#really nice to still be figuring stuff out :pleading:

[dollfacefantasy]

hi! i love your writing so much! i was wondering if you could write something with leon and a clingy reader? she just likes being held by him, and one day a make out session gets out of hand while he’s holding her so he just fucks her while standing up, not letting her get down. i don’t know if this makes sense but the thought won’t leave my head. hope you’re having a good day/night! <3

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: you're such a needy little thing. leon can't get enough of you, and when he finds out you like being held, he has to take advantage of that.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral sex (m receiving), standing sex, daddy kink

word count: 3.9k

a/n: thank you so much for the request! i FELT this one cause i also have a thing about being held hehe. i hope it's what you were looking for :) reblogs and comments are really appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

It only took Leon a couple weeks of dating to figure out that his girlfriend was exceptionally needy. He could tell you tried to suppress it to the best of your ability, control your yearning for physical contact, but it was still there. Honestly, it was obvious from the way you looked at him alone. Glossy, pleading eyes just calling out to him for some love.

At first, he was wary of this trait. He wasn’t good with affection normally. Didn’t like talking about his feelings. That stuff was just too much. He’s a busy guy already. He didn’t need extra worries in the form of a sweet thing like you rubbing your cheek against his neck, snaking your arms beneath his shirt, softly pleading “Leon, I wanna cuddle.”

But his problem was that he always gave into that stuff. Words like those hitting his ears, your pouty lips begging for his kisses, and grabby hands roaming around his body always got you what you wanted. He’d plant a smooch on your temple or forehead, grunt a quiet “c’mere then baby,” and pull you on top of him.

Time passed, and you grew on him like ivy climbing a stone wall. Your clingy nature took root somewhere inside him and drove him wild. It was addictive, feeling so needed. For the first time in his life, he felt like someone’s absolute first choice. It was nice living out his days with the subconscious idea that he was your favorite person. He could get a bit cocky about it sometimes but more than anything it made him all sappy. He couldn’t help it. He tried keeping up the cool, slick persona around you for a little while because impressing you was so important to him. But the way you looked at him made him feel like Superman. Your precious face tilted upwards to gaze at him like he was the only man you’d ever laid eyes on. It just made him wanna scoop you up and take off, soar far up into the clouds where it would just be the two of you.

So he ended up feeding into this kind of behavior one thousand percent, enabling you with no reservations. If you were sitting together, you were on his lap. Standing near each other? His arm was around you, keeping you tucked to his chest. The two of you would be lying in bed and simple cuddling just didn’t cut it anymore. No, instead, he’d be rubbing your back, nuzzling and kissing your neck, massaging your scalp. And the pet names were constant. Your actual name was only reserved for serious or special occasions. In ordinary conversations, it was always “my baby” with the intermittent “precious girl” or “princess” mixed in. 

Because, from his perspective, why wouldn’t he? You both deserved this. You craved the physical affection you’d never gotten enough of while he yearned for a sweet little thing to dote on and love between the brutal DSO missions that plagued most of his time. He didn’t give a fuck if someone wanted to say it was codependent or that he was whipped. You were his baby, and if sweet tender affection was what revved your engine, what kind of man would he be to deprive you of it?

Maybe he was whipped. He wouldn’t shy away from that label. He loved you undoubtedly. His heart ached to see you smiling and laughing. Each individual cell in his body cried out to be pressed against you. But in the same breath, he’d be a liar if he said that sex played no part in his urges to coddle you.

He’d never seen a girl get as cock drunk as you. He’d warm you up with his cooing and caresses, and then all he had to do was slide a few inches in you, and you were gone. Nothing had ever gotten him so hard. It’s like your brain shut off as soon as your sweet little pussy was filled up. Really, you went the whole nine yards; whining, babbling, drooling. Your gorgeous lashes would flutter as your eyes went hazy, and you always wanted to hold his hand. Well, more specifically, you wanted him to offer his hand to you. He’d simply murmur “Aw, is it too much, princess? Here, hold daddy’s hand. That’s my girl,” and you were already cumming.

Cause that was the other part of this whole thing. Shortly after he caught on to your intense need for physical affection, he discovered your penchant for the infamous d word. The first time you’d said it, he had you pinned down to the mattress, face shoved against your pillow, hips slightly elevated while he stuffed you full of cock. You just cried it out in the same way you’d yell for God or whine “fuck.” And he rolled with it. One little word wasn’t gonna get in the way of what he’d found with you.

Beyond calling him daddy, Leon tried to take note of all the things that got you going. Sure, you were fond of physical expressions of love, and you probably wouldn’t turn down an offer from him ever. But that didn’t mean you didn’t have favorites when it came to this stuff. Leon took pride in remembering what you liked. Over the months of your relationship, he made a point to remember the specific motion you liked him to do when he rubbed your back. He burned into his mind that you liked to kiss in a way that would definitely make those over-the-top smooching noises found in network dramas. What could he say? He just wanted to do everything right for you.

Possibly his favorite thing that he discovered about you though was your love for being held. Love probably wasn’t even a strong enough word. Your affinity? Proclivity? Plain white hot need? Who fucking knows. All he knew was that you had a major thing for being wrapped up in his arms with your head on his shoulder.

The first hint he’d got at this part of you came by pure accident. He’d just arrived home from a mission, a long and taxing one at that. He’d missed you like crazy, felt as needy as you did on a daily basis, and you were practically vibrating with a longing for his touch. So when you came bounding down the hallway to meet him at the front door, he’d grabbed you by the waist, picked you up and spun you around like in an old cartoon when the prince and princess finally get their happily ever after.

Coming out of the short twirl, he’d brought you to his chest and held your body a little ways above the ground. He cradled your head to your shoulder and kept his grip tight to support you. And it wasn’t like you melted or had little hearts gleaming in your eyes, but something in your demeanor shifted.

“There’s my baby,” he muttered while smacking kisses on the side of your head.

You replied with how much you missed him, more than anything in the whole world. He laughed his deep, rumbling laugh and brought you over to the couch. You were all over him even more than normal which was really saying something. You couldn’t stop pecking his face or pushing up against him. Next thing he knew, you were tugging at his belt and taking his dick down your throat.

“Fuck, precious. don’t gotta choke yourself. It’s not goin’ anywhere,'' he hummed while tilting his head back against the couch. You weren’t normally so forward. You were always needy, but typically, you waited for him to initiate. It was much more your style to drop hints that you were in the mood and wait for him to pick up on your signals, but this time you just went for it.

He stroked the back of your head while you bobbed your head, taking him deeper each time. Groans fell from his lips, and his hips jolted in small twitches. Your saliva seeped out over your soft lips and dribbled down to his balls. You had never lacked enthusiasm before, but now you were taking him like his cock was the best treat you’d ever had.

He could barely stand the sight of you in that moment. Cute eyes drooping while your cheeks hollowed. Once he heard the muted sound of you gagging, he was done for. Shot his load deep in your throat in what would have been an embarrassingly short amount of time if you were anyone else. But you swallowed it all without any complaints and then crawled into his lap to cuddle some more. As you curled up to his chest, he knew something he did struck a chord with you to get you so eager.

So naturally, he tried picking you up again a couple days later. He had to know if that was a fluke or if it really was a thing. This time it was much more intentional, but he still played it off as a teasing gesture. He scooped you up from behind while you were fidgeting with something in the kitchen, expecting a whiny chorus of “Leon!” and “Stop, put me down!” But you didn’t say either. You let out a soft squeak and a quiet “What are you doing?”

“Just giving you a hug, baby,” he teased and situated you in his embrace so your front was pressed to his.

Almost immediately, as if your skull was magnetized, your head fell to his shoulder. Your limbs tightened around him a little and you took a deep breath like you wanted to commit his scent to memory. You didn’t even complain about him pulling you away from whatever task had been occupying your attention.

“This isn’t a hug,” you’d said softly.

“Says who? Seems like a hug to me, got my arms around you,” he responded with a small kiss to your temple.

His hand rose to your head and cradled it against his shoulder as your legs locked around his waist. He stood there with you for a moment just taking in the embrace. It was as if he could feel you melt against his body.

“A hug is when we’re both standing,” you say quietly while slotting your face in the warm crook of his neck.

“Yeah? You look that up in the dictionary or something?” he mutters in return.

When he had a firm hold on you, he walked you through the living room, taking the long way up to the bedroom to give his little experiment some time to play out. You rested quietly in his grasp as he navigated past furniture. He ran his free hand up and down your back as he moved, his other one planted firmly on your thigh to support you.

After the two of you reached the bedroom, he set you down on the bed and climbed in after you. His fingers coasted across your cheek as he looked down into your eyes, studying you in a way. He was still curious about what was going through your head. Again, him holding you like that had led to some of the best sex the two of you’d had, but there was something deeper there too. This wasn’t just a cheat code to get you to drop your panties. There was an emotional part of this too. He could tell.

“So you like when I pick you up, hm?” he’d asked.

You looked up at him from your spot against his chest, glowing a bit as you came down from the high. “I guess,” you answered with a tiny shrug.

He’d chuckled at your attempt to be casual and just dropped the subject matter. Your reasons were probably sensitive to you. Located in a deep, private cavern of your heart that was too guarded for you to let even him in yet. And that was ok with him. For now, he’d just chalk it up to some desire on an instinctual level. It was just something that made you tick, and it became something he did for you from time to time when you needed that extra level of care.

This evening, the two of you had been watching some movie. To be honest, Leon didn’t even remember what it was called at this point because he didn’t really wanna watch it in the first place. He was much more interested in you. You had just started it up as he arrived home from running some errands though, so he didn’t want to be rude and ask you to shut it off just because he was horny. Instead, he flopped down next to you on the couch. 

A small laugh bubbles from your lips as he pulls you to him and kisses down the side of your face, murmuring for you to explain what’s going on in the thing you were watching. You ramble on about the story, telling him that it’s the end of the world and these guys are trapped in this house, and that one is friends with that one but hates the other one, and blah blah blah. He loved you to death, but he just couldn’t care less about that right now. He hums along with a stream alternating between  “mhm” and “oh yeah.”

Your laughter increases as his kisses become more distracting. He nips at the skin of your throat and litters your soft skin with love bites. His tongue laves at your neck as his nose coasts over your flesh. After a while, your own interest in the movie begins to dwindle. You turn your head and plant some smooches on his face, enticing him to tilt his head upwards. The two of you meet in the middle, connecting your lips.

Mouths move in sync, tongues brush each other, and soon enough, your seat’s been abandoned in favor of your true favorite spot. You’re parked on his lap, the lush flesh of your ass flush against his semi-hard bulge. His hand slithers up your back underneath your shirt to rub up and down your spine while pulling you closer. Your breathing gets heavier, and you’re practically panting when you two finally pull away for a break. Your lips are wet with spit and a little puffy from making out. He drags his thumb over your bottom one as he smirks at your glazed eyes.

“Think you’d be ok with finishing this later?” he asks.

To his pleasure, you’re quick to accept the offer with a nod. “Seen it before anyways,” you admit and lean back in for more kisses.

He chuckles into your mouth and boosts you up without even turning the tv off. He’s stumbling to the bedroom, and you’re latched onto him like a little spidermonkey or something. He knew well by now that being carried took your brain to that sweet spot of utter submission, but today you were on something else entirely. You were getting whiny between kisses. He was having to support you extra because your hands were trying to slide in between the two of you and get at his pants. He assumed it was cause he got you riled up before picking you up, but he didn’t lament about it too much. He wasn’t thinking with his head right now.

All your squirming around nearly made him trip and topple the both of you to the ground. He grunts and shifts you around, trying to get you to settle down at least till you reach the bedroom. You wouldn’t let up though, continuing on with your impatient hip rocking and greedy fingers. He’s sure he’s about to fall over and one of you is moments away from serious injury, so he totters a few steps over and secures you against the wall.

“Jesus, you’d think I’d just got back from a war or something,” he breathes.

You laugh, but keep up your neediness. “Just want you so bad. Missed my daddy all day,” you murmur.

“Yeah? I know it’s hard being away from me. Your little head’s just not cut out for all that thinking is it?” he coos condescendingly, “This is how you're meant to be, just attached to daddy, letting him take care of everything while you tag along.”

“Mhm,” you nod and kiss him again. He can feel you smiling against his lips.

“Yeah, so how bout you do me a favor then and stop wriggling around so much. You wanna get dropped on your head so thinking isn’t even an option anymore?” he teases.

“No. I just…” you whimper defensively. A smile spreads across your face as you hide your face at the base of his neck. “I just want you… really bad.”

That was a tone Leon knew well by now. That was the tone of the guessing game. It was the voice you used when you wanted something but were too shy to just ask for it. So Leon had to decipher your signals and figure out what that thing was. Luckily, this time around it was pretty simple.

“Really bad? Like pinned down in the middle of the hallway while I’m stuffing you full of cum bad?” he asks.

“Sorta…” you say.

With an amused shake of his head, he thinks a little more. The stuffed full of cum thing was a given. So what was off? He was thinking through this as if searching for a missing puzzle piece. He runs through different scenarios before it clicks. He laughs a little. It was kind of obvious once he had it.

“Oh, of course not. There’s no way you’d choose to be out of my arms. What was I thinking?” he says, exaggerating his cadence, “So you want it standing?”

You nod, and with the right answer, that little smile feels so much sweeter. He leans harder into you, keeping you by pressing you between him and the wall. Giving you a few messy kisses, he finally undoes his pants and pushes them down to his mid-thigh. He was fully hard now. You could feel it as he rolled his hips against your center.

“Lucky you’re wearing a skirt, nice and easy for me,” he hums.

He bunches up the fabric around your waist before dragging his fingers over your panties, feeling how they were damp. He smirks against your lips while applying more pressure, seeking out your swollen clit.

“Already so wet, baby,” he chides, “Is this how you get while I’m not with you? Can’t think of anything but daddy cause your pretty pussy’s just crying for some more attention.”

“Yeah, need you to make the ache go away,” you say in a breathy whimper.

“I know you do,” he coos.

It’s a bit difficult in this position, but Leon manages to remove the last barriers of cloth separating the two of you. He lines up his dick with your entrance and slides home. Now it’s his head that falls on your shoulder as he groans. His stance didn’t really allow him to ease in. He was balls deep in the first stroke. You let out a long satisfied moan.

Taking a moment to readjust, he gets his elbows hooked under the bends of your knees. You’re basically bent in half, his cock to your cervix. This angle felt even deeper too. Your walls pulse around him as you work to accommodate the length.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Every part of you clings to me,” he grunts before taking a step away from the wall.

Losing the stability behind your back had you rocking and shifting more, causing his tip to nudge against all those sweet spots. Your thighs quiver as Leon gets into a rhythm and figures out how to bounce you on his cock like his. The sound of your skin meeting floats down the hallway. You whine and whimper, your eyes roll back as your head tilts the same direction.

He could tell you were loving it. Your favorite place to be combined with your favorite feeling in the entire world. There was nothing his sweet girl loved more than being stuffed full of cock and held by him.

“Feeling good, princess? Is daddy fucking you just how you wanted?” he asks.

“Mhm, mhm, mhm,” you whimper and nod dumbly.

“Good,” he says. He focuses on working himself in and out of you. His mind is locked on the sensation of your slick coating his shaft and collecting at the base, dripping down to his balls. But more words fill his mind and rush to his mouth to be let out. “This is why you’re so needy, right baby? You just need some cock in you or you get so frustrated. Can’t even think straight without your fill, can you?”

You shake your head wildly. Your legs tense over his arms. His hands dig into your back to keep you supported. You see his biceps flexing beneath his sleeves as he uses his strength to hold you up. He rocks you on his cock, back and forth, sliding himself in and out. You’re gasping and trembling more noticeably now. He knows you’re approaching the peak.

“Doing so good for me, precious,” he murmurs, “Keep squeezing me like that so I can fill you up just how you need.”

Your noises become more desperate. It feels as though you get even tighter. Leon slams into you deeper than you could remember. But then again, in this state, your memory wasn’t worth much. Pumping in and out, he sees your eyes squeeze show, your mouth widening into that cute familiar shape it always made when you came.

“Go ahead, baby. Make a mess for daddy,” he groans.

You do as he says, following your orders. You seize up and moan, long and loud. He tightens his grip and takes a step closer to the wall to ensure your high isn’t cut by falling. His hips don’t stop though. He feels that tensing in his belly. Gritting his teeth, he pounds you over and over until he has to stumble back to the wall.

You hit the surface with a thud, but he’s a little too busy to notice. He growls and whimpers into your neck, hips working at a more strained pace as he tries to grab that brief euphoria. A few thrusts later and release is washing over him. He fucks you full, going deep and staying true to his word about filling you up. He pumps every last drop in.

You slowly slide down in his arms till he lets go of your legs and your feet can touch the ground again. Looking up at him as he comes down, you watch his features melt into the relaxation of post-release. You lean up and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. His eyes open and look down at you. A lazy smile spreads on his face and moves in to return the gesture.

“So how’d I do?” he asks with that smug look you loved so much.

“Perfect like always,” you answer, genuine in contrast to his teasing. You step forward on wobbly legs, grabbing his hand to finish your trip to the bedroom together. He leans down and smacks a kiss on your neck.

“Clearly not perfect enough if you’re walking on your own now,” he purrs in your ear.

You smile and look down. “There’s still time to fix that,” you offer.

“Of course there is,” he agrees with a light swat to your ass. He pecks your lips once more before following you through the entryway to your shared room.

[revelboo]

I've seen people talk about waiting impatiently for another chapter of a story. I've never actually experienced it myself until now.

I just want you to know that these little posts about Starscream and the little human are my first experience actually setting my tumblr to alert me when someone posts and then frantically scrolling to read it lol.

Your writing is phenomenal and I love the physical descriptions you use for sensory type stuff. Just..... BRAVO!

I genuinely get a jolt of endorphins with each post!

And I hope you are doing well and having a nice day!

Awww, thank you! I’m glad you like my nonsense! Starscream’s pretty fun to write.

Everything is Alright Pt 18

Starscream x Reader

• Venting loudly, he tips his head back against his berth. Can feel you still staring at him anyway, but he doesn’t look. Doesn’t need to see those pleading eyes, because his resolve will crumble. Just needs this contact, the warmth of your small form and the steady drum of your heart to ground himself. To prove you’re really okay. “No,” he growls, the word a firm warning that he couples with a gentle, but firm warning tap of a servo to the back of your head. “If you’d run into anyone smarter, you wouldn’t have survived.”

• Something he really doesn’t want to think about, but that his processor is delighting in torturing him with. You’re just so fragile. Breakable. With any luck, Scrapper immediately forgot all about seeing a human. With how many blows to the helm the mech has taken over the decades, his processor isn’t the most reliable. It’s honestly amazing he remembers his own name sometimes. “The cassettes kept me safe,” you protest, pushing up and he immediately pins you flat again under his palm. The cassettes. Why exactly you think they’re safe, he’s not sure. They certainly tossed you right at him on sight to save themselves. Denta working, he shutters his optics to keep from snarling. He’s not jealous of the fact that you seem to like their company. Of course not.

• He’s not sleeping or whatever passes for it in Cybertronians, just ignoring your protests. The hand laying across your lower body to keep you in place isn’t still. One single servo slides over the back of your head down between your shoulder blades again and again. Stroking almost absentmindedly, but it still slowly drains the tension out of you. And him, too you’re pretty sure. Cheek laying against him, you can feel the thrum of whatever it is inside him and smell him, a spiced scent with a metallic bite. Not unpleasant, just different.

• Blowing out a frustrated breath, you swallow a groan. You were so sure the cassettes are your get out of jail free card. Or at least, a day pass from spending the time he’s out and about doing whatever his alien robot job entails staring at the walls of his quarters alone. Pestering is just likely to make him angry and you don’t want to ruin this fragile peace. Or try to figure out what exactly you are to him, because it’s unlikely to make you feel better. And that brings you back to the look that has been on his face. That violent fury that had just fallen away because you were okay. He’d been worried. Maybe even terrified. And it makes your heart ache.

