#please take the tags seriously if any of these trigger you

[tinukis]

i think about trans sanji a lot... mtf or ftm he's transgender (or genderfluid ♥️)

but i think about ftm sanji and his struggles with his identity. his self hatred, self esteem, and toxic masculinity... i think about ftm sanji a lot...

i have stuff from my notes app. one was meant to be written as a fic but i gave up so it's incomplete. this takes place after wci and before wano. warnings are below the cut and in the tags, please read with caution.

trigger warning - gender dysphoria, child abuse (may be graphic.), misgendering, self-harm

Sanji wishes he was never a man. Let alone be born with the genital of a woman's.

He loves women. He admires them. Their beauty, their bodies, their smile, their femininity, everything. He wishes he could be just like them, that was his assigned sex, after all. Yet as a child, every time he stared at himself in the mirror, he would be staring at someone else. He did see a girl, but it wasn't him.

It's his turn on night watch. As everyone exchanges their goodnights and enter the cabin, Sanji climbs into the crow's nest and leaned against the window where the moonlight shined. His hand over his heart and crumpling his shirt into his fist. They just left Whole Cake Island but now that half his crew learned about the Vinsmokes, he was only filled with dread and anxiety.

They knew too much and there was nothing he can do about it but fill his lungs with tobacco. He knew they wouldn't pry further and he was relieved that they still see him the same but... It was being confronted by his Captain he dreaded the most. He didn't care about anyone's past nor does he try to look into them, but after everything Sanji did to Luffy and what Luffy did for him, he doesn't know what the hell to expect anymore.

Sanji knows Luffy would notice something's wrong and he couldn't avoid him forever. What was he supposed to tell him anyway?

Oh everything's fine, Luffy. Just you know, I've been reminded what sex I was born as and how I grew up hating myself because I'm actually a man. And I hated being a man because of how all the men in my life raised and treated me. I feel like I have betrayed all the women in my life. But other than that, I'm fine, Captain.

He puffs out a trail of smoke with a long exhale, clutching his head and pulling his hair that covered his right eye. He only wishes for silence but the calm waves below. Not his shitty thoughts about his identity or what lessons he'd been taught on Kamabakka Kingdom. With little to nonexistent self-worth, it was fucking hard to accept who he is. He needed no one elses approval but his own.

—

"Mother... is it wrong to feel like a boy?" Sanji fiddled with his thumbs, sitting on the edge of his mother's bed. His back was turned towards her, but he could hear her smile.

"What makes you feel that, Sanji?"

"... I don't know. My heart feels bad and heavy when I am a girl," Sanji hugged himself tight, gritting his teeth to hold back his tears. His brothers told him a man doesn't cry, otherwise he'd never be considered or respected as one.

"Sanji, look at me," his mother's voice was soft and full with kindness.

Sanji slowly turned his head, sniffling his red nose with his tearful eyes. His mother gently cupped over his cheek and wiped away the teardrops overflowing from the corner of his eye.

"Follow what your heart feels, Sanji. Despite what your father says, you continue seeing me, right? Continue with what your heart desires."

...

If only it were that easy.

—

"I was born wrong," said Sanji.

"Clearly," responded father. Unsure what he had meant by that, Sanji was overjoyed to be treated as a boy going forward.

A man was not who he wanted to be, yet those feelings of euphoria when dressed alike to his brothers and referred to as a "son" or "he" were undeniable.

It was a bit of surprise that even his brothers were forced to comply. But that doesn't stop their bullying and abuse whenever left alone with them.

–

"We're only wrestling! It's what boys do!" Yonji exclaimed with his arm strangled around Sanji's neck. Sanji tugged and tugged, attempting to escape his grasp only for Yonji to flex tighter.

"You're a boy, right, Sanji? Then act like one! Reiju is more of a man than you are!" Niji laughed, swinging a harsh kick into Sanji's shin.

Sanji was gasping between breaths, his skin turning from a shade of red to blue. For once, Yonji obliged but that moment of refreshing release was cut short by Ichiji's foot to Sanji's mouth.

"If you're a man, then stand up!" Ichiji yelled, kicking Sanji again by his stomach, not giving him a single chance for a breath of air. Coughed up blood splattered over the red carpet and Ichiji's white pants.

"Eww! She spat out blood!" Yonji exaggerated his gagging with his tongue lolled out his mouth and pointing into it.

Sanji shakily forced himself up, bloodied and bruised. His brothers smirked at him, intrigued that he was even capable of standing up after a beating.

"I'm... I'm not a she!!!" Sanji shouted and panted heavily. He knelt over, clutching onto his growling stomach that was building up his throat.

"Oh yeah? If you're not a girl, then," without warning, Niji swung his leg across Sanji's head, forcing a crack into the castle's walls. "Try not to pass out!"

His brothers waited for their useless brother to even breathe one shallow breath. Sanji couldn't move a single muscle, yet he was still conscious. When he heard heavy footsteps, his eyes widened and his heart beat grew steady. Sanji cried out for his father, but his throat felt clogged and not a word was heard.

"H-hel...p... me..." Sanji sputtered with quivering lips. His brothers laughed aloud, every time their mouths opened their words would never be positive.

The heavy footsteps got closer and Sanji turned his head towards that direction, staring at his father's unchanged expression. The burning sensation from his stomach rose. It ached terribly and he couldn't do anything but cry.

"F-fath— MGH—!" Sanji vomited on the carpet, his brothers expressed their disgust and laughed. When Sanji's eyes met with Judge, he was stared down at with revulsion. He bit back the bottom of his lip, trying to prevent tears or vomiting again, he couldn't tell what was happening anymore. It was like the room started to spin, the laughter dissipating in the background before everything turned to black.

–

The only people in Sanji's life that even treated him with kindness were women. His bedridden mother, his bystander sister, and the maids. But his mother was long gone for months. All he became accustomed to was the gray brick walls, steel bars caging him in, and a heavy iron helmet upon his head. The only people that ever kept him company were the Germa soldiers. But of course, they never bothered with conversations and only responded to Sanji's needs. He was even lucky that his requests for books were allowed.

Being kept alive, rotting in this dungeon was a fate worse than Hell. His hair grew longer and it felt so damn itchy. But with the stupid mask over his head, he couldn't satisfy the itch. Sanji had to resort to scratching his arms until they burnt and glowed red. Sometimes he'd scratch hard enough that it'd draw blood. He'd only stop once his arms started to bleed.

Sometimes Sanji refused baths. He wasn't comfortable with either a man or even a woman scrubbing him clean. He didn't want to do it all himself. He didn't want to look at the bare body he couldn't stand to look at. He wanted his mother. He wanted Reiju.

Since Sanji refused to have a bath because of the growing pit in his stomach grew each time he had to strip down, reminded of the body that shouldn't be his. The Germa soldiers resorted to soaking him with a hose and drop off his preferred choice of clothing.

That was all these past months of hell Sanji lived through alone in the dark and dank dungeon. The isolated loneliness was more agonizing than being beaten like a worn out punching bag by his brothers. Despite the amount of bruises and broken bones they may have caused, he missed them.

But maybe he thought too soon. Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji found him, surprised that he was still alive. They purposely spoke aloud how killing Sanji would likely make their father happy. His heart began to race like it was about to burst right out of his chest. Once they got the gate unlocked, they approached Sanji slowly, making him backed against the cold brick wall.

It was the same cycle as previously. Maybe even worse now as they were beneath the palace so no one would hear Sanji scream and cry for help.

–

Liquid rolls down Sanji's forearm and his cigarette burnt out. His nails dug into his skin deep enough to draw blood. Shit. No matter the pain he's given himself, it will never get rid of the filthy hands that bruised his body.

Sanji tosses his cigarette into the ashtray and lights another.

Why couldn't the good people in his life just leave him to rot?

[dreaming-medium]

Language Barrier

Pairing: Lee Minho x Reader

Word Count: 7K

Tags: fluff, first meeting, first kiss, strangers to lovers

Summary: When the power goes out while you’re in an ATM vestibule, you come to realize you’re stuck inside until the police come to open the door. But there’s one problem, you don’t speak a lick of Korean, and the man inside doesn’t seem to speak an ounce of English.

———

A/N: Please note that sentences that are Italicized are meant to be in Korean and sentences that are regular text are in English.

‘How are you?’ - English

‘I’m fine thank you, and you?’ - Korean

—————————————————————————

Luck was not on your side today.

It’s not like you’re an unlucky person as a whole, no, that’s not it. Today was just one of those days that when you say ‘How could this get any worse?’, the universe takes it as a challenge.

Perhaps you should’ve just kept your mouth shut after you spilled coffee on your blouse this morning. But, you’ve always been such a ‘glass-half-full’ sort of person that you tried to take every inconvenience in stride. Everyone has their limit, though.

Before you came here on a business trip, you had heard about the Korean Monsoon season.

Everyone and their mother told you about how much it would pour, how it would feel like the skies suddenly opened up. But, you didn’t take anyone’s warning seriously. You would wave them off with a scoff.

“It’s just rain,” you thought. “How bad could it be?”

You’re eating those words now as you run through the streets in your nice, newly-soaked, professional heels. Your slacks are sticking to your legs, making the fabric ten times heavier. With your bag held over your head, you look around frantically for the bank.

It doesn’t help that it’s close to 10 PM and visibility is already horrible at this time. Yes, you should have gone earlier, but you were distracted!

Where is it? Where is it?

There!

You spot the glass doors and practically sprint up to them, grab the handle, and rip the door open.

A giant sigh of relief comes out of your lips as you step inside the tiny vestibule.

The only other man inside the place jumps a bit at your noise. He glances over his shoulder at you, but immediately turns back to what he’s doing at the ATM. You pay him no mind as you shake the rainwater off of your bag.

It’s after hours at the bank, meaning the only thing open and available is one ATM inside the room between the bank itself and the streets of Seoul.

Soft beeping comes from the ATM as the other man presses a few buttons. There’s an umbrella on the floor at his feet.

After brushing the water off your jacket, you bring your bag in front of you and start fishing out your card. Countless items inside your bag are now completely soaked.

Ugh, there goes all those business cards you collected at the meeting. Most of the ink is bleeding off the cardstock. Maybe, if you try really hard, you can make out the phone numbers on the cards.

Is that a 6 or an 8?

Or maybe the email addresses will be easier to understand. Surely, it just their names and their company’s–

There’s a bright flash of lightning followed immediately by a booming clap of thunder at the same time the lights in the ATM vestibule flicker and go out completely.

You fight the yelp that bubbles in your throat. The man in front of you seems to lose the fight against his reactions and lets out a tiny yip.

His shoulders come up and he seems to bristle like a cat.

“You’re kidding,” you mumble, looking up at the lights. It was almost pitch black inside now, save for the tiny emergency lights that kick on on either side of the glowing Exit sign.

The man lets out a grumble and a sigh.

You look over and see that the ATM has completely shut off. Figures.

The storm must’ve triggered some sort of power outage. Great. Now you’ll have to find some other ATM.

Why, oh why, did the restaurant that your boss wanted to take you to tomorrow morning have to be cash only?

Whatever, there should be a bank a few blocks from here.

Your heels click on the tile as you make your way to the door. When you grab the handle and pull, it doesn’t budge.

There’s a beat.

You try again, really putting your back into it this time.

“Am I stupid or what?” you whisper to yourself, trying the other door and pulling equally as hard.

“They’re not going to open,” the man behind you says. “The fail-safe locks probably kicked in once the power went out. It’s a security measure.”

You turn around and look at him with a blank look on your face. “Oh, ah, um… s-sorry, no… no Korean.”

The man blinks at you. “You don’t speak Korean?”

You blink right back at him. “Um…” All you can do is shake your head with wide eyes and a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry,” you repeat.

Another series of blinks are exchanged.

“No… Korean?” he asks slowly. His English sounds so unsure.

You nod. “No… no Korean.”

A tiny, exasperated sigh comes from his lips and he looks around, as if anything inside this tiny little room would be able to help him communicate with you. Meanwhile, you turn back to the door and give it another sharp tug to no avail.

“No,” he says firmly, drawing your attention back to him. He motions down to the door handles and then shakes his head.

“No?” you repeat, a bit confused.

“No.”

Honestly, the primitive conversation between the two of you would be somewhat laughable if you didn’t feel frustrated beyond belief.

“Why?” you ask, becoming annoyed. Obviously, he knows something that you don’t.

The man blinks at you and shifts around nervously on his feet. His hands motion around as he tries to conjure up a sentence in English. “N… No. Closed?... Closed.” He nods, saying the word rather confidently.

Yes, you know the door is closed. But, why?

After a second, he sees that whatever he said evidently isn’t good enough, so he points back to the ATM, to the light that is now off due to no power, and then to the locks. You follow his pointing and the cogs in your brain start turning slowly.

“Fail-safe locks,” you state and then finally release the door handles.

“Fail… Fail-safe locks,” he repeats slowly. “Fail-safe locks.”

“Fail-safe locks?” you parrot his Korean back to him and he nods.

A small hum comes from your chest and you take a step back from the door finally. “How long do you think–” you cut yourself off when you look over at him. The man is staring at you, not following a word you’re saying.

Your hand comes up and you brush some wet hair off your forehead and then scratch the back of your head as a nervous tick. There’s no point in even asking the question, he won’t be able to understand anything you’re saying.

If you were in his shoes, you’d probably be a bit annoyed too. But at the same time, he’s already been kinder than most would be in this situation.

He’s locked in an ATM vestibule with someone who doesn’t speak the same language as him– in his own country. He’s been more than kind. Most people would just wave you off and forget trying to communicate at all.

But here he was, talking slowly and making sure you can understand what he’s saying. He’s going so far as to point around the room to make sure you understand.

The man notices you give up and he lets out a tiny sigh, turning to then peer out the glass doors at the streets of Seoul. There’s basically no one out there, everyone has taken shelter from the squall.

“We’ll have to wait until the police come to open the door.” He pats at his pockets, searching for his phone.

Even with how terrible your Korean is, you still pick up on a few words. “Police?” A beat. “Police?”

“Yes,” he answers in English, taking his phone out and tapping the screen a few times before holding it up to his ear. The man continues to look through the glass doors, watching all the different cars drive by, none of them police cars.

You decide to turn around, walking around the tiny room.

All of the lights are off except for the emergency lights. They cast a dull glow through the entirety of the vestibule. There's barely enough light to see from one side of the room to the other.

Rain starts hammering against the glass as the man speaks into his phone. “Yes, hi, hello. I am currently trapped with another woman inside the ATM vestibule of Metrobank Seoul… Namdaemunno… Yes, that one.”

Your ears perk up when he mentions the name of the bank and the address. Ah, he must have called the police. His face pulls into a slightly annoyed look, but he doesn’t speak with a hint of it through the phone, at least, not that you’re really able to tell.

The man says a few more words into the phone before he hangs up with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair and then down his face in an exasperated fashion before turning to look at you. His mouth opens to say something, but he thinks better of it and he grimaces even more.

Your own features pull into a sympathetic expression and you look away, slightly embarrassed. Should you have learned more of the language before coming here? Absolutely. But at the same time, you didn’t have much time to prepare once you were told you had to travel here for business.

He shuffles from foot to foot and looks around, shoving his hands in his pockets and desperately trying to remember every English class he took in school.

“Police…” he says slowly, thinking through every word he wants to try and say. “Police are… busy.”

“Busy?”

“Yes. Busy. Busy with… car…” He brings both of his hands together and claps and then makes an explosion noise with his hands.

“A car accident?”

He snaps his fingers and points to you, as if you’re a team during a game of charades.

“Car accident,” he says in Korean.

“Car accident,” you repeat and he nods.

Despite the reality of the situation, you smile. The humor in all of this does not escape you. You decide to try and meet him halfway, even with your butchered pronunciation.

“Police… time… long?” Your head cocks to the side and you point to your watch. He shakes his head and shrugs in exaggerated movements.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. The accident was that bad, huh? No wonder the power went out then, the car must have smashed into electrical lines after that loud clap of thunder. This probably means all of the traffic lights and such are out too.

The police are most likely directing traffic and making sure no one gets injured; two idiots stranded in an ATM vestibule are the least of their concerns. Honestly, you can’t be in a safer place. Well, unless this guy is a murderer, but you haven’t gotten a harsh vibe yet.

You sigh and lean against the wall near the corner across from the ATM. Your body slides down to the floor and you stare straight ahead. It seems like you’re going to be in here for a while then.

The man takes one last look outside the doors before walking in your direction. He leans against the adjacent wall and takes a seat on the floor with you. His shoes almost touch the side of yours. It’s at this time that you let yourself take a moment to really look at him.

He has to be around your age; older than a college graduate but younger than someone settled into their career. Something that definitely doesn’t escape your attention is how… pretty he is. His skin is near perfect and so is his hair. Everything, down to the clothes he’s wearing, is absolutely flawless– and he’s only in sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie!

Next to him, especially in your current drowned rat state, you probably look like something worse than a hot mess. You quickly comb your hair off your forehead once more and pull at your soaking wet clothes sticking to your skin.

The man’s lips purse for a moment and he opens his mouth as if to say something, then promptly stops, opting for a grumble of frustration.

After a moment, an idea flickers through your mind and you hold up one finger to him to say ‘one moment’. You reach down into your pocket for your phone and take it out, tapping at a few screens and bringing up the Translate app.

‘What’s your name?’ you type into the phone and it immediately translates it into Korean below it. You turn your phone around and hold it up to him.

The man looks at you, then your phone, and his eyes light up. If you’re not mistaken, you even see a little bit of relief flash over his features. A tiny smirk pulls at one corner of his lips before he looks back at you.

“Minho,” he answers and motions to you.

“Y/N,” you reply. “Nice to meet you, Minho.” You hold your hand out for a handshake.

Minho looks at your hand and his smirk gets wider before he grabs your hand and shakes it gently. The skin on his palm is so soft. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

After shaking his hand, you bring your phone back up to your face and type another sentence into the translate app.

‘I’m very sorry for not knowing Korean, I’m here on business.’

Minho looks at your phone, reading the statement before shaking his head and pulling out his own phone. He types away and then holds it up for you to read.

‘No need to apologize. With my line of work, my English should be better. It’s a very hard language to learn.’

A little laugh huffs from your nose and you nod and type.

‘Try learning Korean.’

Minho laughs with you and his smirk grows into a playful smile. Jesus Christ, this man is gorgeous. He looks down and taps a bit on his phone and then he holds it up to you. With the way his smirk pulls at his lips, it almost reminds you of a devious little cat.

‘I could tell you were a foreigner when you first came into the bank.’

Your eyebrow raises. “Oh, really?”

He’s chuckling when he brings his phone back to type more and then hold it up for you to read.

‘You don’t have an umbrella.’

Laughter leaves your lips when you read that and your head tilts back to rest against the wall. The wetness from your clothes is beginning to seep into your bones. Plus, the feeling of the fabric sticking to your skin is starting to become overstimulating.

But, you try and keep it together. You don’t really have another option at the moment.

You type a message back to Minho.

‘People tried to warn me about the Monsoon Season. As you can see, I didn’t listen.’

He reads your message and sucks his teeth with a smirk. Minho shakes his head and motions to the glass doors, as if to say ‘Look!’.

“I know, I know!” you laugh and look outside at the sheets of rain pouring from the sky. Puddles have turned into small ravines flowing down the sides of the road. Any car that passes by creates a huge splash as they pass through them.

Every once in a while, the sky will light up and thunder will follow it quickly.

Minho laughs with you. “Next time… you listen.” He nudges your leg with his foot.

You look over at him. “I will, trust me.”

A long look is shared between the two of you. There’s this tiny nagging feeling at the back of your mind, it’s that same feeling you get when you see someone in public that you swear you’ve seen before. Maybe he just has one of those faces?

No, you definitely haven’t met him before. You would remember if he was someone you shook hands with in the last few days. A man that gorgeous would never slip under your radar, you’re certain.

Minho stares back at you, eyes flitting about at your soaking wet hair matting to your skin. It looks like his one hand twitches for a moment and then he shifts in his seat.

Back to the app.

The two of you type away on your phones and hold them up at the same time with the exact same question on them.

‘What do you do for work?’

‘What do you do for work?’

Again, the two of you let out little huffs of laughter and he motions to you as if to tell you to go first.

So you do, you type down on your phone a little answer for him.

‘Right now, I’m only the assistant to a CEO for a huge company. Wherever he goes, I go. I write all his contracts; everything he does goes through me first. I’m more of an administrator than an assistant, though.’

Minho reads your answer carefully and then types out a small response with a tiny crease in between his brows.

‘Why do you say ‘right now’?’

A sad smile spreads on your face as you look down at your phone to type out a response.

‘I studied hard and have a Mathematics degree. But no matter where I apply, they say I don’t have enough experience. Back in America, the job market is absolutely horrible. So, I’m stuck.’

Minho’s eyes scan through your message and a frown pulls at his lips. He looks back up at you, meeting your eyes and then back to your phone before he begins to type his own message.

Your silent communication warms your heart a little bit. The glow from his phone lights up his features and you study him carefully. His teeth poke out from his top lip– it’s absolutely adorable.

He seems to think for a long moment before his thumbs fly over his screen.

Rain is coming down in sheets outside the door, it’s the only other sound inside the room besides the light clicking of the haptics on his phone.

You reach back and once more run your fingers through your hair– it seems to be drying now, but not in a good way. The humidity of the rain is apparent in the way it's starting to frizz up.

Minho turns his phone around after a moment of typing.

‘I’ve heard about how hard it is to get a job in America, I’m very sorry it’s so unfair. For what it’s worth, I think there’s nothing wrong with the job you have now. Hard work is hard work no matter if it's an assistant or a scientist.’

His words strike a chord within your heart, they tug at your chest and at the corner of your lips which twitch into a wistful smile on your face.

“Thank you,” you say to him in Korean, looking directly into his eyes. Minho smiles back at you when he hears it.

“You are welcome,” he answers in English.

His smile seems so warm for a stranger. He looks at you as if you’re an old friend, not like a woman, still soaking wet from the rain, sitting on the floor with him inside an ATM vestibule. He’s so genuine.

After a few seconds of just looking at him, you bring your phone up to type once more.

‘Your turn. What do you do?’

Minho stares at your phone for a long time, seemingly reading the sentence over and over again. His bottom lip pulls between his teeth and he seems to weigh something in his mind.

His brown eyes flick to yours, then back to the phone, then back to you again before he looks down at his phone.

You never realized how much just body language alone can convey.

He types slower, his thumbs not moving as quickly as before. Why does he seem so apprehensive?

Eventually, he turns the phone around.

‘I’m an idol.’

“Oh,” you say softly. Your shoulders shrug a bit and you cock your head to the side. “Like a K-pop idol?”

Minho nods in response. “Stray Kids.”

The name rings a bell, it’s just one you’ve heard floating around for a few months now. You think one of your friends is into them, but you can’t remember. She’s into so many different groups, it’s hard to keep track anymore.

You type in your phone.

‘I’ve heard the name before. Weren’t you guys at the MET Gala?’

With a breathy chuckle, he nods. A smile spreads across your face.

‘Wow, I’m trapped in a room with a celebrity then. You know, people write stories like this.’

Your joke definitely lands because he snorts a huff of laughter as you type on your phone a little bit more after that.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t take pictures and post them all over Twitter or anything. This will just be a funny story for me to tell my friends when I get back home to America.’

“Thank you,” Minho says softly with genuine gratitude in his voice. God, you can’t even imagine what it’s like being an idol. There probably wasn’t a single place he felt safe going to anymore. There are always cameras just waiting to take his picture.

‘When do you go back to America?’

‘In a few days. My boss loves to extend his business trips at the last minute. So, I could be here three more days or seven more days. It’s very hard to pack to come on these trips.’

A bittersweet expression settles on his handsome face.

You think for a long moment before typing away at your phone and showing it to him.

‘Have you ever been to New Jersey? That’s the state I’m from.’

Minho’s lips purse as he thinks for a long few moments. Very slowly, he nods, almost unsure. He types in his phone, then thinks for a moment, then types again.

‘I think we’ve been there twice. Is Newark in New Jersey?’

Excitedly, you nod. “Yes, that’s up in North Jersey!” You’re so excited that you forget to type down on your phone. “Oh!” you say with a laugh, looking back down at your phone.

‘Yes, that’s in the northern part of the state, about an hour or so from my hometown. I grew up in the central region, right on the beach. It only takes ten minutes to get to the beach from my house.’

Minho’s smile widens and he looks at you with a slightly envious look in his eyes. You giggle in response.

‘Two other members love the beach, but they’re from Australia.’

‘Australian beaches are probably not that different from American beaches. But I’ve never been to Australia. Have you?’

Minho nods and you see him close his translation app and switch over to his camera roll. His fingers quickly begin scrolling up through the countless amount of photos he has on his phone.

Not wanting to invade his privacy, you look away from his phone and out the doors in the vestibule once more. Not a single soul is walking– or running– along the sidewalks anymore.

Due to the power outage, there’s not even street lights illuminating in the puddles, it’s almost eerie looking. But, surprisingly, you don’t feel uneasy at all. Especially not with Minho sitting at your side.

