for the front door.

You opened it quickly, fully expecting to see your pilot, but instead of one, there stood three. Maverick was before you, one hand fisted in the collar of your best friend’s shirt, the other fisted in the collar of your boyfriend’s. The younger two sported fresh scrapes and bruises all over the features of their handsome faces.

“What the hell,” you asked, looking to your honorary uncle.

“Hey, kid,” he replied with a soft smile, “I’m sure this not what you expected tonight, but seeing as these two were fighting over something to do with you, I figured I’d just bring them over and have you take care of it.”

With a groan, you rubbed at your brow then blew out a breath. “Thanks, Uncle Mav,” you said with a nod. “I’ve got it.”

Maverick released both men and took a step back down the small staircase leading to your door. He took his sunglasses out of his front pocket, put them on and said, “Have them back on track by tomorrow, Y/N.”

“Will do,” you said, then watched as he jogged down the path, got back into his car, and drove off.

Without a word, you turned on your heel, leaving the door open for them to follow, then you took two of your dining room chairs and placed them in front of you, about five feet apart, as if you were a principal about to discipline two unruly students.

Both sat without question as you went to the freezer and pulled out two bags of frozen vegetables, which each caught in one hand when you tossed it their way. Rooster placed his bag on his cheek, right below his cheekbone, and Jake, right on the spot where the line of his jaw became part of his chin.

You crossed your arms and stood across from where they sat, observing them one at a time as they avoided looking at one another or at you. “Alright,” you shrugged. “…So?”

They remained silent, neither one so much as moving an inch until Jake finally looked up at you and said, “He threw the first punch, baby.”

His words snapped Rooster out of his silence, and he twisted in his seat to glare at Jake as one of his hands gestured your way. “Because you were being a fucking ass, yapping off about sleeping with my best friend!”

Jake shifted until they were both facing one another, practically forgetting of your existence in the space. “She’s my girlfriend! So, what?”

“She’s not some conquest for you to brag about!”

“She’s not some child for you to protect!”

“That is not wh—”

“Ok, stop,” you said. “Stop!”

Rooster looked at you. “But—”

“Guys, shut up.”

“Y/N—” Jake tried, but you shook your head.

“Shut. Your. Mouths,” you snapped. “Do either of you know how tired I am? Do you know just how little I need this?”

“Babe, we—” Jake began again, and again you stopped him with hand up.

“Look, I know you two have had your issues,” you said. “Issues that mostly started because Jake can’t keep his mouth shut, but—"

“Wh—Hey!”

“But—” you shot the blond a look, “you both need to get over it. If either of you care about me at all, you will put this behind you, because I cannot have my best friend and the guy I am with be at each other’s throats.”

The pilots had their arms crossed like stubborn children, only glancing at one another once you got to the end of your sentence, but when their eyes met, they quickly looked away with a scowl and placed them back on you.

“I need to know that you two will protect each other up there,” you said. “If I can’t have at least that, then I will lose my damn mind.”

When neither spoke, you let out a sigh and turned on the bathroom light to grab the small roll of medical tape in your cabinet. As you looked over how much you would need, you heard the murmurs in the hall.

“This is your fault.”

“Your fault.”

Snickering despite your irritation, you grabbed the strips of tape, antibiotic ointment, and q-tips, and walked back out into the living room. “Ok. Who’s first?”

After you fixed Rooster up, he agreed to discuss the issue at length with Jake the next day. You thanked him with the tightest hug you could manage, which he returned with a kiss to your temple before he headed out. Then you moved on to Jake.

You straddled his thighs as he sat on the couch, diligently patching all of the little scrapes on his face with ointment and small pieces of medical tape. His hands rested on your hips as you worked, eyes glued to your bottom lip which you subconsciously had one half of trapped between your teeth.

“You mad at me,” he asked.

You ran your finger along one of the pieces of tape to seal it to his skin before looking at him. “No,” you replied, but then went about fixing up the final scrape on his forehead.

His eyes narrowed, “Is that the truth?”

“…Mostly.”

Once you were satisfied with your work you moved to get up, but his fingers tightened on your hips and he pulled you back down onto him. “Mostly is not good enough,” he said.

You sighed his name with a shake of your head, and after a moment, your head dropped. He tucked a finger under your chin and lifted until your eyes met again.

“Come on, baby,” he near whispered, gently encouraging you to speak your mind. His eyebrows pinched at the glossy coating that began to form over your eyes.

A tear created a river down your cheek, but Jake quickly wiped it away with his knuckle. “I can’t lose you, Jake.” You sniffled. “I know you can never promise me that I won’t. I know it could happen at any time, and I’ve accepted it because I would rather be with you than not, but—” you paused, taking a few deep breaths to hold in the sobs you felt bubbling to the surface, but then Jake placed his hands on either side of your face, pulled you closer, and kissed you.

“Baby, I am the best pilot there is,” he said with a cocky smirk, to which you rolled your eyes with a weak chuckle as you wiped at the salty tears on your face.

“You better have a better point than that.”