• He’s told you that he’s the second in command before while grumbling about his leader, this Megatron with a mix of sneering revulsion and an uneasy fear that’s only betrayed by his wings. What you know about the Decepticons is pretty sketchy at best, but you get the distinct impression that being second in command isn’t exactly glamorous. Maybe more like others constantly gunning for his spot by any means necessary. Which almost makes a sort of sense. If you are seen as a weakness of his, you might be targeted. It might be safer to be kept a secret. And trapped in his quarters for your own safety. Even if you hate it, you never want to see that stark fear on his face again.

Previous Next

[luveline]

Omg what about reader talking to Eddie and she just starts crying bc she's just loves him so so much and Eddie is so confused what's happening and for a sec he thinks it's bc the joke he made hurt her feelings and he's just like "baby sorry no I'm sorry ur not too chatty" and like "ur crying bc u love him? Why is that making u cry??"

“And we went back to her place and slept four to a bed. I'm surprised I had it in me, but I guess I was, you know, sixteen.” You stab a particularly nice looking roasted potato with your fork and put it on his plate. “It's kind of crazy. I couldn't do that now, I'm too old. My back would hurt too much. I can only sleep in my bed or your bed.” 

“Mine, please.” 

You laugh and give him another potato off of your plate. He already has potatoes, but this is how you are. You won't accept them back —he's tried to stop you before, with less than optimal results. “Yours for sure. I'm too full to drive.” 

“That's what I like to hear.” He pushes his plate away in case a third potato is on its way, gesturing to your food with his knife. “Is yours warm enough?”

“Sure.” You wipe your mouth with a napkin and take the sip of your shared drink with a refreshed smile. “Ah, and that's really cold.” 

“We could still do stuff like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“You know, like you and your friends did. I know we're not sixteen anymore but we can still have fun.” 

“I do have fun.” 

He shrugs and stands, picking up your empty glass to refill for you. “And we'd get to sleep in our own bed at the end,” he says, kissing the side of your head. “We'll go out this weekend and do all that fun stuff. But with fewer felonies.” 

“They weren't felonies,” you say. 

Eddie laughs as he makes his way to the sink. He loves this, having dinner with you, letting you talk his ear off. “You're nonstop tonight, baby, somebody put a quarter in you or what?” 

“Two quarters,” you say. 

He makes a drink. It can't take long. He rinses out the glass, fills it with coke, grabs a handful of ice cubes from the fridge and wipes the counter when he's done. He sits across from you as he had been, waiting to hear more of your story or maybe whatever plans you'd like to make this weekend, but he stops cold, because you're crying in your seat all quiet and secretive, looking down at your lap. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, panic shooting through him, quick and unapologetic, “Hey. Hey, what's wrong? You're crying.” 

He reaches across the table for your hand. “I wasn't trying to be mean,” he says hurriedly. “You're chatty, but you're my chatty– uh, thing, you know? Not that you're a thing. You're not a thing.” Eddie squeezes your hand, swapping panic for a more serious demand. “What's wrong?” 

“Eddie, stop,” you say. 

“You stop. What's wrong, sweetheart? You gotta tell me.” His voice fries with pleading. 

“I just love you.” 

He stares at you. “What?” 

“I love you, Eddie…” You sniff and wipe your cheek. “Sorry, I'm not trying to be a loser,” —you laugh, and his racing heart starts to settle— “just you're the only person I know who'd sit here listening to me babble and figure out what I'm trying to say. I'm so lucky. I love you so much.” 

Eddie feels a heat growing along his waterline. “Well, hey, I love you too. You're the only person I'd wanna sit and listen to. You get that?” 

“I know.” You laugh wetly. “I don't know why it made me cry, I was just thinking, you kissed me and I was thinking hey, he really loves me.” 

“I really do.” 

He gets up out of his seat to hug you. While he holds you, you thankfully ride out the short lived bubble of tears, though you do turn into his chest and splutter another I love you. 

He's shocked that someone would feel that way about him, to love him to tears, especially you. So after he's hugged you close, he peels your face away from his neck to cradle your face, locking your eyes, ensuring that what he's about to say will stick. 

“I love you,” he says, nodding, “but you're not lucky. I like listening to you talk. It's the best.” He wipes your cheeks dry tenderly. “Don't waste your tears on me.” 

“Wasn't trying to.” 

He leans down for a gentle kiss. He knows you weren't upset, but he figures you deserve a soft touch anyhow. A very, very soft touch. 

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

20. Kabe-down

Note: this is so dumb lmao

Masterlist here

It had been a whirlwind month leading up to the release of “Supernova,” aespa’s next major comeback. Every day had been packed with rehearsals, recordings, interviews, and meetings. Y/n had barely had time to breathe, let alone recover fully from the tension of the previous weeks.

Though things between him and the group had patched up after their argument, the stress was still there, simmering beneath the surface.

The comeback was only a few days away, and the pressure of everything coming together had everyone on edge. Y/n had late nights going over scheduling details, answering last-minute requests from staff, and reviewing their choreography for any final adjustments. Though exhausted, he couldn’t help but feel proud of how far they had come.

But today was different. Today was a rare, precious day off. No rehearsals, no interviews, no meetings. Just a day to unwind before the final sprint toward the comeback. The atmosphere at the dorm was strangely quiet for a group that usually thrived on chaos, and Y/n thought they might actually take the time to relax.

At least, that’s what he thought.

“Jung Y/n!” Ningning’s voice pierced the quiet of the dorm, shattering his brief moment of peace.

Y/n didn’t even bother looking up from the screen, his voice dripping with resignation. “Yea Ning?”

Before he could get a proper answer, Winter popped her head into the room, grinning mischievously. “You’ve been on that game all morning. Time to earn your keep, idiot.”

Y/n groaned, but still paused the game, fully aware that ignoring Winter and Ningning was a fool’s errand. “Can’t a guy get some downtime before things go crazy again?”

Winter smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Downtime? You’ve been checking your emails and gaming every five minutes. This isn’t downtime.”

Caught red-handed, Y/n let out a defeated sigh. “Alright, what’s the next disaster this time?”

Ningning stepped into the room with a flourish, dragging a whiteboard behind her, already filled with scrawled text. “We figured it’s time for some fun! Behold, the Day Off Challenge Series!”

“…seriously?”

“Cmon! Just hang out with us please?” Ningning pleaded. “Just a fun way to amend after that whole thing.”

“But thi-.. Ah whatever. Does sound funny now that I think about it.”

Y/n stood up reluctantly, walking into the living room where the rest of the girls were gathered. Karina and Giselle were lounging on the couch, watching with amused anticipation as Ningning set up the board.

“We’ve got a list of challenges,” Karina explained, gesturing to the board with a sly grin. “And you, Y/n, are not getting out of it.”

“Since when I can..”

Giselle, stretching her arms lazily, laughed. “Besides, we need to lighten the mood before the big comeback. You’ve been way too serious lately, Y/n.”

“…we could’ve just played Uno.”

“Eh. Too boring. Pass.” Giselle waved off.

Y/n eyed the whiteboard and spotted one challenge in particular that made him cringe: Kabedon Challenge. Scribbled in Ningning’s unmistakably messy handwriting, it was clear they had something up their sleeves.

“Ning, one, fix your handwriting. Two, really? Kabedon?” he muttered, narrowing his eyes at them. “How is that supposed to be relaxing?”

Winter smirked, stepping closer. “It’s trending, and it’s fun! Besides, it’s harmless.”

“It’s not even trending…”

“Tsk. Whatever, Aeri-unnie just wanna see some spicy stuff apparently.”

“Nice of you to throw me under the bus, Minjeong.” Giselle glared.

Y/n let out an exaggerated groan, throwing his hands up. “Harmless for you guys, maybe…”

Karina stood up and walked over to him, her expression unreadable. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Y/n. Come on, first round—me.”

Y/n stared at her for a second, almost reconsidering the whole situation. “Is this an undercover to get Rina and me to make up from that fight again? I told you we're cool now”

Ningning beamed, already recording on her phone. “Yes! And also it's just funny so do it!”

Y/n sighed. “Please don’t rocket punch me, Rina-ya.”

“No promise, mister.”

Resigned to his fate, Y/n stepped forward. He placed one hand on the wall beside Karina’s head, leaned in slightly, and did his best attempt at a dramatic kabedon. His face was inches from hers, their eyes locked.

But Karina didn’t even blink. Her expression remained neutral, even bored. “That’s all you’ve got?”

Y/n pulled back, blinking in confusion. “Tsk. Your face card is too strong that I can barely do anything!”

“Make no sense but whatever”. Karina shrugged, crossing her arms. “Try harder next time, Y/n. You’re going to need more than that to impress me.”

Giselle burst into laughter from the couch. “She’s right, Y/n. You’ll need to crank up the intensity to crack the ice queen.”

Y/n shook his head, stepping away from Karina. “Alright, I give up. You win this round.”

Before he could retreat to the safety of the couch, Winter stepped forward, blocking his path with a mischievous grin on her face. “Wait a minute. My turn!”

“You?” Y/n stared at her, blinking in disbelief. “You want me to do the kabedon thing on you too?”

Winter leaned casually against the wall, tilting her head with a playful glint in her eyes. “Come on, idiot. Let’s see if you can handle me.”

“Uh…” Y/n glanced at the others for some kind of lifeline, but they were all watching with anticipation. He couldn’t back out now. “Alright, fine.”

He stepped toward Winter, but something about this felt… different. Maybe it was the look in her eyes, or maybe it was because the atmosphere had shifted since the Karina challenge. Either way, as he approached, he felt the tension rise.

Y/n placed his hand on the wall beside Winter’s head and leaned in, close enough to feel her breath on his skin. The playful grin on her face faltered, replaced with something more serious.

Winter blinked, her gaze shifting between Y/n’s face and his hand. Her cheeks flushed just the slightest bit. “Okay… you’re not going easy on me, huh?”

Y/n smirked, his voice lower than usual. “You told me not to.”

Maybe because he ignored everything around them, but his sense was extremely heightened. Her cheeks were beat red. It seemed like she used the perfume he got for her after the recent tension. Her breathing went in tandem with his racing heartbeat.

For a second, neither of them said anything. The room, usually filled with the girls’ teasing remarks and laughter, was now eerily quiet. Even Karina, the so-called ice queen, watched with wide eyes, sensing the sudden shift in energy.

“Uh… guys?” Ningning whispered, her eyes darting between Winter and Y/n. “This is getting kinda… spicy.”

Y/n was about to pull away, feeling the weight of the moment, but Winter reached up, lightly grabbing the collar of his jacket. Her voice was softer than before.

“Ya… don’t back out now.”

If this was in the hospital, his monitor would be a straight line after that bombshell.

Before Y/n could respond, Ningning’s loud, teasing whistle broke the tension. “Woo! Y/n, you’ve got game!”

Winter quickly let go of his sleeve, her face turning a shade redder than before. She cleared her throat, trying to play it off. “Okay, okay, maybe you win this one.”

Y/n took a step back, laughing awkwardly to diffuse the situation. “Alright, enough of this. Can I please go back to the couch?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s enough!” Ningning shouted, breaking the moment with a loud laugh. “Winter’s getting flustered!”

Winter quickly straightened up, clearing her throat. “I’m not flustered! It’s just a game.”

But her flushed cheeks betrayed her words, and even Karina couldn’t help but chuckle. “Looks like you’re not as tough as you thought, Winter.”

Winter shot her a glare, but before she could respond, Ningning raised her hand. “My turn!”

Y/n rubbed the back of his neck, giving a half-hearted laugh. “Are you guys really all going to do this?”

Ningning didn’t answer; she just marched up to the wall, positioning herself with an exaggerated pose, ready for her turn. “Come on, Y/n. You’ve got to do this one right.”

“But my co-“

“Shush, Jung Y/n, and let me have my fun!”

He stepped forward, feeling like this was the weirdest day off he’d ever had. He placed his hand against the wall, trying to keep things light. But Ningning, true to her chaotic nature, had other ideas. As soon as he leaned in, she let out a dramatic gasp and clutched her chest, making it seem like she was in some cheesy drama.

“Oh no, Y/n, what are you doing to me?” Ningning wailed, throwing in some fake tears for effect.

Y/n couldn’t help but burst into laughter, stepping back with a grin. “Ning, you fcking Kdrama addict.”

Giselle, barely holding in her laughter, waved her hand from the couch. “That was more dramatic than actual dramas, Ningning.”

Ningning stood up straight, dusting off her shirt. “I live for the drama, thank you very much.”

Finally, all eyes turned to Giselle. She grinned, shaking her head. “I’ll pass. No way I’m getting roped into this.”

But Ningning wasn’t having it. “No way! If I had to do it, you have to too. Come on, Aeri-unnie, take one for the team.”

With a sigh of resignation, Giselle stood up, making her way to the wall. “Fine, but I’m not making it easy.”

Y/n, by now feeling like an (self-claimed) expert in kabedon, stepped up once again. He braced himself against the wall, leaning in toward Giselle. Her eyes narrowed as she stared him down, refusing to let him fluster her.

“Is this supposed to be intimidating?” Giselle asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because it’s not working.”

Y/n chuckled. “Okay, okay. I get it. I’m not cut out for this.”

Before he could pull back, though, Giselle leaned forward slightly, closing the distance between them just enough to make Y/n freeze. “This is how you do one, boy.”

Before he could react, Giselle’s boldness had gone just a little too far for one person in the room. “I-I…”

Without missing a beat, Winter, sitting nearby, narrowed her eyes at the sight. The playful atmosphere turned slightly competitive in her head. Her gaze flicked to Giselle, then back to Y/n, and without a word, Winter stood up and stealthily made her way toward them.

Just as Giselle seemed ready to continue her teasing, Winter stepped in and, with no hesitation, pinched Giselle’s arm.

Hard.

“Ow! What the—” Giselle jumped, pulling back from Y/n as she rubbed her arm. “What was that for?”

Winter didn’t bother with an explanation. Instead, she crossed her arms and shot Giselle a look. “You were getting too close, unnie.”

Giselle raised an eyebrow, surprised by Winter’s sudden interference. "Jealous much?"

Winter, though slightly flushed, kept her cool, or at least tried to. "No….Just keeping things in check. I’m the only one allowed to make him flustered."

Ningning cackled at the scene, pointing between Winter and Giselle. "Oho, look at this! Jealous Winter is out here protecting Y/n like a guard dog."

Y/n blinked, trying to wrap his head around what just happened. “Wait, what? Why does it feel like I’m caught in some sort of territorial dispute?”

Karina, leaning against the arm of the couch with a smirk, chimed in, “Looks like someone’s a little possessive today, huh, Winter?”

Winter shrugged, her cheeks a little pinker than usual. “Tsk. Just making sure things don’t get out of hand. That’s all.”

Giselle, still rubbing her arm, shook her head with a laugh. “Fine, fine. I’ll back off. But you didn’t have to pinch me so hard.”

Y/n let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I feel like I should be worried about you all at this point."

Winter flashed him a satisfied smile, happy to have ended the kabedon challenge before it escalated further with Giselle. “You should be more worried about yourself, idiot . You’re not as smooth as you think.”

The room erupted in laughter again, with Ningning still poking fun at the situation, but Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that this playful banter between Winter and Giselle might not be over anytime soon.

For now, though, it was just another ridiculous day in the dorm—a break from the intensity of their upcoming comeback, but with a bit of chaos to keep things interesting.

“Alright.” Karina clapped. “While Minjeong is still being jelly, time for Y/n to get kabedoned back.”

“Wait, what-“

[miralunawritez]

Veneer x Fem!Assistant!reader

Background: The reader is going out with friends, she is wearing a kind of revealing outfit and Veneer gets insecure and nervous because the reader looks absolutely irresistible. (Veneer is in love with the reader, which she doesnt know that)

Genre: JEALOUSYYYYY

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

You and a few of your friends are going out to a new club that just opened, you guys all decided to match in a nice lowcut black dress with thigh high black heeled boots. You were walking down the hall of Velvet and Veneers Mansion when you walked past Veneer..

"Where are you going?" Veneer says, looking you up in down. "Im going out with some friends, why?" You ask, looking at him with a confused expression. Veneers blood ran cold, looking around for an excuse for her not to go. "You cant leave yet, I need your help with something."

You check your phone to look at the time, "Veneer I dont have a lot of time, what do you need?" you look at him, frustrated. "My nail polish is chipping off, can you redo them please?" he pleads. "Can it wait til aft-" "NO." he yells, cutting u off. He nervously clears his throat as your expression changes from frustration to concern "I mean no."

"Fine." You roll your eyes, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the dressing room. "Sit." You say, clearly frustrated. You pull out some neon green nail polish, kneeling in front of him and taking his hand in yours. Veneer watches you intently as you repaint his nails, a blush creeping onto his face from your touch and how pretty you look when your focused.

You finish painting his nails, pulling his hand up closer to ur lips to blow on the fresh paint. You glance up at him, realizing hes looking right at u. Your heart races as your face starts to burn up from being flustered. "There, all done." You say as you stand back up. "Thank you." He says while looking at his freshly painted nails.

You check your phone again, "I really have to go now, I was supposed to be at the club 5 minutes ago" you say, seeing that your friends are blowing up your phone asking where you are. "Wait! I still need your help!" Veneer says frantically while panicking. "What now veneer? I seriously have to go!" "I dont know what to wear tomorrow." Veneer says, you look at him completely shocked and dumbfounded, "You seriously need help picking out your outfit for TOMORROW?" you yell, clearly stressed.

Veneer looks you in the eyes, "Yes." "Veneer, your like 18, you can figure it out yourself!" You check your phone again, 5 more minutes has passed. You groan, obviously annoyed as you walked to his room to pick something out for him to wear. You walk into his huge closet, you pick out a shirt and show it to him, "Ehhh, no." He says, disapproving. You roll your eyes and put it up, picking up another shirt, aggressively motioning to it. "That shirt is ugly, I dont even know why i have it." He looks at it with a disgusted look. You groan loudly, putting it up.

30 minutes and 30 shirts pass, you show him another shirt and he finally approves of it. You check the time and realize you were supposed to be at the club 40 minutes ago. Your jaw drops in anger and shock, you look up at Veneer, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down before you rip this boys hair out. "Oh nooo, looks like you cant go now.." He says sarcastically, hiding his excitement and happiness. "I guess not." You say in disappointment.

Veneer notices your disappointment, he starts to feel bad for what he did. "How about this? Since I made you miss going to the club tonight, tomorrow I take you shopping, any store, no budget, as much stuff as you want." "You dont have to do that Veneer." You say, smiling at his offer. "I insist, a day all about my dear assistant." He says, putting his hands on you shoulders. "Thank you.", you turn around and hug him. Veneers face turns a bright pink as his heart skips a beat, hugging you back. He smiles to himself, his plan on keeping you from going out worked.

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

Sorry if its short!

[queenofbaws]

while im at it, how about some ashley n matt!! ur choice on if thats platonic or more :0 i just think the world needs more of these guys together ;w;

She felt a little bit like her mom's ancient desktop PC for a moment after it happened - buffering, buffering, still buffering. And that was an exaggeration, obviously, but not by much; the weight, the warmth, the sudden waft of leftover cologne, it scrambled her thoughts! Shook them up, at the very least.

That was the only excuse she could come up with for the blank look she gave him, anyway. Ashley had to figure it was a heck of a look, too, because even as she was still struggling to process the fact she was wearing his letterman jacket, Matt was laughing.

"Aw man, didn't mean to make you jump like that, Ash! Sorry, you just looked cold - you're all hunched over and stuff." With a little huff, he dropped himself back onto the bench beside her, resuming the pen-tapping he'd been doing before getting up to throw their lunch wrappers out. He bent over the project outline spread between them, frowned as he started reading again, and...that was that.

So. Great.

This was a her thing, then.

Ashley tried to go back to the project. She tried to go back to her notes. She tried to go back to thinking, end of sentence, but it just wasn't happening. There was something about the idea of them sitting there like that out in the open courtyard where anyone could see, side-to-side and leaning forward as if conspiring, their backpacks set on the bench opposite to be out of the way, the content of their conversation kept low under the distant sound of the baseball team squeezing in some last-minute practice. It was something she knew she could've named, had she not been so frazzled, something that made her face burn and her chest go tight, something...something that took on a decidedly different sort of flavor now that his jacket was draped over her shoulders.