Said man hums to get your attention, shuffling closer to you, and you look down at his phone. The picture is absolutely gorgeous.

It’s a photo of the beach, you’re assuming in Australia. The red sun is peeking above the horizon and painting the sky a beautiful wash of reds, pinks, and purples, all of the colors melting into one another. The clouds are wispy and glow in the morning sun.

The ocean seems so beautifully blue, even the foam at the crash of the waves is beautiful.

In front of the ocean is a gaggle of boys, it looks like there’s about seven of them. Each of them have bright, beautiful smiles on their faces reaching their eyes.

You’ve never been able to feel joy radiating from a photo like this, it seems to be contagious since you find a smile pulling at your own lips.

“This photo is beautiful,” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of it.

Minho hums, maybe he understood what you said. His thumb moves and he scrolls to the next picture where two of the boys have taken one of the others by his legs and arms and seem to be pretending to toss him into the surf.

A soft giggle comes from your lips and you find yourself leaning towards him a bit to get a better look at the photo. Truly, you didn’t even notice your shoulders brushing against each other, and by his lack of reaction, it seems Minho didn’t either.

“Friends?” you ask him in your choppy Korean.

Minho looks over at you, his face closer to you than before. His eyes widen a bit at your proximity, but he doesn’t back up at all.

“Family,” he corrects you in his soft English.

An even warmer feeling spreads through your chest and you look back down at the photo. They must be his band members, but they just look so much closer than that. It reminds you of all of your friends back home.

Before you can even think twice, you’re opening your own camera roll, scrolling through an endless sea of memories before finding one specific morning you woke up to go watch the sunrise on the beach.

A tiny, awe-struck noise comes from Minho when he looks down at it.

“Sunrise,” you say and then think for a moment. You’re not sure of the Korean you want to say. “Favorite… time.”

He’s so patient when you speak, it absolutely melts your heart. There’s a different air about his softness with you too. He’s not treating you like a child just learning how to speak, no, he’s just being… nice. He’s being sweet and genuine and it speaks volumes about his character.

“Sunrise,” he says in Korean.

“Sunrise,” you repeat, looking up at him. His eyes were already trained on your face by the time you looked up. A tiny dusting of pink covers your cheeks. How long has he been looking at you?

A happy smile spreads over his lips, the edges curl up playfully. He nods. “Sunrise. Sunrise.”

“Sunrise.” Your voice says softly once more before looking back down at your phone.

Swiping through a few more pictures, you show him the boardwalk that runs down the beaches by your house. Everything from shops, to amusement park rides, to lemonade and ice cream stands litter the entirety of the shore.

He points down at the ferris wheel and shakes his head. “No,” he says simply.

“No?” you ask with a laugh. “Why not?”

“No… no high,” he shakes his head and motions his hands around to emphasize his point.

“Best picture,” you giggle holding your hand up in the air to emphasize the height aspect, then you’re swiping to the next picture taken from the top of the ferris wheel. This time, it was sunset. “Sunset.”

“Sunset.” A pause. “My… My… favorite time.”

A soft hum bubbles up in your throat. He loves sunset whereas you love sunrise. How cute.

“Sunset is beautiful,” you say slowly. Your eyes are still on your phone when you swipe to another photo.

“Beautiful,” Minho whispers softly.

Humming, you nod. “Yes, beautiful.”

A soft puff of air comes out of his nose and fans out over your cheek. When did he get this close? You look up at him and almost bump his nose with yours.

Minho’s head flinches back a bit at your sudden movement, but he makes no move to get further away from you.

He sighs softly, his eyes flitting all over your face, taking in every one of your features. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Your eyes widen, that pink blush making its way back to your face. You can’t even help the tiny, giddy giggle that bubbles in your throat. You look down shyly, biting your bottom lip.

Tender, gentle fingers lift your chin back up. Truly, you didn’t notice how cold your skin was until his warm touch spread on your skin.

Is this really happening?

A shiver races down your spine and a soft shudder comes out of your lips. Minho’s eyes look down at your lips and then down at your arm where goosebumps begin to raise.

He pulls away gently, making your brows furrow. Did you do something wrong? Maybe you misread his–

He’s shrugging off his hoodie.

Oh, he thinks you're cold.

Before you can even think to tell him you’re okay, he’s pulling your shoulder forward a bit so he can drape it over your back, bundling you up in such a pleasant, soft warmth. With small, fussy movements, he’s closing the hoodie around your body.

Perhaps you didn’t even notice how cold you were until you were suddenly surrounded in a warmth that can be compared to the fuzziest blanket you own. Not to mention the absolutely delightful scent that wafts upwards into your nose from the fabric.

It’s such a clean, cozy, calming scent. It’s like you buried your nose into the Mahogany Teakwood candle at Bath and Body Works.

Your eyes stay trained on his face while he bundles you up tightly. His hands gently grab your arms and rub up and down a few times to create even more warmth.

“Better,” he murmurs, finally looking up to meet your eyes.

How is it that a stranger has wormed himself into your heart like this? His tender gaze makes your soul feel calm, like those pictures of the morning surf under the sunrise.

“Thank you,” you whisper back to him. Your hands come up to grab at the hoodie, curling into the fabric.

Minho smiles back at you, you can see how his smile grows as he watches you relax into his clothing. There’s no space between your shoulders as you rest against adjacent walls, your two bodies have melted into the corner.

There’s a clap of thunder outside, but neither of you move. Your feet shuffle on the floor as you bring your knees closer to your chest. His legs adjust around yours, feeding them under your bent knees and tangling your limbs up further.

It’s so hard to break Minho’s eye contact, but you do it slowly, looking down at your phone and opening up the translate app once more. His soft breathing hits your cheek with every exhale.

‘You’re too nice to a stranger.’

Minho hums, almost in agreement. He picks up his phone and types back.

‘I’m usually not.’

You read the statement and then look at him, your head cocked to the side. Your brows furrow in confusion, but he types more before you can even ask another question.

‘I don’t know why I feel drawn to you.’

The text looks right back at you. Your heart flutters in your chest and you know that your cheeks get redder and redder by the second. Still, you can’t contain the giddy laugh that makes its way past your lips.

You bite the inside of your cheek to try and hide the smile, but it only makes Minho smile wider. His hand slowly comes up towards your cheek. Right before he’s able to make contact, he stops, hovering over your skin and gazing into your eyes.

A silent question is asked through his eyes. It’s a language that you don’t need any sort of app for. An answer is communicated right back.

Soft, tender warmth spreads over your cheek, radiating all throughout your body in the most gentle glow. His thumb caresses over your cheek bone, swiping gentle strokes back and forth.

You feel the same as him, that’s the strange part. There’s something so alluring about him that you just can’t put your finger on it. He’s pulling you in like a magnet and you don’t even want to fight against it.

There’s so many words sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you know that each and every one of them would fall on deaf ears. Nothing that you can say in the moment would make sense to him.

Exhales are shared and mingled together in the minimal space between your faces,

“Beautiful,” he whispers for your ears only. Not like there’s anyone else to hear it except the ATM sitting dormant in the corner of the vestibule. Not even the mice in the walls would have been able to hear his murmur.

Love at first sight was something you always gawked and scoffed at. You always thought that it was such a Hallmark invention, that there was no way you would be able to just look at someone once and immediately fall head over heels for them.

But here you were, sitting on a dirty floor, feeling your heart beating faster and faster in your chest. Letting your face be cradled by a man you didn’t know two hours ago. By the man who patiently worked with you to communicate.

How is this even possible?

You can count on one hand the amount of things you know about one another.

Minho, who is a famous idol in Korea, who loves sunset and hates heights, who has the most expressive brown eyes you’ve ever seen.

Minho, who did whatever he could just to talk to you when he could have just as easily sat in silence on the other side of the vestibule.

His hand slowly drags down your cheek, each finger gliding down your skin towards your jawline to lift under your chin.

Another silent question passes through both of you in the one language you seem to both be fluent in.

Your eyes flick down to his lips and he hears you loud and clear.

Minho leans in slowly, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight touch. But, despite how soft the kiss is, heat spreads through your body in a grand wave, rushing through your fingertips and into your toes.

The first press is long and sweet, the two of you simply melting into the sensation of being locked together.

He pulls away only for a moment, his eyes gazing down at your lips before he swoops in again, this time his movements a bit quicker.

His hand returns to your cheek, guiding your head to tilt to the side to gain better access to your lips.

A soft sigh leaves your nose and your own hand travels up to grab at his shirt gently, just needing to hold onto him in any way possible.

Minho responds to your sigh, his lips moving a bit faster against yours. Both of your lips part and close, moving like mirror images of one another. Every few kisses, your noses brush against one another, but it doesn’t deter you from your actions at all.

Slowly, your hand travels from his shirt up to his neck, running up the side of his flushed skin. He feels feverish to the touch and it only spurs you on to keep moving. At the contact on his own body, Minho lets out a tiny grunt against your lips, his kisses stutter for a moment but he’s back to kissing you after just a moment.

Up, up, up, your hand travels over his moving jaw, to his cheek, then moving back to thread in his soft, brown trusses of hair. God, everything about him is just so perfect. It’s like you’re combing your fingers through the softest of cotton.

His kisses are getting deeper, little sighs come from both of your mouths as the passion continues on. Minho’s body turns towards yours a bit more, his knees canting up and almost forcing your legs onto his lap.

Tentatively, you feel his tongue poke out from between his lips, licking gently at your lower lip. You don’t even hesitate to give him access to your mouth. A gentle moan claws its way up your throat as his tongue licks into your mouth.

The hand on your cheek grips you a bit tighter, holding your face to his– as if you would want to try and move away from Minho and his addicting kisses.

“I just can’t help it,” he whispers in Korean against your spit, soaked lips before capturing them once more. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Y/N.”

All you catch is your name and it sends a shiver down your spine. You don’t even need to know what else he said, his tone says it all. The way it comes out in a breathy exhale is enough to send your mind reeling.

“Please,” you murmur into his mouth before he presses his lips to yours once more with the same amount of passion and need in his actions.

More and more rain hits the glass doors, becoming the only sound that can be heard in the room except for your shared exhales, pants, and breathy moans.

Slowly, the kisses begin to calm down. Minho pulls away for a moment to take a long breath. His thumb moves to brush against your lower lip like a butterfly landing on a flower.

His eyes open just a crack, gazing down at your mouth with a hazy look in his eye. As he slowly catches his breath, he presses his forehead against yours, his fingers brushing along the heated skin on your face.

“Forgive me, I didn’t do things in order,” he whispers. “I should’ve taken you out first.”

Your eyes open and you look at him in confusion. “Hm?”

His jaw clenches before he swallows and he takes another long moment to look over your face, his features soft and welcoming.

There’s some movement as his other hand blindly pats around his lap for his phone. He can’t physically tear himself away from you long enough to even look down.

Another tiny laugh comes from your lips.

Your fingers move out of his hair to come around and gently run over his features, brushing against his jawline, to then trace up to his lips and up the length of his nose, memorizing each and every detail.

Minho melts into your touch, his face moving closer to your touch, seeking you out.

His hand finally finds his phone and he grabs it blindly, flipping it around in his lap and tearing his gaze away from your face to glance down at it.

Thumbs are flying across the screen to type at his translate app. He’s typing so quickly on his phone that you can't help but laugh a bit.

Before he’s able to turn the phone around, there are a few sharp knocks against the glass of the vestibule. The two of you practically jump out of your skin and your heads whip over to the doors.

Red and blue lights are flashing outside and it looks like two police officers are standing outside, peering in at you both. They wave when they see they’ve caught your attention.

Minho looks at the police officers, then to you, then back to the officers, and then back to you once more. His mouth opens and closes a few times and he tries to form a few words but you’re untangling your limbs from one another.

In a moment, you’re both on your feet as the officers work on unlocking the doors from the outside.

Minho gently grabs at your arm and you look down where he’s touching and your heart sinks a little. His eyes look a little questioning and desperate.

“Oh,” you say sadly. You shrug off his jacket, and hand it back to him. Minho’s eyebrows pull together and his lips part. He looks down at the jacket and then up at you.

“No,” he says firmly.

“Are you two alright?” The police officer calls inside in Korean.

“We’re okay,” Minho responds without breaking eye contact with you. He puts a hand on his jacket still dangling over your arm and pushes it back towards you.

“Minho?” you ask, looking at him and then at the officer approaching you both.

“We apologize for the delay, but we knew you two were safe, so we had to prioritize,” the officer says.

You blink at him blankly for a moment before then looking back at Minho.

“She’s a foreigner,” he says to the officer, finally looking away from you. “She doesn’t know Korean.”

“Ah,” the officer responds. “My apologies. You can tell her that she’s free to go.” He nods at the two of you and motions towards the door. You take his hint and slowly begin follow him.

Once again, Minho tugs on your arm and you pause, turning around to look at him. He’s holding his phone up to your face with a pleading look in his eye.

‘Can I please buy you a drink?’

A wide smile spreads across your cheeks and you can’t deny the relief that you feel inside your chest. The moment your lips twitch upwards, Minho immediately mirrors it.

“Yes,” you respond. “I love to go.”

He chuckles at your choppy Korean once more before taking his jacket out of your hands and wrapping you inside it once more. This time, he grabs the hood and pulls it up over your head.

With a satisfied hum, he nods and laces your fingers together.

“Come,” he says confidently.

“Lead way.”

[lomlhwa]

glory hole (v.c)

pairing: sex worker!reader x patron!vernon

preview: vernon's friends found a club that has secret glory holes. they know he's dying to get laid, so why not visit the glory holes?

tags/warnings: fem reader, reader is basically bent over a table and chained down, monster cock vernon, spanking, overstimulation, squirting, pet names (slut, whore, cumdump), degrading, reader calls vernon 'sir', unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampies

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 1.2k

song recs for this fic: gimmie more by britney spears

a/n: this one's a doozy

vernon anxiously nibbles on his fingernail as he waits for his friends to arrive. he’s standing outside a raunchy club, looking like a total creep. why did he agree to this? there’s no way he’s actually this desperate to get off. 

just as he’s about to walk away, his friends round the corner, laughing and carrying on. “yo vernon! you excited, buddy?” his friend, mingyu, asks. vernon shrugs. “i guess so.” mingyu throws his arm over vernon’s shoulder and guides him into the club.

they head straight for the back of the room, finding a small desk that looks like a reception desk. “hey, reservation for jeonghan?” his other friend walks up. reservations for glory holes is insane. “ah, welcome back sir. 4 of you today?” the receptionist asks and jeonghan nods. the receptionist smiles and types something into her computer.

“would any of you gentlemen like protection? we make sure our workers are all clean but if you’d like the extra precaution, let me know.” everyone shakes their heads so vernon follows suit. the woman smiles again. she hands all four of them waivers to sign. he reads it carefully before signing it and handing it back.

the receptionist rises from her chair and walks over to unlock the door beside the group of friends. “your rooms are numbers 5 through 8. remember, feel free to engage in any of your fantasies as long as you don’t seriously injure anyone. their chains are easy to rotate if you wanna change positions. enjoy your 2 hours with our lovely women.” with that, the door is shut. 

“alright boys, see you later,” mingyu shouts before running into a room and clicking it locked. all of the other disperse as well, leaving vernon alone. he wanders to the last one of their rooms available. room number 6. he can already hear the sounds of skin slapping coming from other rooms.

he opens the door hesitantly, finding you bent over, humming to yourself. when he clicks the door locked, you jump and stop humming. “welcome sir. feel free to use me as you please. i’m here for your pleasure,” you recite the standard welcome message to the new patron who has just walked in. you can only hope it’s not some gross middle aged man with a tiny cock again.

when you feel no contact for another 5 minutes, you get worried. “sorry, i don’t mean to not touch you, i got dragged here by my friends and i feel bad using you.” you can’t help but stifle a small giggle. a man feeling bad about using a glory hole? that’s a new one. “sir, this is my job. just fuck me already.” by now, you’re certain he’s an ugly, washed up man. 

finally, you hear his belt jingle and you know he’s sucking it up. you hear him take a deep breath before shoving into you. you gasp at the size, your walls stretching painfully around him. you grip your chains with such force that your knuckles turn white. 

“fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he mutters before beginning to move. he starts off slow, knowing that the stretch is painful. he grips your hips tightly, leaving finger indents in your soft skin. he snaps your hips against yours, driving his cock against your g-spot and prodding your cervix. it’s been so long since you actually enjoyed a patron, but this felt so good. you wished you could reach your arm back to hold his arm or something. 

“you’re such a good slut, aren’t you?” he says before landing a hard smack on your ass. clearly he has managed to get much more comfortable. you nod your head, agreeing with him. you can feel your release building up with every thrust. such a timid man fucking so well is unheard of. but you’re loving this. you grip your chains for dear life, gasping for air as your orgasm creeps up. “god, please sir i’m gonna cum,” you beg, barely fighting it off. 

“you can cum, but i’m not gonna stop fucking you. i’m not done yet. i’m gonna use your hole until i cum” vernon smacks your ass again and you fall over the edge. your legs shake violently. if it weren’t for the chains, you would be snapping your legs closed. he continues to jackhammer into your hole, pushing you past the edge and towards another orgasm. you notice that his thrusts are getting sloppy, signaling to you that he’s close. “please cum inside me, sir. i need it so bad,” you plead, your walls squeezing around him. he digs his nails into your sides as he cums, filling you to the brim. the sensation sends you into another orgasm, this time you squirt all over his legs and the floor.

“aw, the cumdump likes being filled so much that she couldn’t take it,” he snickers, running his fingers over your sensitive core. you shake and twitch at every small touch. “i’m gonna flip you over, i wanna see your pretty face.” he hooks his arms around your waist and rolls you over. being rolled over holds your arms down to your chest with the chains, still trapped. 

when you’re finally situated and you see his face, you’re astonished to see how beautiful this man is. you almost wish this wasn’t a business exchange, but you know better than to get attached to customers. “well aren’t you a pretty little thing. so pretty and such a whore,” he comments, stroking your face. he ducks down to situate your crossed legs around his waist. he reaches down between you to shove back into you.

“i have 15 minutes left, i’m gonna get another orgasm out of you.” 15 minutes? how has it already almost been 2 hours? he slides into you easier this time, your hole having yet to recover from his previous entry. your arms strain against your chains, wishing you could grab onto him to ground yourself. he pounds into you ruthlessly, his only focus being to drive you over the edge.

he reaches down to rub your clit and you throw your head back, your eyes crossing involuntarily. “oh my fucking god,” you croak, your voice getting caught in the back of your throat. you squeeze your legs around his waist, desperate for release. with 5 minutes left on the clock, you plead for your orgasm. “cum with me, slut. i’m gonna fill you up again,” he demands, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face. 

as he feels you tighten for a final time, he leans down to kiss you. you hadn’t been kissed in so long so this surprised you. you kiss him back, cumming onto his cock as he simultaneously fills you up to the brim.

he pulls out of you and flips you back over into your original position just as his time strikes zero. “h-have a good day sir. feel f-free to return whenever you’d like,” you stutter the standard goodbye message. he slaps your ass one last time before pulling his pants back up and walking out. 

as the door closes behind him, he finds his friends coming out of their own rooms as well. “so? how was it?” jun asks him, patting him on the back. “so good, and she’s so hot,” he says, gesturing back to his room. 

“i will be coming back.”

© lomlhwa 2024

[turtletaubwrites]

Bend Until You Break ~ Part 1

Thank you for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup for a Yandere!Law that the Reader goes to for help with a serious health condition, only for Law to take a liking to her... I swear I will write sweet Law one of these days, but for now please enjoy Yandere!Law. This contains !!DARK CONTENT!! so please check the warnings, and skip this one if it may be triggering or uncomfortable for you. This one's for us hypermobile baddies out there. 🥄

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 2679

Ao3 Link

Summary: You have struggled with mystery pains and injuries for most of your life, and had resigned yourself to suffer after every doctor told you there was nothing wrong. But when a world renowned doctor/pirate comes to town to offer aid in exchange for supplies, you decide to give hope one more chance. Maybe you'll finally find a doctor you can trust.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush)

A/N: This chapter is SFW, but I'm adding in many tags to start out with since this mini series will contain heavy/dark content. PLEASE heed the tags, and do not read this fic if you aren't comfortable with these topics. Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional. Hopefully you'll have better luck than Reader 🙄

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

I should just leave. He’ll just tell me the same things. It’s a waste of time. 

You were close to convincing yourself to walk away, especially as the discomfort and pain of standing in one place for so long started radiating up your body. 

The line got shorter, and you stretched and bounced, trying to hang onto a sliver of hope.

“Hello, how’s your day going?”

A talking polar bear in an orange jumpsuit waved at you from behind a small table, handing you a clipboard. 

“I-I’m well thanks. How…”

“Good! It’s always nice when the captain can help people. He’s the best! Just fill that out, and he’ll be with you soon.”

Looking at the form brought you out of the shock of speaking to a bear. Instead, it filled you with intense frustration, until you were practically boiling in your skin.

‘Rate your pain from 1-10.’

How the fuck am I supposed to rate all the different types of pain I’m in on any given day?

‘Circle the parts of the body where you are experiencing pain.’

I could put circles over so many things. Might as well circle the whole fucking chart, and have them call me a liar.

‘List your diagnoses, and family medical history.’

I don’t have one, doctors never find anything. Mom has some similar symptoms, but they're so mild that she's never tried to get a diagnosis. You’re the one who’s supposed to figure this out!

You resisted the urge to vent your anger onto the page, bullshitting your way through instead. You tried to write in the most convincing way to get this new doctor to take you seriously. 

This new doctor. “The Surgeon of Death.” A fucking pirate. 

But he was supposed to be the best, and he was here on your shitty little island for a couple of weeks, trading medical treatment for the town's supplies. You had already heard reports of “miracles,” that he could perform surgeries in an instant, that he could fix anyone. 

Please fix me.

This was it. You couldn’t take anymore trying after this. Just trying to get a doctor to listen to or believe you was almost worse than the daily pain. Almost.

“Miss Y/N? The captain is ready for you now. My name is Bepo, by the way,” the bear grinned as he took the clipboard from your clammy hands. At least you hoped it was a grin.

He handed the form back to you as he led you through the dimly lit hallways of this strange submarine. It felt like you’d entered some other realm, an underworld, on your way to strike a deal with a demon. 

As long as he can fix me…

“Here you are,” Bepo motioned as he opened a large metal door. “You’re in great hands.”

Hands. 

Hands were the first things you noticed as you entered the examination room. 

Those hands were tensed over the back of a rolling chair, gripping the thin padding as if waiting for you so he could sit down. 

Long fingers mesmerized you, tattoos etched along the back of each hand. And as you stepped into the well lit room, you saw the word “death,” spelled out across both sets of those fingers. 

The sound of his throat clearing snapped your eyes to his, your skin flushing as you realized he’d been speaking to you. 

As you realized how fucking gorgeous he was. His black hair looked a bit mussed, but it only added to the effect, along with his goatee, and his dark, pretty eyes.

Already more useful than my other doctors. Easy on the eyes. 

“May I look at your form, miss?”

‘Oh, of course,'' you stuttered, thrusting the paper toward him. “I’m Y/N.”

“Dr. Trafalgar. You can take a seat.”

Well, his bedside manner seems pretty standard, you thought with a small sigh, sitting down on the familiar crinkly paper covering the exam table. 

He circled behind you to close the door, and what sounded like a lock clicking into place had your heart rate spiking. 

“Stand up, please,” he said firmly, your form still unseen in his hand. 

“Oh, sorry. I thought you said–”

“Walk to the corner, and sit back down, please.”

His voice was unreal. You would have jumped through hoops for him anyway, praying that any doctor would listen. 

But his command seemed to curl into your brain, and you followed it immediately. 

“Why are you favoring that hip?”

“Oh, it…” 

Here’s where your credibility would fall apart. Your nails dug into your palms as you willed him to believe you.

“Sometimes if I stand too quickly, it feels loose. Sometimes it pops, and is so painful that I can’t put any weight on it.”

He stared at you for a moment, and you fought not to recite a list of excuses, to try to explain why it hurts when you’d never been injured before. 

“And your right knee?”

“Oh, it’s not bad right now. It used to swell sometimes, and was really painful. But it’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“Did you sustain any injuries?”

“N-No. None that I can recall.”

His lips quirked a bit before he reviewed your chart.

Believe me. Believe me. Believe me.

“You’ve reported your shoulders as being your most pressing concern. Why is that?”

His eyes were almost painfully sharp as he scanned you, focusing on your face as you answered him. He’d sat backwards on the rolling chair, his arms folded across the back with his legs spread wide to either side.

“They’ve been acting up recently. They often feel… loose. That’s how it feels to me. Sometimes if I move a certain way it almost feels like they pop out of place. But I can still move them after, it’s just incredibly painful. And then it’s weak, and I can barely hold anything.”

“What are some of the activities that have caused this to happen?”

He was impossible to read. But you couldn’t lie. He wouldn’t be able to help you if you lied.