He nodded. “I am the best pilot there is,” he repeated, hands running over the curves of your waist before settling on your ass. “Which means, not only am I untouchable, but I can also watch over and protect the overgrown chicken, who is not nearly as good as I am no matter how many times he likes to start that same fight.”

His eyes brightened at your smile, but then it fell, and you said, “And if the day comes when you’re a little less untouchable than you think?”

You raised an eyebrow at his hum of consideration, but then he reached inside the collar of his shirt and pulled out the chain that had been around his neck for the past month. A tiny plane charm dangled off the end of it, the silver polished and shining in the light. It was the charm you picked up when you went shopping with one of the other girls from Penny’s. You couldn’t resist buying it, even though you had no idea at the time what he would do with it.

“Well, then I’ve got you, baby,” he said.

You took the charm in your hand and ran a thumb over it, smiling at the memory of the first time you saw it around his neck. He had just hopped out of the shower, his hair still wet, towel around his waist, and toothbrush in his mouth when you stopped in your tracks at the sight of the repurposed charm. Once he noticed you staring, he winked and continued to brush his teeth, but neither of you said anything else about it.

Leaning forward, you gave him a quick peck and slipped the chain back under his collar, patting his chest in the spot where the charm landed. You touched your forehead to his, wrapped your arms around his neck, and breathed in, inhaling the scent of his cologne.

“I’ll always come back to you, Y/N,” he whispered as he tugged your body closer to his, “even if I have to crawl my way here.”

 tag: @thespeeder​ @marvel-ousnesss​

[dirtytransmasc]

I like to think that Tonowari likes to hold hands with Spider, he knows that Spider craves for physical contact even if he doesn’t admit so. And Ao’nung likes to carry Spider around in bridal style, like he’s showing of to the others his baby brother.

physical affection HC's for Hi'tsyil te Fkew'Weopx Tonowari'itan AU

Tonowari

He's the physically affectionate dad, he always has a hand on spiders shoulder at the very least, though he much more normally holds onto spider hand/arm or keeps a hand on top of his head. the pride and honor he feels with spider as his son is palpable, and it's especially true with how he presents spider in public; spider is his son, a gift of eywa, to be respected just as much as Ao'nung, because even if he doesn't become the next Olo'eyktan, he is still the chiefs son, and training to be his big brothers advisor and hand. he is also the parent spider physically clings to the most, and tonowari will drop everything he has to do in a day just to give spider the comfort of having a place he knows is safe to nap or just rest. when spider splits off to the beach when his head gets a little too loud, tonowari joins him, letting him curl into his side, simply so he can offer his son some comfort. when spider does sleep within his general vicinity, he normally finds himself tracing his features; he knows all his children, his mate, even his spirit sibling, but touch alone. he knows the slope of his nose, he angle of his chin, the round edge of his cheek. he knows his sons lips, all bit up and scarred; his eyes and soft lashes.

Ronal

she isn't as physical as tonowari, but she still keeps constant contact with spider, pulling him to lean against her, or keeping a hand in his hair. she holds him more than anything else, typically having him curled up in her lap, or right off to the side with his head on her leg she too presents him to the village with pride, but she typically stays behind him, almost like a body guard, and even after he wins over the whole village, she remains behind him, or right next to him with her tail favoring his side. most of her physical affection comes in acts of service/quality time, so doing his hair, taking care of his skin (cause his human form was not meant for pandora's water, sun, or physical day to day activities), mending the wounds he gets from day to day life (being in the water all day with skin not meant for that lifestyle results in weaker, softer skin, that does not fair well with his constant climbing), or painting his stripes. she is also a hands on teacher, and when she teaches spider new crafting methods, she typically sits right behind him to guide his hands (this leads to many instances of spider looking up his mama all proud and looking for acknowledgment and ronal just beaming at her child), and when they sit and craft together, she normally has their knees touching, or something of that sort.

Tsireya

tsireya is like her mother in a lot of ways, including how she shows physical affection. though she is more playful, like we see briefly see between her and ao'nung, she is mostly reserved. she is definitely his emotional support, so when she does show him physical affection its normally when she's acting as his rock; grounding him, trying to ease a racing mind, typically with him tucked in her side and her tail wrapped around him. like her mother, she typically sits close while the craft together, and their idea of quality time is naps out in the sun.

Ao'nung

he is the proudest big brother you have ever met, always fucking with spider, slapping or pushing him around (jokingly), carrying him around simply because he can, and there are few moments that they aren't trying to beat the shit out of each other. he defininitly does the big brother "arm over the shoulder, but pulling you in way too close to be irritating" and putting him in a choke hold so he can give him noogies, type stuff. and the presenting him to the village thing? it's constant. does he pretend he's mocking spider when he calls him the "miracle child" or any other synonymous nickname? absolutely, but only he can do that, and everyone else knows that he means it with the utmost love and respect. they also know that if they tried it he would actually murder them, he would feed them to an akula before the words leave their mouth. he is the most classic big brother ever and spider thrives under it, cause he finally has someone that protects him, that will stand in front of him when there's a threat, that will get on his level and comfort him, that will make him laugh, that will make him feel like he belongs. in my (sick, twisted, angst addicted) mind, they are a parallel to neteyam and lo'ak, do with that what you will