"I, um, I'm fine, actually. Thanks, but, um, here, you should take this back." It was only half a lie - the flush in her ears and cheeks and neck hadn't taken long to spread everywhere else, turning the chilly fall afternoon into something stifling - but that half was the trickier part, making her tongue heavy and slow and stupid. Which Matt noticed.

How could he not?

"You...sure?" he asked slowly, watching her shrug the jacket off with what might've been surprise, but just as easily could've been amusement. "Believe it or not, I do actually wash that thing sometimes, so if you're worried it's just some kind of glorified sweat rag, I prooomise you it's not."

"No, it's - " She cringed at the sound of her own voice, shrill with social anxiety, tight with...well, something else altogether. " - I appreciate it, Matt, I mean, seriously, I do, but...I...I can't. So. Thanks. It was super nice of you, but...I'm fine. Really. Thanks." After a frankly ridiculous amount of time, considering all she had to do was slide the freaking thing off, she held it back out to him, doing her best to seem nonchalant.

To literally no one's surprise, it didn't exactly work.

"You...can't," Matt repeated, setting his pen down on the table before his arm followed suit, his posture loose and comfortable and cool as a cucumber as he set his head on his hand to get a better look at her.

"That's not what I meant to say. I'm just...this is due by the end of the week, you know."

"Yeah, I know, I'm just really, really curious now."

Oh God, she'd had nightmares like this. "Matt," she sighed, feeling another surge of blood shoot to the tips of her ears. "Would you take this seriously? This is the last group project of the semester, and I'd really - "

"Are you cold?"

"I...that's not important!"

"I think it is."

That got her. Without meaning to, Ashley turned, unsure whether she meant for her glare to be exasperated or pleading. Probably the latter. It usually was.

Matt, as always, met her halfway. He didn't shy away from the look, didn't roll his eyes or snicker like Josh and Chris did when playfully antagonizing her. He just...waited. The jacket hung between them, heavy in her hand; the question hung there too, unspoken but just as weighty.

Because she knew he wouldn't make fun of her, that he wouldn't tease her or try to deflect by cracking a seriously unfunny joke, she sighed, averting her eyes. "There's still a lot of people hanging around here."

"I guess."

"A lot of people, Matt," she said, taking great pains to really emphasize the point, "who...you know...might see me wearing this."

His eyebrows dropped, but only slightly. "Okay?" he replied, dragging the word out to goad her along, and oh, come on! He was really going to make her spell it out?

"People...assume things, all right? They...talk. I really appreciate the gesture, it was totally sweet of you and everything, but...people might think we're...I don't know..." She shrugged, shook her head, shrugged again, and all the while, the mean little voice in the back of her head tittered with locker room laughter and study hall whispers - harbingers of the rumors she could already hear rolling fresh and hot off the gossip mill. "They might think we're dating, or...or something."

He was quiet for a second. A second she spent waiting for the jacket to be taken from her, plucked aside without further comment.

Again, it didn't exactly work out that way.

"Would that be so bad?" He did laugh then, albeit softly, lifting his shoulders in a shrug of his own when she whipped her head around to stare. "I'm asking! You don't think there are worse things for people to say? I mean, don't get me wrong, Ash, I know after that pass I fumbled at our last away game I'm kind of embarrassing to be seen around, but - "

It was out of her mouth before she could bite down on it: "I'm the embarrassing one." And then it was just there, fogging the air in glimmery motes of frost as if to prove she'd said it, to drive home how, whoops, sorry, there'd be no taking it back now. She bit her lip a second too late, worrying it between her teeth until it ached, and...and then Matt nudged her with his shoulder, pushing the jacket back towards her.

"No, you're not," he said, and his voice was so firm, so self-assured, that she almost believed him. "But you are the cold one. So...c'mon. If people want to think I'm your boyfriend, at least let them think I'm a good one, right?"

[pichiru]

The Sun Also Smiles - Chapter 1

Chapters - [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

Summary - With Mabel and Dipper's 16th birthday party on the horizon, Grunkle Stan takes to online dating to find a date for the party. Things start to get real weird real fast.