“Um, brushing my hair. Taking off a jacket. P-Putting a sports bra on.”

“Did you used to have longer hair?”

“What?”

“Do you keep your hair above your shoulders to prevent shoulder pain? Or does brushing it still cause issues at this length?”

“Oh. Yes, actually. I used to have much longer hair.”

“I imagine you’ve adjusted many aspects of your life to cope with this pain.” 

Warmth flowed into that deep voice, and you shivered as you watched him steeple his fingers against his lips for a moment. 

“If you are comfortable, I would like to run through a few simple movements to check your flexibility. Many of which you can do on your own, but I will check in again if you are comfortable with me touching you for the others. You can always let me know if you would like to stop.”

“Okay.”

The doctor dug through a drawer to pull out a clear measuring device, almost like two rulers connected at one end. He adjusted it, creating an angle before setting it aside. 

He never picked up the device again, and you fought not to shake. He looked at your elbows, your knees, your thumbs, your pinkies, frowning slightly as you followed his instructions.

“Now, please bend over, and try to touch your toes. Just go as far as you– hm.”

Your palms were flat on the ground, just as they’d always been able to go. You could even put the back of your hands down, and stretch them along the ground behind you if you wanted to. 

“Doctor?”

“You can take a seat.”

Wincing as you sat, you shook out your legs, feeling his eyes as he watched your every movement. 

He stood, towering over you as he came close.

“For this next part of the examination, I will be touching you with my hands, and in some cases leaning or holding parts of your body against mine so that I can check the range of motion in your joints. I may also massage certain tight muscles to help you relax as we move through the problem areas. You have quite the list for us to get through, but if at any time you wish for us to stop, just let me know. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you breathed, your face angled up to meet his.

“Do you consent to me touching you?”

His voice came out softer once again, and you couldn’t hold in a shiver as you consented.

Those fingers…

His long fingers were so gentle as they crept across your body, testing, pushing, pulling. You fought to listen to his commands, pushing against or holding your body how he told you. 

“I imagine that seeking treatment has been challenging for you,” he rasped as he leaned over your face, his fingers gently massaging your shoulders. 

The pain and pleasure of his hands testing you had brought up a strangely emotional pressure, almost like tears in your throat.

“It has.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It must be incredibly difficult to suffer so much pain, and not be believed.”

You started to nod to keep your voice from cracking, but he pressed his fingers into your skin just a bit.

“Can you keep still for me,” he whispered, and it sounded so close that you opened your eyes.

“Just relax,” the doctor soothed as he stepped away, pulling a few tissues out to press against your cheeks and temples, catching the tears that had spilled when you’d opened your burning eyes.

“I’m sorry, doc–”

“No need to be sorry, Y/N. You have been suffering, been living with pain for years. It’s all those doctors that left you like this that should feel ashamed.”

His fingers had returned to your body, still relaxing, and testing.

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Please, call me Law.”

He was pressing gently along your collarbones as his name rolled over you, a small sound escaping your throat as you melted beneath him. 

“Do you have a good support system? People in your life that can help you with this?”

“I mean, my mom and my boyfriend help me. They’re supportive.”

He took those fingers away, and you mourned them, wishing you could feel that soothing touch forever.

“I’m going to test your hips now, Y/N. Please tell me if you experience any pain.”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling self conscious of your breathy voice. His words just kept pouring over you, his voice so relaxing, so good. 

“How does that feel, Y/N?”

“Fine.”

He had your leg stretched along his torso, your foot dangling over his shoulder. You clamped your eyes shut. The sight of him between your spread legs, pushing your leg toward you, had you biting your lip, trying not to make any more embarrassing noises. 

“How’s this?”

“Fine.”

He hadn’t gotten close to your limit, but he went agonizingly slow. You could feel his firm abs warming your thigh through your clothes, his thin shirt not doing much to keep the press of him at bay. 

“You said that your mom and your boyfriend support you. How do they do that?”

“Oh, uh,” you shook your head, trying to focus on the question, and not the gentle rocking motion he’d started as he pushed you even further.

“They help me when… They help me when I’m having bad days. They listen. They both do little different things when things are bad.”

“How’s this?”

“Still fine.”

“You can go further?”

“Yeah, I can–,” you had reached for your thigh, planning to pull it toward your chest to show him, but his eyes above you stopped you before his voice did. 

“I’ll get you there, Y/N. You can hurt yourself if you rush. Can you take it slow for me?”

“Perfect,” he praised when you nodded, still gently rocking your body forward and back as he pushed, finally reaching the limit. 

“That is quite the range of motion,” he noted, carefully laying that leg down to move to the other side. “May I?”

He set himself up again, moving slow as he used his body to stretch you.

“You said that they help you on bad days, is that right?”

Meeting his sharp eyes, you took a minute to understand.

“Yes, they do.”

His face tilted a bit as he pressed closer. He started that gentle rocking motion, almost thrusting against you to help your body relax. 

“But Y/N, from what I’ve seen today, it seems like all of your days are bad. Aren’t they?”

“I…”

“All these years with no one to believe you. It must be hard to believe yourself sometimes. Do you think they really believe you, Y/N? Do they believe how much pain you’re in as you struggle through each day? As you stand up too fast, or brush your hair? Do you think they understand?”

He’d pushed closer, looming over you as he held your thigh against him. 

“Why are you–”

“I need to make sure that my patients have the support systems they need.”

His voice had smoothed back now, from almost heated to cool and detached.

He’s the only person that’s ever seemed like they understand. He must believe me. Of course he would be passionate about it, he’s a doctor. A doctor that believes me.

Closer and closer, his eyes watching yours.

“Do they believe you?”

“I think,” you started, eyes wide as you fought more tears, “I think they try to believe me. They just… They don’t know what it’s like. They don’t understand.”

“How’s this?”

“It’s fine.”

“Alright, last push.”

Your thigh was pressed between your bodies, and he stayed there.

“Does this hurt, Y/N,” he rasped, his breath warming your face. 

“No.”

He helped you stretch your leg out on the table, sitting backwards in the rolling chair before he told you to sit up.

“I believe I understand the cause of your pain, and why you’ve had a difficult time obtaining a diagnosis.”

“Can you fix it?”

Your thrill of excitement got caught in your throat at the look in his eyes, his palm up to halt your questions. 

“I believe it may be a connective tissue disorder, which would explain your hypermobility, as well as the complications you’ve had with many parts of your body. You've already met the criteria for one type based on our examination today. I would like you to come back tomorrow so that we can review more of your symptoms to be sure, and to discuss treatments.”

“You can do surgery, right? Can you fix it?”

You had gestured to him, your body panicking with failing hope. A gasp left your throat as those tattooed fingers caught your hand, his thumb rubbing over your skin as his voice went low.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. This is not a condition that can be cured,” he confessed, squeezing your hand as your body slumped. “Connective tissues run throughout our entire body, and if I am correct, yours may be weaker than most. 'Loose,' as you said. Unfortunately, there is no known way to repair or replace those tissues.”

A weight fell over you, and you found yourself not quite in your body. Your body that you’d fought so hard to fix.

That can never be fixed.

The doctor pressed your hand between his, smoothing over and warming your fingers until you were present enough to meet his eyes.

“It may not be curable, Y/N, but it can be managed. You don’t need to suffer alone in such pain like you have been. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that things are better for you. Do you trust me?”

There was something so intense about his face. The way he looked at you felt heavy, like he really did see the weight you’d carried all these years. You sank into those gray eyes, and realized you did.

“I trust you, Doctor.”

“Please. Y/N,” he hummed, releasing your hand, “call me, Law.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Welcome to my frustration with the health care system 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel

Part 2

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[aajjks]

The price of Love (II)

synopsis. they say the price of love is dangerous, but jungkook would pay anything to buy your love, at any cost.

warnings. Yändêrê thěměs, öbsëssïön, därk thěměs, crèèpy, änxïêty, öbsëssïön ät fïrst sïght.

pairing: Yandere sugar daddy!jungkook x sugar baby female!reader

viewer discretion is advised, yandere stuff can be very triggering so read at your own risk, also let’s remember that this is purely fictional and this does not represent bts or jungkook irl.

note. Hello hello. SHARE FEEDBACK PLEASE AND IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, JUST REPLY UNDER THIS POST ONLY REPLY TO THIS POST.. THANK YOU ENJOY AND REMEMBER TO SEND ASKS FOR TPOL JK OR CHARACTERS.

part one x

Yerin was going to be dead meat.

You were definitely going to kill her, “i had a good time with you- yn is it?” The man’s voice pulls you out of your murderous thoughts, you blink and regain your focus on him.

“Ahh I’m so glad, Mr Jeon… I had fun too..” you give him a kind smile, “I’m sorry if i was too awkward… I just didn’t know we’d have to be alone together- and celebrate your birthday.”

Jungkook, the mysterious man gives you an amused look once again, you wonder to yourself, what’s so amusing about you?

“just call me Jungkook.”

“I didn’t mind it honestly… i got to know you.” He’s so blunt, you inhale, trying to stop your cheeks from heating up. You look around, everywhere but him.

“That’s kind of you.. haha..” you bite your lip, looking all over the luxurious interior of the restaurant. “Was the food up to your liking, yn?”

“Oh are you kidding me? This was the most delicious meal I’ve ever had in my life- i mean it was delicious.” Jungkook looks at you with his full attention.

“You are a very unique person yn.” He remarks suddenly and you feel so small under his heavy gaze.

He just means to say that you’re so cringey yn.

“Umm thank you..” you push your hair back, you feel so nervous.

“Well it’s getting late… and i have an early shift tomorrow so… allow me to leave?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond but raises his eyebrow, almost looking disappointed but maybe you’re reading too much into his expressions.

“Sorry, I meant to say that I should leave now… I hope you don’t mind?” You immediately correct your sentence and just keep on smiling lightly.

Hey stands up, without replying, “yes I know that actually but it would be really impolite of me to let you go alone at this hour, so allow me to drop you.”

“please?”

How does he even know that?

that’s the first thing that you mind registers, but as you watch his expressions soften, and a small smile on his lips, you give in.

Well, I would appreciate that because it’s really late and it would be hard for me to find an Uber… I appreciate it, J-Jungkook?”

The mans smile immediately widens, and his eyes shine.

Now he looks kind of cute.

“After you my lady.”

He was not as worse as you thought he was.

His company was actually really comfortable as you sit in his car and he drove, light conversation was actually very nice but his aura remained dominant and Intense.

You weren’t the one to shut up, but in his presence, you could barely speak without feeling nervous.

You just kept and answering his questions, playing with your fingers to ease your nerves. It was hard for you to maintain eye contact with him because he was just such an intense person for you.

Intense is the only way you can describe him.

Well, you don’t talk much do you?” Jungkook halts the car and focuses on you once again, you almost gasp in surprise, you were already home.

“oh, it’s nothing like that. Maybe I’m just tired but thank you so much seriously.” Jungkook nods his head. “hold on don’t leave yet.

You stop your movements.

It takes you by surprise when he suddenly asks you to not leave. You wait for him to say anything else but he gets out of the car.

You sit in silence and patiently wait.

“is everything all right?” You ask him when he opens your door for you, concern is all over your face and he notices it but he doesn’t say anything, but offers his hand to you.

“Just trying to be polite and maybe… charming.”

That makes you laugh as he gives you a shy smile.

“I appreciate that.” You hesitate to give him your hand, but then you look at him and do it.

“I really enjoyed my time with you tonight.” he makes a conversation again as you walk towards your home. You feel his eyes all over you, but it doesn’t creep you out.

He’s not looking at you like you are a piece of meat. Instead his Eyes are fixated on you, like you are of the jewel of the most precious crown in the world.

That is the only way you can describe it, even though it sounds so cliché.

“Honestly, thank you. I don’t know I guess I am too much to handle but I’m glad you enjoyed my company..” “But I swear to God, I am- oh I don’t even know why they couldn’t make it?”

Jungkook hums along as you finally stop. “I’m here now and I know I’ve said thank you so so many times but I… appreciate you for dropping me home.” Do you think the man for the nth time.

“when you absolutely didn’t have to, and you didn’t even let me pay for the meal.. thank you.”

Jungkook crosses his arms to his chest, his biceps flex effortlessly, the white shirt, makes him look so good as you finally notice him under the street lights.

The long locks on him looks so good.

He is a very attractive man maybe that’s why you’re so nervous around him, well, that’s not entirely the only reason he’s pretty famous around your country too, and he’s literally a billionaire.

How did you get so lucky?

“if you are checking me out, I don’t mind at all.”

There you go feeling embarrassed as he points you staring out.

“could I please have your number? I think I would like to see you again if you don’t mind….” he doesn’t waste the opportunity to ask for your phone number.

He really isn’t shy.

“Umm.. I… are you sure because I think I should let you know something..”

You inhale and exhale deeply

“I am so sorry but I don’t- I’m not really looking for romance right now.. as much as I enjoyed the dinner with you, I only came there because of my friend…”

maybe you were too honest about this, but he needed to know, “ trust me I get that.”

His smile doesn’t falter at all, “I appreciate your honesty but don’t worry I’m not looking for something so serious too… but I think I like you already..”

He is standing there looking at you, his smile makes him even more attractive, “ oh really well that’s great we could be friends..”

He stalks closer to you, and takes out his phone.

“so?”

“Oh right, well it’s ____________”

“OK now I should really go. Goodbye Jungkook.” The guy waves and waits for you to go inside of your home. He dials another number in his phone after typing your phone number.

And smiles to himself.

“oh, I know exactly what to do.”

Everything was going in his favor, just like he had wanted.

[ambrosialdesire]

Can I request yandere porco x reader who doesn't take him seriously/ isn't afraid of him or being bratty or whatever so he transforms to scare her

hellion

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: s4 porco x fem!reader word count: 5.9k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, unhealthy relationships, past + current human-trafficking/purchase mentions, forced feminization/infantilization, stockholm syndrome development, forced proximity, torture/violence mentions (choking, starvation, drowning, tying up), drugging (sedation), prey & predator vibes, kinda psychological horror?, humiliation, slight praise, degradation, slight gaslighting, kinda mindbreaky, all characters are 18+ synopsis: you were an impulse purchase that he never thought he'd make before, and although he doesn't regret it, he's having a difficult time trying to soothe your feisty spirit. who knew that all it took was one transformation and a chase you'll never forget? a/n: i'm gonna be so fr idk how to write bratty characters LOL i rarely read bratty readers in general so i'm really free-balling this 💀 kinda simple and to the point compared to my other fics, esp since i've never wrote for porco before so this is like testing the waters and most likely SUPER ooc. it's also more of a psychological fic since i'm not in the mood of writing complete nsfw haha but i hope you enjoyed this anon! sorry it also took so long to be done but then took me like three days to make and edit 😅 (i still think it's a little sloppy, esp the end BUT that's what anon questions are for so i can sorta explain and piece it together more lol) again, hope y'all enjoy!! note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

He hated when you got like this, putting up a constant nonsensical fight against him.

You'd be a perfect candidate to be his successor from the way you bite down into his skin when he tried to touch you, scratching up his face when he got too close, and always almost managing to slip through his grasp to dash towards the open basement door before he tugged the chain wrapped around your throat back towards him, watching you bare your teeth at him angrily. You were truly a wild animal, that's why he chose you in the first place.

Porco wanted to tame this wild spirit of yours, simply for the fact to see if he could.

Little progress was made, he made your purchase not long ago in the slums of Liberio, where the truly wicked and evil roamed to sell and purchase anything deemed illegal by the Marleyan government. As much as he refused to take these kinds of assignments, preferring to be back on the battlefield with Zeke and Pieck, Porco was already in deep waters for fighting with Reiner again. Not his fault that the Vice Captain's face was so punchable. Thus, here he was, being forced to shut one of the operations down that was said to involve a human-trafficking ring. Down he went alone in disguise, shuffling through the disgusting sweaty bodies of devil scum drooling over a piece of fresh meat on the stage.

He remembered got a good view of the bidding, eyeing each fearful chained-up person with boredom until you were pulled up. God, you really were the star of the stage. Two burly men had to tug your fighting body onto the crumbling wooden stage, a mixed sound of what could be a snarl and screech emerging through your cracked and bruised lips as you refused to move any further. You put up a good fight against the henchmen, the crowd jeering at the display of tug-o-war.

Once they managed to get you to the middle, the auctioneer started to ramble on about your pricing. Your hands may be wrapped in cloth and tied together, but the minute he neared you to show you off, you struck him with a mean uppercut, almost pouncing on him once he fell over before the two men held you back. Even then, you were thrashing around on your wounded feet, spitting out curses and howls at the fuckers beneath you, telling them that you'd hope they'd all burn and rot in hell.

He's the only one that snorted at that statement, feeling all eyes on him.

Porco really wasn't any different from those around him as he raised his hand up, offering over a thousand for the wild girl, more than what the other fucks around him could possibly afford. It won't make a dent in his bank account either because once he takes you home, the authorities would've already been called to the place. He gets to keep his money and you, while Marley gets rid of more scum; a two in one deal. You glared down at him, a burning fire settling deep within the darks of your pupils as he grinned back in return.

You were going to be a fun little purchase, that he's sure of.

He didn't really want to, but considering that you were a snappy little thing, you had to be down in the basement of his home until he managed to get your temper under control. The chain was long enough for you to reach the bathroom down there from the bed, but not long enough to reach the door. Once you managed to slightly calm down, realizing that your new "owner" was unfazed by your act as he leaned against the wall, you cautiously settled on the bed. You were still tense, unsure of what his intentions are.

"You got a name?" Porco started, finally breaking the silence as he crossed over his arms.

"You have my papers, don't you?" Your eyes squinted at him, the raspy retort coming quick out your mouth. He did, but he didn't bother looking at them just yet.

He scoffed, pushing himself off the wall, slowly stepping closer to you. "Snarky one, aren'tcha? Just tryna be a little civil here."

"Civility? Don't make me laugh. Buddy, you're the one that bought me. I think we both know that any sort of civility you had has been long gone the moment you raised your stinkin' fucking hand in the auction and brought me down here." If your temper wasn't enough indication of a need of reformation, your mouth definitely was.

"I'm surprised you even lasted that long in the slums with that tongue and attitude of yours, most would've been turned into chopped meat without even a second thought." You were about to say something back before he slammed his hand into your face, pushing your head into the bed and prying your mouth open with his fingers. A gurgle of a scream erupted out of your throat as you struggled to push him off you, but no dice.

"But I'm not like most. Me? I could crush your skull whenever I want, maybe slowly pull each of your limbs apart so you'll feel each tendon and ligament rip away from your sorry torso." Porco pushed harder until you got the message, silencing yourself as your face ached and throbbed from the pressure, yet your eyes still held that same vindictiveness from the auction that never seemed to quite be quenched. Your jaw abruptly closed around his fingers, a pained hiss slipping out of his lips as the pearly whites grinded into his skin.

He's going to relish seeing that light die from you, when you finally realize that he's the sole reason of your living, that you should've been grateful from the start that he's the one that bought you instead of the beer-gut ridden trash that wasted away in the slums.

Porco finally removed his hand out of your mouth, drool and teeth indentations staining his fingers. Light steam was coming off of them, the superficial wounds closing up. He knew you caught that, eyes focused on his hand.

"Now, get some rest. Training begins tomorrow."

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

When he said training, he meant torture.

That's what you thought as you experienced every debilitating and humiliating ritual he forced onto you every day. You eventually learned his name because of someone saying it upstairs — God you wished that the floors above were as soundproof as the basement's walls— Porco, but you called him 'piggy' sometimes, despite him trying to train you into saying sir. Simple, but it got him irritated real fast.

Porco was a strange man, you knew he was definitely not like the other men you've came across in your imprisoned life. Every wound you made on his person, no matter how deep you curled your nails into him or bite down as hard as you possibly could, he was left unblemished. Not even a fading scar or lasting indent, it was as if you've never injured him in the first place.

He bled, the taste of iron familiar on your tastebuds, but it really was like nothing occurred after a few minutes. You knew that he healed fast too, that weird steam came out of the wounds right after you inflicted it from what you could see with the lantern light, but you don't know why it did. Were you so out of touch from the outside for so long that new medical advancements were made?

He also disappeared for short periods of time, leaving you occasionally starving if he didn't leave enough food beforehand and surprisingly bored; he was really your only company nowadays, so it was quite frustrating to come to the conclusion that you'd even miss the bastard despite the shit he's made you go through. Once Porco came back though, he'd be a little nicer to you but that would last for roughly a week once you gotten sick of his company again.

He only sedated you when he needed your complete compliance or when he deemed you too much, your head rolling around weakly as he undresses and bathes you with him in the tub, the heightened sensation of calloused hands brushing against every inch of your skin. You may be out of it, but every other sensation was magnified. It was the only peace the two of you got with each other, even if you weren't a truly willing participant.

Porco was also quiet when it came to this activity, the steam and heat of the tub creating a slight flush on his tanned cheeks as he leaned back against the porcelain. His normally gelled-back blond hair would be damp and falling over his face, expression lax. You thought he was on the completely lankier side before since you rarely see him without the green coat, but no, he was quite muscular despite being pretty slender.

It made sense, he's lifted and thrown you like you weighed absolutely nothing, holding you down without much struggle, and letting you exhaust yourself while he looked completely normal.

He seemed disinterested in each other's nudity, though you did notice the first few times when he started the bathing routine that he took in every little detail of your body, eyes wandering more than usual. It's not like you could've stopped him and he never touched you sexually, only touching your privates to clean those areas. You've accidentally let out a quietly hitched breath here and there when he brushed those digits of his in-between your pussy, your drugged mind struggling to comprehend the feeling. You believed that he never noticed during those mishaps, not bothered in the slightest during it but whenever he got out of the tub first, it was pretty obvious he'd be partially aroused.

You wouldn't say that you were completely innocent in the act of staring at the other either, you've spotted his cock more than a few times and were slightly internally glad that he never took it for a spin against you. He must be a show-er more than a grower (if he was any lengthier hard, you might be in trouble), but he was notably bigger than the other disgusting men you've came across. Thank god for that, at least. It was finally nice looking at a man that wasn't built like a water buffalo in denial of balding and having the smallest dick around.

As time passed by, you feel like you confirmed your suspicions that he never really was interested in using you for any sexual needs, he was more into seeing how much it would take for you to break. Maybe he's done this to others to get his rocks off, but you'd never give into the sick man's perversions.

One thing that was prominent you've noticed while in his care was that he rarely made you do anything by yourself. He's the one that fed you with you on his lap, clothed you in stupidly feminine outfits from the start of the day to the night, bathed you alongside him. He cleaned and dressed any wounds you inflicted on yourself, but left surface scratches and bruises alone. Porco was in complete control and if you didn't let him take the reins, that's when the punishments rolled in.

Balancing books on your head as you stood on your tiptoes, if any of them fell or if you went back on your heels, he'd hit the back of your calves hard with a riding crop and restart the entire thing. Forcing your head over a bucket of freezing cold water, asking you difficult questions with no right answers to them, and pushing you down into it when you said anything that he didn't want to hear. He choked you out and left you intentionally starved for days when you refused to eat what he made, tied up and blindfolded in a tight closet with no indication of how long time had passed because you didn't want to wear what he chose, anything to ensure that you've learned your lesson.

You didn't, of course you never did. Whenever he asked if you had enough, you only just laughed at him and spat at his face, the punishments only ending once he got tired of it. Your stubborn attitude was the only thing keeping you sane in this world of yours.

No matter how much you were forced to endure endless embarrassment and shame, you'll never grovel or beg for mercy, not even shedding a tear for the agonizing pain you felt as you laid on the scratchy mattress every night. And besides, he wasn't the only one who tried and he most certainly would be the last once you figured out how to get out of here.

You felt a jab to your stomach, abruptly waking you from your short rest. The lights weren't even turned on, but even you knew that the next horrid day has just begun, a flashlight blinding you next.

"Morning sweetheart, you know what time it is? It's 3 in the morning, nice and early for our next session. Are you going to be good and let me put your outfit on?" The nicknames only started a few weeks ago, just because you were being obedient and compliant to his demands. It's to make you feel nice, to think that's what you should be doing to get on his good side.

Fuck, he's really insane.

Obviously since you were completely exhausted, you might as well let him take control again until you regained more strength. You nodded slowly, rubbing your eyes as he finally moved the light off of your eyes. He murmured something of a praise, stroking your head gently before going upstairs to retrieve the outfit. You sat there in silence, partially nodding off until you heard his footsteps near the door, body slightly stiffening.

You may not be outwardly afraid of him, but unconsciously, he made you become unintentionally afraid of the new fucked up punishments that he created. At a certain point in this life, it was undeniable not be terrified of something unexpected.

"A friend recommended this new place for women clothes since she noticed I've been in a good mood lately." Porco pushed the door open, a light pink babydoll dress in his hands. "Ain't it nice? Might be better than all the other ones I've put you in, the seamstress really has outdone herself, don't you think sweetie?"

Everything about it looked too short, ruffles and lace making most of the skirt and the sleeves overtly puffy. He may think he's putting you into something cute, but it was obviously something uncomfortable to wear. It's intentionally supposed to make you tick, you knew it was.