Word Count - 1,782

Pairing(s) - Stan Pines x OC

Genre(s): Romance, Comedy, Mystery

A/N: Hi everyone! This is the first fanfic I've written in about 10 years! This is my first time posting my writing on Tumblr and I'm very, very nervous. The Grunkle Stan curse has consumed me whole… I'm not sure at the moment exactly how long this fic will be but it'll be a fun ride for us all! :3 I really hope you enjoy! Please feel free to leave feedback about how you feel about the story! I looooooove reading what everyone has to say and how you feel about stuff! It makes me so happy :D

~~~~~~~

“So…”

“Uh huh…”

“What you’re saying is…”

“Uhhhh huuuhhhh.” There was smiling, almost downright giggling, in her voice.

“You…”

“Uh huh!”

“Wanna…”

“EEEEEE!!!” She screeched quietly behind her prayer positioned hands while jumping in place.

“Start your own weird earring business?”

Mabel let out a loud ear piercing scream, causing Dipper to cover his ears quickly. Even at 15, almost 16, Mabel was still so excitable and bubbly. She never lost that part of her personality and she never would if she had anything to say about it.

“Mabel, is there even a market for that kind of thing?” Dipper asked his sister after she finally calmed down enough to have a conversation.

“Dipper…” Mabel started, her tone serious. “You have no frickin idea!” She squealed, jumping some more in place.

“Okay, say for instance I believe you and this is something you’re actually gonna commit to this time, how are you gonna get the materials?” He asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Oh you know…” She said with a wide grin, nudging her brother in his ribs with her elbow. Dipper let out a groan, unfolding his arms to rub where she practically stabbed him.

“He’s not gonna go for it, Mabel. Him or Ford. Grunkle Ford would probably have war flashbacks if you even said the word ‘weird’ around him. Even if you whispered it,” Dipper said matter of factly.

“That’s what you think. You just don’t have the Mabel Pines charm. Or the puppy dog eyes. You’ve lost your edge. You’re too emo now,” Mabel sighed as she started reminiscing how cute and cuddly Dipper used to be. Now he’s just like Robbie. But somehow cooler? Somehow.

“Emo?! It’s called goth!” Dipper said, his voice cracking very slightly. His cheeks flushed, hoping Mabel wouldn’t notice. Her lack of reaction led him to believe she didn’t. But he figured she was just doing him a favor by not embarrassing him about it anymore. It got boring, he figured.

“Anyway,” Dipper started after clearing his throat a little. “I’d like to see you try to convince Stan to foot the bill for this. There’s no amount of 15 year old puppy dog face that’ll get him to do it.”

“Oh ye of little faith, my brother,” Mabel sighed, shaking her head as she started unpacking her luggage.

The twins begged and pleaded to stay with their grunkles for the summer. It was a big summer! Their 16th birthday. Ford and Stan agreed to return from their Stan o War II expeditions on the condition that they could plan a huge party for them before sending them back home. They thought it would be nice to do for the kids. Especially since they haven't really seen them since they turned 13. Dipper, however, has been keeping correspondence with Ford every week.

Mabel pulled a blazer out of her largest suitcase and held it up to Dipper with a wide, metal filled, grin. "I brought this just for the pitch! Hopefully it'll make Grunkle Stan take me seriously since all he does is wear a blazer in the shack. And dress pants. Come to think of it, he wears a full suit to work in a tourist trap," she said mostly to herself at the end.

"Did you get the blazer because you think it'll make you more grown up?" Dipper asked, rolling his eyes slightly.

"Uh, duh, Dipper. Why else would I just have a blazer laying around as a teenager?" Mabel asked, rolling her eyes back.

Dipper had his back turned to Mabel but he smiled at her comment. He loved that his sister was so sarcastic and funny. It was one of his favorite things about her.

After about 15 minutes passed, they were both unpacked and settled into their old room. Ford had even convinced Stan to get the kids their own full sized beds, instead of the smaller twin sized beds. He thought it would make them feel more comfortable. He wasn't wrong though.

Dipper trudged down the stairs first, wanting to be witness to this disaster of a business pitch his sister was about to initiate. He looked around for a moment. It was eerily quiet. The only thing that could be heard was the clicking of a keyboard from the kitchen and hushed arguing. They obviously didn't want to be heard but they sucked at it, frankly.

He sighed and flattened his fingers against his hips to stick them into his pockets. He took a step towards the kitchen before jumping at a loud yell that startled him from head to toe. Of course it was Grunkle Stan's voice. Dipper rushed into the kitchen to see what was going on.

"Grunkle Stan?!" Dipper yelled, his hands gripping the doorway in terror. "Are you okay?!"

Ford and Stan looked to their nephew, confused about why he was so startled. They were huddled around a laptop on the kitchen table. Stan was sitting in front of the computer and Ford standing but leaned down to read what was on the screen.

"Are you okay, kid?" Stan asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Dipper slowed his breathing to a normal pace before laughing it off. "Y-Yeah. I'm A-OK! I just..." He trailed off.

"Dipper, it's alright," Ford said as he walked up to his nephew and placed a solid hand on his shoulder. "We're just..." He looked back at his brother, who shook his head slowly, his mouth a hard line and his eyebrows flat. Ford turned his attention back to Dipper.

"Stan's trying online dating. He says he wants to have a date to your birthday party. I don't care about that sort of thing personally but..."

"SIXER!" Stan blurted as he started blushing furiously, hunching over the computer. "Always openin your mouth..." he grumbled to himself, knowing full well they both could hear him. "I just wanted to make a FRIEND that's not my brother, you kids, or Soos. Can't an old coot want that for himself?"

Ford and Dipper looked at each other with the same intrigued expression. Dipper straightened himself up and nodded.

"Yeah. You can definitely want that for yourself," he answered. "Have you...had any luck?" Dipper asked cautiously.

"Not really," Stan said curtly. He knew online dating at his age would be tedious but not _this_ bad.

"Actually, Dipper," Ford interjected. "Someone just messaged him back. Eagerly," he said, shooting a grin at Stan.

"Shut your trap! We don't even know if she's a real person," Stan grumbled as he typed on the laptop on front of them. "Or if she's a...what is it? Dogwhale?"

"Catfish," Ford and Dipper corrected in unison.

Stan looked at his brother and nephew, squinting his eyes at them. "Sometimes I wonder who's Sixer's twin here. Me or you, kid. Aside from the fact you look like The Cure meets Marilyn Manson these days." He turned back to the computer and continued typing.

"How do you know who Marilyn Manson is?" Dipper asked with much confusion in his voice.

"Don't worry about it, kid," Stan dismissed. "It's a good look on you."

Dipper blushed and rubbed the back of his neck shyly. "Oh! Thanks," he said quietly, looking around the room nervously. "It's a new thing."

"Some of the smartest people I knew in college were goths," Ford added. "Keep up the good work...er...look...Yeah." Ford looked between the other two and left the room quickly out of embarrassment.

"GRRUUNNKKKLLLEEE STAANNNNNN!!!" Mabel squealed as she rushed past Dipper into the kitchen with her blazer on haphazardly. She very obviously didn't know how to put it on to fit her correctly but that didn't stop her from trying.

Stan turned to look at Mabel who was standing there eagerly with a book under her right arm. He couldn't help but smile at his niece still being the same silly person she always has been. It always warmed every corner of his heart. Even though he'd never admit it.

"What's up, kid?" He asked as he leaned back in the chair and crossed his left ankle over his right knee.

ding!

"So! I have a proposition for you!" Mabel said as she pulled her book out and opened it.

ding!

ding!

ding!

"What is that?" Mabel asked curiously as she stepped forward towards Stan and the laptop.

"Nothing!!" Stan said as he slammed the laptop closed.

"Stan's doing online dating," Dipper said without thinking. He made a small noise then covered his mouth quickly.

There was an unsettling silence at first followed by a loud shriek of excitement followed by Mabel jumping up and down with the book still in her hands. "GRUNKLE STAN NO WAY! NOOOOO WAAAAYYY!! AH, I'M SO EXCITED FOR YOU!"

Stan and Dipper both covered their ears.

"Alright, alright, kid. That's enough. It's no big deal."

"IT IS SO A BIG DEAL!!! Have you met anyone yet? Did you ask anyone on a date?" Mabel asked rapidly.

"No and no," Stan said simply.

Mabel's entire disposition changed when he answered. "Oh... Well those dings from the computer sound promising! There was a lot of them too. Maybe it's multiple women trying to get your attention?"

"No. It's...It's one woman. I just met her," Stan said as he opened the laptop back up and went to the woman's profile. "Says here she's an artist, she loves period pieces, and loves all things Halloween. Don't really get the last part but the first two things? It makes her the dame of my dreams," he sighed with a smile. He quickly reigned himself back in and cleared his throat.

"Anyways, we're just...chattin right now. That's all. It probably won't even last a day. She's too good to be true. She's probably a...wazzit called, Dip?"

"Catfish," Dipper answered quickly.

"Yeah that. She's probably a catfish," Stan said sadly.

"Grunkle Stan," Mabel said softly as she walked over to him and sat her book down on the table. "I know you've led a hard life but you deserve happiness. So don't shoot it down before it's even had the chance to take flight," she advised wisely, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Wise words, kid," Stan said, accepting her advice. "I'll...give it a chance."

"YAY!!" Mabel squealed as she clapped her hands happily.

Stan's gaze snapped to the book in front of them. "Wazzat?" he asked, pointing with his chin. "And why the hell are you wearing a blazer? And wearin it like...that?"

A huge grin slowly spread across Mabel's face, showing every single color in her braces, at Stan's sudden interest. "Grunkle Stan...do I have a proposition for you!"

[wolfjackle-creates]

Something Next to Normal

Tim's having a regular day at school when a classmate ropes him into helping with the school play as the light technician. Tim agrees to one rehearsal, but his responsibilities as Robin keep him so busy. He knows he'll have to turn down the position. Then he learns what Next to Normal is about. Tim absolutely cannot do this. --- Alfred is proud of Tim for taking on an extracurricular. The boy spends so much time alone. Having an excuse to spend time with other students his age can only be good for him. He wants to go see the show, but Tim counsels against it. After looking it up, Alfred spends a night in sleepless grief. But when day comes and he's face-to-face with Tim, he realizes the living boy in front of him needs him and something has to change.

This fic is inspired by a conversation I had with @yaderyngoch that you can find here.

Next to Normal is a super emotional musical that deals with surviving after grief. And the themes fit so well with Tim's early tenure as Robin that once the connection had been made, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Within hours, I was asking yaderyngoch if they minded if I started writing. A month later, this is what came of it.

Thanks to @greensword101 and @flipwizardstarlight for helping beta!

I plan to release chapter two in about a week.

Chapter 1 word count: 5,969

Content Warning: Bruce doesn't take a parental role towards Tim. And, at this point, he's not being a very good mentor either. He's too caught up in his own grief. The comfort will come up in chapter two.

-----

“Tim, Tim! There you are!”

Tim turned to see Alex, a senior in the journalism and drama clubs, waving a hand above his head and running towards him down the school hallway. “Hey, Alex. What’s wrong?”

Alex stopped right in front of him and bent over panting. He held one finger up, silently asking Tim to wait a moment. Finally, still somewhat breathless, he said, “We found out last night that my dad got a major promotion at work.”

“That’s awesome, congrats!” said Tim.

But Alex shook his head. “They want him to start immediately. Job’s out in California so we’ll have to move.”

Tim grimaced in sympathy. “Dude, that sucks. When will you be moving?”

“End of the week. But look, we need your help.”

Tim cocked his head. He wasn't really that close to Alex, though they were friendly. “How can I help? I assume your dad’s company will be providing movers and stuff.”

Alex waved him off. “Not like that. I mean with the musical! Performances are happening in a month and I’m in charge of lighting. You’re literally the only person in the whole school who I think could learn everything in time.”

Tim bit his lip. He was already falling behind on his homework due to his Robin responsibilities. “I don’t know, I’m really busy right now…”

“Please, Tim,” begged Alex. “Just come to today’s rehearsal. It’s right after class. Give it a shot, and if you hate it, I’ll figure something else out. But please, one rehearsal.”

Tim hesitated a moment longer, but the pleading in Alex’s eyes got to him. He never could help being useful. “Okay, one rehearsal.”

---

The moment Tim entered the auditorium, Alex waved to him. “Tim! You made it, awesome. Come on, let me introduce you to Mrs. V.”

Before Tim could do more than say, “Hi,” back, Alex grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the front of the auditorium.

“Mrs. V! This is Tim.”

Tim smiled up at the woman and held out his hand just as his mother had taught him. “Nice to make your acquaintance, Ma’am.”

She looked to be in her late thirties and had bushy black hair and dark eyes. She cocked her head at him, but shook his hand. “You look awfully young to be in high school, Tim. Will your parents mind you staying late?”

“I skipped a grade,” said Tim, brushing past the question like he always did. Starting high school at barely thirteen was unusual enough, and he was small for his age. “And I’ll be talking it over with them tonight to see if I can make it work.” An utter lie, of course. Tim’s parents wouldn’t be home for a few weeks yet. But they made a good excuse. “I’ll be able to let you know tomorrow for sure.”

“And, Alex, you really think he’ll be able to learn everything?”

Alex was nodding before she’d even finished speaking. “Yep. He might be a freshman, and a young one at that, but he’s brilliant. He was in the journalism club in middle school, right?” Alex waited for Mrs. V to nod before continuing. “So their teacher brought them to the high school to get a look at our recording studio here. Tim figured out the equipment in, like, ten minutes. To the point where he was correcting Dave last year’s president of the high school club. We’ve integrated nearly all of his suggestions into our broadcasts this year.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked at Tim with much more interest. “Then I hope your parents let you join us,” she said.

Tim didn’t let his expression slip and wondered what his parents would say if he ever bothered to ask their permission. Oh, who was he kidding? They wouldn’t care so long as it didn’t interfere with his school image.

“As I’m sure you’ve heard, I’m Mrs. Vasilakis, but most students just call me Mrs. V. Today we’ll be doing a run through of the show from top to bottom with scripts in hand so Alex can show you what he does and you can get used to the show. We’re doing Next to Normal, are you familiar with it?”

Tim shook his head. “I don’t know many musicals, I’m sorry.”

She waved him off. “Well, I hope we can get you interested. Alex, I can give you twenty minutes to show him the controls while I corral this group and get them warmed up.”

“Thanks, Mrs. V! Come on, Tim. You can toss your backpack down on any empty seat.”

Tim did as instructed and followed Alex to the back of the auditorium.

Alex led him to a small door with a “Do Not Enter” sign hung on it. He pulled out a key and unlocked the door. “Mrs. V lets me keep the key, though she might want you to get it from her every time. I guess they had issues a few years back with people sneaking up here. Something was stolen or broken or something and since then admin refuses to allow students open access.”

Tim nodded his understanding, but a glance at the lock proved it was as cheap as they came. He didn’t know how it worked to actually keep anyone out.

The door led to a narrow stairway and at the top was a room just large enough for the lights, their controls, and two chairs. Alex sat in one and gestured Tim to the other.

“Home, sweet, home,” said Alex grinning. “So, you ever seen any of this stuff before?”

“Some of it,” admitted Tim. Enough of the Gotham rogues had a flare for the dramatics that he’d seen some weird light shows, even if he hadn’t been on the job that long yet. “But I’ve never been in charge of it.”

“Still better than I could say when I started. We’ve tried to keep things labeled pretty clearly so that helps. These dials are the over head lights, these are over stage lights, spotlights. The set up here is pretty good for a high school, but we’re still limited in what we can do. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a professionally performed play or musical, but don’t worry. We won’t be doing anything nearly so fancy.”

“I haven’t, actually,” commented Tim. He thought he had it all figured out, but it would be good to see everything in action. “I think my mom likes plays, but I’ve never gone with her. I think she is afraid I’d struggle sitting quietly for that long.”

“Would you?”

Tim laughed. “Probably a year or two ago. I’d be good now. But back on topic, what’s most important?”

“Right, yeah. Of course that’s what you want to know. Basically make sure anyone who is speaking has a light on them. And that anyone who is on stage can be seen, even if they’re in shadow. This show isn’t the worst, but there are a few moments where multiple characters are singing in contrast to each other. And if we can show the space between them while still lighting them, it’d be great.”

“I… what?” Tim had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

Alex grimaced. “I suppose that doesn’t make sense—“

A loud piercing whistle sounded from below them.

“Well, you’ll see when we get into it. Just watch what I do, yeah?”

Tim shrugged again. “Sure. I’m good at learning on my feet.”

Alex grinned. “It’s why I’m begging you to do this!” He watched the stage a minute and nodded to himself. “Okay, we’re gonna lower all the lights. You always start in dark. This is how we do that.”

Tim watched intently, taking even more notes, as Alex deftly adjusted dials until everything sat in darkness.

Then Alex turned on a spotlight, showing a boy a girl—playing a mother and son—arguing before the boy stormed out of the house. Then the girl started singing about her family. When she reached the line about her daughter, “And my daughter though a genius is a freak,” another spotlight turned on and Tim watched as Alex pointed it at a different girl sitting at a table with a textbook and papers spread in front of her.

He cringed when he heard the mom character say, “I’m going to have sex with your father,” and decided he didn’t really care about the story. Instead he focused on following Alex’s actions. The daughter took over the song, so Alex turned off the light on the mother.

Soon enough, four actors were on stage, trading off lines as they sung about it being “just another day.” And Tim understood what Alex was doing. Each had a spotlight on them, but the shadows were deep between the characters because they didn’t seem to like each other very much, even if they were a family.

Soon it was hard to even follow the words with everyone singing together. Tim really didn’t think he was going to like the show. He had his own struggles with his family and with Bruce. He didn’t really want to watch a fictional family’s struggles.

Whatever, he didn’t have to enjoy himself today.

So he tuned it out. He focused on how Alex played with the lights to make sure everything could be seen. He watched the difference between solos and ensemble moments. When spotlights were used versus lighting the whole stage.

Despite Tim’s best attempts, he couldn’t help but learn about the family. The daughter, Natalie, was the character he liked the most. The son, Gabe, was just an asshole. The dad, Dan, was trying to hold everything together and failing miserably. And the mom, Diana, was falling apart as badly as Bruce and they couldn’t seem to find a good treatment for her.

But all of that was just background to the lighting techniques he was learning. Then when Diana came out with a birthday cake for Gabe, Dan had to take her to the side and remind her that “he’s been dead, sixteen years,” and Tim stopped breathing.

”He’s not here.” echoed in Tim’s ears.

His blood ran cold, and he stared at the stage is shock. The reveal had been a complete surprise, but suddenly so much about the show made sense. And yet all Tim could think of was Bruce, still clinging to the memory of Jason, putting himself—and all of Gotham—at risk in the process.

“You all right?” whispered Alex.

“Huh?” Tim shook his head to reorient himself. His heart was beating too fast. Why was he reacting so strongly? But all he could hear were the words, “He’s not here,” repeating in his mind. Tim forced a smile just as his mother had taught him, though. “Oh, yeah. Of course. Just didn’t expect that.”

Alex laughed even as the music turned more upbeat, the tone jarring compared to the one before. He turned the lights up to match the new tone. “One of the best twists in a musical in my opinion. Forgot you wouldn’t know to expect it.”

Tim just hummed as Diana took center stage again. Her words, “Do you know what it’s like to die alive,” made him cross his arms and clench his fists around his shirt. Why was it that despite the actors in front of him, all he could see was Bruce throwing himself into fight after fight?

But Diana was worse than Bruce. She still had a daughter. One who was still a kid and relied on her. Didn’t she care? He forced himself to tune out her words and returned to taking notes on what Alex did.

He managed well enough until Natalie’s next song came on. Her first three lines went by, worming their way into his head until, “She’s not there,” made him stop.

All he could do was stare at the stage as the girl sang. Each line seemed to hit harder than the last.

“He’s immortal, forever alive. Then there’s me.”

The actress filled every line with a resigned desperation for something, anything, to be different. Tim’s breath froze in his chest. Was his heart still beating? He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, but somehow the words from the stage broke through even that.

“He’s your hero, forever your son. He’s not here. I am here.”

His eyes burned, and he bit his cheek to give himself something else to focus on.

Then Diana tried to comfort Natalie. “You know I love you. I love you as much as I can.”

Tim clenched his fists hard to hide their shaking even as Natalie threw her arms up in frustration on the stage. Why was he reacting so strongly? He wasn’t the same as Natalie. Bruce wasn’t his dad so it didn’t matter if Bruce couldn’t even look at him half the time. He had parents. They might not be home right now, but they loved him. They did.

He wasn’t Natalie.

“Please look closely and find her before she fades away!”

Tim barely heard the rest of the song. Was he breathing? He needed to breathe. He let out a shaky breath.

“Tim? You sure you’re good?”

He needed to focus. His mom would be so disappointed in him. He smiled, just like he’d learned to do for the galas he’d been forced to attend from the age of five. “Of course, Alex. Sorry. I just didn’t realize how good a singer Rose is.”

Alex grinned. “Yeah. She’s really good. Got the role of Natalie as a junior if you can believe it.” He paused speaking to adjust more lights. “Are you following what I’m doing?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Compartmentalize. Tim could do this. He’d been doing it for years. And he’d only gotten better at it since becoming Robin.

The next song, sung by Gabe again, made his heartbeat ratchet back up. Tim hated Gabe for reasons he couldn’t articulate even to himself. But hearing the ghost of the dead son sing about how he was alive as he danced around his mom, crowding her, had Tim biting his cheek so hard he tasted blood. He stopped, closed his eyes for two seconds, and focused again on what Alex was doing. On the way the lights followed Gabe as he haunted, taunted, the rest of his family in turn.

He’d get through this. He’d promised one rehearsal and that’s what he’d get through. Tomorrow he’d say he couldn’t do it.

Even as all the characters begged, “Catch me I’m falling,” Tim focused on just learning his job. When Dan and Diana blew off Natalie’s recital, he clenched his fist, but kept his breathing steady.

Alex didn’t ask if he was okay, just kept up a quiet stream of instructions.

Diana’s failed suicide, done at the behest of Gabe’s ghost, reminded him of all his nightmares of being too late and finding Bruce’s body broken and bloody one day when trying to follow him on patrol. The nightmares that always made him wake screaming.

Tim forced himself not to think of Alfred when Dan sang about standing with his “feet right on the ground” whenever Diana went off flying. He ignored the way Dan wished for someone to give him a lift. And if Tim’s breath caught when Dan sang his was “just a slower suicide,” it didn’t matter because Alex didn’t notice. He just focused on how Alex softened the lights to make the scene more melancholy.

Finally, after Diana agreed to ECT at Dan’s pleading, Alex turned the lights all the way down, then all the way back up.

“And this is the end of act one! What do you think so far?”

Tim swallowed and shrugged. “I didn’t realize they made musicals like this. Are they common?”

“This one was pretty groundbreaking when it came out. More recently, we’ve got Be More Chill and Dear Evan Hansen. But I’ll tell you a secret, I like this one way more.”

Tim hummed and looked over the lighting equipment. “It’s definitely intense. They’re doing a good job.”

“Yep. So for the real show, intermission will last about twenty minutes. Three minutes before curtain, you’ll want to dim the lights briefly to warn people to get back to their seats. Right now, Mrs. V is going to talk to the actors and give some pointers for a few minutes. Give everyone a chance to catch their breaths. Need the bathroom?”

Tim shook his head.

“Then what questions do you have for me?”

Over the next few minutes, Tim made sure to ask any question he could think of. By the time Mrs. V let out another whistle to call everyone to their places, Tim was pretty sure he could manage lighting for the rest of the show. Though when Alex took up the position, Tim didn’t fight him.