"It's..." You started, thinking about how to go around this without sounding offensive. "Pink."

He frowned, obviously expecting more from you but simply shook his head. Alright, that was a somewhat valid response.

"Still tired huh? Yes, most of your clothes are pink, but this one," He placed the dress next to you, along with the undergarments and shoes. "This one is for a special occasion."

Special occasion? A year must've already passed by since he purchased you, it wouldn't be all that surprising if he was celebrating that. You lifted your arms up and let him remove your nightgown, leaving you only in your underwear. Porco removed the dress from the hanger, turning towards you and pulling the dress over your head and arms, organizing it properly over your body.

Definitely too small now that you were wearing it, the bands around the arms making it feel like you were gonna lose circulation on them and your breasts nearly spilling out of the top of the dress, no matter how much he was adjusting it. The skirt was also way too revealing, just barely covering your panties but he soon tugged those off, putting on an even more scantily clad pair. He brushed out your hair, taking a few pieces and attaching a bow with it behind your head. The shoes were just simply white flats, the only part of the outfit that you had no problem with.

"There. Such a beautiful girl, wouldn't you agree?"

He cooed as he stood you up and dragged you to the bathroom, pulling off the drape that covered the mirror. You weren't allowed to use the mirror, that was what he said as one of the rules way back then. You didn't know why he asked that of you, but you've never seen yourself in years anyways, the details of your appearance foggy in each glimpse of a reflecting surface. The basement was dark too, the only sources of light being the flashlight or lanterns that Porco brings down here to see you. But this?

This was the first time you truly felt horrified at anything, bruises of varying colors littering around your skin, most prominently around your neck. You looked sickly, a pale complexion covering your skin, and bone-dead tired, eyebags weighing under your lower eyelids heavily. The only thing that looked decent on you was your brushed out hair and dress, despite how it squeezed at your almost feeble body.

"What... what did you do to me?" Your hands went over your face, feeling your very soul crumple into itself.

Porco snorted, his hand wrapping around your jaw and forcing you to look at the reflection. "Nothing. This is you, all you. The only thing I've done is the bruises but everything else is your fault."

You pushed him back, his body hitting the wooden door with a thud. Tears were starting to well up in your eyes since the first time in forever as you balled your fists at your side. You started wailing, curses slipping through your lips.

"Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"

"Y/N—" His tone was becoming angry, a warning.

Porco never said your name before.

You took off one of the flats and quickly threw it hard at the mirror, multiple fragments shattering off the wall. You grabbed the biggest piece that landed on the ground, feeling the palm of your hand cut open, warm blood spilling down your fingertips. Without a second thought, you lunged at your captor. Porco was stronger as he stopped you midway of your attack, but his hands slipped from the grip he had on your bloody hands and wrists, it was almost unnoticeable but not to you.

With the little strength you had left, you gave it your all, letting out a wrathful shriek as you jabbed the piece into his stomach, twisting it in as deeply as you could.

The world fell silent as you watched his blood seep through his shirt.

This was the first time you've looked into his eyes in the light and this close in general, the hazel color showing nothing but displeasure. You heaved slowly, taking in shaky breaths through your nose. Slowly, you released the shard and backed away from his still-standing body, the chain connected to you rattling along on the stony ground with your movements. Your eyes were still locked onto him, impatiently waiting for him to collapse so you can take the key out of his dying cold body.

Yet, that didn't happen.

"You're fucking pathetic, stupid even." Porco's hand reached for the mirror shard embedded in his gut, pulling it out with a slight hiss, as if it was nothing but a splinter. "If only, just only, you remembered that I can heal from any wound that your dumbass places on me, we wouldn't have this issue but I guess I gave your slow little brain one too many hits."

The steam was coming off of him again as he threw the bloody shard pack into the broken pile, your teeth baring at him.

"What the hell are you? Some kind of monster?" He laughed, pushing his hair back with blood, the red mixing in with the dark blond.

"Worse," Porco charged at you with inhumane speed, grabbing your throat and lifting you up in the air with one hand, your hands clawing at his forearm as black spots began to form in your vision. "I'm one of the worst monsters of them all. A Titan."

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

You awoke to find yourself in a forest.

Originally, you thought you died. It's been years since you've last seen the outside, even felt the wind's breeze go against your face and feel the rising sun's rays warm up your skin. Yet, as you opened your eyes, you reached out to the grass, feeling the smooth blades brush up against your fingers, you knew you were still alive.

Sitting up, you slowly took in the surrounding environment. Did Porco abandon you because he thought you were dead? A giddy feeling rose up from within, excited about the possibility of finally, finally having the freedom that you've desired for so long. You wobbly stood up, realizing that you were still in the outfit he made you wear, now stained with dried blood. Ugh, at least he should've had the decency to put you back in rags or something before dumping your 'corpse'.

How far were you from the nearest civilization? You'd be lucky if you managed to come across one before either dying of dehydration or starvation, hoping you'd run into an Eldian internment zone rather than a major Marleyan city. Maybe even dying here in the wilderness would be a better death than being around people again, considering that all of them would just disappoint you once more.

There was a sound of grass crunching, small branches breaking from behind you as footsteps drew closer.

"Awake aren't we?" Fuck. You turned around, seeing him standing back at a distance, still wearing his bloody clothes.

"I wish I wasn't now that I know you're here piggy. Goddamnit, why didn't you just fall over and die when I stabbed you?" You grumbled the last half, tugging at the bottom of the skirt dejectedly. From afar, you could imagine that his eyebrow was twitching in irritation once you mentioned the nickname.

"You're so annoying, you know that? It's been a year and no matter what I do to you, you still persist. Still convincing yourself that you can't be broken. You've really ran me dry to figure out what I can do to make that pretty little head internally pop, well, I got one more thing that'll make you finally listen to me." Porco fished out a small pocket knife out of his jacket, holding out his palm for you to see before he sliced the middle of it, blood immediately gushing out.

"I'll give you a 15 minute head start, timer starts when I transform. If you can hide or outrun me, I'll let you go free. No catches, you'll simply be free to walk among us again. But if I find and catch you," A cocky smile grew on his face, pointing the knife down at you. "You're going back to the fucking basement."

Wait. What does he mean by transform?

A flash of blinding lightning appeared abruptly right in front of you, gusts of wind nearly knocking you over. You covered your face to try and shield yourself from the sudden weather change onslaught, the sound of something crunching forming loud in your ears. The light finally faded away after a few minutes gone by, a huge shadow hovering over you instead. Hesitantly, you peered up out of your arms and gaped in horror as you stared at the monster in front of you.

Where Porco once stood, a bony skull-like faced Titan stood before you on all fours, a mane of familiar blonde hair wrapping around its head like a lion. It had a shorter and muscular stature than most Titans you've seen in books before your kidnapping, still towering over you but not as much as a normal Titan would. White-tipped claws on each of its digits were prominent on both its hands and feet, digging into the soft grassy ground beneath it.

What the fuck? What the fuck?! Your captor was the Jaw Titan user the entire time? Is that why he disappeared every now and then? Holy shit, you knew what the Jaw Titan user's dick looks like.

Its small hazel eyes glared down at you through the skull-like mask and you felt frozen to the spot, too afraid to make any move. Was he even still in control of himself in there? A guttural growl came out of it then, snapping you out of it.

Porco's waiting for you to move, he... he wants to chase you down. You have no other choice, and you'd rather put up another fight than to lay down belly-up.

You took off the other flat that still remained on your foot and threw it at the face of the creature, soon dashing as quickly as possible into the lush forest. In your head, you knew your outfit was going to be an immediate sore thumb in the surrounding greens and browns so you started to rip it apart as you ran, trying to scatter the pieces as much as you possibly could to throw off the trail. All you were left in was your thin underwear and even that was a risk to keep on, but it was all you had left to preserve the dignity you were barely holding onto.

As you ran, you felt every stray branch dig into your already-damaged skin and every breath you took in felt like needles in your nostrils. It was better than nothing, better than getting immediately caught by that thing. You don't know how much time has passed since you started running, all you knew was that you must've wasted precious seconds when you gawked at the atrocity of a Titan.

There was a whipping sound and then a thud, trees cracking and breaking behind you. The echo of birds flapping away from the source, cawing in alarm rang loudly in your ears and you felt immediate dread crawl up your spine. Your head start was up, he's coming.

You still ran as fast as you could despite the burning in your underused muscles, trying to find somewhere decent to hide in. An overgrowth, a bush, anything at this point. The sounds of whipping and cracking were getting closer and closer, panic bubbling in your stomach until you missed a step, falling over and knocking the wind out of yourself.

You cried out as quietly as possible once you got air back in your lungs, slowly sitting up with damp dirt clinging onto your bare skin. Taking a glance at the ledge you fell from, an idea popped in your mind. Underneath, it was wide enough to fit your body and deep enough for you to hide in, so long as you could cover yourself up with leaves and dirt. The sound of a gurgling snarl close by meant that you had little time to put your plan into action, and you grabbed the nearby shrubbery in handfuls, crawling into the space as fast as you could.

Laying on your back, your place the gathered materials on your body, completely covered from head to toe. You didn't know how it looked on the outside, but it had to be something that could be overlooked when he was searching around. It had to be because you were not going back, you refused to.

The close rumble of the ground almost had you scream out in terror, but you put your hands over your mouth as tightly as you could, your breaths shaky out of your nose. The thuds grew closer and closer, body jumping with each passing step, and then it stilled. You could slightly see what was going on outside, heart dropping when you immediately spotted him.

The Titan was just standing there, completely still besides his head moving around to scan the area. He must've figured out that your clothing trail had gone cold or that it was fake the entire time, but the one thing you knew was that he was quick to catch up either way. A hissing sound, almost sizzling, broke the silence. You watched as Porco's original body appear out of the creature's upper back, right near the neck.

What. The. Hell.

"You're here, aren't you?" His voice was calm, no hint of frustration or irritation. Porco had too much pride to proven wrong, he was confident that he tracked you in the right spot and you hate that he was correctly onto you.

"Your footsteps stopped not too far from here, y'know. You tryna hide now? Ran out of stamina? Twisted your ankle?"

You clenched your eyes tightly together, praying that he'll give up, that he won't find you. Never in your wretched life have prayed before, but you'd start worshipping the very god that'll manage to make sure that Porco won't look in this shallow cavern.

"Fine. If you don't want to reveal yourself—"

There was another sizzling sound, your eyes opening and seeing that he went back into the body, the creature beginning to move once more. The Titan then opened its bony maw, revealing a second pair of sharper teeth before an ear-bursting screech projected out of it, your hands shooting to your ears to try and cancel out the horrid sound. The scream kept wailing aloud like a never-ending storm alarm, your head beginning to ache. It felt like it was going to pop the longer it went on, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

Stop it, stop it, stop it!

Silence.

There was a slight ringing in your ears, but the screaming was gone and when you looked out of your hidey-hole, he was no longer standing there. Did he actually give up? You stayed still in the divot, head throbbing and heart pounding against your ribcage. You'll even wait until the next morning if it meant for any kind of confirmation that he was gone.

Suddenly, a claw came down on the roof of your cavern, the sharp tips just barely missing your body. It ripped away the dirt and rock, the sunlight blinding you as you sputtered out the pieces that came down on your face from the removal. Complete fear radiated off your expression as its unnerving mask stared down at your trembling form. You... lost.

You think that its — his — eyes were gleaming with glee right now, seeing how pitiful you looked, filthy and damaged. His hand reached for you, body stiffening as the fingers curled around you, picking you out of the hole carefully. The body of the Titan slumped down and the same hissing sound came out of the back of it, Porco reappearing once more.

"Took me only 30 minutes to find you, what a pathetic attempt of a run," He insulted, leaning his body over the fuzzy head of the creature. "Though, I will have to give props to you with the hiding. I wouldn't have spotted you until you moved in the hole from the scream."

"P-please... make this th... thing stop touching me." You almost whispered, the coldness and rough texture of its grip tight around your body. You hated that you were directly forced to stare at it, its eyes blank but still glaring deep within your soul.

"You afraid of it? You scared of the big bad Titan?" Porco taunted, his arm slightly moving and the grip tightening around you even more. You let out a strangled cry, your breathing becoming erratic. The feeling of the jagged bones jutting into your flesh like squeezing a balloon to its limit, the imagery of your organs bursting out of you, began to make you hysterical.

"Please s-st... stop! P-please! I... I don't want to die! Porco, I'm begging you! Get me out!" You started sobbing, blobs of tears flowing down your cheeks. You hated him, but you hated this monster even more. To think that they were truly real, a true threat to your fragile existence, it was something that was horrifyingly difficult to mentally process.

Porco gawked at your sniveling body, not even trying to wiggle out of the Jaw Titan's hand but still crying out to him for his help. This is what he wanted right? To see you completely give up, to depend on his assistance, to save you. He felt so fuzzy and dizzy on the feeling, almost like he drank too much liquor. Just to play around with you a little more, his hand twitched, causing the Titan to squeeze you even more.

You screamed out in fear once the pressure got even more narrow, your cries resonating louder within the deep forest as you simultaneously begged him to stop. Aw, how adorable but alright, he's had his fun for the day. This might've gotten the message across, let's see how long it'll last or else he'll have to do this again and again if he had to.

"Will you finally listen to me?" He finally spoke up, your teary eyes immediately meeting his and nodding furiously without hesitation.

"Yes! Y-yes I will!"

"And what do I want to hear from you?" You sniffled, looking completely drained of all fight.

"I-I'm sorry... s... s-sir. I wo... won't ever do i-it again."

Porco thought he never felt such euphoria in his life until he heard your apology, a wickedly proud grin growing on his face. He pulled himself out of the Jaw Titan's back, watching the creature start to steam and deflate as he reached for you, peeling its fingers off of your body and helping you down. Unexpectedly, you latched onto Porco once you got on the ground, your arms wrapped around him tightly in a vice hug. You... never did that before.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You repeated over and over again, your tears wetting his coat. "I won't fight you again, I-I promise sir."

His hand reached over to your head, light stroking the tangled strands as you trembled against his body. "That's what you get for being a bitchy brat, you don't want me to do it again right?"

You shook your head in response, gripping onto his clothes even tighter at the thought of being chased by that thing again.

"Then you gotta listen to me better, okay? You listen, no Titan. And now that I'm reminded of your bad manners, you've torn up that pretty dress of yours earlier. That wasn't cheap, you ungrateful bitch. How are you going to make it up to me?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." Worry began to fill up your still-teary expression as you pulled your face out of his shoulder. You were taking every insult with a grain of salt, dismissing them completely. "I-I'll do anything to make it up to you, sir."

Porco really wasn't any different from the devil nuisances down in the slums, an excited shiver going through his system. If you're really offering anything, then he might as well get what he deserved out of you, he's been waiting a year for it after all. He lifted your face with one hand, rubbing away a smudge of dirt off of your skin with his thumb.

"We'll discuss what you can do about it later. Now, let's go home and get ourselves cleaned up, you smell like mud and look like shit." Another apology slipped through your lips as he moved forward with your hand in his, the corners of his mouth curling upwards with pure joy.

The animal within you has become neutralized, the flame dying and being left behind with the fading Titan behind the two of you.

Porco finally got what he paid for.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

CM Wrong Recipient Writing Challenge 🎁

Hey everyone, I’m back with another monthly challenge! For the months of November AND December, I am formally challenging any willing writer to take a stab at writing fanfiction including a Wrong/Mistaken Recipient using their choice of Criminal Minds characters! Reader, Original Character, Character/Characterships, Gen/Platonicfics are allowed! Please check out the Rules below the Keep Reading.

There are a LOT of prompts below the cut, so keep going!

(**This is NOT a request list for me—this is a prompt list of other writers! Feel free to request from someone else, and be sure to let them know about the challenge!)

SFW Prompts 🙈

The BAU arrests the wrong person

The flower delivery guy really messes things up

Character grabs the wrong person to kiss at NYE

Character leaves a voicemail for the wrong person

Character grabs the wrong person’s hand in public

Character receives an awkward text from an unknown number (or one they haven’t spoken to in a long time)

Character throws a snowball at their friend… but misses (and hits their crush/an attractive stranger instead)

Talking to different people on multiple phone lines can get really confusing

Somehow Character got on someone's super silly Christmas Card mailing list

There’s a mixup of notebooks and Character finds writings/drawings... of them

Character receives a package they weren't expecting and finds an even more unexpected item inside

The team recounts all the times Penelope said something inappropriate to the wrong person on the phone

Character has been sending messages to their loved one after they passed (they never expected a response)

Character pulls a prank against a fun-loving coworker, but their significantly less playful coworker triggers it

Character leaves an anonymous letter confessing their love, but the recipient insists it can’t be for them

Character enlists Penelope’s help in hacking into someone’s device to delete an unintended message

Anything else you can think of!

Keep Reading for more Prompts and the Challenge Rules!

Dialogue Prompts 🙉

“Oh, God. Wrong house.”

“New phone, who’s this?”

“So… who is (intended recipient name)?”

“Baby, I can be whoever you want me to be.”

“Any chance we can pretend you didn’t see that?”

“No matter what you do, do NOT open that.” “Too late.”

“I’m not complaining, but I don’t think that was for me.”

“What’s the point of the unsend button if it tells them that I unsent something?!”

“This is definitely the wrong number but, seriously, did you think that line would work?”

“I actually can come to the phone right now with a very special message that your mother is a—!”

NSFW Prompts 🙊

Character is a stripper at the wrong party

Character receives scandalous selfies from a coworker

Characters buy books together but take the wrong ones home (at least one of them is erotica)

Character wanted to gift a friend a sex toy as a joke and they used the same wrapping paper for their crush’s gift

Character sends their friend a detailed review of their recent sexual encounter… and accidentally sends it to the person they’re reviewing

There’s confusion and two BAU members end up with the same hotel room (Character walks in to find their coworker completely nude)

Character is waiting for an unsub in a confessional booth (the unsub doesn't show, but someone else confesses unholy thoughts)

Rules

Your fic can be a Reader insert, an Original Character, a character/character ship, a platonic ship, or a Gen fic. It can feature any Criminal Minds character. AUs and crossovers are more than welcome.

Tag me in the fic, or send the link to me in a Direct Message. It can be already written, or you can write it for the challenge - I collect both! You can also tag “#mentioningmargins”

The fic can be any genre, but ONLY send me smut if your bio states you are 18+. I DO NOT WANT smut written by minors. Ever. At all. I will check. Platonic ships and pure, fluffy fics are 100% allowed. Please also include some indication of rating if it is NSFW.

Please include Content Warnings and a one-sentence Summary of the fic in your post. For xReader fics, PLEASE specify if your reader is Female, Male, or Gender Neutral.

Have fun!

The Masterlist of fics will be posted around December 30 If you finish after that, no problem - just send me the fic once you’re done and I’ll add it after-the-fact!

Feel free to message me if you want help developing a plot, have any questions, or just want to gush about your fic. I’m happy to help, and I’m happy you’re here ❤️

[antianakin]

Antianakin's Second Anti-Anakin/Pro-Jedi Fic Rec List

Same general idea as the first one, this rec list is dedicated to fics that are critical of Anakin Skywalker. That can mean anything from just emphasizing that the Jedi's philosophies are right even if it means Anakin is wrong, to killing Anakin off in the most gruesome (and probably cathartic) way possible as a consequence for his choices. Since I know there are differing levels of feelings towards Anakin in the people that follow me, I'm going to add in some new helpful terms and redefine the categories slightly. Please note that these are MY personal interpretations of the fics, not the authors' stated intentions.

Helpful terms:

Unfinished - Any fic that is marked as incomplete, or a series where the fic(s) in it are still incomplete and cannot stand alone.

Ongoing - Any series marked as incomplete, but the fics in it are marked as complete or can stand alone as they are.

Critical - The fic critiques Anakin's philosophies and choices, but allows for more sympathy towards his character and situation should the reader desire it.

Anti - The fic specifically presents Anakin in a very negative way without any sympathy for him or his choices.

Anakin/Consequences: Anakin experiences consequences for his actions, but does not die. These fics can be anywhere between "critical" to fully "anti" depending on the author's take.

Spoiler Alert, He Doesn't Make It: Anakin experiences the specific consequence of dying. These fics will likely all fall under the definition of "anti" as opposed to just "critical."

The Galaxy Deserved Better: Focus of the story is more on characters' reactions to Anakin's choices or using other characters and their relationships to critique Anakin's choices in canon. None of these fics will be "anti" Anakin probably, since the critique of Anakin is at best a catalyst for the rest of the story.

I've had people ask me how to FIND more anti-Anakin fics, so here's my tips:

Look at your favorite authors' bookmarks. If you like something someone wrote, chances are they like reading the same stuff you do.

There's always the option of looking into tags, but I've found that very few people actually use "anti" tags on fanfiction, so your best bet is to look into pro Jedi/Jedi appreciation tags as much as possible, and the ones that are truly pro Jedi are often also critical of Anakin simply by design (if he shows up at all).

A lot of these fics take things like the Tusken massacre, Order 66, and Anakin's treatment of Padme, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and the clones very seriously. Please take that as a warning if any of those things might be triggering, and keep an eye on the tags for all of the fics included here just in case.

There is no specific order to this. I tried to group fics from one specific author together, but other than that, I didn't place anything in any specific position for a reason.

This is not an exhaustive list of good anti-Anakin fics that exist, obviously. If your fic or your favorite fic isn't on this list, please feel free to rec it yourself in the notes, leave a reply or reblog with a link. I'm happy to read more anti-Anakin fic, especially if it's very Pro-Jedi!

One final reminder: NOTHING IN THIS LIST IS ANAKIN FRIENDLY! That means it's likely not going to be friendly to Anakin specific ships either, particularly Obikin and Anidala. If that's going to bother you to read, please just skip this entire list, it's not for you.

Anakin/Consequences

Blood-born Memories by Siderea (anti, 725):

Quinlan touches Obi-Wan's robe after his "assassination" by Rako Hardeen and ends up picking up some memories and emotions from Anakin that give him some heart-breaking revelations about Anakin's true nature.

Technically this one ends just before any real consequences and so the consequences are more implied, but I love the way Quinlan reacts to the revelations he has in this fic. Quinlan is so obviously horrified by it and heartbroken on Obi-Wan's behalf, but also strong enough as a Jedi to know what he needs to do now. He's already grieving his friend, but he has to set all of that aside to deal with this now more important issue. This fic is supremely unlikely to ever get any follow-up, but thinking about how Obi-Wan would deal with this development upon coming back from his stint undercover is delightfully angsty.

Malfunctions & Mutiny by BitterChocolateStars (anti, 6k):

Obi-Wan loses on Mustafar, but Anakin takes him prisoner and proceeds to kill Palpatine and make Padme Empress. He puts Cody in charge of guarding Obi-Wan, and one day Cody's chip breaks when Anakin tortures Obi-Wan. Cody starts working on an escape plan for everyone, Jedi and clone alike.

The nice thing about fics post Order 66 from clone perspectives is that Anakin tends to be represented as an unforgivable monster and little else. Cody's priority is saving everybody he can and getting them as far away as possible, so he's not interested in trying to understand or sympathize with Anakin when it doesn't serve his purposes. One of the things I really like in this fic is the way we see Rex and Ahsoka react to the revelation of Anakin's betrayal. Ahsoka takes it a lot better than she does in canon, but we get a nice sort-of outsider perspective of Rex struggling with believing it until he doesn't have any other choice and the way this impacts his relationship with Cody.

The Temple vs Order 66 by LauraBWrites (anti, 4k):

The Temple has become semi-sentient over the years and starts preparing to protect the Jedi in the eventuality that Anakin Skywalker fails.

The Temple itself being a character is really fun, and I quite loved the way it was almost arguing with the Force about Anakin and how to handle the growing darkness in him and the galaxy. I also really appreciated that, while Padme ultimately leaves Anakin behind, her selfish choices during the war aren't swept under the rug, either. I liked that it insists that Anakin is taken care of and not just left to rot, but that whether he gets better or not remains up to him. It doesn't matter how much therapy he's given by the Jedi, he has to choose to accept the help or it won't work.

For want of a horse, the rider was lost by LacieFuyu (critical, 19k):

Anakin doesn't get left in the dark about the Rako Hardeen mission and it goes disastrously as a result. Everyone has to live with the consequences of that choice.

This one takes place within the Rako Hardeen arc, but it does deal with the revelation of the Tusken Massacre and the Anidala marriage as well. There are a lot of truths being thrown at Anakin in this particular fic by the people around him who start to discover more of what he's done and who he truly is, most of whom choose not to sugarcoat anything for him. Several of the characters choose not to forgive Anakin for what he's done, even as some of them continue to work to help him figure out how to heal and get better. There is hope left for him at the end, but the consequences for him in this feel very real and substantial, it goes far beyond Anakin just having to live with what he's done. He loses a lot of the people he cared about, he loses certain privileges and ranks, and they leave open the possibility that he might have to face a pretty serious consequence for the Tusken Massacre from the Tuskens themselves. So while it's sympathetic, it takes Anakin's choices seriously, which I appreciate. I also liked seeing some of the ways other characters were dealing with their own pain and betrayal, the ways they were taking comfort from Jedi teachings and loved ones to heal in a more healthy way.