No reason to seem too eager when he wouldn’t be taking the project on.

The next act started and Tim tried to pay minimal attention to the musical. Though when the characters realized Diana had amnesia from the treatment and Dan decided the proper response was to just not mention their son, he couldn’t hold back a snort.

Amusement that died in his throat when Natalie revealed what life had actually been like for her. At least he couldn’t draw any parallels there. Neither his parents nor Bruce had been present enough in his childhood to screw his up the way Diana had screwed over Natalie’s.

When Diana finally remembered her son, Tim expected the breakdown.

He couldn’t help but feel for Natalie as she left the house again to get into trouble. Memories of nights spent in Gotham when he was way too young threatened to overtake him.

He managed to push through it and get himself back under control by focusing on Alex’s actions. He paid vague attention to the musical, too invested in the story to fully ignore it. But he directed most of his focus to Alex. So many of the songs started with one character before changing to another, so he’d have to learn them well enough to know when to switch the lights as each person took over.

Diana’s therapist begged her to stay a patient, to not give in to her depression. But it was clear she’d had enough. Would Bruce give up one day? Decide to stop fighting and let himself die?

Only…it turned out Diana wasn’t fully giving up on life. She apologized to Natalie who was clearly caught between finding it too little, too late and hope that this time might be real.

He couldn’t help the ache he felt when Natalie and Diana agreed that a life “next to normal” would work just fine for them.

Tim knew what it was like to strive for a normal life. One where his parents were home. One where he was told “good job” when he did well on a school assignment or finally figured out how to do that flip.

Maybe it was time to give up that dream, though. Be like Natalie and settle for something else. The thought made his eyes burn, but he pushed it aside.

Surely Diana didn’t have to leave just for everyone to find a way to heal? Wasn’t there a way for them to figure it out together?

But Diana left and everyone, even Gabe, seemed to find a measure of peace.

Then Alex turned the lights down again until the entire auditorium was in darkness once more.

Mrs. V began clapping and called out “Well done, everyone!”

Alex turned all the lights back on and leaned back in his chair as Mrs. V addressed the actors.

“So, any more questions for me?” asked Alex.

---

“How was your extracurricular, Master Tim?” asked Alfred when Tim slipped into the passenger seat.

Tim shrugged and pretended he wasn’t still shaking inside from the music. “It was all right. But I think I’ll have to tell Alex I can’t do it. Just so busy, you know?”

Alfred tutted. “If you want to do it, we can make the time. Master Dick had his gymnastics meets. And Master Ja—”

Alfred cut himself off and Tim looked out the window. So many conversations ended that way in the manor. But he remembered Dan’s song about needing someone to lift him up. “You can talk about him, you know. To me. If you need to.” Tim didn’t look at Alfred as he spoke, just continued staring out the window.

“Thank you, Master Tim.”

The rest of the car ride passed in silence as Natalie’s refrain, “I’m not here,” echoed in Tim’s head. He focused on keeping his breathing steady and his hands still. He was fine.

When they got to the manor, Tim took over his corner of the dining room table and pulled out his homework. Laptop set up on an angle to his left, papers on his right. Start with math because that was the easiest.

Only he couldn’t focus on the numbers at all. For possibly the first time in his life, they didn’t make sense.

Catch me I’m falling.

Tim grit his teeth and grabbed his headphones. Maybe if he just listened to the soundtrack again, the songs would get out of his head?

He started it from the beginning. His pencil tapped against his papers in time to the beat. When he got to Natalie’s song, even his pencil stilled as he stared unseeing at his homework.

Then Gabe started singing “I’m Alive!” and Tim grabbed his phone and jabbed the back button. He couldn’t. He couldn’t listen to that one.

Natalie singing about being invisible might cause his hands to shake and his heart to beat hard, but it was better. He stared at his phone, watching the lyrics pass by. When the final words appeared, he jabbed the single repeat button to make sure he wouldn’t be jump scared again by Jason’s, Gabe’s song.

He had no idea how many times he’d listened to “Superboy and the Invisible Girl” when Alfred cleared his throat behind him. “How is your homework going, Master Tim?”

Only his months of training kept him from jumping in his seat. He looked over his math and realized he’d only managed to get through two problems. “Going great, Alfred. What’s up?”

Alfred raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t call him out on his lie. “Dinner is nearly ready. Why don’t you put away your things and help me carry it out?”

“Of course! I’ll be right there. Just give me two minutes.”

Alfred smiled and clasped his shoulder. “Take your time. I’ll go inform Master Bruce.”

Tim nodded as he gathered up his papers and closed his laptop. Within moments, his things were neatly packed and his backpack hidden in the hallway closet.

Dinner at Wayne Manor was as awkward as they all were. Tim sat two seats away from Bruce and kept quiet. The first time he’d eaten here, Tim had tried to ask Bruce about his day, but Bruce merely stared at him for an entire minute before grunting and going back to his food. Tim hadn’t tried again.

He should’ve refused the ride home and taken the three buses and a cab that it took to get from Gotham to Bristol. Then he could’ve eaten in his own home. At least there it was silent because no one else was around rather than whatever this mess was.

Through it all, he could hear the echo of Natalie’s song. He felt invisible sitting there in complete silence.

With no conversation and all three of them focused on their plates, Tim finished eating within ten minutes.

“Would you like anything else, Master Tim?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Bruce grunted. “Then report to the cave. I need to debrief you before tonight’s patrol. And I want to evaluate where you are in your training.”

Tim jumped to his feet. “Of course. I’ll bring my dishes to the kitchen and head right down.”

The debrief was boring. Edward Nygma had escaped Arkham, so Bruce had Tim review several of his old riddles. Tim had kept up with those when they had happened and really didn’t learn anything new. The Riddler’s cases had always interested him the most.

Not that he said anything of course. From the direction of Jason’s memorial, he could hear the echo of the words, “I’m alive!”

If one thing could be said for training, it was that it required enough of his focus to drown out Jason’s voice. Bruce hit hard and fast and scolded whenever Tim wasn’t able to dodge. But it was fine. He was getting better.

To his surprise, when they finished, Bruce merely grunted at him and turned away to change into his suit. Tim must’ve done really well, and he bit back a smile. Usually they spent at least ten minutes going over everything Tim had done wrong.

Patrol itself started fine. They were looking for leads on Nygma, but in the meantime just stopped anything they came across. The euphoria of patrol chased away the echo of any songs that might have haunted him otherwise.

Everything was going fine. Until Tim saw a woman in scrubs getting cornered in an alley by three large men. He looked around, but Bruce was already two streets away. “Batman?” he asked over comms.

“Hurry up, Robin.”

Tim bit his lip and debated following, but then the woman began begging. “No, please. I promise I don’t have anything.”

“You’ve got a phone, don’t you?” asked one of the men as he took another step forward.

“And even if not, bet there’s something else we could get from you.”

Tim did not like the smile on the second speaker’s face. Mind made up, he shot his grappling hook and swung down, making sure to land on Asshole #2’s shoulder’s, knocking him to the ground.

“Pretty sure she said she’s got nothing for you. Why don’t you leave her alone?” He stood on the asshole’s back.

“Shit, it’s the kid!”

“Where’s the bat?”

“Get offa me!”

Tim jumped off #2’s back as the man pushed himself up. Dick’s acrobatic training meant he landed on his feet, and Shiva’s training had him pulling out his staff and extending it into the man’s stomach as he did.

While #2 was bent over trying to regain his breath, Tim swung it to the left to get the Asshole #1. The woman, meanwhile, pulled out a canister of pepper spray and got the third directly in his face.

Tim grinned at her. “Thanks, ma’am!”

“I should be thanking you, Robin. Glad to see you back out on the streets!”

The pepper spray victim collapsed to the ground and was scrubbing his face, leaving Tim with just two to take down. He managed to get both incapacitated quickly and zip-tied their hands behind their backs.

He was finishing with their ankles when he heard, “Robin,” from behind him.

Shit, that was definitely Bruce’s I’m-not-happy voice. Tim forced a grin and turned. “Hiya, B!” he said, just as he’d heard Dick or Jason do when they were in trouble on patrol. “You missed the fun.”

Only, unlike with Jason and Dick, Bruce’s jaw tightened and his hand clenched into a fist.

But he didn’t say anything. So Tim turned back to the woman. “Want me to escort you home? How much farther do you have?” He knew Bruce wouldn’t be happy with that, either, but he couldn’t just leave her.

“Just two blocks more. Would you mind?”

“Not at all!” Tim turned to Bruce, still grinning. “You can call this in, right? I’ll be right back!”

“Robin!” barked Bruce.

“Yeah?” Tim pretended to have no idea Bruce was upset. He was shaking inside, but he was Robin right now. And Robin was brave and bright, no matter how scary Batman was.

“You do not wander off.”

So Tim cocked his head. “Oh, you want to come, too? I’m sure that’ll make Ms…” he looked at the woman curiously.

“Emma,” she supplied.

“Ms. Emma feel even safer. Are the cops on their way for these three jerks?”

Batman grunted and Tim’s grin grew.

In a stage whisper, he told Emma, “That’s Batman’s ‘yes��� grunt. Let’s go. These three will hold until the police get here.”

Emma laughed and led the way down the street. “I’m gonna be the safest person in Gotham, then. Thanks, Robin, Batman.”

“So, Ms. Emma, do you work at the hospital nearby?”

“Yep. I’m a night shift nurse. Usually I drive to and from, but my car’s in the shop. And I’m only a twenty minute walk from work. Thought I could risk it for one day.”

Tim nodded. “That’s how they get you.”

Emma laughed and ruffled his hair. “You’re absolutely right. I’ll just wait until one of my coworkers can give me a ride home tomorrow.”

“How much longer until your car is ready?”

Emma sighed. “I don’t get paid until Friday. Then I can authorize the work to start.”

Tim hummed in sympathy, but was already making plans to track down Emma’s name and figure out which mechanic she used. Surely it’d make sense for Robin and Batman to pay her bill after helping her out. And a bit extra to move it to the top of the line.

Tim asked Emma about her work and she regaled him with stories from a Gotham ER for the rest of the walk. Bruce stalked silently behind them.

When Emma stopped in front of an apartment complex, she turned to face Tim. “Thanks for walking me home, Robin.”

“Anytime, Ms. Emma.”

She leaned down and hugged him tightly. Tim’s eyes widened in shock at the sudden warmth. His heart beat hard in his chest and he could feel every point of contact like it burned. Just as he realized he should lift his arms and hug her back, though, she was pulling away.

“Good night, Robin! And you, Batman.”

Bruce just grunted, and Tim wanted to roll his eyes. “Good night to you, too. Stay safe!”

“I will, thanks to you.” She waved as she unlocked the door and disappeared inside.

“Batmobile, now.”

Tim bit back a sigh. “Of course, Batman,” he said. He didn’t bother pretending to be cheerful now that they didn’t have an audience.

Bruce spun and shot his grappling hook, swinging away. Tim followed on his heels. Tim knew he was in for a scolding, but didn’t dare dally on the trip over.

When he got to the alley, Bruce was waiting next to the driver’s side door. He grunted and gestured for Tim to get in.

Tim’s hand didn’t shake as he opened the door, but his stomach felt like lead, and he knew it was only long practice at hiding his nerves that kept it steady. Bruce slid into the driver’s seat and pulled out.

Even with his gloves on, Tim could tell Bruce was gripping the steering wheel as tightly as possible. And his jaw was clenched shut in displeasure. Tim bit his lip, unable to break the silence that settled in the car.

Silence that stretched for long minutes. Tim began to hope he’d be able to avoid the lecture he knew was brewing.

Then Bruce opened his mouth. “What was that?” His voice was cold and hard.

“What? Saving a woman?” Tim pretended he wasn’t shaking inside.

Bruce practically growled at him. “You disappeared!”

Tim kept his back straight and kept his eyes trained on the road ahead. He would not react to the anger directed his way. Keep it straightforward and factual, like giving a report. “A woman was being harassed by three men. They didn’t even have a gun and you were a block and a half ahead already. I knew it’d be a quick intervention so I intervened.”

“You do not go off on your own, ever.”

“I had it handled, Batman—”

“I don’t care! You always ask for backup before entering into combat situations. What if one of them had a hidden gun?”

“I know how to fight against opponents with firearms.” Tim kept his voice steady no matter how much he wanted to shout back.

“You can’t keep running off, Jason!”

Both of them froze. Tim stared straight ahead, every muscle tense, just waiting for Bruce to say something else. The buildings raced past them as they rapidly approached the end of the street.

Only Bruce didn’t hit the breaks. And the building across the street was getting closer.

“Watch the road!” screamed Tim.

Bruce cursed and jerked the wheel, just barely managing to follow the turn of the road rather than slam into the building. Tim had to his arm to keep from banging his head against the side window as his seatbelt dug into his chest.

Once they were back on the road and traveling at a more reasonable speed, Bruce spoke again. “Tim—”

“Don’t.” Tim gripped his uniform over his heart. His throat was tight and his eyes burned and he couldn’t get that damn song out of his head. He wanted to collapse forward, rest his head between his knees and just breathe, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the road, terrified Bruce would get distracted again. “Just. Don’t.”

For once, Bruce listened. The rest of the ride to the cave passed in silence.

The moment the car pulled to a stop, Tim was out the door. He stomped over to the changing area and began stripping out of his uniform. He needed it off.

“Master Tim? Are you all right?”

“Fine, Alfred,” said Tim.

“What happened? Do I need to check you for injuries? Or Master Bruce?”

Tim grit his teeth, but shook his head. “We’re both just peachy.” Tim ripped off his under layer, stripping down to his boxers. “See?” He spun so Alfred could see he had no new injuries.

Alfred’s eyes narrowed as he took in Tim’s body. “Very well,” he said after a pause.

Tim grabbed a mostly clean shirt and pair of jeans from his locker and pulled them on. “I’m going home now.”

“Let me prepare you a small after patrol snack before you do,” said Alfred.

“Not hungry.” Tim’s stomach was still in knots. He could see the brick wall getting closer through the windshield and feel the jerk as Bruce had to turn too hard to keep them from crashing.

Alfred opened his mouth, but closed it again with a sigh and nodded. “Very well, Master Tim. Thank you for joining us for dinner tonight.”

Tim nodded his acknowledgment, though he regretted ever agreeing, and grabbed his skateboard out of his locker. He’d changed so quickly that Bruce was only now approaching the changing area himself. Tim straightened his back and looked Bruce in the eyes. “I will report to the cave at twenty-two hundred hours for tomorrow’s patrol.”

Then, before Bruce could do more than nod, he tossed down his board and jumped on. Twenty minutes later, he was in his own room at Drake manor and climbing into a shower, heat turned up so high it was almost scalding.

It still didn’t make him feel as warm as a stranger’s hug.

And finally, in the privacy of his own house, with three locked doors between himself and the world, Tim collapsed to his knees and cried.

---

Alex was waiting for him when he got off the bus at school the next morning.

“Hey, Tim! Have you made your decision yet?”

And Tim thought about leaving school and going back to an empty mansion with his parents who-knows-where or to Wayne Manor and another awkward dinner.

He opened his mouth to say he couldn’t, that he was too busy.

“Sure, Alex. I’d love to.”

-----

And that's chapter 1! Hope you enjoy!

Totally look up some of the songs from Next to Normal. They hit hard. Especially when imposed on the bats.

[kjwaikiki]

Stony fic idea:

I’m back on the Avengers train after a YouTube au trailer deep dive and I have a fic idea. I am throwing out the idea of timelines, canon, and pretty much everything.

My big fic idea is that Howard is still alive and Tony is young, maybe early 20s at the oldest, when all the Avengers shenanigans take place. Maybe that means Howard and Maria have Tony even later on in life or maybe they are just younger, I do not know I am disregarding pesky things like timelines.

Now the main point of this fic is that it is Howard who helps with the Avengers and backs them up being sort of like a benefactor. Steve is of course ecstatic to see and work with his old friend again, but he notices something is off about Howard. He asks some questions, does some digging and finds out that Howard had a son. Of course Steve asks Howard (or maybe Maria if she is around) but doesn’t really get a clear answer other than the fact that Tony and Howard had a fight a few years back and Tony hasn’t been in contact since.

Steve tried to do something nice for his friend and tracks Tony down. Eventually he finds him working on sustainable energy sources in some remote lab in a foreign country (or whatever you imagine I am not too clear on this part). Steve introduces himself and tries to convince Tony to go home or at least talk to Howard. Tony is not impressed, Howard has been an emotionally distant father at best and now he has Captain America come to his place of work to drag him home like a stray dog! Needless to say Tony is not impressed and kicks Steve out on his ass.

Steve is stubborn though and continues to bagger Tony throughout his day to day. Tony has carved out a nice little life for himself among the locals and he does not appreciate Steve ruining it for him. Eventually Tony agrees to talk to Steve and explain the fight and why he will not go home. It turns out that for a little while after Tony graduated college he was able to work well with the old man. They collaborated on a lot of projects and seemed to be getting along well. Until the next Stark Expo when Tony found out that all of the inventions Tony had made everything he designed was being patented as a Howard Stark invention, as solely a Howard Stark invention.

Tony was of course hurt and more than a little angry so he decided that his next idea would be one he kept to himself. His next design turned out to be Iron Man (in its infant stages Tony thought of it as combat armor for troops or even remote controlled soldiers) and from the idea of the Iron Man suit came other ideas like the Arc Reactor and J.A.R.V.I.S. until suddenly Tony was sitting on a cache of technology that would change the world.

Unfortunately Howard eventually found out about Tony’s inventions and shut him down. They had a terrible row that basically boiled down to Howard calling Tony a spoiled, selfish child who didn’t know the powers that he was messing with. Tony in response called Howard a hack who hadn’t invented anything worthwhile since the war and was so desperate to stay relevant that he’ll steal ideas from his son. The fight ended with both of the men storming off angry and Tony went back to an apartment he owned in the city to cool down for a few days. Tony figured that he’d give the old man a few days to calm down and then show him the tech he was working on with the clear stipulation that he gets credit for his inventions.

Only Tony’s plan doesn’t work out because when he goes back to Stark headquarters he finds that he has been terminated from his position and locked out of his lab that contains all his inventions and J.A.R.V.I.S. and all his bots. Tony calls up his dad, yells at him a little and then pleads with him to at least let him get his stuff. Tony even tells him he can keep the suits but he wants his bots and J.A.R.V.I.S. Howard says no. Tony threatens to get lawyers involved. Howard asks with what money. It dawns on Tony that Howard has effectively cut him off or at least he thinks he has (Tony has a personal bank account not connected to his father he has been squirreling away money in for years). Tony is angry and hurt and leaves the country and from there he applies for a gets the job he is currently working in. After that he cut off all contact with his father and erased himself from all digital software (Steve found him through luck, good old detective work, and being able to charm the pants off of little old ladies).

Steve is aghast because he never thought Howard could be capable of something like that. Tony brushes him off and tells him he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. Somehow the idea of drinks is brought up and Steve mentions he can’t get drunk. Tony takes that as a challenge and whips up something in his lab that can actually get Steve drunk. They both get drunk and tumble into bed together.

In the morning Steve is surprised and horrified to find that he slept with his friend’s son (who is a lot younger than him). Tony is understandably hurt by Steve’s reaction and all of Steve’s attempts to explain himself just make it worse. Eventually it culminates in a fight and Tony kicks Steve out. Steve leaves and goes back to the U.S. where he tells Howard he found Tony and confronts him about the fight and how he treated his son. Howard tells Steve that he was just trying to protect Tony.

It turns out that Howard was following Obadiah’s advice for the inventions and didn’t take credit because he wanted all the glory but rather to keep Tony out of the spotlight (Obie worded it in such a way that it made it seem as if people knowing how brilliant Tony was would put him in danger). The fight was because Tony was messing with dangerous substances and even people without Howard’s knowledge (Tony had interested buyers lined up for some of his tech). Steve then brings up Howard cutting Tony off and Howard says he always knew about Tony’s other bank account and that he cut him off because he knew he was safer away. Howard had started to suspect Obie was involved in some shady dealings and had started to investigate him. As Howard dig deeper he uncovered some dangerous secrets and a lot of illegal activities.

Obie knew how brilliant Tony was and Howard knew that if Obie knew he was on to him then Obie would just get rid of him and move on to making Tony his cash cow. Howard pushed Tony away to protect him and fully intended to bring him home after the mess with Obie was over with. The only problem was that once it was all over with Howard couldn’t find Tony and he had no way of contacting him. He hired private investigators but they turned up nothing and eventually he gave up.

The next part of this fic are fuzzy to me but I think eventually Steve brings Howard to Tony and they have a chat. There is a lot of yelling and even some crying before finally they delve into the bigger issues:

Tony: “You are a shitty father.”

Howard: “I know I want to be better.”

Tony: “To be better you have had to actually be something in the first place. You were never there in the first place.”

Howard: “I’m trying Tony.”

Tony: “Why? So you can steal my ideas and pass them off as your? Live out your long gone glory days through me?”

Howard: “Because you’re my son and even though I don’t always show it, I do love you.”

That is the turning point in the fight and Tony and Howard make up with some awkward hugs and even more awkward tears. Tony agrees to go back to the U.S. and give working with his dad another try (with some heavy stipulation) Howard looks ecstatic that he has his son back and that is about where it dons on Steve that he has miscalculated. Because now Steve has to live in close quarters with Tony who he has grown to like and care for in his weeks pestering him to come home. Who Steve has kissed and held and heard moan. Who Steve would very much like to hear moan again. Who is the very young son of his dear friend, Howard. Howard who is looking at Steve in gratitude and has no idea that Steve has slept with his son. Steve is in for a really hard time.

I don’t really know where the fic ends from here. Maybe Howard eventually finds out and goes into overprotective father mode because that is his SON his CHILD who is barely an adult and Steve was alive during the Great Depression! Maybe Steve tries to dance around Tony and their sexual tension as the Avengers watch on amused. Maybe Tony eventually catches on to the fact that Steve is very attracted to him and starts teasing him everywhere, in public, around his dad, when he is working out, in the communal showers, etc. There are endless possibilities and I think it is really fun to imagine them all.

[sunnybeewriting]

For What It's Worth

­­­­­Hi guys! I did my best with being accurate, there’s just so much information that it’s hard to sort through it all, and I took some creative liberties with the location of High Camp. That being said, I really hope you guys like it. Please leave a like or comment if you do, they really make my day!

WORD COUNT: 9,291

WARNINGS: Mild blood and fear

You and Tuk are out playing when things take a turn for the worse.

You hiss softly as the blade you’re using to cut up fruit nicks the tip of your finger. A bead of red appears as you hold it closer to your face for inspection, making sure the cut wasn’t deep. The blood red contrasts nicely against the blue of your skin.

You lower your finger once you are satisfied and huff, irritated more than you usually would be at making such a small mistake.

If you’re being honest with yourself, there was no real reason you were in such a bad mood. Perhaps it was the dreary weather that had engulfed High Camp these past few days. Perhaps it was just usual teenage woe. Either way, your mood was starting to go downhill.

You stuff a slice of the fruit into your mouth, suddenly ravenous as you walk around the perimeter of where your people had sought refuge from the Sky People. It’s something you like to do when you are bored or simply want to be alone with your thoughts.

It was nice to just drift around and take in the breathtaking beauty of your home and people. Watching parents chase their little children around, smelling food cooking, listening to the distant sound of rushing water. It was a good way to take your mind off anything that was troubling you, even when you weren’t sure what that was specifically.

As you round the corner and near the shared tent of your family, you see the faint, tiny form of Tuk tugging on an exasperated Kiri’s hand.

Kiri stays in place, unbothered by the weightless pulling and the frustrated, begging expression on Tuk’s little face. You don’t have to be near them to figure out what they were arguing about.

At this age, all little Tuk wanted to do was follow her older siblings around. She was constantly begging to tag along with Lo’ak and Neteyam as they practiced shooting their bows, even when they warned her it would be boring. She followed Kiri around as much as she could, always talking.

Her pout and big, round eyes were a weakness of every family member, so she usually got her way. Luckily, regularly letting her do what she wanted had never made her spoiled; she was just as sweet and soft-hearted as she was as a baby.

Kiri, Lo’ak, and Neteyam were in the beginnings of their own teenage years, which meant they were ‘too cool’ to have their younger sister hanging around them all the time. They were sweet kids, kind and playful with the youngest member of the family, but they still wanted their own independence.

You understood; you had been the same way when you were their age.

Now, though, you certainly didn’t mind the company of any of your younger siblings. As a result, Tuk spent most of her time with you when she wasn’t with Mom. You would walk around the forest with her, singing little tunes and playing games.

You like to make flower crowns for the whole family when you were in the forest. The first time you had given one to Dad, he was hesitant to wear it. Lo’ak and Neteyam followed his example, not wanting to wear something their dad disapproved of. After your pleading, though, Dad caved in pretty quick. Now, they wore your crowns with pride around High Camp, as a loving totem from their family. 

Spending so much time with a little sibling might have bothered other Na’vi your age, but you really didn’t mind. You had a few friends, but no one you were extremely connected to. You had yet to find anyone you were interested in as a mate, either.

Finding a mate was something your dad often told you to take your time on, usually with a relieved look on his face. It made you laugh every time.

“Hey Tuk, Kiri!” you shout, grabbing their attention. They turn to look at you, and Tuk’s tugging on Kiri’s hand grew even more insistent. This time Kiri relented, even if it was with a roll of her eyes.

They walk towards you, Tuk with a bounce in her step and a grin on her face. She still holds onto Kiri’s hand. Kiri’s tall, slender frame looks large next to Tuk, and she doesn’t have her shawl wrapped around her shoulders for once. 

“Took you long enough,” Kiri says, but her tone is far from irritated. “Find anything new?”

She was referring to any rocks, trinkets, or plants you sometimes found on the edges of High Camp. She loved to collect and study them; she had a whole pile of pretty rocks somewhere in the family tent. If the plant you brought back was pretty enough, she would wear it in her hair.

You loved finding things for her; the look on her face when she received something new to examine never failed to make your heart swell.

This time, though, you shake your head. “Nah, nothing special. I thought I saw something shiny in the grass, but it just turned out to be a piece of metal. Sorry, Kiri.”

She shakes her head as well and says, “That’s alright, I have plenty back in the tent. I should probably sort through them, actually.”

Tuk, apparently tired of your boring conversation, leaps up to you and grabs onto your leg.

“Ayviiri, Ayviiri, can we please go look around the forest again? I’m bored, but Kiri doesn’t want to play with me anymore! Or, or we could stay here and play a game? Please?” she begs, drawing out the last ‘please’ with a pout. She leans around your leg and looks up at you with imploring eyes.

Kiri scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ve been playing with you all day! You’re really just going to dump me like that?”

Tuk sticks her tongue out at Kiri playfully, and Kiri rubs her hand in Tuk’s face just to hear her squeal and jerk away.

You laugh at their play fighting and gently tug Tuk off your leg. Your smile turns mischievous, and you squat, grab Tik around her knees, and throw her right over your shoulder as you stand back up.

The shriek of laughter as she’s lifted high up hurts your sensitive ears, but it makes your smile grow. You start walking closer toward the family tent, Kiri trailing behind you.

Tuk’s tail waves in front of your face and blocks your view a few times, and you’re about to put her down when you feel a small hand grab onto your own vulnerable tail and pull. Your answering shriek is loud enough to make neighboring people jump and glare at you, but none of you care.

You arrive at the tent and set Tuk down. She wobbles a bit as she regains her balance, still giggling. When she straightens up, she points an accusing finger at you and shouts, “Hey! You never answered my question! Can we please go exploring, please? I promise I’ll be good!” Her mouth wobbles and your heart melts.

Damnit, you think. When did I turn into such a softy?

You lower yourself down to her eye level and say, “Alright, alright, we can go out. But only for a few hours, okay?”

Kiri crosses her arms and shakes her head in amusement at your weakness, and you stand up and shrug, as if saying ‘what can you do?’.

Tuk’s answering cheer is enough to make the hit to your pride worth it. She throws her arms around you and presses her face against your stomach. You rest a gentle hand on the top of her head.

“But we have to ask Mom first, okay?”

Tuk nods and releases you, grin never fading. You turn to Kiri and ask, “Where is Mom, anyways? Have you seen her today?”

Kiri dips her head and says, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure she’s either in the tent or talking with other parents.”

“Alright, we’ll go find her, then. You want to come with us to the forest? Play some more games?”

“I don’t think so. I have that collection to sort through, remember?” The smirk on her face says she’s just using the collection as an excuse not to go, but you don’t mind. You smirk back knowingly.

“Right, right, totally. Well, I guess we’re off to find Mom, then! Ready, Tuk?”

Tuk nods furiously and grabs the hand you hold out for her. You wave one last time at Kiri as you leave in search of your mother.

------

Mom was finishing up her conversation when you finally find her, almost on the opposite side of High Camp. Her ears flick as she hears you both approaching, although Tuk’s loud chatter had probably alerted her a while ago. She presses a quick hand to the bicep of the woman she was talking to as she says goodbye before walking over to you and Tuk.

Your mouth stretches into a smile, happy to see her.

“Hey Mom! Tuk and I are about to head out for an hour or two to explore, is that okay? Do you want to come with?” you ask, even though you are certain she will decline your offer.

Just as you thought, she shakes her head and says, “I am sorry, my daughters. I already have plans for the afternoon. Maybe next time, yes?”

You nod understandingly. “That’s alright, Mom. We won’t be out long anyways.”

“It will be getting dark soon. Make sure to be back before it does.” Your mother knows you are almost an adult of the clan now, but that doesn't stop her from worrying over you the same way she does the rest of her children. You understand your mother’s concern, though, and simply nod.

“We will. We’ll see you later, okay?”

Your mother smiles and nods back, hand briefly running over Tuk’s head. She places her hand on your arm as you walk past her, and you place your own on hers just for a moment, understanding her silent message of ‘be careful’.

And with that, you and Tuk are off.

------

You walk deep into the forest, but not any further than usual. There’s a large, safe area in the forest near the edge of High Camp where the children are allowed to explore. It’s a good chunk of land with plenty of space and trees to play around with, so you don’t go outside of the perimeter.

In fact, the adults of the clan, including your parents, forbid it. There was dangerous machinery and weapons left over from a battle with the Sky People over a decade ago. They were old, yes, but no child should be near them.  

A few years ago, a poor boy from the clan died after he stepped on an old land mine still working underneath the dirt where the Sky People had left it. The weapon was years old, but it killed him instantly. Such an unnecessary and sorrowful death made the whole clan grieve together for at least two months. It was a stark reminder of the Sky People’s vicious ruthlessness.

Now, nobody is allowed to cross into that section of forest, for their own safety. The clan did not want any other innocent to die.

Your parents had made it clear to all of their children to stay away from that part of the forest, and you gladly kept your distance. You didn’t want to die like that, blown to bits before you even knew what was happening.

You and Tuk wander around until the sky begins to darken, the eclipse encompassing the forest and dimming the bright sky. You’d spent the past few hours lifting heavy rocks so Tuk could look and poke at the bugs frantically running around. Tuk watched as you practiced your balancing skills on the skinny branch of a tree, arms stretched out so you could remain upright. Then, you chased Tuk around until the both of you were gasping for air.

Now, the two of you were resting on the soft grass of the ground, hands behind your head as you gaze at the sky and struggle to catch your breath.

Once the sky begins to darken, you lean up on your elbows and turn to Tuk.

“Time to head home, Tuk, it’s getting dark already,” you say, fully expecting her to whine and argue.

To your surprise, she simply nods her head and pulls herself to her feet. Her little chest still heaves as she moves and sweat glistens on her forehead. Her head of braids is messy from laying on the ground, little blades of grass stuck in it. You’re sure your hair is no better. 

Guess I finally wore out her endless amount of energy, you think.

You sit up and stand on your feet, hands drifting down to check your weapons. Once you make sure everything is still attached, you reach over to Tuk, brushing grass from her body and picking it out of her hair.

Tuk is quiet the entire time you work, a rare occurrence you would have taken notice of if you weren’t lost in your own head, thinking of what you were going to have for dinner. Your stomach growls as your mind drifts with the clouds, and you barely catch the mischievous smile that flickers across Tuk’s face before she leaps from your grasp and sprints away.

“Catch me if you can, Ayviiri!”

You’re so startled that you can only gawk as she bounds away, before your legs are moving and you sprint after her.

“Tuk! It’s getting dark, we don’t have time for this!”

Your legs are much longer than hers and your speed much faster, and you would have caught her arm if you hadn’t tripped over an exposed root and face-planted into the dirt. You’d been so focused on grabbing her that you hadn’t been watching the ground.

You quickly leap back to your feet and chase after her, face throbbing and covered in dirt. The skin of your knees stings, and you can feel yourself losing your temper.

The time between falling and standing back up hadn’t been long, only a few seconds, but it was long enough for Tuk to no longer be in your immediate sight. Trees, bushes, and glowing plant life block your view, but you can hear her delighted laughter and her small feet thudding against the dirt as she ran further and further away.

“Tuk! I’m serious, this isn’t funny! You need to come back, Tuk! Tuk!” you shout, irritation coloring your voice as you continue after her.

The sky continues to darken, and with it your mood. You chase after her, uncaring of the branches or bushes you have to knock out of the way. You can still hear her laughter, so you know she’s close.

You’re so focused on chasing after her and watching the placement of your feet so you don’t end up on the ground again that you don’t notice entering a part of the forest you had never been to before. By the time you look around yourself and notice, it’s too late.

You slow to a stop and stand there, panting, hands resting on your knees as your heart pounds in your chest. You struggle to catch your breath.

Tuk is going to be in so much trouble! You think, annoyance making your jaw clench.

You straighten up, still gasping for air. You take in your surroundings and freeze.

Horror blossoms in your chest and sinks its teeth into your limbs, turning your blood to ice. You are frozen, unable to move as you realize where you are.

The trees and plants around you are unfamiliar. You recognize their species, yes, but you don’t know the pattern they are placed in because you have never seen them before. Nothing looks familiar because you had sprinted straight past the line separating the safe part of the forest from the dangerous.

There are fewer bioluminescent plants in this part of the forest, it seems, which makes the area much darker. The trees seem to loom over you, and the usual trilling of bugs seems muted, somehow, as if in the distance.

You stand in place, body still, terrified to move another step and get blown up like that boy. You remain there for another moment before you hear the quiet laughter of a little girl in the distance.

The terror you had felt before is nothing compared to the blasting wave that seizes your mind and body. Your stomach turns and your heart races, beating faster than it ever has before as you realize, sick, that Tuk has no idea where she was. That she had no idea she had crossed the line into hazardous territory, and she had no clue what danger she was in.

She’s still running around, your brain gasps, she’s still moving, she’s touching the ground!

An image appears in your mind, unwanted. You watch as your sweet, sweet little sister is blown to pieces. You watch as you find what’s left of her body. You watch as you walk back home and tell your parents what happened. And the imagined look that comes over their faces, full of agony and pure grief, is enough to shock you back into your body.

You sway, dizzy with the overpowering emotions controlling your body and the sickening images still taunting you in your head. You blink and force a breath into your body, and then you’re off like a bullet, sprinting through the trees in search of your sister.

“Tuk!” The cry that leaves your mouth is completely different from the shouts you had been making earlier. Those had been tinged with annoyance and begrudging amusement. The sounds leaving you now are terror-stricken, thick with awful emotion.

“Tuk! Stop moving, Tuk, stay still, I’m coming for you!”

You race after her in the last direction you heard her voice, feet pounding into the dirt. You’re running so fast, completely unconcerned with your own safety as you frantically seek out any sign of your sister. Fear seizes your heart and muscles, and your heartbeat thunders in your ears. Your vision narrows as you search, looking anywhere but the path in front of you. You are sprinting, so consumed with fear and adrenaline that you don’t notice the glinting metal laying exposed under a light layer of dirt and leaves until it is too late.

Your right foot lands squarely in the middle of a contraption, and the sharp, strong teeth of the trap activate and clamp onto your leg, tearing deeply into the flesh just above your ankle.

You go flying, skidding across the ground. Your face and hands take most of the hit, small rocks in the dirt scraping your palms. The impact of your face hitting the ground splits open the skin of your chin.

Stars burst behind your eyes as you slow to stop, face down in the dirt. Your entire body feels numb, and your brain struggles to catch up with what just happened. You lay there for a few seconds, trying to think properly and move, but it just won’t happen. Eventually, you’re able to slowly lift your upper body upwards with your arms, dragging your face out of the dirt.

Little flickers of pain are starting to filter into your brain, but it isn’t until you fully sit up, turn around, and see your mangled, bloody leg that you realize what had happened. Then, the pain hits you so fast and hard it steals the breath straight from your lungs

White hot agony splits across your senses. Your vision turns spotty with black dots and your head becomes fuzzy, sound muted in your ears. By the time you come back to yourself, you realize you’re lying flat on your back. Must have passed out, you think distantly. That’s okay. I’m okay.

You gain awareness once more, pain throbbing through your entire body. Even the tip of your tail hurts. You lay there, staring blankly up at the trees, looking at the stars blinking at you through the gaps in the canopy. Your head is empty of any thought or emotion, brain and body in shock.

Your hearing begins to come back just in time to hear the choked gasp of a little girl to the right side of your head. It’s immediately followed by a screaming wail that jolts you straight back into your body.

For one fearful moment, you are afraid that the little girl has stepped into a metal trap of her own and is screaming in agony. Then a weight slams into the side of your stomach.

Tuk’s frightened face appears in your line of sight, tears streaming down her face and bright, yellow eyes horrified. Distantly, you recognize that she is still screaming, sobbing.

You blink, hand slowly reaching up to touch her tear-soaked face.

“Tuk,” you croak. The realization that she’s okay is a stunning relief, and you feel your body relax deeper into the dirt. “Oh, Tuk.” Tears sting at your own eyes and flow down your cheeks, happy and relieved and agonized all at the same time.

She sobs louder at the sight of your own tears. You both lay there, bawling, until she is finally able to gasp out, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t know we had gone so far, I didn’t see the line, Ayviiri! I’m sorry!” She continues to gasp and wail, and the sight makes your heart burn.

Your hand slowly reaches up towards her and around her tiny back, and you gently apply pressure. She takes the hint and leans down to lay her head against your chest. Her wet face tickles your bare skin, but you keep your hand on her back, rubbing circles.

Pain still throbs in time with your heartbeat throughout your body, mostly in your leg, but you let her cry until her gasps turn to hiccups and her tears slow from a steady stream to almost a complete stop. 

She raises her head from your chest and looks at your face. You return her gaze, eyes dazed and half-lidded. And then she says,

“Are you okay?”

You stare at her and then laugh as best you can, chest stinging from the movement. But you don’t care, because it was such a silly, oblivious question that could only come from a child.

And your brain might still be a little loopy from the hard hit it had taken when you had faceplanted into the ground, twice. Either way, you laugh for a few seconds, jostling Tuk still laying pressed up against you.

“Uh, I don’t think I can qualify as ‘okay’ right now, Tuk.”

That makes her eyes fill with tears once more, and she lowers her head to press her forehead against your chest.

“I’m so sorry, Ayviiri.” Her voice wobbles, and it’s clear she’s about to start sobbing all over again.

Yeah, you admit. Probably not the best thing to say to a traumatized kid right now.

You shush her once more, hand stroking her hair a few more times. Then, you say,

“Hey, Tuk. I’m going to need you to be really strong here for a little bit, can you do that for me? I’m alright, but I’m going to need your help. Can you stay with me?”

She stares at you for a few seconds and then nods her head. She sits up and takes her arm off your body, sniffling, and then wipes her eyes and face with her hands. She closes her eyes and takes in a slow, deep breath, just like Mom had taught us to do when we were scared, and lets it out. She repeats the process two more times before she opens her eyes, determined.

You stare at her for a moment.

Shit. I really am lucky to have such a damn good family.

“Thanks for staying with me, Tuk.”

She looks you straight in the eye and says, “Sully’s stick together”, like it’s a fact of life, something that has always been and would never change.

You blink furiously to will your own tears of relief away/

“Alright, Tuk. I’m going to need you to help me sit up, okay. Slowly.”

You start small, wiggling your fingers and then moving your arms. You tense your shoulders and, very slowly, strain your stomach muscles to start lifting your upper body off the forest floor. Tuk reaches her arm around your back and presses her hand against you, carefully applying support.

Every part of your body is in agony, head pounding behind your eyes and face stinging. Still, you don’t stop until you’re fully sitting up. Your head wobbles dizzily and black dots threaten you once more, but you will yourself not to pass out. Once you find your balance, you look at Tuk. She looks back at you, worried, hand laying on your shoulder.

Neither of you says anything. You nod slowly and wiggle your fingers and parts of your upper body some more. The longer you take stock of the injuries up here, the longer you don’t have to look at the wound on your leg.

You can put it off no longer, though, and so you lean forward to take a look at your legs stretched out in front of you.

You whimper before you can stop yourself.

The metal contraption had wrapped itself around your right foot. Sharp little teeth are clamped into the flesh of your calf, tearing through delicate skin and squeezing tight. Bright red blood soaks your leg, the metal, and the ground beneath you.

The teeth haven’t gone in as deep as you had feared, though. They were in there, most likely reaching bone, but it hadn’t torn off your foot or mangled it beyond repair like you had thought.

Still, as relieving as that is, it’s not a pretty sight.

Maybe it didn’t go all the way through because it’s been out here so long, and the springs are worn down? You think, head tilting to the side and breath coming in short gasps as you stare. Dad once talked about metal things like this that were strong enough to cut a whole foot off.

Your stomach lurches.

Tuk follows your eye and looks at your injury. She gasps again and sways where she was sitting, turning a pale blue tinged with green.

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Oh, Eywa, me too.”

You both sit there for another minute, struggling to get your stomachs under control. Once you succeed, you hesitantly examine your foot once more.

You wiggle the toes on your left foot, and then gently move the toes on your right. Pain tears up your leg like lightening and you gasp, immediately stilling. Once it fades back to a steady throb, you crack open an eye and think.

What’s the plan here, Ayviiri? You’re unable to walk, deep in unfamiliar and dangerous territory, at night with an unarmed child. What’s the plan?

You sit there and sort through your options, eventually coming up with what you hope is the best thing to do in this situation. You turn to Tuk, who stares back at you. In this darker lighting, the glow of her yellow eyes and bioluminescent dots outline her face fiercely and make her look like the night sky.

“Okay. Okay, here’s the plan, here’s what we’re going to do. It’s already dark and way past the time we were supposed to get back home, right? So that means Mom and Dad know something is wrong, which means they’ll start looking for us soon. It won’t take them long to find us, since they know where we usually play, and they’re great trackers. So, they’ll be able to find us soon, and we need to be here when they do.” You pause to take a breath before you continue.

“So, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to help me get to the curve of that tree, and we’re going to stay still and quiet and alert. We’ll wait for them to find us, but we need to make sure that nothing else finds us first, okay?” you say, pointing to the curved trunk of a tree just a few feet from where you and Tuk were sitting.

Tuk whimpers, ears flattening to the sides of her head. “Do you think anything will find us before they get here?”

“No, no, Tuk, that’s just in case, alright? Oh, Tuk, please don’t cry, we’re okay! We’re okay, I promise.” You do your best to comfort her, reaching over and dragging her into a hug as she struggles to stop her tears. She goes willingly, gently patting you on the shoulders instead of hugging you tightly like she usually would.

You take a deep breath and prepare yourself for what’s about to happen.

“Alright. You ready?”

She leans back, wiping her eyes once more, and asks, “Are you?”

You hesitate and then nod your head, swallowing thickly. You know your weight is too much for little Tuk to drag even a few feet in one quick motion by herself. No, this was going to be a slow and bumpy ride.

This is going to hurt like hell.

You breathe deep and slow as Tuk moves around to your back. She slides her arms under your armpits, and you lift your arms to give her better access. She clasps her hands together in front of your chest, and her braids tickle the side of your face as she lowers her head to say, “On the count of three I’m going to start moving backward, okay?”

You nod. Tuk whispers, “One, two, three!”, and jerks you back roughly.

The movement jostles your leg and you howl, head tilting back as tears of pain prick your eyes. By the time your back finally hits the trunk of the tree, Tuk is out of breath and those tears are streaming down your face.

You rest your head against the tree, gasping for breath. Agony is all you can feel as you choke on air.

Tuk climbs into the enclosed curve of the tree trunk, sobbing. She curls into your side and lifts your arm out of the way so she can press up against your stomach, and you are barely able to wrap it around her.

Your ears eventually stop ringing and your vision clears. Tuk continues to cry, and the only sound you have the strength to muster up is a weak hum carrying the distant tune of one of your mother’s lullabies. You sit there, waiting, begging to be found by your parents.

Once you catch your breath, you raise your head. You look at your surroundings and straighten into a position that’s more sitting up than it is leaning on the trunk.

Have to stay awake and alert, you think, shaking your head to clear it of fuzziness. Have to keep my senses sharp and ready for whatever might come.

There weren’t many predators around this area, but you never know what animal might be drawn to the scent of your fresh blood. You draw out the knife strapped to the thigh of your right leg as discreetly as you can. You don’t want to scare Tuk any more than the poor girl already has been.

Just in case. You hold the knife in a tight grip. Just in case.