Spoiler Alert, He Doesn't Make It

here on the edge of silence, half afraid by Siderea (anti, 4k):

Pirate/Mer AU where Fox and the Guard work on Palpatine and Anakin's ship and Fox manages to kill Palpatine, causing Anakin to throw him overboard only for Mer!Obi-Wan to save him.

I like the development of Fox and Obi-Wan's relationship in this one, from some very understandable mistrust to attraction and the beginnings of a friendship. The glimpses we get into a wider world and a rebellion of sorts and how Obi-Wan being a merman fits into the Jedi still existing and fighting alongside the clones under Palpatine are SO tantalizing. Fox's opinion of Anakin is immensely low and Obi-Wan himself is far enough along from whatever betrayal Anakin committed in this AU that he is able to criticize Anakin's behavior and obsessions with people. Anakin never actually appears in this fic, he remains a far-away obstacle to be removed, and I love that for him.

The Galaxy Deserved Better:

Ahsoka is Mace's Padawan series by SkyeBean (ongoing, anti, 442k):

The title of the series speaks for itself for the most part, but this is an AU where Mace chooses Ahsoka to be his Padawan around a year prior to AOTC and it follows the various consequences of that change both to Ahsoka herself and to the galaxy at large. The first fic goes all the way through the end of the Clone Wars, but other fics in the series continue beyond that to at least the end of ROTJ and explore the impact of the Empire on the Jedi as they struggle to survive.

I made an entire separate post strictly about this series because it basically changed my brain chemistry for the week it took me to get through everything, and I know several other people have recc'd it in various lists, but I'm putting it here again for anyone who hasn't yet seen it because it's just that good and that worth it. This fic understands how to make Ahsoka develop and mature without making her some angel or goddess of light without flaws. It is BREATHTAKINGLY pro Jedi and especially pro Mace Windu. There's some really great exploration of Ahsoka's relationship to the clones both before and after Order 66 as well a lot of delightful diversity in her relationships to other Jedi. This fic does not pull punches with regards to Anakin, Padme, and Anidala, or the consequences of their choices. If you were disappointed in how the Ahsoka show treated her reaction to Anakin and his atrocities, this fic is the OPPOSITE of that.

After the War (Part the First) by KChan88 (critical, 7k):

Instead of Obi-Wan, Mace and Yoda choose Quinlan to be the one who goes undercover during the Rako Hardeen arc. Obi-Wan, who has been in an off and on relationship with Quinlan since they were teenagers, reacts to the loss.

This is actually incredibly positive towards Anakin, but I'm leaving it in here as "critical" because pretty much any fic that has someone else reacting to the Rako Hardeen act is sort-of critical of Anakin's canon behavior by design, and the underlying issues that ultimately lead him to darkness. Obi-Wan reacts like a Jedi should, letting go when he believes Quinlan to be dead, and understanding when he has to face Quinlan after he knows it was a lie even as he is still angry at the circumstances putting Quinlan in that position in the first place (not the JEDI, just the war and the way it's forcing the Jedi to run themselves ragged and put themselves through the wringer). That anger gets acknowledged and accepted and Obi-Wan and Quinlan are shown to have an incredibly healthy relationship with each other that's incredibly sweet.

After the War (Part the Second) by KChan88 (critical, 6k):

Quinlan manages to catch up to Obi-Wan during his confrontation with Anakin during the Obi-Wan Kenobi show and the two have a reunion after things settle down on Tatooine.

Part of the same series as the above, this one lands more sympathetic towards Anakin than positive, since it's set post Order 66 and, for obvious reasons, it's pretty hard to be positive about what Anakin's done and what he's chosen to be at this point. But it's not unsympathetic, both Obi-Wan and Quinlan remember good times with Anakin, Obi-Wan has a line about having felt some kind of light in him during that last conversation they have in the show, and Quinlan makes comparisons to Anakin sounding like a scared and lonely little boy. So the critical aspect of it is relatively soft and minimal aside from the obvious references to his betrayal. Much like the fic above, I really love the way Obi-Wan and Quinlan's relationship is represented and the dynamic they have with each other.

Meet in the Middle by BilbosMom (critical, 9k):

Baby Luke and Leia are working on some Force shenanigans to try to find a way to speak to each other through a middle ground within the Force, but have trouble getting to each other on their own and end up recruiting Rex and Obi-Wan to help them.

This one is also pretty positive about Anakin in that it talks a lot about how Luke and Leia are going to save him by reminding him of how to love and things like that. I'm leaving it in here because it is also set post Order 66 and does reckon with the impact of that, especially on Rex who is finding out this betrayal for the first time, so it's hard not to end up at least a little critical just naturally. Anakin has done some particularly heinous shit and is still DOING some heinous shit. That remains true whether he can be saved in the future or not, whether he used to know how to love selflessly or not. I particularly like the structure in this one, the way it bounces back and forth between Obi-Wan's perspective with Leia and Rex's perspective with Luke. I like the way that Luke and Leia land sort-of wiser than their years due to their stronger connection to the Force but also still very much children who get impatient and annoyed with the adults around them.

scraps series by grumpyhedgehogs (critical, 9.5k):

Cody's chip fails when Obi-Wan dies on the Death Star and he goes searching for Rex and the Rebellion. He deals with his grief and guilt along the way.

Cody isn't Anakin's biggest fan, obviously, but both he and Rex acknowledge that Anakin USED to be a better person. The focus of the story is on Cody's relationship with Obi-Wan and how, even after he's died, that relationship still helps Cody move forward from his grief and find some measure of peace. I like the way Cody, Rex, and Ahsoka all connect over the different ways Obi-Wan had meant something to them and the ways he impacted their lives.

may you inherit his light by notbecauseofvictories (critical, 2.5k):

Leia reflects on her relationship to Bail Organa and the impact of his loss in the years after ROTJ.

Leia is also not Anakin Skywalker's biggest fan and dislikes that she inherited anything from him. I appreciated that Leia never forgave him in this. Even in the moment where she claims to wish he showed up, it's so she can rage at him for being the reason she ISN'T Bail Organa's daughter instead. It's a heart-wrenching story and dive into Leia's character, the ways her life at constant war have defined her as well as her experience as an adopted child who wanted nothing more than to have something physical to connect her to the family she loved and to make them proud. Mon Mothma saying Leia reminded her of Bail about made me cry.

Thank the Gods, I'm Not Alone by BitterChocolateStars (critical, 16k):

Obi-Wan and Rex from ten years post Order 66 both get sent back in time to the Clone Wars and work together to make sure it doesn't happen a second time.

Since Obi-Wan and Rex are primarily dealing with an Anakin who HASN'T betrayed the Jedi and the clones yet (depending on whether you count his marriage to Padme and his murder of the Tuskens a betrayal of the Jedi or not), they both have to figure out how to forgive this version of him that hasn't committed the crime they're angry about yet. He's the same person who DID go down that path before, but circumstances change enough to make different choices this time around. I appreciated the acknowledgment that it's okay to choose not to forgive the version of Anakin that DID make those choices, even as they recognize that it's not fair to hold this version of Anakin accountable for things he didn't do.

Gentle Welcome by Miandraden1 (critical, 1k):

Short and soft post-Rako Hardeen one shot where Obi-Wan reflects on Anakin's reaction to his stint undercover but gains comfort from the people who understand.

I love Obi-Wan discussing his worries about Anakin with Mace, it's such a nice call back to AOTC where he was more explicitly pushing back against the Council's decisions and had less faith in Anakin, whereas here he's so clearly trying to continue to have faith in Anakin's ability to grow and learn, even as he can tell Anakin's struggling. There's no lack of acknowledgment of Anakin's continued struggles, but there is a choice to continue to believe in him. I love how sweet the clones are in how they react to the Rako Hardeen deception, in some ways this is just another Tuesday for them, but Waxer explicitly leaving Obi-Wan a little gift he knows he'll like says something slightly different and it's adorable.

The Temple of Hope series by Zarz (ongoing, critical, 93k):

Obi-Wan, Anakin, and their battalions stumble across a very old Jedi Temple that reveals certain truths about both the Jedi and the clones and changes everything.

This one is also mostly about just forcing Anakin to face his own truths and fears while everybody else gets to make their way to a happy fix-it AU as a result. One of the tags on the first fic is "anakin skywalker faces consequences" but the primary consequence is just Anakin feeling bad about what he's done more than anything else. It's overall a sweet, soft, Force-sensitive Clones!AU with a lot of pro Jedi vibes to it.

"... if you remain his student" by Peppermint_Shamrock (critical, 4k):

The Wrong Jedi arc doesn't happen which leaves Ahsoka at the Temple during Order 66 and she was never going to be enough to save or stop Anakin.

To be perfectly honest at this point, this is the ending I'd have wanted for Ahsoka. It wouldn't have been able to happen in canon given she's not in ROTS, but like... this is probably one of the most impactful ways for her story to have ended (and one of the kindest, given how shitty her character has become). I love the way this fic insists that Ahsoka isn't enough, any more than Padme or Obi-Wan were, he'd have cut her down the same he did the others, no matter what he might have felt for her once or what she believed he felt for her.

Reversi by LacieFuyu (critical, 2.5k):

Anakin and Obi-Wan's roles are reversed in the Rako Hardeen arc and Anakin is startled by everyone's reactions to his deception.

This is yet another one that is critical by comparison to canon. Even Anakin himself acknowledges by the end of the fic that he's pretty sure he wouldn't be reacting this compassionately and calmly and reasonably if their positions were reversed, something we know to be true. There's also a small moment where Anakin begins to doubt his choices regarding the Tusken Massacre, but instead of actually reflecting on it, he buries the feeling all over again and chooses to learn nothing. It's very in character for Anakin.

[candycandy00]

Serve Me, Save Me - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 2

After Ryomen Sukuna inadvertently saves you while killing his enemies, you decide to devote yourself to him as a servant. But the trauma from the attack triggers panic when you find yourself in his bed.

Part 1 | Part 2

Smut. 18+. Oral sex. Masturbation. Slow burn. Softer Sukuna than I’ve written before but he’s still a monster. True form Sukuna. Rape and its aftermath feature prominently as a plot device but rape does NOT occur between Sukuna and Reader. Features PTSD, panic attacks, etc.

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts (I have no idea how many there will be), comment to let me know! You must have your age in your bio or intro post or just tell me you’re an adult in the comment! Likes are appreciated but comments and reblogs (especially with feedback in the tags) make me feel all warm and squishy! Seriously any feedback at all is so wonderful! Divider by @benkeibear!

Several days later, when Sukuna went into his bath, he found the same servant preparing the water and laying out fresh robes for him. The heat and the steam in the room had made her skin look dewy, her hair wet. The thin work robe she wore clung to her shape as she moved about the room. 

When she noticed his presence, she bowed, touching her forehead to the floor. “Your bath is ready, my lord.”

He looked down at her as he untied the silk belt around his robe, but before removing the garment, he paused. “You’re the servant who refuses me,” he said. It was not a condemnation, but a statement of fact. If he insisted, she would let him do whatever he wanted. She was too obedient not to. But he didn’t have the patience to deal with whatever trauma that would cause. 

She was otherwise a good servant, keeping the shrine spotlessly clean. Even Uraume had praised her, seeming delighted while reporting that she had organized their spices in a neat and efficient manner and always took care with the plates and utensils while washing them. 

“Go and fetch another servant to attend me,” he said. 

She slowly raised her head. “I can attend you, my lord, if you’ll allow it.”

“I don’t feel like hearing your screeching tonight. Will you go into hysterics again if you see my cocks?”

Her face reddened slightly. “I don’t mind seeing them, my lord.”

He sighed. “Alright then,” he told her, shrugging off his robe. She hurried to retrieve it from the floor, folding it in a quick and deft motion before placing it in a basket by the door. She didn’t stare at his naked form this time, but she certainly wasn’t avoiding it. Her eyes darted all along his body as he sat down on a stone stool and used the readied cloths and soaps to wash himself. 

She didn’t hesitate to come closer, taking a soapy cloth in her hands and using it to scrub his back. He wondered where she’d learned how to wash a man’s back so well, being unmarried. She was using the perfect amount of pressure, moving at the exact speed that felt the most pleasing. 

“You have practice at this,” he remarked. 

“My family owned a bathhouse, my lord. I attended to the customers often,” she said. 

She used past tense. Meaning her family had probably been slaughtered in the attack. Ah well, at least they’d left her with a useful skill. He could feel his muscles relaxing under her ministrations, any tension completely gone. She was very good at this, even knowing the right time to stop and move on to another task without being told. 

She soaped up her hands and then used them to lather his hair. He found himself leaning back slightly, into her touch. He normally washed his own hair, but like with his back, she used skillful motions to make the experience as pleasurable as possible. When finished, she lifted a bucket of warm water as she said, “I’m rinsing now, Lord Sukuna.” Without waiting for his response, and with the practiced ease of someone who had done this countless times, she held the bucket over his head and tipped it forward, spilling the water over his form and washing away the soap. 

He made a mental note to send for her every time he bathed in this village as she stepped around in front of him and offered a warm cloth to wipe his face. She watched him, her eyes flicking down between his thighs. She didn’t look upset or frightened. In fact, she appeared to like looking at his body. 

She lingered in front of him, and when his eyes met hers, her skin looked slightly flushed. “May I… touch you, my lord?”

It was a surprising request, coming from her, but he wasn’t in the mood to tease her. “Do as you wish,” he said. 

She gave a quick bow of thanks, and then got down on her knees, smoothing the fabric of her robe as she scooted in between his spread open legs. She lifted one hand to his upper cock and gripped it softly, her eyes fixed on the organ as it twitched and began to harden under her touch. She stroked it lightly, gently moving her hand up and down the length. His lower cock hardened almost immediately after, eager to be touched as well. She used her other hand to stroke it, using the same rhythm. 

Her feathery touch felt nice, but it was a bit too soft for his taste. “Harder,” he told her, and she looked up at his face. With a hint of a blush on her cheeks, she nodded and took a firmer grip with both hands, moving them up and down at a faster pace. Eventually she paused and looked at his cocks for a moment before leaning forward and licking the upper one, coating it in her saliva. She then went back to stroking the now slick shaft with her hand while she took the lower cock into her mouth. 

The servant’s warm, wet tongue circled the throbbing organ in her mouth, and with her thumb she mimicked the motion on the upper one. Sukuna watched her work, enjoying the way her pretty eyes darted up to his face occasionally, the way her full lips looked wrapped around him. He couldn’t remember the last time a single woman had pleasured both cocks so well at the same time. 

Sukuna leaned his head back, closing his eyes and listening to the wet, slick sounds she was making, feeling her velvety mouth enveloping him, her silky hand stroking him. The lower cock came first, into her hot mouth, and she took in every drop, her throat working to swallow it all. Then, in the next instant, she quickly pressed her tongue to the upper one as it began to shoot out his seed, catching all but a few spurts that landed on her face. 

Looking down at her, he thought she was exceptionally beautiful with his cum dripping from her chin.  She slowly rose to her feet and gave a small bow, then motioned toward the waiting bath. “The water is at optimal temperature now, my lord, if you’d like to enjoy a soak.”

He stood and crossed over to the huge stone basin full of water. Several people could fit inside it at once, but unless someone snuck and used it while he was away, Sukuna was the only person who had ever been in it. He stepped over into the water and lowered himself into it. The water reached his stomach, and was perfectly warmed, with some sort of fragrance drifting into the air. 

As he slid down a bit further into the water and relaxed, he looked at the servant. Across the room, she was wiping her face with a cloth. Her robe was so damp from the moisture in the room that it stuck to her body all over, hugging every curve. After watching her for a moment, he said, “Come join me in the water.”

She lifted her face and looked at him. Several different emotions seemed to flicker in her eyes. Panic, flattery, excitement. But she didn’t move from her spot. 

He sighed. “I won’t touch you.”

Her face seemed to relax. “Thank you, lord Sukuna,” she said with a smile. 

*******************

You opened your thin work robe and slipped it off your shoulders, folding it neatly and dropping it into the basket of used clothing by the door. Fully nude, you walked over to the bath and gingerly climbed into the hot, steaming water. It felt wonderful as you sank down, the water level hitting at just below your breasts. You could slide down further, but you had the feeling lord Sukuna wanted to look at them, so you remained sitting up straight, a few feet away from him. 

“Did the men who attacked you not use your mouth?” he asked suddenly. 

The question shocked you with its abrasiveness. “They did, my lord,” you replied, looking down at the water. 

“And it didn’t bother you to suck my cocks?”

You could feel your face growing hotter. “It didn’t.”

“Hmm,” you heard his voice say. “Then what happened the other night in my bed?”

You glanced up at him. “I think it was being pinned down that triggered the memories of the attack, my lord.”

“I see,” he said, shifting slightly in the water to get more comfortable. “Still, it’s only sex. I don’t understand what’s so frightening about it.”

You’d heard sentiments like that before from other men. “It’s not just sex,” you told him, “it’s a violation. It’s having someone use your body for their pleasure, against your wishes. And in this village, it robs you of your future. I’m a used, broken woman now.”

His eyes had shifted to you again, and you worried that you’d said too much. “What a stupid custom,” he said, surprising you. “Being a virgin does absolutely nothing to increase a woman’s value. If anything, I find them less desirable.”

You blinked, gazing at him with wide eyes. “Really?”

“Of course. What does a virgin know of pleasing a man?”

He probably wasn’t saying it to make you feel better, but you were comforted nonetheless. If the god of your village thought you were still desirable, then maybe you weren’t damaged after all. 

“Thank you for saying so, Lord Sukuna,” you said, dipping your head slightly in a subtle bow. 

He stared at you for a moment, then spoke again. “There’s still one among the attackers of the village I’ve left alive. He’s been useful for extracting information. It would probably be easy to find the families of the men who raped you. I could have them executed or-“

“No, please!” you said, the water around you sloshing as you moved closer to him. When he looked at you curiously, you went on. “I’m glad those men are dead. I’m glad you killed them. But their families did nothing wrong, so I’d like to leave things as they are.”

He shrugged. “If you say so.”

The two of you sat quietly in the water for a while. He laid his head back, and after a few minutes you wondered if he’d fallen asleep. You watched his broad chest rise and fall with his breaths, the water droplets sliding down his neck. He really was glorious. You found yourself rubbing your thighs together under the water. Since the attack, the only times you’d felt aroused were when you with lord Sukuna. 

Silently, careful to avoid disturbing his rest, you slipped your hand down between your legs, then gently rubbed your slick, heated flesh. You’d pleasured yourself occasionally before the attack, but never after. You just didn’t have the urge. Until now, sitting so close to lord Sukuna in the steamy water. 

You pressed one finger inside, leaning your head back and closing your eyes, your breaths hitching in your throat. 

“Enjoying yourself?”

Your eyes snapped open when you heard Sukuna’s silky voice. You looked over to see him wearing a grin. You hastily straightened up in the water. “I’m sorry, my lord, I was just-“

“Don’t stop because of me,” he told you, a look of delight in his red eyes. “Continue if you wish.”

“You’re not offended?” you asked. 

He laughed. “Why would I be?”

“Then, I’ll continue, my lord.” 

Under his crimson gaze, you began touching yourself again, sliding one finger back in, your thumb stroking your clit. Your back arched in the water as you moaned softly. You hadn’t felt this sort of pleasure in so long, and now it was overwhelming. Was it because lord Sukuna was so close, his incredible body almost touching yours? 

You glanced up and met his hungry eyes as you came, your body quivering. You shivered in the water as you came down from the high of your orgasm. The way he was looking at you… it was like he wanted to devour you whole. Something about that thrilled you. 

Later, after you both left the water and dressed in fresh clothes, lord Sukuna turned to you. “From now on, you’ll be my bathing attendant.”

You bowed your head. “It is an honor to serve you, my lord.” 

After he left the room and you began cleaning up, you smiled to yourself. You finally felt like you had a purpose again. And maybe, you thought, you might be called to his bed again some time, and things would be different. Maybe you were beginning to heal. 

[daddecember]

Welcome to DadDecember 2024!

Everyone who participated last year, welcome back! To everyone joining this year, welcome in! We cannot wait to see what you create.

Please make sure to read this post carefully, as many questions have been answered here already. We have also answered all the questions that were submitted through our anon voting form already. If you don’t find what you are looking for there, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here. The mod team will get back to you as soon as possible.

If you wish to give a comment to the mod team without a response, feel free to use our questions, comments, and concerns google form: https://forms.gle/fRcZq2TsV2pgoNs97

This year’s AO3 Collection →  https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DadDecember2024

Event Info & Rules

DadDecember is an annual prompt month featuring platonic father and child relationships. We have a collection of prompts for each day meant to inspire works to be created.

*Due to the nature of this event being, do not submit father/child incestual content. That is not the point of this event. This event is strictly platonic. Thank you for understanding.

There are 62 prompts this year with 10 alternative prompts. Each day has two prompts, one situational/trope prompt and one dialogue prompt. You do not need to use both. While we do encourage you to mix and match prompts with different days to fit your specific WIP, we do ask that you tag the prompt you used, not just the day.

This is a prompt month meant to inspire works, so please don’t take any of the prompts too seriously! If you want to get silly with it or really angsty, that’s up to you! How much of the prompt you use and how you use it is all up to you! If you think it fits the prompt, then it does. There is no gatekeeping in DadDecember.

It’s up to the creator how much they want to produce or what media form they want to create in! Anything and everything counts (and if you’re really unsure, you can always ask!). The idea of the event is to create, no matter in the manner you do so. 

As far as “how much do I need to do in order for it to count?” – Well, that’s up to you! All participants, regardless of how many works they put out, will be recognized for their efforts!

A google form will be sent out after December ends in which you will be able to say how many works you completed. Works do not need to be published in any way shape or form to count. Participants will be ranked by completion in a tumblr post after the form closes and a custom role will be available for completionists in our discord server.

Should you wish to upload some of your DadDec content to Tumblr, use these tags:

Required tags:

#daddecember 

#daddecember2024

#sfw or #nsfw

Optional Tags (but appreciated if used)

#DadDec No.1, #DadDec No.2, #DadDec No.3, ect.

#fandom or #OC, … (ironman, originalcontent, oc …)

#teeth, #gore tw, #etc …..(trigger warnings and content warnings. Add “tw” or “cw” AFTER the trigger/content warning )

For the sfw/nsfw tag, please use your best judgment. A Mature or Explicit rating (for anything except gore) should be marked as nsfw.

Reblogging Policies:

Due to the nature of the blog and for the safety of all fellow participants, nsfw posts will not be reblogged. - These works are still very much welcome in the AO3 collection.

You MUST tag @daddecember if you wish for your work to be reblogged

If you notice your work has not been reblogged (+ you tagged us) and it has been 2+ days, please send us an ask! It is likely that tumblr ate the notification.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. Do I have to do all 31 days?

Participate as much as you would like! Whether you can get out one piece between now and the end of December or 45, we are here to encourage you all along the way!

Q. Can I post early/late?

Yes, you can post whenever you want. Due to time constraints, we may not reblog posts outside of December (pinging @Mod Addri via discord will always get you reblogged, though, so you can always try that ;) ).

Q. Can I combine DadDecember with other creation challenges?

Yes, as long as the other challenges allow it as well. Please reference their rules.

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes, but it only will count once for your total completion number (unless combined with a different unused prompt).

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s?

Yes, you can post WIPs. Snippets or other forms of WIPs are completely fine and will still count for completion! As long as you started it, feel free to count it!

Q. Is collaborating allowed?

Absolutely, we even encourage it! Collaborations can be an amazing way to get full completion status (especially if you’re competitive) without as much work! It would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you.

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before December?

Absolutely! That’s why we post the prompts a little over a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time” so feel free to start creating early!

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If you want your work reblogged, yes.

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Yes.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

Best of luck,

Mod Addri

The full written-out list of prompts is below the cut.

2024 Prompts List:

1. Lost in the woods | "Cover your eyes"

2. Sick day | "I didn't know where else to go"

3. Accidents happen | "Are we there yet?"

4. Father's day | "Wait, wait, he's your father?"

5. Stars | "You're just like I remember"

6. First steps | "I have never hated you"

7. Learning to drive | "I'm sorry"

8. Alternate Universe - Age reversal / Role-swap | "Can you tell me a story?"

9. Tears | "Follow my lead"

10. Pillow fight | "Are you okay?"

11. Forever | "Can we do this every year?"

12. First pet | "Don't you dare..."

13. Demon Lord and Hero | "You're not my real dad"

14. Platonic Soulmates | "Can I have a hug?"

15. Similarities | "Please don't go"

16. Appearances | "Leave me alone"

17. Bring your kid to work day | "Can we make cookies?"

18. Promises | "I'll make it up to you, I promise"

19. Hypothermia | "What's with the long face?"

20. Time travel | "It's too late"

21. Finding a way home | "Be home by midnight"

22. Found family | "What did I say about..."

23. Patching each other up | "Santa isn't real"

24. Not quite asleep | "You came back?"

25. Holidays | "I'm proud of you"

26. Homework | "This is your birthright."

27. Bring your parent to school day | "Can you help me with this?"

28. Loss | "Happy birthday!"

29. Body Swap | "You remembered?"

30. Wings / Grooming | "Get down here this instant"

31. A new year | "Thank you."

Alternative Prompts:

1. A kind lie / A harsh truth

2. Giving gifts

3. Home alone 

4. Snow day

5. Pillow fort

6. "Of all things"

7. Hidden

8. Another world - Universe Swap

9. Werewolves/Vampires

10. Family dinner

[veronicaphoenix]

zutto — chapter nine | wc: 7.6k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

Chapter summary: Bad Omens is back in Japan <3 First stop: Osaka. 🇯🇵

Reading time: 30mins aprox.