You had considered letting Tuk retrace her steps and head back towards High Camp but had discarded that idea as soon as it had appeared. There were too many threats and unknown factors; any other weapons laying hidden under the dirt, any predators who might be in the area, the chance she may get lost. All were good reasons to stay together and wait it out. Your wound was in a non-vital spot, and while it was incredibly painful and still bleeding, it wasn’t worth risking Tuk’s life just to get help faster.

Time trickles by slowly mostly in silence, other than the times you hum softly to Tuk. Tuk remains curled up at your side, faced streaked with tears even as more than an hour passes. Every now and then you can feel her whole body shudder. The night air is warm, so you know it’s mostly from stress and fear.

You both remain sitting up against the curve of the tree, hidden out of view. At this point you have to pee, but there is no way in hell you are moving your ass out of this spot unless it is time to go home.

You struggle to remain alert, eyes wide and ears flicking with every sound you hear. The buzzing of the insects and the distant chattering of syaksyuk are comforting sounds. It was when those sounds stopped that you needed to be worried.

Your chin just began to drop onto your chest, eyes drifting closed, when you heard rapidly approaching footsteps coming from the trees in front of you.

Your eyes pop open and you tense, head shooting up. Your hand had slackened around the knife so you strengthen your grip. Your heart begins to race in your chest, and you prepare yourself to fight for the lives of you and your sister.

Just as you are about to shake Tuk awake and tell her to run, the broad, tall frame of your dad leaps out of the branches.

He turns to you, and you can see the exact moment he realizes he had found his children. Relief fills his expression, and he gasps like he was finally able to breathe for the first time in hours.

“Ayviiri, Tuk!” He runs to your side and kneels beside you, hands fluttering uncharacteristically around your face and body like he doesn’t know where to touch.

He turns on his heels and shouts, “Neytiri! Neytiri, I found them, they’re over here!”

He turns back to you. Your head is starting to drop again, exhaustion and relief and joy clashing in your mind. You can barely manage a tired, “Hey, Dad”.

You’re not even surprised to see him; you know there is not a single force on this planet that would keep your mom and dad away from their children.

There was crashing through the leaves and bushes your dad had come through before your mother burst out, eyes wild and teeth bared, clearly expecting a fight. Once she realizes there is no predator here she relaxes, only to tense up again when she sees us.

A cry burst from her throat and she runs to us, sliding on her knees as she falls down next to you. Her hands flutter around you, just like Dad’s had, and the similarity makes a smile pull on the corners of your lips. 

You’re sure you look terrible, hair, face, and body covered in dirt and leaves and bruises. Your face feels swollen, and the various cuts sting.

Your parent’s voices crash over your senses, asking all kinds of questions, but the only thing you can do is smile. So happy to see them, you think, eyes drifting shut once more. I think I would cry some more if I wasn’t so damn tired.

“Hey, hey, stay with me. Stay awake, baby girl, hey.” Dad pats your face gently, his own face close to yours. Your groan, opening your eyes once more.

“What?” you say grouchily. You just want to sleep, please, please.

Dad smiles, the corners of his eyes creasing. “Where’s that attitude coming from, huh? We’re so happy to see you guys, you know.”

Mom covers her mouth with her hand, gasping with relief and her eyes shining. Tears leak down her face. She smiles at you, reaching out to gently grasp the hand still holding the knife. She takes it from you before holding your hand.  

Tuk finally starts to shift, awakening from her deep sleep. With the way your parents had come crashing in here, making all sorts of noise, her sleep was a true testament to her exhaustion.

She opens her eyes fully. Once she sees her parents hovering over her, she bursts into tears.

She reaches her arms out in the universal sign of ‘pick me up’, and your mother snatches her up and into her arms before you can blink. Both of them cry while holding onto one another, Mom shushing Tuk and rocking her back and forth.

Her eyes met yours over Tuk’s shoulder, and you see pride and gratefulness shining bright in them. You shrug your shoulders, as if to say ‘duh’. It wasn’t like there was any way you weren’t going to keep your little sister safe.

Your dad turns your face back towards him with gentle fingers placed on your chin. His lips thin and his eyes narrow as he takes in the mess of your face and upper body.

“Ayviiri, where are you hurt?”

“My leg, mostly.” You gasp out wetly. “I didn’t even see it.”

When he sees the metal wrapped around your foot and digging into your bloody flesh, he hisses and bares his teeth, ears pulling back and muscles tensing. You can see his tail flicking irritably behind him. Anger and hate twist his face into an expression you have seen many times before, always when the Sky People were mentioned.

“Fuck, Ayviiri.”

You have enough energy to bark out a short, incredulous laugh.

“I fucking know, Dad. Just my luck, right?”

Mom looks over Dad’s shoulder at your leg and hisses as well, her own tail flicking. Fear crosses her face, and she looks younger than you’ve ever seen her before.

“Sky People.”

Dad gently brushes a finger against the metal, yellow-green eyes flicking up to your face to take in your reaction. When your expression doesn’t change, his face hardens with resolve, and he grabs onto it more firmly, trying to get it to release.

You yelp, entire body jumping with the pain that shoots through your body. You try to lean away, but there’s nowhere to go.

Mom jumps with your yelp, hand grasping onto your left leg to comfort you. You look at her, eyes filling with tears. The weight of everything comes crashing down.

“I’m sorry, Mom, Dad.” It comes out as a croak.

You realize it’s the first time you’ve seen your dad all day. The stress and worry on his face make your heart squeeze, and before you know it you’re crying, again. You’re not sure if the tears are from relief or shame or pain, but they roll down your cheeks all the same.

“I’m sorry, Dad, I didn’t even see it, and I-I know we went past the line, and it was all my fault, it just happened so fast, and-”

He interrupts you, shushing gently. He rests his palm gently against your face, and you lean into his touch, eyes closing. “Hey, hey, hey, we’re right here, you’re okay. It’s alright, we’re not mad at you. Baby girl, we’re just glad that you’re both still alive.” His voice breaks, and he smiles.

You nod and swallow thickly, face still cradled in his palm.

You’re so, so tired.

He moves around until he is cupping your face with both hands, shaking you gently.

“You need to stay awake, baby. Open your eyes, Ayviiri.”

You whimper but do so, sight blurry. You can see the way his throat bobs as he swallows. He turns his head to look at Mom.

They have a conversation with their eyes that you cannot decipher. Mom’s eyes fill with tears again, brows furrowing and lips frowning, but she straightens up and swallows. She nods her head once, firmly, resolute.

Dad nods back and turns to you. He takes a deep breath. 

“Okay. Okay, Ayviiri, you with me?”

You groan and nod, making clear eye contact.

“Alright, that’s good, baby girl. I’m going to need you to stay awake for just a little longer, okay? We’re going to pull this thing off you and then we’re going home, alright?”

Your eyes pop open and all forms of tiredness leave your body just like that. You tense and your heart begins to pound. Your leg is mostly numb now, but you don’t want to take any chances.

“Hey, woah, wait, wait, wait! Wait, Dad, hold on a second!” You clench your leg muscles and try to move away, like an idiot, and you gasp and go still. Panic refuses to leave you.

“We can wait! Can’t we wait until we get home, Dad, that would be better!”

Dad leans back and considers that option for a moment. Then he nods his head and moves his hands away from your leg.

You gasp in relief, chest heaving. You were only putting off the inevitable, but still, you’d take it.

“We’re still going to need to lift you up, Ayviiri. Come on, let’s go.” He rises to his full stance. Mom stands as well, lifting Tuk with her. Tuk’s face is turned away, buried into her neck, and you can’t see if she was still awake or not.

Lucky, you think sourly.

Dad walks over to your left side, where Tuk had previously sat next to you. He squats back down and curls his arms under your shoulders and your knees. You lift up your body as best you can to give him more room, breathing deeply in preparation.

At least it’s not Tuk moving me around again, you think. If I can survive that, then I can certainly survive this.

Still, that thought doesn’t stop you from tensing.

Dad lowers his face to yours, and says, “I’m sorry, Aryviiri, this is probably going to hurt.”

You barely have time to nod before he’s lifting you up and into his arms. You squeeze your eyes and prepare for the pain, but the only thing you feel is a slight twinge from your foot.

You blink, look at your dad, and grin, impressed.

He grins back down at you, holding you gently. Your mother moves to stand at his side, stroking the top of your head one last time. And then, finally, you are off back home.

------

The journey back is restless. Dad refuses to let you sleep, worried you may have a concussion, and so you stare at the sky as your father carries you. The gentle rocking of his arms tempts you, but you do your best to stay awake. Besides, the way your body aches and stings is enough to keep you from falling asleep. Dad talks to you about nothing in particular as you move through the foliage. You close your eyes because it stings to have them open, but you do not sleep.

You arrive back at High Camp in less than an hour. It’s late, so there aren’t any other people around. Your family tent is still lit, though, and Kiri, Neteyam, and Lo’ak are still awake, waiting for you to get back.

You’ll never forget the expressions of relief on their faces when they see you and Tuk. They crowd around all four of you, asking questions and talking in frantic voices.

“Shit, Ayviiri! You look awful, what the hell happened?” Lo’ak asks loudly, face lowering to yours, yellow eyes flickering across your face. You’re still in Dad’s arms, swaying back and forth as the family walks as one to the medical center in the middle of High Camp.

“Nice to see you too, little brother. To answer your question, well, you know me. Just can’t seem to stay out of trouble.”

Lo’ak scoffs and crosses his arms. “You get into less trouble than Neteyam, and that’s saying something. What really happened?”

Before you can reply, Kiri knocks her hip into Lo’ak’s. “She’s clearly not ready for conversation, Lo’ak. The details can wait until after they get checked out and rest.”

Lo’ak grumbles but relents under her fierce stare, and you smile, tilting your head back and enjoying the quiet.

Neteyam walks on the other side of Dad, and you can feel his worried gaze flickering between you and Tuk. You open your eyes and wink at him, and he smiles and lets out a breath, relieved. It couldn’t be that bad if you were making jokes.

You all shuffle into the large medical tent. It was a spacious area, filled with a few cots and medical supplies. You and every other child of the Omaticaya knew this place well, having been here many times for checkups and bandages for various cuts and bruises.

Dad lowers you gently onto the cot closest to the entrance of the tent. Lo’ak and Kiri blanch when they see the state of your leg, having walked on the other side of you and only seeing your bruised face.

“Holy shit, Ayviiri.”

You nod your head in agreement.

“I know. At this point I can’t feel much of it, but it hurt like a bitch when it happened.”

Lo’ak nods, dazed, and reaches out to touch it. Kiri smacks his hand away, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

“I’m going to go wake Norman, okay? I’ll be right back.” Dad says, looking at you. You nod, and he pats you on the shoulder before jogging out of the tent.

Mom has lowered Tuk into her own cot right next to yours. Tuk is utterly unconscious; nothing could wake her up now. She was exhausted, but other than being dirty and tired, she was completely fine. Mom moves her braids away from her face, caressing her head.

Thinking about what could have happened to your little sister still makes you sick to your stomach. Even your own injury, while painful and bloody, was nowhere near as bad as it could have been.

You take a deep breath and allow yourself to relax into the soft bedding of the cot. It could have been so much worse, you think. Thank you, Ewya. Thank you.

Norman jogs into the tent in his human form, tiny and pale white. His dark hair is still mussed from sleep. You can see his tired eyes widen through his mask when he takes you in, and he immediately starts examining you, startling when he sees the bloody state of your leg.

“Hey, Mister Spellman. How’s it going?” You grin tiredly.

Dad walks into the tent a moment later, putting an enormous hand on Norman’s tiny shoulder. The contrast between their size and the stark colors of their skin makes you giggle, head dizzy.

“How’s it looking, Norm?” Dad asks, referring to the state of your leg. He shoots you a worried look at your soft giggles. “I also think she might have hit her head pretty hard.”

Norman tilts his head to the side and reaches out to poke at it gently. “Well, from what I can tell, it didn’t sever anything important. It’s got itself in deep, though, that’s for sure. Can you tell me what happened, Ayviiri?”

You wince and shake your head to regain your thoughts, but the only thing that does is make your head pound even more. “I was chasing after Tuk too fast and wasn’t paying attention to where I was stepping. Next thing I knew I was on the ground and this fucker was in me.”

Norman nods in understanding, turning around to put on a pair of plastic gloves. He shuffles around the tent, little hands moving around and grabbing various medical supplies to place next to your bed. “Okay, and did you hit your head at all?”

You squint, struggling to recall the events. “Uh, kind of. Once when I tripped over a root, and then again when that happened. Pretty sure my face took most of the impact, though.”

He nods again and examines your wound once more. A few minutes pass as he pokes and prods. Eventually, he pulls his hands back and says, “Well. The good news is that it’s unlikely to cause any permanent damage. Bad news is that teeth are in there pretty deep, and it’s going to hurt like hell to get it to let go.”

You’re exhausted, filthy, and every part of you aches. You don’t even care about what it’s going to feel like. You just want to get clean and then sleep until next week.

Your lips thin and your eyes narrow. “Let’s get it done, then.”

Norman pulls away and starts grabbing materials and scary-looking medical tools out of drawers. You look away before you can start freaking out, closing your eyes and leaning back into the cot. You reach for Dad’s hand and he gives it to you without hesitation. His hand is dry and warm. It engulfs your own, but the hold it has on yours is gentle. You squeeze and he squeezes back.

“Can I get some water, first?” you ask. Your voice is starting to sound like you’ve swallowed rocks.

Lo’ak leaps to his feet and leaves to find some. He comes back a few moments later, and you snatch the water out of his hands quickly. You tilt it back and let it flow into your mouth, swallowing rapidly. The cool, sweet liquid wets your throat. It’s so relieving that you drink until the container has run dry, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you give it back to Lo’ak. He leaves two more times to get more water until you’re satiated.

By that time, Norman has collected all the instruments he needs, washing his hands in the water bin and using soap to disinfect himself.

“This is going to hurt, but it’ll be over quickly. We’ll disinfect the injury after the metal is pulled off, and then we’ll wrap it. You need to keep your leg still until then, okay? In fact, Neteyam, come hold her leg down and keep it as still as you can. Lo’ak, be prepared to help if we need it.” He moves down to the foot of the bed where your legs rest.

“Ayviiri, you’re probably going to pass out for a little bit, so don’t be surprised when that happens.”

You squeeze Dad’s hand tighter, choosing to look at the ceiling of the tent rather than at what’s about to happen. Your heart rate increases out of fear of the pain that’s about to come, but you breathe slow and deep to keep the panic at bay.

Mom moves from where she had been sitting on Tuk’s bed to grab your other hand. With both parents by your side and siblings in the room to support you, you know you’re going to be okay.

“Alright, Ayviiri. Take some deep breaths for me. Are you ready?”

You breathe out one last time and nod.

The last thing you feel is a sharp, popping tug on your leg. Pain explodes behind your eyes, your vision turns black, and you’re out.

------

Your brain slowly starts to recognize your surroundings as you wake up. You can tell it’s morning again, just by the warm light that glows behind your eyelids and the sound of birds singing through the camp. If you listen harder, you can hear the murmurings of your people and the distant laughter of children.  

Your lips pull upwards into a small smile, eyes still closed.

Your mouth and tongue feel thick and fuzzy. You wiggle your fingers and crack open an eye, taking account of your body. The pain you had felt last night has faded from sharp misery to a dull ache.

You groan and slowly sit up, bones cracking like you’d aged at least thirty years. Once you are upright, you look at the white, thick bandage covering a good portion of your lower right leg.

You wiggle the toes on both legs.

Other than a slight twinge, no extreme pain can be felt. You let out the breath you had been holding, suddenly extremely relieved, and you flop back down onto your cot.

I’m okay,you think, stunned. My leg is okay. Tuk is okay. We’re okay.

You lay there, simply processing. Eventually Mom walks into the tent, holding onto a basket filled with fruit. She takes one look at you and drops the basket with a thud, moving to your side in a few short, quick steps.

“You are awake!” she gasps, gripping your hand. “I am so relieved, Ayviiri! How do you feel, are you in any pain?”

 You shake your head gently and grip her hand just as tight. “No, Mom, I’m okay, I promise.”

You smile at her and she smiles at you. She cups your cheek with her hand, and her smile fades.

“My daughter. What happened?”

Your own smile drops, but you sit up and explain what happened. How you and Tuk had been planning to return before it got dark, how Tuk had playfully run away and you had chased her, how you had accidentally crossed into forbidden territory without realizing it.

“I’m sorry, Mom, it was my fault. I didn’t even know we were that close, and-”

She shushes you and shakes her head. “No, my daughter. It was an accident. You and Tuk are alright, that is what matters.”

You nod, eyes stinging.

“Thanks, Mom.”

She presses a kiss to your forehead and stands up.

“I will tell the family you are awake. I know Tuk is very interested in seeing you, as is everyone else.”

“How long was I out?” you ask, curious. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours.

“Two days, my daughter. You were exhausted and injured. Your mind and body needed time of rest to heal.

Damn, you think, surprised.

“Even after all that rest you will be confined to your bed for at least another week. No walking on that leg.” She gives you a stern look.

Mom leaves and quickly returns with all of your siblings, who pile onto your cot, clapping your back and arms and thighs. Hands and limbs flail all over the place as you struggle to support everyone’s weight and keep them all upright, but you don’t tell them to get off.

They’re happy to see you awake, voices chattering and asking questions without pausing to let you answer. You don’t mind, though. You’re just happy to be here with them.

“I’m okay, I’m okay–ow, Neteyam, you’re leaning on my tail!”

Eventually, Dad makes them get off you. They grumble but comply. You hadn’t even heard him arrive with your sibling’s loud voices clamoring in your ears, but there he was, arm wrapped around Mom’s waist and expression fond.

Tuk jumps up again and wraps an arm around you, burying her little face into the curve of your neck. You wrap your arms around her in turn, squeezing her tight. Neither of you says anything, just hold onto each other.

She lets you go after a few moments, eyes full of tears. Thankfully, none of them spill over as she sniffles. She looks tired but physically healthy. To you, that is worth all the pain in the world.

You gaze around at your family as they stand in the tent, all trying to talk at the same time. It’s chaos, but there is nowhere you’d rather be.

Thank you for letting me stay with them, Ewya. Thank you for letting Tuk come back unharmed. Thank you.

Your eyes start to become heavy, and regardless of the noise and the fact you had just slept for two days straight, weariness begins to creep into your bones once more. You relax in the cot, safe and surrounded by your family. With that one last thought, you drift off to sleep.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Taste of You"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 6113

Tags: Fresh AU, dark rom-com, dark!Bucky, pre-serum Steve, kidnapping, cannibalism, yandere/basement wife, meet cute-ish, gay sex n' stuff, ignoring of sexual boundaries, dub-con bordering on non-con, (mostly humorous) gore, (mostly humorous) body horror

Summary: Steve is so tired of the meat market that modern dating has become. Just when he's deleted all the apps and given up on ever finding Mr. Right, he meets the perfect guy at the grocery store.

A dark, cute, funny, fucked up, and very tasty love story.

It's a Fresh AU. "If you can't handle the cannibalism, get out of the kitchen" ... or something like that

11. Marinate

Wait! I haven't read a previous chapter. Story Masterlist

Steve:

Steve wakes up to a racket. “Mmph.” He sits up from his mattress, the thin blanket draped over his knees, two knobbly points where he rests his elbows as he rubs the crust from his eyes. As he wakes fully, he begins to make more sense of what’s making the racket.

“Help Meee! Somebodee!!! Heeelp! Please!!”

He groans and plops his face into the cradle of his criss-crossed arms. Right. Last night was Date Night.

“Hello?!!! Can anybody hear me?!!!

Bucky had walked by carrying her. Steve’d barely gotten a glimpse of a limp neck and a mass of dangling brown hair before they were out of sight and he heard the low, rolling drag of one of the other cell’s door being opened, then closed. Bucky had come over with their nightly Old Fashioneds to drink together, still wearing his nice date clothes. It’d been hard for Steve to reconcile his base attraction to the man, while also knowing the reason why he was dressed up like that in the first place.

Bucky had been glad to see him. He’d kissed him, and Steve had smelled ladies’ perfume on his shirt. Bucky slid down the wall and talked about how he was so pooped, how he was so glad that now he could just take it easy and spend more time at the house with Steve. He talked as if he’d just gotten through a regular day’s work instead of a diabolical kidnapping scheme. “Ugh,” he’d groaned, running a hand through his hair as he picked the cherry out of his glass. “Now I can relax.”

Erica Buccanetti was in the basement.

Currently, the woman down the hall—Erica—keeps yelling and yelling and yelling, and eventually Steve can’t take it anymore. “Hey!” he calls out. Shut up, he wants to say, but doesn’t. Because it’d be mean.

The screaming stops for the briefest second, and then the woman screams even louder and more desperately, tears clogging her voice. “Hello?! Ohmygod! Please, please you have to help me!! This guy! He—he chained me to the floor!! He kidnapped me!”

Steve looks down at his own wrist. “Yup,” he mutters. But he hasn’t yelled it so she doesn’t hear him. She just keeps screaming and crying for Steve to help her.

Bucky had warned him that it would probably go this way.

“I don’t even tell them what they’re here for until the first wave of screaming stops. It’s best to just let ‘em cry it out for those first couple of hours. Once we have The Talk, they usually freak out again for anywhere between an hour and a day, then it’s just how fast they move through the five stages of grief.”

Steve’s go no clue what the five stages of grief are, but figures freaking-the-fuck-out might be one of them. Over in her cell, Erica screams and pleads so much that Steve can’t even get a word in edgewise to tell her that he’s being held prisoner, too. “Please I’ll do anything!” she yells, voice echoey. Anything!! Please! You have to help me!!

It sounds like she’s several cells down from the one Steve’s in. The basement walls are all concrete and stone and sound tends to carry out in the spiraled hallway. Especially since the doors to their cells aren’t solid. “I can’t help you!” Steve calls out. “We’re in the same boat!” Really, they’re not, but he doesn’t need to tell her that now. She’d never stop screaming if he did. Bucky’s the freak who kidnapped her, why should Steve be the one who has to break the bad news that he also plans on eating her?

“What??! How long have you been here?!”

Steve sighs and lies back down on his mattress. “I dunno! Less than a month!” He’s lying. He knows exactly how long it's been. He only knows because of Bucky’s visits, because of his meals and when they come. If it weren’t for those, Steve wouldn’t have a clue what time of day it even was. He’s got a little tally going on the side of the toilet-sink, classic prisoner style. He puts a scratch in the metal with the links of his chain, one for each breakfast Bucky serves him. But yesterday he’d almost forgotten to do the tally. He’d forgotten until it was bedtime, and for some reason that really bothered him. He’d scratched that day’s tally in with extra vigor.

Now, he reaches over to grab his most recent book. He finds the page he left off on.

“You know James?!” Erica yells. “Did he—did he take you too?! Why?! What’s he want with us?!!”

It hurts Steve, to hear her use the name James, to be reminded that Steve himself was duped just the same as everybody else. He’d called Bucky James, up until a few weeks ago. Steve shouts, “Yep!” not wanting her to know that he goes by Bucky, for some reason. Steve flips a page in his book, wonders if Bucky eventually tells all his prisoners his nickname. He hopes not. Why does he hope that?

“What does he want?! Oh, god, is he … is he gonna rape me?!”

Steve groans and lets his forehead thunk down to the page. “No!” he tells her. He can hear her moving around over in her room, grunting with effort, the chain rattling as she tries to free herself. She starts sobbing after a while, screams some more, then goes back to the sobbing. She doesn’t try to communicate with Steve any further, and Steve is actually kind of glad.

She’s been quiet for a few hours, and Steve is pretty sure she’s fallen asleep. He’s made his way through most of Anna Karenina by the time Bucky appears.