Tags and trigger warnings: established relationship, lots of communication, mentions/discussions of characters suffering from drug addiction, implied mention of lia's past physical abuse, lia is on medication, noah being a super supportive boyfriend, lia complimenting and drooling over noah every chance she gets, noah singing just pretend to lia, sexual content including implied mentions of masturbation, implied oral sex, p in v (protected), f/m intercourse (not described on page), hair pulling, biting, slightly dom/sub dynamics if you squint.

General trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

The early morning light started to creep through the plane windows. 

Kansai International Airport was finally in sight, but it was 6 a.m., far later than planned. What should have been an evening arrival the day before had turned into a drawn-out, sleepless night. Delays in both Los Angeles and then in Tokyo for the layover had robbed them of the rest they desperately needed before Bad Omens’s first show in Osaka.

The airplane cabin was dimly lit, with most of the passengers either asleep or attempting to get comfortable. The Bad Omens crew wasn’t having much luck with either. The hum of the airplane filled the cabin as passangers stirred awake. Noah, however, crammed in his window seat, had been struggling for hours and had barely got any sleep. His long legs had no room, and every position he’d tried had been worse than the last. His only solution was to keep getting up and stretch, making his way up and down the plane. Too bad for Lia, who was wedged in the middle seat between him and Jolly.  

The first couple of times that Noah had squeezed past Lia and Jolly, Lia hadn’t said anything, her excitement about setting foot in Japan in the hours bubbling through, but as the hours extended, her patience started wearing thin. 

“Noah, can you please sit still?” she muttered as he fidgeted in his seat, bumping her knee for what felt like the hundredth time. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, trying not to spill the cup of water she’d been clutching.

“Not my fault I’m practically folding myself in half to fit in this seat,” he grumbled, shifting to stretch his stiff legs. 

“Why don’t you try to sleep? We still have nine hours left.”

“If I only I could…” he muttered, pushing his hair back and resting his head on the headrest, sighing.

Jolly had been trying to ignore his fidgeting, but he was also fed up of Noah’s constant up and down. After the umpteenth time of watching him get up, his patience snapped.  

“Dude, if it’s that bad, just take my seat,” Jolly offered, gesturing to the aisle. “At least this way you can stretch your legs in the aisle and stop bothering us every five minutes.”

Noah groaned, nodding in reluctant agreement. 

“Fine.” 

The two of them awkwardly swapped places, with Noah finally stretching his legs in the aisle.

For a brief, glorious moment, peace settled over them. But just as Noah started to relax in Jolly’s seat, Jolly said, 

“Actually, I should go to the bathroom before I try to get some sleep.”

Lia’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she shot him a murderous glare. 

“Seriously, I can’t get a break with you two. I’m tired of dodging asses and crotches over here.”

Jolly chuckled awkwardly, squeezing past her with a muttered, “Sorry, Lia.” 

Noah shrugged helplessly, sitting back down with an exaggerated sigh.

“You better stay put this time,” Lia muttered to him, rolling her eyes but unable to hide the small smile tugging at her lips. The whole situation was ridiculous, but Noah’s grin and the way he playfully touched her cheek with two fingers softened her annoyance.

By the time they finally touched down in Osaka, everyone was running on fumes and ready to escape the cramped cabin.

They made their way through the terminal, bleary-eyed and stiff, backpacks on their shoulders and dragging their carry-ons. Outside, the city was just waking up, the early light casting a golden glow over the airport.

The group trudged to baggage claim, only to face another round of frustration. The luggage carousel was slow, their equipment bags taking forever to appear. Davis leaned on his suitcase, grumbling about how every airport in the world seemed to conspire against them. Meanwhile, Matt had to wrestle with a cart to pick up some stray gear that had rolled off the belt, muttering under his breath the whole time.

“Why does getting luggage always take forever?” Folio asked, his patience visibly thinning as they waited for the last of the bags. He looked tired, and the shadow of his cap did nothing to hide the dark circles under his eyes.

Eventually, they got everything, and with Starbucks cups in hand, they made their way toward the exit. The caffeine was a lifeline at this point, helping them stay upright as they dragged themselves outside into the fresh Osaka morning.

Lia, still sleepy but too excited to fully succumb to exhaustion, leaned into Noah’s side as they walked, his arm around her shoulders.

Matt, already outside and on his phone, waved them forward as taxis pulled up to the curb. His voice cut through the sleepy haze hanging over the group. 

“Alright, everyone, listen up. We’ve got an hour at the hotel to freshen up. Then it’s straight to soundcheck. No more delays.”

The crew groaned but fell into line, dragging their bags and themselves toward the waiting cars. Lia leaned against Noah, stifling a yawn. He gave her a reassuring squeeze as they piled into the taxi, the city waking up around them.

Noah plopped down on the bed with a soft thud after he kicked off his shoes. 

He had lazily tossed his backpack to the floor beside him when entering the room, his MacBook and other tech essentials barely making a sound as they landed. He stretched out fully on the bed, limbs splayed out. He let the comfort of the plush mattress cradle his aching body after the long flight.

The hotel they were in was a blend of traditional Japanese aesthetics and sleek, modern luxury. The walls of the room were paneled with light wood. In the corner, a low table with cushions offered a cozy space for tea, but the centerpiece of the room was the large bed, draped white linens that seemed to promise relief after their grueling flight. Too bad they were in such a hurry.  

Lia, having slipped off her UGGS, was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, which framed the stunning view of Osaka’s cityscape. From their vantage point, she could see the urban sprawl of the city, where traditional temples were nestled among towering skyscrapers, and the Yodo river cut through the heart of it all.

Lia pressed her hands against the glass, taking in the view. The city was starting to buzz with life below them. She could see the lights of Dotonbori still flickering in the distance, the neon signs reflecting off the river’s surface. It was barely morning, but the remnants of the night were still there. 

Sitting down on the padded window seat, Lia leaned her head against the cool glass, her body finally succumbing to the mix of excitement and jet lag. She glanced back at Noah, who had his arm lazily draped over his forehead. For a moment, he looked relaxed, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

She smiled softly to herself, taking in the calm before the whirlwind of the tour began. 

He must have felt her gaze because in no less than a few seconds, he turned his head slightly towards her spot and murmured, 

“What?”

She hesitated for a moment.

“It’s the first time we’re sharing a room while on tour,” she acknowledged. 

Even though they’d been in a real relationship for a few weeks now, there were moments, like this one, when the reality of it still hit her —and him— hard. 

They had shared rooms before. Back in the early days of Bad Omens, when money was tight, four or five of them would have to cram into one room, sometimes all piling onto two beds, taking turns on the floor and using the comforters as makeshift mattresses. But this was different. This was just them, alone, in a beautiful hotel room in Osaka, with no one else to squeeze in.

He reached out his hand toward her, locking eyes with a tired but affectionate smile. Lia took his hand and climbed onto the bed, straddling his lap. Instinctively, Noah’s hands settled on her hips as she leaned down, pressing her body against his. The exhaustion in their limbs was obvious, so being that close was comforting. Lia’s lips brushed his jaw in a soft kiss, and he felt the gentle hitch of his breath at her tender touch.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice adoring but laced with exhaustion. “Aaaaand… I’m really, really tired.”

Noah chuckled softly, his fingers rubbing her back now.

“We’ll find another Starbucks on the way to the venue,” he said, knowing they’d need all the caffeine they could get to survive the day. “I need it, too.”

“How are you feeling?” she asked quietly, extending her arm to run a hand through his hair, her fingers brushing his temple.

Noah let out a long sigh.

“Tired, like everyone else,” he admitted. “My legs are still cramped from the flight, and my head’s kind of foggy. But I’ll be alright. Just… wiped out.”

Lia nodded, her fingers trailing down his arm as she shifted closer. 

“Are you going to be okay for the show tonight?”

“I’ll be fine,” Noah murmured, his voice low as he adjusted slightly beneath Lia, whose legs were comfortably resting on either side of his hips. “I’ll take a power nap before the show.”

“Good idea. The crowd’s gonna be wild,” she said, her fingers absently playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Yeah,” Noah exhaled deeply, eyes closed for a moment. “Crazy, isn’t it? Last time we were here, we played for, what, 2,000 people?”

Lia smiled, pressing her cheek against his chest. 

“I still remember when we called Grandma to tell her that Bad Omenswas coming to Japan.”

A chuckle escaped Noah, his chest vibrating beneath her. 

“You cried on that video call.”

Lia tilted her head and gave him a playful look. 

“Because she cried first!” she defended. “She was so excited. We hadn’t seen her in years since she moved back here. It was the first time I’d seen her that happy in a long time.”

“It had been a longtime,” Noah said with a growing thoughtful expression. “After Grandpa died, I think being alone in the house—in the city—was too much. She said it felt right, coming back to Japan. But I think she missed having us around.”

Lia propped herself up on her elbows.

“Do you think she also missed your mom?”

“Maybe. I mean, after everything my grandparents went through with her... I don’t know. It was hard on Grandma. Hard on all of us, but especially on her because once Grandpa was gone, she was on her own to deal with her. And my mom’s condition… It just…”

“—broke her heart,” Lia finished softly. “I still remember how much she’d cry whenever we’d visit. It think it wasn’t just losing Grandpa. Maybe she felt like she had lost your mom, too.”

Noah hummed in agreement, eyes on the ceiling, his hand moving to Lia’s hair, absentmindedly running his fingers through it. 

“I think Grandma held on for a long time, hoping things would get better. But Mom never got clean. Every time she showed up, it just hurt Grandma more. She couldn’t save her, and I think she needed to get away from that.”

Lia let out a quiet sigh, resting her head back on his chest. 

“I don’t blame her for leaving. She needed to find peace, and I guess she thought going back to Japan would give her that. It’s just... I don’t know. It’s sad,” she finished.

She didn’t say it, but there was a voice in her head telling her that, in the future, if Noah and her were to ever build a family, Grandma would be too far a way to be a physical part of it. 

“It is,” Noah agreed, his voice tinged with sadness. “But I get it. After Grandpa passed, she was all alone. And with my mom the way she was... maybe Japan was the only place she felt she could start over or feel some sort of peace. Go back to where she belonged, where it wasn’t just pain and loss.”

“She always talked about how much she missed it,” Lia murmured, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on his skin. “Even when we were kids, she’d tell us stories about her hometown, the festivals, the food... I guess it makes sense she’d want to go back. But I know it wasn’t easy.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Noah agreed quietly. “She told me once that leaving Japan when she was young was the hardest thing she ever did. She moved to the States for Grandpa, for a better life, but part of her heart always stayed here. And after everything, maybe coming back felt like the only way to find herself again. After all, she’s not that alone. She’s got relatives and friends.”

Lia sighed, resting more heavily against him.

“I miss her. But at least now we’re here, playing in the same country. You’re not just playing in Japan again—you’re playing in her Japan.”

Noah smiled faintly, his hand resting on the small of her back. 

“I hope so. It feels like... closure, in a way. Like this is more than just a tour stop for me. It’s where everything started for her, and in a weird way, it feels like it’s part of my story, too. She always said I’d carry a piece of this place with me, no matter where I went.”

Lia tilted her head up, her eyes soft as she traced the delicate curve beneath one of his. 

“With these eyes?” she said. “It’s not like you could ever escape it.”

Noah raised an eyebrow.

“Got something to say about my eyes?” 

“Prettiest I’ve ever seen. Sometimes I wonder if you’re secretly a manga character, hm.” She poked his nose, and he pretended to bite her finger. 

“Very funny.”

“I’m serious,” she tapped his nose again. “And while we’re here, you’re not just playing for the crowd—you’re playing for her.”

The weight of her words settled in his chest. 

“I just hope I make her proud.”

“You will. She already is, just like I am.” 

“You know we wouldn’t be here without your efforts, either.”

“Stop trying to butter me up,” she replied. “Just take the credit where it’s due.”

“Alright, miss,” he laughed, his chuckle infectious and his fingers going to her cheeks. His eyes wandered across her face—the delicate curve of her lips, the tiny constellation of freckles that dusted her nose, the crinkles at the corners of her eyes when she laughed… And those eyes, warm and full of life. He wanted to keep staring at her forever. He wouldn’t get tired of it. 

“Hey,” he began, softer now. “Would you be at the sounddeck tonight?”

Lia slumped against him with another sigh. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to. It’s the first night; I need to help Steven survive it—with the new designs, names, all that. Why?”

Noah hesitated, his fingers brushing lightly against her arm, covered by an ERRA hoodie.

“I want you there while I play Just Pretend. I want to see you.”

There was something in the way he said it—like a plea, as if it was more than just a request for her to watch his performance. It was, in fact, more than that. He wasn’t just asking her to be in the crowd; he wanted to sing for her. Lia remembered the time when he first wrote Just Pretend, never imagining what they would face together. The song had started as a playful joke, but now, it carried an entirely different meaning—a deeper, heavier weight.

“I’m sure I can come up with an excuse for you,” she said, knowing she wouldn’t even need one. 

Noah brought his lips to hers, and as the kiss deepened, Lia shifted closer, feeling a rush of sudden wakefulness flooding her senses. His hands gripped her tighter, and it didn’t take much more than a few seconds of kissing her and her rubbing herself against him for Noah’s body to respond—to harden beneath her. 

“Matt’s gonna knock any second,” he muttered, his voice strained as Lia teased his lower lip with her teeth.

Right on cue, a sharp, familiar knock echoed from the door. Noah grinned, his eyes flicking to hers with amused resignation.

“Speak of the devil,” he said.

From the other side of the door, Matt’s voice came through.

“I heard that!”

Lia couldn’t help but burst into laughter as Noah reluctantly sat up, still keeping her close.

“We’ll be out in a minute!” he called back, resting his head wearily on her shoulder.

Lia ran her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. It wasn’t doing much to wake him, and for a moment, the comfort of her touch lulled them both. But then something flickered across Noah’s mind, jolting him from the haze.

“Lia,” he said. “Did you take your pill today?”

Lia blinked, the warmth of the moment thinning.

“Uh... no, I don’t think I did.” She frowned, trying to piece together the blur of their day. “It’s in your bag, right?”

Noah nodded, already moving to get up. 

“Yeah, I’ve got it.” He grabbed his backpack from the chair by the window and unzipped the side pocket, pulling out the pill bottle.

Lia accepted the bottle when he handed it over and popped the pill into her mouth. 

“Let’s go over that again,” Noah called out, his voice sharp, bouncing off the empty walls of the venue. He tapped his in-ear monitors, which weren’t picking up as clearly as they should. He shot a glance at the monitor engineer by the soundboard. “Still not getting anything from the left side,” he repeated. His tone wasn’t angry, but there was a firmness to it, the kind that warned everyone that Noah Sebastian was a perfectionist who wouldn’t settle for half-baked setups.

The monitor engineer scrambled to check the patch cables, visibly flustered as he adjusted the EQ on Noah’s mix.

“Give me a second, man. Could be the DI box, or it might be an issue with the routing on the stage snake. I’m on it.”

Noah ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly.

“Alright.”

He turned toward the rest of the band. Folio sat behind the drum kit, casually twirling a drumstick between his fingers, not overly concerned by the hiccups. Jolly quietly adjusted his pedalboard, running through scales and giving his guitar a final tune-up.

“Yo, Jolly, how’s your mix?” Noah asked, already knowing the answer. Jolly always seemed immune to technical issues.

Jolly plucked a low note, letting it reverberate for a moment before nodding slightly. 

“All good.”

“Everything needs to be tight. No feedback, no dead zones.”

“Dude, it’s soundcheck. Breathe,” Folio chimed in, giving the cymbals a light tap with his stick, filling the awkward silence. “You know they’ll get it fixed. We’re not in some tiny club with duct-taped equipment anymore.”

Folio was right—but that only made Noah more anxious. The stakes were higher now. They were in Japan, and after the long flight and little sleep, the last thing he wanted was for technical glitches to ruin the show. The constant issues they faced last tour had driven him up the wall (needless to say, he hadn’t been in a good place, and that hadn’t helped, either). He couldn’t let that happen again.

Matt strode over, brow furrowed, tension radiating off him. 

“Noah, we’re tight on time. We need to make this quick. Can’t have us running late again.” His voice cut through the moment with urgency, stark against Noah’s attempt to stay calm today.

Noah threw up his hands. 

One of the techs signaled from the side of the stage before he could say anything to Matt, giving a thumbs-up. 

“Left monitor’s live now, Noah. Try it out.”

Noah stepped up to the mic, checking his in-ears again. He ran a quick vocal riff, his smooth yet gravelly voice cutting through the space. The sound came through clear this time, balanced in both monitors. 

“Alright, let’s run The Death of Peace of Mind. Full pass,” he called out to the band, a bit of the tension easing off his shoulders.

Folio cracked his neck, giving his drumsticks a twirl before settling in. 

The band launched into the opening riff, Jolly’s haunting guitar lines filling the space as Folio’s tight drum pattern kicked in. Nick’s bass came in heavy, making the floor vibrate underfoot. Noah gripped the mic, his voice slicing through the mix with precision. He was still hyper-focused, listening for the slightest off-note or imbalance. 

As they wrapped up the first chorus, Noah cut the song abruptly. 

“Wait, wait. Stop,” he barked, waving his hands at the band. “The bass is getting lost in the low end. We need to bring it up in the front fills.”

The front-of-house engineer adjusted the levels, but Jolly raised an eyebrow at Noah from across the stage. 

“You good now? Or do you want to rebuild the whole sound system from scratch while we’re at it?”

“I’ll let you know,” Noah shot back with a grin, but his voice was still business-like. He wasn’t going to stop until it was perfect.

Jolly chuckled.

“You’re in a better mood than the last time. But you still act like you’re running a military drill.”

Noah rolled his eyes but shrugged. 

“Maybe. It’s gotta be tight. I’m exhausted, but I’m not in the mood to throw a mic stand at anyone today.”

“It’s like someone cast a spell on you.”

Folio, tapping out a random rhythm on the snare, chimed in. 

“Lia’s spell, you mean? Dude’s been walking around like he won the lottery since they finally got their hands on each other. Less snappy, less brooding…”

“Folio,” Noah warned. 

“Guys, come on!” Matt glanced at the clock, the tension still evident in his posture. “Let’s focus up. We’re running out of time here,” he urged, throwing his hands in the air.

The hum of the crowd filled the venue, a buzz of excitement that hung in the air like static electricity. Steven stood behind the merch stand, watching the chaos unfold around him. T-shirts and posters of Bad Omens flew off the tables, and his fingers were sore from handling cash and swiping credit cards. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he tried to keep his cool as people piled up in front of him, demanding their orders.

He glanced up just in time to catch sight of Lia slipping away from her spot at the table, her job at the stand forgotten. She moved with purpose, her eyes trained on the crowd ahead, making her way toward the sound deck. 

“Lia!” Steven shouted, his frustration bubbling over. “These girlfriend royalties are getting out of control!”

Lia halted mid-step and turned her head, tossing a grin over her shoulder. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she shot him a playful wink.

“It’s best friend royalties!” she called back, her voice light and teasing.

Steven huffed, running a hand through his already messy hair. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered under his breath. “Whatever. That excuse is getting old.”

It wasn’t the first time Lia had bailed on him during a show, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. Sure, she was Noah’s girlfriend, but she was still supposed to help out. Best friend or not, she had a job to do.

“Stop complaining and get the sales running!” Lia’s voice carried over the crowd before she was swallowed up completely, her small frame disappearing between the excited fans.

Steven grumbled something unintelligible, probably involving the word “bossy,” and rolled his eyes as he turned back to the line in front of him. The girl waiting at the counter gave him an expectant look, arms crossed, her impatience written all over her face. He forced a tight smile.

“You guys got the one with the ghosts in a medium?” she asked, leaning in and squinting at the pile of shirts.

“Yeah, sure, hold on.” He reached for the box under the table, feeling the weight of the night ahead of him settle like a rock in his stomach. Every time Lia pulled this stunt, he was left holding down the fort alone, scrambling to find sizes while trying to decipher the cryptic names she’d slapped on her designs. Seriously, he thought, who names a shirt ‘’Yūrei’s Lament’ and expects me to remember what in the world a Yūrei even is?

He found the shirt and handed it over with a strained smile, the girl nodding in approval before paying for it and wandering off. As he straightened up, he sighed, already feeling the long night ahead stretch out before him.

Away from him, Lia squeezed past the fans, grateful that no one had recognized her and interrupted for pictures in the middle of the show. She flashed her crew card and headed toward the sound deck. Even before the security guards could check it, Matt had already spotted her, signaling to the big guys to let her through.

“Your boy’s killing it tonight,” Matt said, flashing her a grin.

“I know,” she replied, smiling big. “I could hear him all the way from the table.”

Just then, the first notes of Just Pretend echoed through the venue. The stage lights flared, illuminating Noah as he stood in front of the mic, his hand gently raised toward the audience, asking them to join in for the opening lines.

Lia’s breath caught in her throat as the familiar melody filled the space.

The rawness of Noah’s voice as he sang the first few lines hit her harder than ever. A second later, his eyes found hers in the crowd. Everything else seemed to blur away—the noise, the lights, the fans. It was just him and her, and those words that once felt like another song now felt like their story.

“I know the pain that you hide behind the smile on your face, and not a day goes by where I don’t think I feel the same. So will you wait me out, or will you drown me out?”

A lump formed in Lia’s throat as she wrapped her arms around herself. Those words, once a performance, now echoed everything they had fought through to be where they were. The nights apart, the misunderstandings, the moments where they both thought it might all fall apart—it was all here, in this song, in his voice.

His eyes, locked on hers, were filled with the same emotion she felt—understanding, forgiveness, and a quiet determination to make this work.

“I can wait for you at the bottom. I can stay away if you want me to. I can wait for years if I gotta. Heaven knows I ain’t getting over you.”

Tears prickled at the edges of her eyes. She smiled, blinking them away as she held his gaze. They had hurt each other, yes, but they had also chosen to heal, to fight for the happiness they knew they deserved.

And now, as Noah stood there singing with his heart in every word, she knew the song was no longer just a reminder of the past but a promise for their future—a future where they would face whatever came their way, together.

As he sang the last lines, his voice steady, his eyes still on hers, she nodded softly, sending him her silent answer.

Hours after the roar of the Osaka crowd had died down, the adrenaline still surged through Noah’s veins like a high he couldn’t shake. The performance had been electric, especially the moment during Just Pretend when his eyes found Lia’s at the sound desk. He lived for those fleeting seconds where the world narrowed to just her and him. Now, all he wanted was to wrap her in his arms and share the rush of the night with her.

Fresh from the shower, towel draped around his neck, Noah strode through the backstage area, scanning the room for her familiar face. Crew members were packing up gear, bustling with post-show energy, but Lia was nowhere in sight.

He dropped the towel in a nearby box, checked his phone and typed a message.

Just finished. Where are you?

He stared at the screen, waiting for those three little dots that signaled her reply, but nothing came. Feeling a twinge of frustration, he slipped the phone back into his pocket. 

Looking around, Noah caught sight of Steven over by the chairs, slinging his jacket over his shoulder as he prepared to leave. 

“Hey! You seen Lia anywhere?”

Steven stopped, glancing back with a raised eyebrow. He shifted his jacket.

“Yeah. She’s out back, helping pack the trucks.”

Noah frowned. 

“Why is she doing that? She’s not supposed to be on truck duty.”

Steven shrugged as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. 

“Maybe she felt bad after she left me stranded at the merch stand. Had to go through that mess all by myself while she was drooling at you going rottweiler on stage.”

Noah’s jaw clenched, irritation flaring as he shot Steven a sharp glare. The jab wasn’t unexpected—Steven had his occasions when he got moody—but Noah wasn’t in the mood for it tonight. 

Biting back a retort, Noah turned away.

The cool night air brushed against his skin as he stepped outside, his damp hair sticking to his forehead. The energy of the crowd still buzzed in his veins, making it hard to calm down. He wanted to find Lia, to share the high with her. But when he scanned the truck-loading area, he didn’t spot her either.

He asked one of the roadies, who was stacking equipment onto the truck. 

“Hey, have you seen Lia?”

“Yeah, she was out here, but I think she headed back inside,” the guy answered without pausing from his task.

With a sigh, Noah checked his phone, but there were no new messages from her, a mix of frustration and impatience building as he walked back into the venue. He pushed open the door and stepped into the now-empty hallways, his footsteps echoing in the quiet space. After turning a few corners and glancing into a couple of rooms, he finally found her.

Lia was hunched over in the green room, carefully organizing her things into her backpack—her iPad, charger, and a stack of papers scattered around. She was so engrossed in what she was doing that she didn’t hear him come in.

Noah leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. 

“Hiding from me?”

Lia jumped at the sound of his voice, but then her expression relaxed into a smile. She turned to face him, her eyes lighting up in that way that always made his heart skip a beat. 

“Hi, rockstar.”

Noah entered the room.

“I’ve been looking for you for like twenty minutes. You know you don’t have to help pack the trucks, right?”

She shrugged as she zipped up her bag. 

“I know. But I wanted to help. Besides, we sold a ton of merch tonight, especially the shirts and hoodies with the Yūrei and the Yōkai. I wanted to make sure the rest gets on the trucks.”

“The ones with the ghosts and demons, huh? I had a feeling those would be a hit.”

Lia’s cheeks flushed slightly, her love for what she created showing through. 

“Yeah, they sold out almost immediately,” she said, her voice filled with quiet pride. “I think we’re gonna need to restock, like, tomorrow.”

Noah’s smile grew wider. 

“People are obsessed with your art.”

She chuckled softly. 

“You’re sweetening me up again.”

“Get used to it.”

The intensity in his gaze made her breath catch.

Lia broke the tension with a soft smile, hoisting her backpack onto her shoulder.

 “Okay, I’m done here. Ready to go?”

“Yep,” Noah replied, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Let’s get out of here. I’m starving.”

“Me too,” she said as they began to walk toward the exit. “I’ve got some snacks in my bag if you want something now?”

“Nah, it’s alright. I can wait,” Noah said, slipping his arms around her waist from behind as they walked and resting his chin on her shoulder. “But I do have a request.”

“What’s that?”

He leaned down, his voice dropping. 

“Can I have my dessert between your legs?”

Lia’s face flushed, her heart racing at the boldness of his words, though a giggle escaped her lips. 

He smirked, clearly reveling in how flustered she became. 

“Why are you still shy about it?” He wondered.

“I’m not shy,” she countered, biting her lip as her cheeks burned. “You just… get me hot at the thought of it.”

“Well, that’s kind of the point.”

Lia tried to focus on walking, her mind spinning. She fought the urge to stop, yank him by the collar of his hoodie, and drag him into the nearest empty room. 

“Just… wait until we’re back in the room,” she whispered, trying to keep her composure. “I wouldn’t want them to lock us in the venue if we get… delayed.”

Noah’s deep chuckle vibrated through her. 

“Fine. But once we’re back at the hotel, I’m getting what’s mine.”

Two hours later, Lia was still catching her breath when Noah’s lips began kissing her shoulder, insistently tracing the spot where he had just bitten her. 

They were sitting on the bed, Noah’s legs bent, keeping Lia locked in place with his knees gently pressing against her butt as her arms and legs wrapped around him. The room was thick with the scent of sweat and sex.

From the moment Lia had settled onto him, rolling her hips against his, he had been teetering on the edge of orgasm. He could feel her warmth enveloping him, her arms wrapped around his neck as she moved rhythmically, driving him wild. He had held back, waiting for her to find her release, but it had been fucking hard. First, he rested his forehead on her shoulder, holding her tightly to keep himself from spilling over. But as Lia’s moans intensified, he needed more restraint, and he only found it by gripping her hair tightly and sinking his teeth into her shoulder.

When she finally came, her pelvis rubbing against him, his lower stomach pressing against her clit, the intensity sent him spiraling over the edge. 

Regret washed over him the moment the waves of ecstasy began to recede, filling the condom with his release. Lia breathed heavily against the crook of his neck, her hips still moving slowly.

He softened the grip on her hair and pulled back to inspect the marks of his teeth on her skin. 

“Fuck.”

Just as he broke from his frozen moment, he began kissing the bruised skin as if he could make it better that way.

“It’s okay, Noah,” she reassured him, nuzzling against his neck. Despite their exhaustion, they were still riding the high of their shared experience. Lia felt exhilarated by the intensity of their lovemaking, needing this moment as much as he did before finally succumbing to sleep.

He continued kissing her shoulder. Despite the thoughts racing through his mind and the voice telling him he shouldn’t have done that, the temporary red mark left on her skin would fade in a few hours.

“Really, it felt nice,” she said softly.

Noah looked up, surprised. How could that feel nice after everything she had endured with Mitch? But when their eyes met, he saw a pleased glimmer in her gaze.

“I liked it,” she affirmed.

“What did you like, exactly?” he asked, his concern evident, his tone serious, lacking any trace of teasing.

“You biting me and pulling my hair,” she replied, her honesty striking a chord within him.

“No, Lia, I shouldn’t have done that,” he insisted.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, her voice steady. “I’m not afraid of you being rough with me, Noah. In fact, I’m telling you right now: I enjoyed it.”

He was listening intently, but as she continued speaking, he began to shake his head. Lia paused, tilting hers to the side, cupping his face with a tenderness he only ever wanted from her.

“Noah, I don’t want you to be gentle with me because of what happened. I told you I wouldn’t let it control my life, much less what’s between us.” She paused, noticing his lingering uncertainty. She pulled him closer by the neck, pressing him tightly against her. “Noah,” she repeated softly. “I’m with you. There’s no safer place for me.”

“You said you’re not ready for certain things,” he reminded her, his voice low.

“I’m getting there,” she assured him.

“I don’t want to get carried away and trigger something,” he said, his tone heavy with concern.

“Trigger?” she frowned. “You could never,” she said. “You know why?”

She waited for him to respond, feeling him soften inside her, still warm and sticky.

“Why?” he asked, his expression vulnerable, resembling the boy she had loved two decades ago. The same boy she now wanted to shower with kisses.

“Because whenever something has ever triggered me, you have been the only thing that has really calmed me down.” She made a pause, her eyes boring into his. “Whenever I had a bad day, I’d just have to call you and you would come over. If I ever felt insecure about my art, you would point out all the good things and make me feel confident. If I ever felt sad, you would find a way to make me smile. If I needed to cry, you’d let me cry on your shoulder. Whenever I’d have nightmares, you would let me sleep in your bed,” she said, her tone softening, getting slightly playful for a moment when she continued to say, “Hungry? Noah would cook something for me,” She waited a couple of seconds, smiling, then rubbed her nose against his. He was still a bit stoic. “You saved me when I thought nobody would come for me… You’ve been the only thing that has kept those triggers at bay, Noah, not the opposite.”

Her words seemed to finally sink in, the meaning clicking into place within him.

“You’ve always been my safe place," she added. "And you still are, especially now, when I’m this vulnerable with you, no clothes, giving myself to you completely.” She paused, her voice steady and full of conviction. “I might still have some healing to do, but I need you to help me through it. You can’t treat me like I’m fragile, like you’re scared of hurting me. That’s not how this healing journey works.”

Noah processed her words, feeling the weight of them. His response was to wrap his arms tightly around the woman who had endured so much, yet stood strong in her resilience and courage. He admired her will to rise above the past and embrace life as it was. Above all, he was moved by how much she cherished their relationship—how much she wanted it to be real, natural, unburdened by old wounds.

A surge of pride and possessiveness washed over him. He tightened his hold on her, pulling her firmly against his body.

“You’re mine. You’ve always been mine,” he said, his voice authoritative, teeth nearly clenched. 

Lia studied his face, her eyes searching his. What she was looking for was there—everything she needed. Her fingers tightened in his hair.

“Say it again,” she whispered.

Noah’s arms tightened even more, pressing her body impossibly closer to his.

“You’re mine.”

Her pelvis pressed against his, reigniting the heat between them.

“Again,” she demanded, her voice breathless.

Noah paused for a brief second, no more. Just long enough to process her plea. His hand crept up her back, grabbing a fistful of her hair, pulling gently so that her head tilted back, exposing her neck.

“Mine,” he growled, his teeth grazing her skin, his voice thick with possession.

Lia’s eyes fluttered shut, her breathing quickening again. She rocked her hips against him, feeling the heat rise between them once more.

Noah’s teeth scraped along her neck.

“All mine. To fuck, to adore, to love…” he murmured each word between nibbles and kisses. Lia moaned in response. “You like that? You like hearing me say you’re mine?” His grip tightened around her as he spoke, driving his point home.

Her breathless “yes” had him hardening again, despite the release he’d just had. He was still inside her, yet he wanted her all over again.

“You’re mine, Lia. And I’m fucking obsessed with you, which makes me very, very possessive. Of your body, of your soul. Every part of you. Every inch.” He sucked at her neck, hard enough to make her gasp, the mix of pain and pleasure evident in her moan. His hand gripped her ass. Then, his hand moved to the back of her neck, tilting her face so their eyes could meet again. “And I’m completely, utterly, in love with you.”

He was making it really difficult for her to catch her breath, the rush of their momentary ecstasy keeping her in a daze. Slowly, she moved her hand from his shoulder, resting it over his heart, feeling its steady beat beneath her palm.

“Lucky you, because so am I—terribly, irrevocably in love with every bit of you.”

They kissed, her hands tangling in the back of his head, letting the soft strands of his brown hair slip through her fingers. She felt the way his open palms nearly encompassed her waist; she fit perfectly in his hands, in his arms.

After sharing a few more gentle kisses, she pulled back slightly.

“…Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

She hesitated.

“Can you try not to be... so aggressive on stage?”

Her request caught him off guard; it felt like the opposite of the conversation they’d just had. For a moment, he thought it was because his intensity scared her, but the playful glint in her eyes suggested otherwise. She bit her lip.

Before he could respond, she continued.

“You get all sweaty and commanding, and I never know where to put my hands for the whole set.”

His eyebrows shot up, surprise evident on his face. 

“Wait, are you saying…?” Realization clicked. “It turns you on to see me like that on stage.”

Lia tried to look nonchalant. 

“I didn’t say that,” she murmured, though the blush creeping into her cheeks gave her away.

“Oh, that’s exactly what you meant,” Noah said, a grin spreading across his face. “That’s precisely what those moans meant two minutes ago.”

“Okay. Maybe it does... a little,” she admitted, making a small gesture of her fingers, trying to play it cool but failing miserably.

“A little, huh? What, exactly, turns you on? Beside the hair pulling and biting. I’ve already taken note of those” he asked, now fully engaged in her confession.

“You’re really asking me that?”

“Oh, yes. I am. And you’re going to tell me right here right now. I want to know.”

A heavy sigh. 

“Well…” she pretended to ruminate. “Let’s start with your voice, for one. Then… The look in your eyes,” she began slowly, her voice dropping a little. “The sweat dripping off of you… The way you command the crowd...” Her finger trailed down his chest, gliding until it hovered just below his navel, where their bodies connected. Noah followed the path with a fire igniting in his gaze, his eyes dark, something primal flickering behind them. “The way you order them to look at you…”

He wanted to warn her, but instead, he responded, 

“You know once we cross that line, there’s no turning back, right?”

She shrugged. 

“I don’t care,” she said, seriousness on her face. “I know you’ll always take care of me.”

“Always.”

There was vulnerability in her smile, a hint of trust woven through the words. It was a big step for her, considering what she’d been through with Mitch. Lia had struggled with aggressive behavior in the past, but Noah was different. She trusted him, knew he would never hurt her. Maybe this was her way of letting go, of showing him her vulnerability in a way that could bring them closer, both emotionally and physically.

The way she was looking into his eyes, as if she was ready to get on her knees and obey every order he'd give her…

“Fuck, Lia,” Noah growled, glancing quickly toward the door as if trying to control himself. She could feel him hardening inside.

“What?” she laughed, lightly tapping the silver chain around his neck. “I’m just saying... maybe take it down a notch on stage, so I don’t have to sneak off to the restrooms mid-set and...”

Noah let out a low growl.

“I will never hurt you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to restrain from marking you all over.”

He bit at her neck, her cheek, her chest, teasingly rough but never crossing the line. Lia, laughing, pushed him down by pressing on his shoulder until he fell back on the mattress and took her with him. 

She could feel his growing need against her core, and the playful atmosphere quickly shifted to something deeper, more intense.

“Do it. Mark me.”

He would. He would start by leaving lovebites all over her neck and chest, and then on her inner thighs, but first…

“I need to change the condom.”

“Do you, now?”

He studied her expression, raising an eyebrow slowly. The way she was biting her lip…

“You ask me to tone it down on stage” he began, his voice a clear warning, “but you’re such a tease yourself…” 

He gritted his teeth before opening his mouth and capturing her lips in a deep, breathtaking kiss. 

— prev. chapter | chapter ten

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@chey-h

[aphroditesmoon]

Hey love I seen your request opened and I was wondering could I request a wenclair x reader where the reader is welcome into their relationship romantically and unfortunately the get hurt by one of the students at nevermore and they are being overprotective I really just wants some fluff and a small bit of Wednesday and enid getting mad if you don’t mind please have a great day and don’t forget to drink some water❤️❤️❤️

Oh could you tag me also when you make it thx💛

dove

wenclair x harpy!reader (poly)

warnings: gender neutral terms for reader, bullying, physical assault, (do not read if theme is triggering)

a/n: I hope this is to your liking lovie<3 @hadespleasesteponmyneck

°°°

There were many times you'd lay awake wishing you were different, a more subtle species. It wasn't a surprise normies had treated you badly since you were a kid, most outcasts can pretend to be normies to fit in.

But you could be spotted even in a mile away as an outcast with your big flappy wings attached to your arms, and your long talon nails.

You thanked god daily he hadn't gave you a beak at this point.

Arriving at Nevermore gave you bigger hopes then any other schools has before, a chance to finally fit in, to have friends amongst people who understood what it was like to be different.

What you didn't expect was to be made a joke for being an outcast, amongst outcasts.

It wasn't all bad, you'd tell yourself daily.

You were warmly welcomed by the infamous Enid Sinclair and her not so welcoming girlfriend,

You avoided them at first, keeping to yourself and the comfort of the library most of your time. Your roommate Yoko is rarely in your shared dorm, often sleeping in her girlfriend's dorm instead.

But Enid had took matters in her own hands, refusing to let you be alone. As much as you pretend not to care much about it, you were grateful for her and Wednesday. It was the first time you felt wanted.

"So, [name.]" Enid starts, waking by your side with her arm linked with yours. "Have you decided who your date to the Rave'n will be?" She asks, wiggling her brows at you.

You feel your face turns red before shaking your head. "Decide? I'll be lucky if someone even asks me."

Her grin slowly drops at your word and you see her turn her head at Wednesday. The two having an unspoken conversation with eachother.

You raise your eyebrows at them in question and Enid turns back to you. "Maybe you should go with us!" She suggests.

You turn silent in suprise. "Oh? oh-I mean I couldn't-"

"[Name], if you're worried you'd be third wheeling, I assure you that it won't be happening, our affections with eachother are as equal as is to you-" Enid curses and glares at her girlfriend, throwing both hands up in frustration.

"Wha- I- I'm not following.." You look at them in confusion before Enid sighs loudly.

"I thought you said we can tell them together!" She scolds Wednesday, who only shrugs. "Both of you were taking too long."

"Tell me what?" You ask again, this time finally getting their attention.

They turn to you and Enid takes a deep breath before she attempts to speak, being cut off by Wednesday again.

"We would like to invite you into our romantic relationship -"

"Jesus Wednesday-" "You take too long-"

"Invite you to our rela- What is this an interview?"

"Oh you'd rather I ask for their Snapchat then like you did to me-"

You take in her words as they argue.

"You want to be with me?" You try, your voice slowing down their banter as they both look back at you and Enid replies before anyone can interrupt her again. "Yes. Yes we do."

Why? was the first thing that came to mind.

Not realizing you've spoken the question out loud, You were met with a frown from the blond.

"What do you mean why? Because you're amazing, [name]. Look- You seriously can't tell that we've been pulling our asses off to get you to notice us?"

Wednesday snorts and interjects, "You've been pulling your ass off, I've already had their attention-" "Wednesday." Enid sighs, earning a rare smirk from the raven haired.

Your mind was swirling with all this new information. Unable to give any answer, you simply run away without looking back, hearing Enid call after you.

°°°

Your room was no longer your own. And it was a big discomfort to find your space intruded by not even your roommate, but someone who didn't even belong in your dorm.

"What the hell are you doing with my stuff?!" Your eyes widen at the sight of your small nest of blankets all over the room.

"Proving everyone that you're a freak.", There were three of them, and by their looks you knew they were fairies.

And despite harpies often being described as mythical monsters, it's the pointy eared creatures that have devils in them.

"Look at this shit, what is this, your nest? I told you, They're basically just a giant bird-"

"I'm not-"

Your trinkets and rock collection's were being thrown and smashed on walls. You scream and shove the red haired girl againts the wall, your talons scratching through her arms.

"You bird bitch." She snapped bitterly.

"They used their claws on me! Did you guys see that? You guys saw that right?" They all agreed againts you

She was stronger than you thought, or perhaps you weren't as strong as you wanted to be. She pushed you back and your back fell on the floor. Her two friends gripped your hands and held you from moving, you wings flapping againts the floor.

You struggle to against them as the red haired punched you in the face. It was a weak blow but a punch nonetheless .

"You're nothing but a monster, thorough, and thorough." She seethes at your face.

"Not so scary now though are you?"

°°°

The sounds of knocking on your door was muffled by your pillow againts your face.

When the banging fists became louder you pull away and manage to shout at the uninvited visitor to leave you alone.

Silence swallowed your room once more.

Burying your face back in the pillow, you continue your hour long breakdown.

You don't hear the door open at first, but when Enid's fast footsteps reach closer, you flinch and pull back to look behind you.

You couldn't tell what emotions coated their expressions, but what you did know that you're more embarrassed than upset now.

It was bad enough that everyone saw you as a freak, you didn't want the only two people you liked to see you like this.

You had no chance to come up with a story as Wednesday crosses the gap between the tow of you, her hands instantly holding up your face to her, eyes inspection the bruise.

"Who did this to you." She demanded. Her monotonous voice laced with a subtle but noticable anger.

You shook your head and started crying again before you could help it.

Enid wordlessly pulled you in her chest.

You were taken aback by the comfort of her warmth, you can't remember the last time you were held by anyone.

Still sobbing in her arms, Wednesday pulled your chin towards her and asked again, "I need names, dove."

"I-she didn't tell me-" Enid interjects your stuttering. "It's that fairy girl, Aliyah." You looked at her confused.

"It's the wolf scent thing, this room reeks of her fake dior." She explains,

Wednesday wordlessly walks to the door and Enid's arms release you as she runs to her.

"Wednesday no. We need to tell Weems about this, nothing more-"

"Nothing more? She assaulted [name]. You think whatever lame punishment Weems give them will make them stop? No. The stupid elf and whoever involved needs to know this will be the last time they even look at them."

Enid stared at her, mouth agape and then sighed.

"Fairy, not elf." She mumbled and shakes her head.

"Imbecile, is the right term. I won't have either of you in trouble with me. So you stay here and be there for them in ways I can't. I'll handle that wretched mushroom eater." Was the last words she speaks before slamming the door on Enid's face.

Enid groans and looks back at you, confused and sniffing. "She's not going to...kill her, is she?" You asks worriedly.

She walks towards you and crawls in the bed to your side, pulling you back to her. "She's not a murderer, but I can't say she doesn't have a penchant for inflicting pain."

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Postcard Marks the Spot

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: Canon typical torture that's about it in this one.

Author’s Note: Soooo..... I lied. There's definitely going to be more parts to this. All because I can't control myself. And if the muse wants to see this through, then I'm gonna do just that. You'll need to read the first two parts of this to understand what's going on. Don't forget to follow @xxwritemeastoryxxlibrary and turn on notifications just in case tumblr doesn't notify you with the tags.

I do not and will not ever give permission for my fics to be copied and posted on other sites. Don’t do it. Don’t be that person that ruins it for me and everyone else.

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. While likes are appreciated, reblogs are gold. Seriously, if you enjoyed this in the slightest, please reblog ♥

Phantom Masterlist || MCU Masterlist || Taglist

Her throat was raw from screaming. If it hadn't been for the mouth guard she was sure she would have broken teeth from clenching her jaw tightly as the electricity pulsed through her. The numbness she felt once the machine stopped barely gave her relief. 

Fight it. You can fight it. The words she constantly repeated on a loop from the moment they first placed her into the chair. You are strong enough to fight this. You made it through worse.

"Who are you?" A woman's voice filled the air but she refused to find the source. 

This wasn't the first time she heard the question and she was sure it wouldn't be the last. It was a question to see how much of her memories had been taken. To gage how much more they needed to subject her through. 

Her answers varied with each time. At first she only told them to fuck off. Or occasionally she'd get the chance to spit in the face of the doctor that stood too close to her. The more they began to chisel away at her, the more her answers changed. 

Just a random stranger. 

The person that's going to kill you when I get out of this chair. 

An ex Avenger.

Y/N. 

Phantom

The moment the mouth guard was pulled from her lips. She panted out her birth name. The name she had barely remembered from her time in the Red Room. The name that had been taken from her the moment she sat in the chair for the first time. 

It was the name that held no real meaning to her anymore. She had felt more of an attachment to the fake name she had been going by for the last handful of years than the name she had been born with. Yet at that very moment, that's the only name she remembered. 

She watched as the woman standing in front of her wrote on the clipboard after she had spoken. As she did, she tried to remember how she had gotten there or how she even ended up strapped to the chair. The more she tried to remember the more her head hurt, and not just from the process they subjected her to. 

"Do you know who this is?" 

Another question they kept asking her before holding up a series of photos. Sometimes it'd be a group photo of the Avengers at a press conference or individual photos of each of them. Other times it'd be a photo of her original handler or several other faces recognizable through Hydra’s history. And each time she gave the appropriate answer to ensure they knew her memory was fine. 

Until it wasn't. It was taking her longer to answer. Longer to figure out if she actually knew who she was looking at. At the beginning she'd easily say their names without any hesitation. But as each session progressed, she'd fight harder to remember their names. Sometimes she couldn’t at all. 

A photo of Bucky was held up for her to see this time. By the looks of it the photo had been taken on a mission. His brows had been furrowed in concentration as he held a gun up, ready to pull the trigger when needed. 

There were plenty of things going on in the photo, but she could only get her eyes to focus on his eyes. How familiar they had been to her no matter how many times she had seen them before and during her current situation. 

With the familiarity came a sadness that filled her chest. A pain that she no longer understood why it had been there as she looked at his eyes. But it lingered in the pit of her stomach. But she knew him. Otherwise there'd be no familiar feeling as she looked at the photo. 

Her brows furrowed as she tried to get her brain to work. To pull the information out from behind the wall that is being put up. After a moment an echo of his laugh filled her mind. 

His laughter had been contagious the whole night. It was a sight she hadn't seen before and she was enjoying every moment of it, committing it to memory as if it was the last time she'd ever hear him laugh like that.

His vibranium arm had been holding several bags filled with merchandise he had acquired through the night. Y/N had enjoyed watching him go from booth to booth and taking everything in before deciding that what the vendor was selling was worth the price and bought it without second guessing himself. 

Taking Bucky to a smaller fantasy based convention for his birthday was something that he never once expected to ever do. But seeing the excitement on his face as he went through the whole day pulling her to the different booths that caught his attention had been worth it. 

For the first time since completely turning her back on Hydra, she got to really get to know who Bucky was. And from the moment she found the flier advertising the convention, she knew she had to take him. 

"You have no idea how much I needed this." Bucky said as he pulled her closer to his side and put his arm around her shoulder. "I don't know how to express how much I appreciate you pushing me to give this a chance."

"Seeing you this happy and excited is all the expression I need." She kissed his cheek before giving him a smile. "Happy Birthday Bucky."

"His name is James Barnes." She said a moment later as she lifted her head up slightly to look at the doctor in front of her. "He's an Avenger. Former Winter Soldier and hostage of Hydra, just as I am."

A small tsk followed by a sigh came from the doctor. Before she knew it, the mouth guard was being forced back into her mouth. 

She braced herself for the blow. But no matter how many times she had experienced it, her body was never prepared for the current of electricity being sent through her. 

At the sound of the door opening, the doctor didn't bother to look up from the page she continued to write notes on. "This process would go a lot faster if we had her book." 

"That was never recovered." A soldier responded as he came to a stop beside the doctor. His eyes moved over to chair the moment a new wave of screams left her mouth. "We can only go by the pages we've found that Pierce had copied during his temporary time as her handler." 

"And nothing has come up from when you captured her?" The doctor looked up at the soldier before checking the watch on her wrist. 

"No." The soldier responded. "For all we know she could have destroyed it along with the base." 

"What are the chances of inserting new commands?" The doctor asked as she wrote a few more things on the clipboard before nodding her head to her assistant, indicating to turn off the machine. 

He watched as Phantom sagged in the chair, panting. He had seen the fire in her eyes the day they brought her in. As she opened her eyes, he could tell that fire had been snuffed out. There would only be a few more times needed if they were lucky.

A small smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "There's only one way to find out. "

___

It wasn't long after Bucky explained the meaning of the postcard that the team found themselves back on the quinjet. There was no actual plan of action or data to go off of. Only a destination based off of the location on the front of the postcard.

"What are the chances of her still being there?" Natasha asked, looking over at Bucky. 

Their destination was only a few minutes away and all of them, especially Bucky were getting antsy. They weren't sure what would come from this trip. For it being 3 weeks since the postcard had been sent, they expected to almost find nothing once they landed. 

"Slim to none." His attention was on the postcard in his hand. He hadn't put it down since Sam had handed it to him. His fleshed fingers would occasionally run along the grooves of her writing. "For her to send this, there had to be no other way of getting out of it." 

"Then why send the postcard?" Sam asked. 

Bucky’s eyes looked over the writing on the back for the millionth time. He could hear her words play through his mind. Okay, worst ever possible case scenario. He realized now that it wasn't just a random scenario. It was a just in case idea if either of them would ever need it. 

He now understood why she had done it. They both had a past with Hydra. It was only a matter of time until someone attempted to get them within their grasp. Y/N knew she would be the easier target with the programming still locked within her mind. 

This was her way of subtly adding in the details just in case something came up. And while the first stake out with the potential scenarios had been a few months after her escape from Hydra, she wanted it embedded in any way she could. 

"It lets us know where to start looking." He responded a moment later. "Someone could have seen something. Or if she was keeping anything with her, that'd be where she left it. If we're lucky, we'll find something that will let us know at least in what direction Hydra went."

"Not to be the downer on the thought process," Sam began as he leaned forward in his seat. "What if that is the only thing we have to go on? She's been damn near impossible to even get a trail on after she stopped using the safe houses. For Hydra to find her, they've got something we don't and any trace of that could be gone." 

That had crossed Bucky’s mind several times on the way over. Each thought process comes to the same two ends. On one hand there was a possibility that there'd be nothing else to go on. On the other, there was ache in his chest that screamed she'd leave something behind for him to find. 

"What is it?" She asked as she finished wrapping her wounded hand in gauze. Bucky's brows had been furrowed as if he'd been thinking hard about something.

"Your hypothetical today." He said with a sigh. "I couldn't stop thinking about it." 

She ran her good hand along her face. "Was it the Hydra question?" She watched as he nodded before she closed the distance between them. "If there's one thing I know, you'll always be free from them." She placed her hands on his cheeks as she looked up at him. "You're strong enough to fight without them getting into your head. And I'd be there guns ablazing to pull you out before they could try anything." 

He chuckled as he placed his hands on top of hers. "Humor me. What's waiting on the other side of the postcard?" 

She shook her head slightly, a smile pulling at her lips. "There’d be hope waiting on the other side. Whatever we have with us. My heart." They both chuckled. "If I ever needed to use Siberia, I'd make sure I'd leave whatever I could to help you find me. No matter how small or big it may be." 

"You just have to trust me when I say this might be more than just a postcard." Bucky said as he looked over at Sam. 

____

Once landed, the team had split up. Bucky took one look at his surroundings and gave the others several locations to search. Especially places he knew would have vantage points of the town. While any other time he'd willingly go searching for any sign of Y/N, he knew he had to be the one to go to the shop on the postcard. 

He, along with Tony and Natasha, began making their way through the center of the town. Vendors lined both sides of the street. And as the town normally did, crowds gathered at each vendor.

Bucky’s eyes had constantly been scanning the area. They never settled in one spot for too long. They were scanning for the shop or anything that could be lurking around. If Hydra was still around, he didn't want to be caught off guard. 

When the small shop came into view, Bucky’s pace picked up as he made his way over. He hadn't cared if the others had taken a second longer to realize where he was going. He hadn't cared how the bell rattled loudly against the door as he roughly pulled it open moments later. He just hoped that there was something. Anything to lead him in the right direction of Y/N. 

As he scanned his eyes over the shop, he noticed three things. One, the way a glare formed on the shop owner's face before his eyes widened in surprise. Second, was the empty spot in the aisle that Bucky could only assume once held shelves. And third, his nose could pick up on the lingering scent of bleach. 

There was no doubt that something had happened within the shop. He felt some relief that something had happened instead of coming up empty the moment he walked in. He felt it in his gut that she had been there. That the postcard hadn't led to a dead end. 

He could almost imagine the path into the shop she would have taken before she reached the rotating shelf of postcards. The back and front entrance was visible no matter where she was within the shop. Several aisles filled with anything she could possibly grab to help her. He understood why it had to be this shop. 

"You're the Avengers." The shop owner noted as Tony and Natasha began to walk towards him. Bucky followed behind shortly after and noticed how the shop owner's face quickly steeled over as if he was supposed to be that way from the beginning. 

"At least that makes things easier." Tony said  as he looked at Bucky and Natasha before looking back at the shop owner. Tony opened his mouth to continue when the shop owner quickly interrupted. 

"Are you safe?" Bucky watched as the man asked Tony. He seemed not to care about what Tony may have wanted to ask and it made Bucky curious as to why. 

"Safe?" A confused look formed on Tony’s face. "Of course I'm safe." Tony then pulled up a projection of Y/N. "Have you seen her come in?" 

The owner looked at the projection for a moment before shaking his head. "No." He looked towards Natasha. "Are you safe?" 

The three of them looked at each other for a moment before Natasha nodded her head. "I'm safe. We're all safe. We're just looking for our friend to make sure she is safe." 

It was Natasha’s words that clicked something in Bucky’s mind. Anyone else would have just given an answer about if they had seen Y/N or not. But this man had been intentionally avoiding any questions about Y/N. 

All he cared about was asking if they were safe. A question that seemed pointless given the current circumstances. But Y/N had sent him a postcard with a coded message. A code that had been tied into the steps he had created with a scenario she had come up with for the sake of making a stakeout easier to handle. 

The owner shook his head slightly before looking at Bucky. There was a look in his eyes, almost pleading that one of them knew how to respond. "Are you safe?" 

An annoyed sigh passed Tony’s lips at the words but Bucky nodded his head. "Pancakes."

"What?" Both Tony and Natasha said at the same time. 

"I'll explain later."  Bucky shrugged. 

A smile pulled at the shop owner's lips as he kept his eyes on Bucky. "Your preference?"

Bucky chuckled at the memory that crossed his mind. One that left him and Y/N tangled in each other before the smoke alarm went off. "Regular, but the burnt ones made the memories." 

The shop owner nodded his head quickly. "One moment." He moved away from the counter and made his way towards the back room. 

Bucky looked over to find Natasha and Tony sharing the same look of curiosity. Bucky shrugged his shoulders. "Y/N played this smart. Anyone else would have given you an answer about if they saw her. Not look directly at an image of her and lie before asking the same thing to the person standing next to you." He looked over at Nat. "He completely ignored what you said after asking. But when you mentioned we were making sure Y/N was safe, it hit me what the phrase was. So I gave it to him." 

Before Natasha or Tony could respond in any way, the shop owner came back carrying a decorative box. One that was decent in size but small enough to be held in one hand. 

"Your friend said to give this to you." He held it out for Bucky. Bucky gently reached out to take it from him. "She told me she'd only trust the person who could answer correctly. Said what was left of her life was in that box." 

"Thank you." Bucky said as he brought the box closer to him. His eyes never left the lid of the box as he had. 

I'd make sure I'd leave whatever I could to help you find me. No matter how small or big it may be.

Part of him was afraid to even look inside of it. If this was all she had kept with her, it added to the guilt that was already hooked within him. The other part of him wanted to know what items the box contained that would help put him in the right direction in finding her.

"Was this where she was taken?" 

Bucky had heard Natasha’s voice ask the question. But his brain wasn't fully latching onto the conversation as his focus was now on opening the box. 

"No. She killed two of them here before she left. Tourists saw soldiers take her down at the next block over." 

She fought her way out.That would explain the empty space and smell of bleach. Bucky thought as he placed the box and the lid on the counter top in front of him. The box had been filled halfway with items Y/N had put in there. 

At first glance Bucky could see some pictures. Pictures that made a small tick of a smile pull at his lips. A strip of photos from a booth stuck out and he gently pulled it out taking in the images. 

His heart longed for the moments the camera had captured. The smile on both of their faces as they looked at each other instead of the camera. How her eyes had shined so beautifully as she looked over at him. Or how he kissed her at the right time for the last photo. The first time he ever kissed her was captured for them in a small square photo. 

His face fell as that guilty feeling poked out at him. He hated himself for forcing her to leave. He hated that he waited so long to start visiting safe houses and leaving her messages. Messages that had been left unanswered as those safe houses stayed vacant. 

Sighing, he placed the picture strip back on top and lifted the pile of photos to stand against the edge of the box. Underneath the photos were a few folded maps. 

Maps of the different locations she had been in over the last year and a half. Circles and Xs were visible in certain locations. No doubt places she deemed safe and places to stay clear of. On the top right corner of the first map, her writing had caught his interest quickly.

If you're reading this, thank you for coming. You didn't have to, but you did. You are the only person who would understand the contents of this. Keep it safe. Keep it hidden. I trust you with it. 

His eyebrow raised as he lifted the maps. Beneath them were two journals stacked on top of each other. One of them he recognized right away. The other not so much. 

The one he recognized had been Y/N’s journal. One that she had kept with her on every mission, every vacation, and that she wrote in nightly. Her favorite color protected the pages she had been writing on. And by the simple glance of it, there were only a few more pages left untouched. 

When he pulled the second journal out, his heart dropped. The black leather journal stared right up at him. The white lettering on the front was bright against the cover. The journal is newer in comparison to the one that still occasionally haunts his dreams. 

His fleshed fingers ran over the etched lettering in the leather. Each letter he traced with his finger proved further that Y/N did her best to make sure no one could just come along and surprise her. She'd go down as herself and not as the asset they made her into. 

As his fingers came to the last letter on the cover, flashes of a red journal appeared across his mind. How he loathed the memories of sitting in that suppressing machine and seeing the soldier in front of him read from the journal. How a journal such as that one, and the one in his hand, had the capability to take away a person's free will in an instant. 

Phantom. The front of the cover stated. It wasn't a symbol like the one he had seen being used during his time in Hydra’s hold. A single word that held more secrets than a symbol. 

Every detail about her time as Phantom was sitting in his hand. Her trigger words, the torment and conditioning she had been subjected to, along with notes from her handlers about her missions would be within the pages of the journal. The one thing that kept her from ever falling into the wrong hands without a fight and he now had it. 

She trusted him with the very detailed past she tried so hard to keep hidden from him. Trusted him with the very thing that could be used against her time and time again if allowed. He had it in his hand and he wanted nothing more than to watch it burn.

Who asked to be tagged:

@lady-loki-barnes-djarin

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[idyllic-affections]

tighnari teaching his lil sibling about botany ,,,,

he would be so so much gentler compared to how he does it with the rest of the forest rangers. he would walk in the forest with them, holding their hand so they dont trip, and carefully explaining some of the plants and their specialities

its even better if his sibling is curious! every time they ask him sth about a plant hed chuckle and explain in a way they would understand

i think collei would join in too sometimes. she'd join in to both learn and explain what she knows! (if they call her big sister she is a goner she goes AWWWW DHBEFJKGLH)

i love them your honor

-🌸 (aly)

family botany lessons.

summary. tighnari is a kind teacher when it is his younger sibling who is his student.

trigger & content warnings. no applicable warnings.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff. tighnari & younger sibling!reader, collei & reader. 0.3k words. they/them pronouns for reader.

author's thoughts. you're so right aly your brain is SO big!!!! tbh i think they would be such a cute lil family. like. AHSJGHF they are very cute <3

tighnari is definitely much gentler with his little sibling than he is with the other forest rangers. he doesn't mock, he doesn't go on a tangent, he's just... calm. he is rather rough with the others, but it is not out of ill intent, of course; his "teacher mode" doesn't come from a bad place. he simply wants all of his juniors to take his lessons seriously and to learn, but he doesn't feel the need to be so stern with his sibling. they listen very well and respect him very deeply. there's simply no need for tighnari to be hard on them.

he often takes them out on little "expeditions" around sumeru's forests, teaching them what plants are safe to eat and what plants aren't, what plants have medicinal value, what plants can be used for what purpose, etc. the forest watcher is very careful when leading them along. he'll let them walk a little bit ahead if they so please—he thinks exploring is important for their development—but he won't let them wander too far. if they need help getting up somewhere, he'll hoist them up and make sure they can get up safely before following after them.

"nari, nari, what's this plant?"

tighnari is certainly at his calmest when he is teaching his sibling. he chuckles at their enthusiasm, hand settling on the top of their head as he goes on to explain the mushroom that they pointed out and its properties.

collei definitely does tag along sometimes too!

tighnari is very patient with her. it's really no secret of any kind that he prefers both [name] and collei, so he has no qualms with bringing her along sometimes. she's still learning too, and tighnari thinks her bond with his sibling is very cute.

he often watches as they run around, dragging her along with them.

"oh, oh, big sister! collei! look, look..."

they don't seem to notice the way they addressed her through their excitement, but collei certainly does. she swears her heart skips a beat in her chest at that, and suddenly, warmth is flooding her face. she smiles nonetheless and jogs after them while being mindful of her physical condition.

"h— hey! wait up! be careful, you might fall!"

overall they are just a very cute little family <3

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot.

[unknownteapot]

SMOSHBLR's AITA 🚩👀

hello it is I your local gay teapot with another smoshblr game woohoo <3 thank you to @lilac-hecox for helping me figure this out!! sooo.. ngl this is the most excited i've been to host a fandom game/event like ever. i love smosh's reddit stories, we all love smosh's reddit stories- it's only right we have a cozy yet juicy, gossip-filled event of our own!! are you ready to be judged for your stories, smoshblr..? (anonymously, of course)

Here's how you play:

follow @smoshblr-aita - it's where all your submissions will be posted so they can easily be viewed in one place <3 i will also be tagging everything #r/smoshblr so you can check out that tag for stories

via asks or post submission anonymously send in your aita stories, confessions, or questions for advice to @smoshblr-aita - despite the blog name, it doesn't only have to be aita stories, feel free to go broader into r/relationshipadvice or even r/amithedevil territory <3

guidelines: please leave out details like people's real names & super identifiable information, this is the internet after all 🤖 make sure to put warnings if your story needs trigger warnings, definitely tag nsfw stuff although i'm really hoping to keep this more silly and lighthearted and will not be posting anything very graphic sorry :')

vote on the assholes & engage with people's stories!! any AITA asks will then be posted with a poll in which you can vote!! read people's stories and vote on who you think the asshole is, give people advice, and drop your jaw at their confessions <3

BE SILLY BE GOOFY BE LOVING- hey hey, if you're sending in a story and get voted asshole i'm sorry, okay? but remember this is all for fun and you shouldn't take anything too seriously. by participating in this you agree to possibly be roasted i do not control how people react to stories 🫡🫡

(we all) win..? unlike 2t1l this doesn't have any winners or prizes, it's just a fun thing for the community!! although i'm planning to run the aita account for a week (til the 17th), if there's still stories and submissions after that though, we can keep going if people are interested? idk we'll see <3

WELL. that is all. thank you again to @lilac-hecox for helping!! please rb to spread the word, i can't wait for this!! let's get real, smoshblr 🏁 👀 🚩

[falling-star-cygnus]

a bit similar to the dismembered fic, but what about a situation where billy is separated from the rest of the hares in a hollow and ends up getting badly injured by hollow raiders and left for dead? but then a different hollow raider totally not a self insert lmaoooo picks him up and helps repair him? like a hurt/comfort kinda scenario.

hi hi!!!

i don't really do "x-readers" or "reader insert" fanfics :{ -> i'm not good at them and i really don't want to jipp you out of a proper answer to your request! i really do appreciate the ask

HOWEVER, while i'm still going to write this [with Anton in place of the reader, bc i kinda want to explore a possible friendship there] may i direct you to @cynarisgayass? {hope you don't mind me tagging you} -> their writing is genuinely fantastic

rereading your request, i realize it says self-insert now o_o please forgive my dumbassery. jfc [i already wrote in Anton, but god i sound pretentious- i'm so sorry 😭]

Why was it always something?

Billy looked around the decrepit buildings of the Hollow and scratched at his scalp with the hammer of one of his Girls™. The other sat against his hip.

From the moment the Cunning Hares had entered the Hollow, he'd felt a creeping presence at his back- lurking eyes that the android didn't want to risk zeroing in on his family team.

It made something near primal stir low in his plating.

Something painful and stabbing that itched at this trigger happy fingers into motion.

Billy wouldn't let any of the Hares be hurt, not on his watch.

So he'd done what he does best these days. Caused a ruckus. The android had flailed his limbs and pulled his punches just enough to make himself seem like an easy target and then split.

He'd definitely get an earful later... the girls never liked it when he put himself in positions like this. But it was a necessary evil!

Billy could bounce back from atomization, especially now that his memories had been banked on a hard drive oh-so-generously gifted to the Hares by a certain blue-eyed manager. [Nicole's insistence, so they didn't have a repeat of... well.]

But the fragile humans, and thiren, could not. They didn't have the protection of metal plating or veins of rubber cased wiring or the luxury of deleting memories from a bank of data. When they got fatally hurt, it stuck.

It stuck in a way he couldn't protect them from.

So. Billy would just protect them this way. By taking care of the threat before it became a threat.

"Hey- uh.. are you ok?"

It would be tough, but with the strength of the Starlight Knights on his side-

"Seriously- do you need, like- help?"

The dames of the Hares would be perfectly protected by none other than-

"That looks really bad, dude!"

Billy Kid, former Son of Calydon and current marksmen of the Cunning Hares! The android would not rest until-

"I'm a mechanic, you know, I could-"

"DO YOU MIND? CAN'T A GUY MONOLOGUE IN PEACE ANYMORE!?"

Billy whirls on the rude voice, more than a little miffed that someone just had to interrupt his internalized heroic speech when-

"YOU HAVE REBAR THROUGH YOUR STOMACH!"

Oh.

Billy looks down.

Well that explained his stomach pain.

"...look at that," the android says, and makes the oh so wise [heh, manager joke] decision to poke it. He never claimed to be the smartest Hare.

Pain instantly spiders it's way through his wiring.

"Hey-!" Before Billy even realizes it, muscular arms are looping under his arms before his knees can crack against the pavement.

They hold his weight with surprising ease, even if the jostling coaxes a low groan from the suddenly aware marksmen. Knights, he didn't even know androids could feel adrenaline like this. He missed being a mindless marksman, actually- could he go back to not perceiving pain please?

"Guess even robots can crash out, huh..?" the voice- male, he thinks- nervously chuckles out, "Are you-"

"Android," Billy cuts in, "I'm- an android."

"What's the difference?"

"What's the difference between you and a bear?"

Maybe his newly discovered flesh- plating?- wound was making him a touch too grumbly, but he really hated that robot v. android question. Probably in the same way humans hated being compared to animals.

He kinda expected to hit the ground now, actually.

The day just kept surprising him though.

"Huh- touché," the voice ends up responding- and he should really get a look at his face and not just his stupidly firm chest, "I never thought about it that way before."

And then the android was being lifted- lifted, not hauled, what the fuck- to his feet; with his arm slung over even more stupidly broad shoulders. What were they feeding this man-

"That looks really bad, bro..."

Right, mortal flesh wound.

"Come on, lets get you out of this Hollow and I can-"

"NO!"

It's like all of Billy's systems suddenly kicked into high gear. He was fighting to get his feet back under him, fighting to pull away, he couldn't leave-

"No... my team- the girls, I can't. There's someone-" The android had barely wrapped his fingers around the rebar in his stomach before he was being hip-checked and the man was wrestling his hand away.

"There's somebody after my family-"

"I think they're after you, actually!"

The gun goes off before the mechanic realizes Billy had wormed his other arm free.

•_-><-_•

Anton had seen a lot of things within the Hollows.

Too many things, all things considered, stained too many clothes with Ethereal matter. Ruined too many tools.

He had also heard a lot of things. Both in and out of the Hollows.

Namely, things about a certain robotic- androtic? No, that sounded dumb... um.. oh! Mechanical. Mechanical worked.

Anton had heard things about a certain mechanical marksmen. He'd heard his reputation change and evolve and shift like a human's would- been hearing the whispers and seeing the headlines since he was small.

From a point and click war machine, to a feared enforcer, to whatever the hell he was now- the mechanic had heard it all. It was sort of the thing that got him into the scene in the first place.

Seeing the android in person though- without the buffer of his Boss- was a different experience entirely.

Billy Kid was lankier than his reputation would suggest, kinder looking- in a way- with his bright glass eyes and animated movements.

...and giant piece of rebar lodged in his stomach.

"Hey- uh.. are you ok?" Anton asks, but the robot didn't seem to hear him as he continued his pacing.

Was it pacing? He kinda looked like he was just mimicking comic book poses...

"Seriously- do you need, like- help?"

Mechanical or not, it can't feel good to have a bar shoved through your flesh- plating? Plating.

Billy Kid's movements had stilled, positioned in just the right way that Anton had a front row seat to the way the rebar mangled through the metal. Oil stained the surrounding plates like blood.

"That looks really bad, dude!"

Robots were not his area of expertise, Anton is big enough to admit that, but- well.. he knew the basics! Hanging around Grace for any extended amount of time would give anybody that knowledge.

Offering couldn't hurt, right...?

"I'm a mechanic, you know, I could-"

"DO YOU MIND? CAN'T A GUY MONOLOGUE IN PEACE ANYMORE!?"

Was he seriously-!?

"YOU HAVE REBAR THROUGH YOUR STOMACH!"

The robot looks down, his arms falter from their accusing whirl, and of course- of course, he pokes it.

He pokes the rebar sticking out of his plating.

"...look at that."

Anton is catching him before he's even realized he's moved.

And fuck, he's glad to have muscles. Billy Kid was made of pure reinforced metals, slotted together in just the right way to allow flexibility any starting gymnast would be jealous of; if Anton wasn't used to hauling high density materials around on the daily, he probably would've felt this harder.

"Guess even robots can crash out, huh...?" he finds himself chuckling, a little uneasy about the limp mass he was currently supporting, "Are you-"

"Android," Billy Kid interrupts him, for the second time in their incredible short interaction so far, "I'm- an android."

His voice is concerningly weak, likely feeling the full effects of his messed up wiring as his adrenaline left, and there's a million other things the mechanic should be focusing on right now but-

"What's the difference?" is the first thing out of his mouth.

"What's the difference between you and a bear?"

And... oh.

He had never thought about it that way.

Anton thinks of Belobog Heavy Industries, thinks of Ben Bigger and of every thiren and pet and stray he's come across in his 20 something years of life.

Billy Kid wasn't asking if Anton was the same as a bear. He was asking how he was different from other organic life.

"Huh," he ponders, adjusting his grip on the less than lucid android, "Touché."

Ah- he should probably get the marksmen off his pecs.

In a fluid lift, Anton had Billy Kid's arm draped over his shoulder instead. He thinks he vaguely heard him mutter something like 'what the fuck' buuuut he chalks it up to delirium.

Probably due to the sluggishly leaking impalement in his torso- that stained Anton's pants and was now staining his jacket. Eh, it was just oil.

"That looks really bad, bro..."

Could androids bleed out? Would Belobog Heavy Industries be on the receiving end of the Cunning Hares wrath if their favorite big brother died?

Well- of course, they would. They'd probably also face the wrath of the Sons of Calydon if Billy Kid died and Anton was the only one with oil on his hands.

Jeez...

"Come on, lets get you out of this Hollow and I can-"

"NO!"

And that makes three times the android had interrupted him..

This time though, it was like some sort of switch had flipped in his processors. Billy Kid was practically throwing himself away from the mechanic- clawing at Anton's shoulder, reaching for the fucking rebar-

"No... my team- the girls, I can't. There's someone-" the words stab at something squishy in Anton's chest, but he wrestles Billy Kid's hand away anyway.

"There's someone after my family-"

"I think they're after you, actually!"

Footsteps- muffled and creeping, but undeniably footsteps closing in on the two. Had been for the past ten minutes.

Should he have paid it closer mind? Probably.

Would he get an earful from his own team when he got back? Absolutely.

Maybe Grace would be more lenient if she heard it was for an android...

BANG!

...

. . .

FUCK, THAT WAS LOUD.

Who fires a gun next to someone's ear?

thud.

.....Anton is very grateful he was not the intended target, all of the sudden. Definitely not because of the smoking hole left in their possible assailant.

"There's two more," Billy Kid rasps, finally stopping his stupid struggle for the rebar, "One behind the pipes.. one around the corner."

"...I know we just met, but I'm extremely grateful you work for the Cunning Hares.."

He gets a dry chuckle in return- still raspy and weak, but.. lucid. Enough.

"What do you need me to do?" Anton asks.

"Hold me up."

And Anton did.

Nobody messed with the Cunnings Hares family and got away with it after all.