“Morning,” he says, friendly, setting down the breakfast tray that he’s brought Steve. It’s blueberry pancakes today and Steve’s stomach actually grumbles as he takes the tray. He spreads the butter and pours the syrup, cuts into the fluffy pancakes. Bucky makes the best fucking pancakes Steve’s ever had. “How was it?” Bucky asks, tipping his head towards the cell door. “With her here?”

Steve glares at him. “Awful. Screaming and crying. Woke me up.”

Bucky makes an apologetic face. “It’ll get better. It’s about ten a.m. now. I’ll go in and have The Talk with her once she wakes back up.”

“Ugh.” Steve figures there’s going to be a lot more screaming in his future. “Why’d you design the rooms this way?” he asks, genuinely curious. “Why’d you make it so that we can—” he cuts himself off as he realizes that he’s including himself in Bucky’s victim pool. He swallows thickly, and rephrases, “Why’d you make it so that they can talk to each other?”

Bucky shrugs. “Having each other to talk to calms them down, gives ‘em something to do. Plus, I think it makes the rooms feel nicer and less threatening, to have the sliding doors. Less claustrophobic.”

Steve’s eyes drag over to the wooden slats of the cell door. Leave it to Bucky to design an aesthetically pleasing dungeon. “Have you ever had somebody escape?”

“No.” Bucky’s eyes narrow. “Why? You making plans?”

Steve snorts and spears another bite of pancake onto his fork. “Come on Buck. No.” Steve’s a realist. He knows that if he escapes (when he scolds himself, when he escapes), it’ll have to be from upstairs. “I just wondered.”

Bucky watches him carefully for a long minute, like he’s sizing him up. “One girl,” he says quietly, coming down to sit next to Steve. He steals a bite of pancake, eating it thoughtfully. “One girl almost got out, once. She was one of those mutants, like you hear about on the news, you know? Only I didn’t know it.” He licks the syrup from his fingertips. “I mean it’s not like they’re common, especially now the government’s got that serum to fix ‘em. What are the chances, right?”

Steve’s eyebrows raise. “What, like she could walk through walls or something?”

“She definitely would’ve escaped if that were it.” Bucky scoffs. “Naw. Turns out she could freeze things. The roofies kept her from it at first I guess, but then they wore off and she got to work. First she burst the pipes, tried to flood herself out. I turned the water off, confused as fuck how it’d happened, cause it was the middle of summer. I left her in here while I tried to get a plumber in, tried to fix things. Meanwhile, she was down here freezing the bedroom door.” He points at said door. “Froze the wood brittle and busted through like it was made’a toothpicks.”

Steve’s gaze slides over to the slatted panels of the door. It’s like a chic, mid-century modern version of a prison cell’s barred doors. Steve’s chain doesn’t extend far enough to let him go over there and test it, but from the looks and sounds of things it’s solid hardwood, with an electronic locking mechanism anchored deep inside the concrete wall. Unless he’s got a superpower he’s yet to discover, there’s no way he’d be able to break the thing open.

The fact that the door is so transparent, slatted instead of solid, is almost like a taunt in his opinion. Freedom: so close yet so far away.

“But I got her under control before she could cause any real damage. Knocked her out, got a hold of the serum to fix her. Now I keep an emergency kit of the stuff in the OR.” Bucky sighs like it’s a disappointing memory. “Had to punish her of course.”

Steve blinks, disturbed by the thought of what it would be like to almost escape such a horrible fate, only to get dragged back again. He swallows thickly. “What’d you do? Cut off her legs?”

“Hands,” Bucky says. He holds up his own, wriggling his fingers in the air. “That’s how she did the freezing thing. With her hands. It was just a freak chance that she turned out to be like that. I’ve never had any other trouble with product.”

Steve glares at him for using that term again. “And what did she do, to deserve to get eaten?”

“You know I actually don’t remember.” Bucky says thoughtfully. “Something heinous, I’m sure. Usually involving kids.” He must see the distaste on Steve’s face because he leans closer to him, scowling. “Hey. I don’t ever take innocents.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that.”

“It’s true. I’d have to look at my records to know what her story was. They all start blending together after a while.”

“You keep records?” Steve scowls, suddenly not very hungry for his pancakes anymore. He pushes the tray back in Bucky’s general direction. “Done.”

Bucky frowns at his obvious discontent. “You sure do have a lot of questions all of a sudden,” he says. “You want to know about how my business runs?”

“Maybe.” Steve holds his nose up in the air, stubborn. “Maybe I’m curious.”

“Curious,” Bucky echoes, watching him closely. He’s suspicious, but there’s something underneath of that suspicion, something interested about Steve being interested. Steve has intrigued him.

“Hello?! Are you still there?! Hello!!! Guy?! Mister?! Are you still there?!”

Both Bucky and Steve sigh at the renewed yelling. Erica’s awake again. Steve watches as Bucky hefts himself to his feet and heads to the door, looking for all the world like he’s simply off to do a business presentation that he’s been dreading. “Wish me luck,” he says, sliding the door open and closed again.

Steve stares at where he left, feeling apathetic and really mixed up about it. “Good luck,” he mutters.

Bucky:

For some reason, Bucky just doesn’t get as much enjoyment out of it as usual. He doesn’t even fix himself a drink to watch her come to. By the time he’s downstairs the next morning, Steve’s already interacted with her. Of course Bucky knew that might happen. But he figures shielding Steve from the realities of his business won’t do either of them any favors. It is what it is.

Erica does the whole shiver-gasp-hyperventilate-scream-cry-scream-cry thing, which Bucky waits out with an admirable amount of patience. “Erica, Honey,” he says when he thinks he’s finally got a chance. “Are you ready to listen to me? I’d like to talk to you but you’re making it very hard.” She sniffles and refuses to look at him, curled up in the corner by her mattress.

What is it about women and corners? Bucky thinks. He can get to them just as easily there as anywhere else. You’d think they’d figure that out. With no response forthcoming from Erica, he takes a deep breath and tells her, “So like I said, it's what I do for work. People pay me a lot of money for it. And I understand it’s a lot to come to terms with. You’ll be thinking about escaping, and killing me, all that. But besides all that, I don’t want you to worry. You’re going to be fed well here—no meat, so we don’t even have to get into that. I give my girls pain meds whenever they need them, so you should never be in anything more than minimal discomfort.”

She peeks out from the messy splay of her brown hair at that, her eyes all puffy and red-rimmed. “... Minimal discomfort,” she breathes. “Are you fucking serious?”

Bucky hums, displeased. “It’s better than the alternative, Sweetheart.” He claps his hands and gets to his feet. “And hey, think about it: you’re religious, right? Catholic?”

Her eyes widen, shocked that he knows this. It’s cute, Bucky thinks, how none of them ever suspect the stalking. “How do you know that?” she whispers.

He shakes his head at her and he heads for the door. “I just brought it up because I was gonna suggest that, if you believe in God and heaven and hell and all that, you might try to look at your time here as a sort of penance. For what you did to your brother.” At the door he looks back at her and sees her shocked eyes and parted lips. “Yeah,” he simpers. “Just think: God might even let you into heaven once I’m through with you. You just have to be sorry enough.”

He walks out and slides the door shut. She doesn’t start crying and screaming again until he’s halfway to the stairs.

Steve:

After a week of Erica, Steve is running out of patience. According to Bucky—who fancies himself an amateur psychologist—she’s in the ‘Bargaining Stage’, whatever the hell that means. For Steve it means talking constantly and needling him for answers.

“Steve! Are you awake?!

“Steve! We have to think of a plan!!”

“Has he eaten you yet?!”

“Is James gay or straight?! We could try and seduce him! Bite his dick off!”

“Where are you from?! What do you do?! What’s your family like? Do you think they’re looking for us yet?!”

Steve barely glances at the lunch tray Bucky brings him that day. “Please,” he begs, tossing aside his copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance without saving his spot. “Please let me come upstairs for a little bit.” He’s not even thinking of escaping, is the sad thing. He just needs a break.

“She a talker?” Bucky asks wryly.

“She only stops when you come down,” Steve grits, feeling bad for feeling this way towards his fellow captive. But he can’t help it. She’s relentless, seems to think that if they really put their minds to it, the two of them can find a way to bust out of there. Steve tells her the story that Bucky told him of the mutant woman, tells her how Bucky wooed him and brought him there. For a day or two, he really does try. He talks.

But he doesn’t tell her about how Bucky isn’t planning on eating him. He doesn’t tell her how he’s apparently not on the menu like she is, how he's not going to die, how Bucky is convinced that he and Steve are going to be together. He tells himself he does this out of compassion for Erica, so that she can feel solidarity with him and not lose hope or whatever. But really, he just doesn’t want her to know about his special memories, the private things he knows about Bucky, the things Steve has with him that she never will. He wants to keep that to himself. He’s not sure why exactly, but he does.

He doesn’t tell her that Bucky goes by ‘Bucky’ and not James.

He also doesn’t want to lump himself in with her. Because as bad as Steve feels for her situation, Bucky still told him about what she did to her brother. And it really does help Steve from feeling too much sympathy for her. It’s funny, but he always kind of assumed it was all men who did those awful things. But Bucky shows him the paperwork. He shows him the proof. So when Erica whines and laughs and cries, high as a kite on her pain meds, upset about the fact that Bucky chopped her leg off, Steve doesn’t feel as bad or as horrified as he knows he should. He just keeps telling her to try to go to sleep. The more she sleeps, the less he has to deal with her.

By now she’s been tapered down a bit on the meds, so she’s back to being her usual chatty self. She thinks the two of them are bosom buddies. Come to find out, she’s a really vapid and annoying sort of person. She tells him about her dead-end job that she could give a rat's ass about, and Steve thinks that it just fucking figures she'd be a DMV employee, of all things.

“I need a break,” he repeats to Bucky with pleading eyes. “Please.” 

I want to spend time with someone I actually like. 

He has thoughts like that all the time, but of course he never says them. He doesn’t like Bucky, he just … gets along with him really well. Or at least he used to, before all this happened.

“Well …” Bucky hedges, looking like he’s really considering it.

Steve’s heart leaps. “I’ll be good,” he promises, talking quietly even though it’s really not necessary. He knows Erica can’t make out their words right now, just like Steve can’t hear Bucky talking to her at a normal decibel over in her cell. But the sound of the electronic locks at the top of the basement stairs is always clear as a bell, and both Steve and Erica know what it means when they hear that familiar ‘beep’, those familiar footsteps coming down. Steve is sure it strikes far more terror into her than it does him. Especially since the surgery happened.

Bucky took her leg. Steve asks him about it when he’s guided upstairs and into the bathroom. He’s being allowed to come up for a shower, but then it’s back downstairs. He’s disappointed at the limitation, but doesn’t complain. Baby steps. “So, did you eat her?” he asks, trying to use the conversation to distract himself from the way that Bucky watches him undress. There’s nothing Steve can do about it. He needs to shower at some point. He stinks.

“No,” Bucky tells him. “She’s just for Carlo, remember?”

“Mm.” Steve gets the water running and glances nervously back at Bucky. “I don’t want you to come in with me,” he says, trying to firm up his voice into something that Bucky will respect. “I just want to get clean, please.”

Bucky inclines his head as if to say, 'Go right ahead'.

Steve steps into the shower, and oh, it feels like heaven after not washing for so long. He checks once more to make sure that Bucky isn’t coming in after him, then closes his eyes and leans into the spray. Bucky’s voice sounds from the other side of the glass door. “There’s a safety razor in there. You can use it. But if you try to slit your wrists or something stupid like that, all you’re gonna achieve is a shit ton of discomfort.”

Steve looks around and spots the razor. He picks it up, blinking at it. He knows Bucky isn’t going to leave him alone in the bathroom long enough to do anything with it. Not that Steve’s plan involves self harm. It doesn’t. It involves Bucky harm. “Thanks,” he mutters, and proceeds to try and shave his face without the aid of a mirror. He’s pretty successful, only nicking himself once or twice along his jawline.

“Thank you,” he says again, figuring that a little more mild behavior can’t hurt his game. “For letting me shower up here.”

“You’re welcome, Honey. Your new room has a shower in it.” It’s finished, Bucky’s told him. Just needs a few ‘personal touches’, whatever that means. “And there’s a solid door. You won’t have to listen to all the crying and screaming anymore.”

Steve nods, a silent laugh bubbling up in his chest at the hilariousness of how awful those words are: ‘you won’t have to listen to the crying and screaming anymore’. Jesus Christ. How awful is it that Steve is laughing at that? Or that all he can think about is how soon he’ll be able to get a full night’s sleep, read a whole chapter, take a long shit, without interruption. He loses his temporary mirth and opens his eyes with his head ducked under the spray, the water sluicing off his hair and down his nose, his lips. What is he becoming? “Why did you tell me your name was James?” he asks quietly.

“Hm?” Bucky didn’t hear, and Steve repeats himself. Bucky steps closer to the shower door, the shadow of his body visible.

“If you weren’t planning on taking me or … or selling my meat, then why not introduce yourself as Bucky?” Steve looks over and sees the blurred form of him through the steam and the dimpled shower glass, his hand up against the door, palm flat. “Why’d you have to do that?” he asks, so quietly that he’s surprised he gets an answer at all.

“Habit,” Bucky says, and he sounds regretful. “I was stalking Eileen at the time, so I was in work mode. I wasn’t expecting to meet you. It’s … it’s hard to let anyone close.” His voice has gone quiet now, too. Soft and serious. Steve feels like he’s holding his breath as Bucky tells him through the glass, “You just get used to separating yourself into these … these different pieces. And you keep ‘em that way. Nobody sees all of you.”

“... That sounds lonely.”

“It is. But you form habits. I’m sorry.”

Steve looks back down at the shower floor, at his feet, his toes. He knows how lucky he is not to have lost anything yet. He’s still not sure he even trusts that Bucky won’t take something, eventually. “I didn’t tell her,” he says. “Your name. ‘Bucky’. I didn’t want her to know it.” He shakes his head at himself, mutters, “S’stupid.”

“No, it’s not.” Bucky opens the shower door and Steve jumps in place, jerking back a little. But Bucky’s still clothed and he doesn’t try to come into the shower. He just reaches in and takes Steve’s hand and gives it a squeeze. His shirt sleeve gets soaked in the process, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s looking right at Steve. “It’s not stupid at all, honey,” he says, eyes tender. “You’re not like them. Not at all.”

“What am I like?” Steve whispers.

Bucky smiles softly. “You’re Steve. You’re my boyfriend. My lover. Hopefully, one day, my partner.” Steve gapes at him and Bucky just gives his hand another squeeze, then retreats. The shower door separates them once again, and Steve is left to stand there, shaking under the water for a while as he has an existential crisis. He thinks about possible ways to murder Bucky for at least ten minutes straight. Unfortunately, pummeling him to death with the body wash doesn’t pass muster. The little cheap safety razor not much better. Bucky will notice if he tries to sneak it.

“You turned into a prune in there yet?” Bucky teases.

Steve shakes himself out of it and proceeds to wash his hair.

Bucky:

He plans out the perfect day for them, and by the time he’s given Erica her breakfast and is able to bring Steve up from the basement, he’s very excited. It’s just over seventy degrees outside that day and the sun is shining. It streams in through the kitchen’s skylights while the coffee machine percolates away. Bucky is in a fantastic mood.

He gives Steve a big good morning kiss, thumbing over his smooth-shaven jaw. The little cuts from yesterday are all gone, and he resolves to have a safety mirror installed in Steve's new bathroom downstairs. "Sleep any better?" he asks. Steve mumbles something vaguely affirmative and Bucky beams, because in only a few days he's planning on surprising Steve with his new room. “So, I’ve got the perfect day planned for us,” he proclaims as he holds the barstool out for Steve. Steve climbs up and Bucky secures his left cuff to the link that’s embedded in the quartz countertop. He’s installed them in all sorts of handy locations upstairs, since Steve��s been there.

Because baby steps.

He pushes Steve’s stool back in and goes over to start whipping up their breakfast. “French omelets,” he proclaims proudly. “Toast, bacon, other-bacon, and fresh squeezed orange juice.” Steve, of course, sneers at the ‘other-bacon’. Bucky ignores it. “What do you like in your omelets?” he asks him cheerfully.

“Onions, cheese, mushrooms, spinach,” Steve lists off, carefully eyeing all the things that Bucky pulls from the fridge. “I’d say ham if you had it, but …”

“I’ve got it.” Bucky produces a ham steak, still in its grocery store packaging, and that seems to satisfy Steve. He starts chopping up different things, humming as he goes along.

“Why’re you so chipper?” Steve asks, reaching for his glass of juice.

“You have to ask?” Bucky grins across the counter at him, but the grin fades a little as he takes in Steve’s expression. Bucky puts down his knife and rounds the island, coming up beside Steve and cupping his jaw. “Hey,” he says tenderly. “I’m happy, because I’ve got my fella up here with me. I get to spend the day with you.” He kisses him lightly. “You have any idea how much I’ve missed that?” Steve shivers under his hands, but at least he doesn’t pull away. Bucky hums knowingly and pecks another kiss to his mouth before going back to the cutting board. “So since you said you were curious, I thought I’d show you around the property today.” He peeks up at Steve, sees him sitting there observantly. “Show you how things run. If you want.”

Bucky knows it’s risky, that it might provoke a negative reaction from Steve. Maybe even cause a setback of sorts. But in the long run he thinks it’s a good move. The more open and honest he can be with Steve, the more Steve can come to terms with everything. Because after all, that’s the dream, isn’t it? Full, true intimacy. No games or projections, no thin, exhausting veneer of who he knows he’s supposed to be for that specific person. Just him and someone who knows all of him, and accepts him, and stays.

Bucky grabs a handful of mushrooms and gives them a quick chop. He starts cracking eggs. “You can ask me questions, you know,” he says coaxingly, checking on Steve’s expression. “If you want. I’ll answer honestly.”

Steve frowns thoughtfully. “Mmm, I dunno.” He sits there for another few moments, and Bucky starts to think that he won’t take him up on the offer, but then, “Was the China story true? About the village?”

Bucky pauses. Steve looks genuinely curious, so he tells him, “Yeah. Yeah it was. Only, I knew what I was being served. I’d picked up the barest bit of Mandarin while I was there, and I heard them whispering.”

“And you ate it anyway?”

He nods, watching Steve carefully. “And I ate it anyway.” Steve looks back down. He doesn’t look happy with that answer, but he doesn’t look hateful or disgusted either, which makes Bucky’s heart lift hopefully.

“When did you start doing it. On your own?”

He takes a deep breath, wary of upsetting Steve but knowing that this is something they have to get past. “I was in med school, still.”

“Cadavers?”

He laughs. “You have thought this out.” When Steve just shrugs and sips his orange juice, Bucky clarifies, “Cadavers are embalmed. You can’t eat them. But, sometimes we’d get a severed limb in the ER. You know, something that couldn’t be reattached.” He tips his head permissively as he swirls the eggs to a fine scramble. “... and, sometimes I was the one in charge of disposing of the pieces.”

“Ew.”

He smirks and flicks the burner on. Steve’s ‘Ews’ don’t have as much vitriol to them as they used to. It gives Bucky hope. “Yeah. So I had a few more opportunities to try it. And of course I researched it. Found out it wasn’t harmful.”

“Except for the brains,” Steve supplies dully, and Bucky points the spatula at him with a grin.

“Hey! You’re learning!” He pours the eggs into the pan and they sizzle and pop against the heated Teflon. He sprinkles in the ingredients for Steve’s omelet, stuffs a pinch of shredded cheese in his mouth, and chews. “Yeah, so, I knew this guy in tech, right? And he had access to some stuff. Dark web stuff. That’s where I found an entire community of people who do this. Come to find out, it’s been a thing since like, forever, and then ... I don’t know,” he shrugs emphatically and flips the edge of the omelet inwards. “There’s like this whole subculture that’s formed around it. People started showing interest in me when they found out I was a surgeon. I made friends, figured out that I could get rich off it—hell of a lot richer than doing butt lifts and boob jobs—and I just … started slow. Treated as a hobby, before I went professional with it.” Steve snorts, but it’s not mean, and it makes Bucky grin in turn. He finishes up Steve’s omelet and slides it out of the pan, points to one of the two plates of cooling bacon that are resting on paper towels. “That’s the vegetarian pile, if you couldn’t tell.”

They look almost identical. But Bucky has only ever lied to Steve once, and this isn’t it. Steve only hesitates with his fingers over the bacon for a second, then he’s taking two strips for himself. Bucky bites his lip and wonders if Steve would even try a bite of the other bacon …

“What’s ‘slow’?” Steve asks, crunching through his slice of bacon.

Bucky watches it covetously. Seeing Steve put that much trust in him is such a huge thrill. “What?” he asks distractedly.

“You said you started ‘slow’.”

“Oh.” He tears his eyes away from Steve’s grease-smeared lips. “Um, well I didn’t have this place.” He gestures around the kitchen. “Just my condo in the city back then, so I had to go one at a time. And it was wasteful, because I had to harvest the whole body all at once. Nobody pays the same rates for frozen meat. They want fresh.” He frowns at the memory, pouring more eggs into the pan. “Back then I’d rent a place, a cabin or something. Come upstate for a long weekend. I'd do the work, clean up, freeze whatever wasn’t bought right off the bat. Just had to learn my way around it, find a process that worked for me.” He peeks up at Steve to check on him, but the guy is very studiously consuming his omelet. “I was doing three, maybe four girls a year? Eh, I dunno. Something like that.”

Steve shakes his head. “‘Doing’. Christ.”

“You know what I mean.” Bucky plates his own food and pulls out the stool next to Steve’s. “The dark web has a lot more than cannibals on it, Honey. You can find a lot of good targets. Pedos and stuff.” Steve finally looks up at him and Bucky gives him a nod, satisfied. “Yeah, exactly. For a while I really tried to push the man-meat on clients, just because they were so much easier to track down, and there were so many of them, with their kiddie porn and shit. But the clients wanted women.”

“Gotta please the customer,” Steve mumbles. “So you were a mobile serial killer, and now you’re a stationary one.”

“Don’t call me that,” Bucky says, a little sharper than he intends to. That gets him another solid moment of eye contact with Steve. “I’m not a serial killer. They kill for psychological reasons. They need the thrill. I don’t. I’m just running a business.”

“Sure.”

“You know I wouldn’t even kill them if it was possible. I’d take a leg and set them loose, if I could.” Bucky grabs a piece of ‘other-bacon’ and crunches down on it. “I’m a butcher, but I do it humanely. You should see the fucks these people were buying from before. Before I came on the scene.”

Steve looks at him with wide eyes, says, “Wha?” around a mouthful of egg. Bucky hums darkly.

“Yeah. I chatted with a few online. And I’ve met one in person. Gotta research the competition when you’re setting up a business plan, after all.” He sneers as he remembers the losers he’d found. “They were serial killers. Rapists, sadists. Did all kinds of horrible shit to their victims. Then if there was anything salvageable, that’s what they hocked.” Bucky sees the horror and disgust in Steve’s eyes again and he nods. “It was easy to drive them out of business. All that fear and stress? It's not good for the meat. My product tastes better."

"Product," Steve repeats dully.

"Right. So who would pay for scraps when they could get a gourmet meal with all the fixings instead?”

“Oh,” Steve says, and he pokes at his omelet instead of eating it. “Yeah.”

Bucky swipes another piece of other-bacon. “It wasn’t just not having the house. I also worked full time at a private practice. But I gave that up after the first five years. Had the house built, moved to full time. Now I can handle more like twelve, fifteen girls a year if I rotate consistently. Last year I was a workaholic and did over twenty. I made bank, but it was nuts. I’m never doing that again.”

Steve goes still next to him and Bucky senses the tension. He looks over. “What?”

Steve scoffs a little and shakes his head. “Nothing, I’m just stupid is all. I actually thought you had a job. The practice you talked about. I still thought it was real.” He stabs another bite of his omelet up and shoves it in his mouth. “You don’t practice medicine.”

For some reason, that wounds Bucky’s pride. He looks back down at his plate, hurt. “Yeah, not really,” he murmurs. Just what he does with the girls, but he supposes that doesn’t really count. He does miss it sometimes. Just the social aspects of it mostly. It’s very isolating, what he does alone. He sighs and eats his food.

After Breakfast, he gives Steve time to get dressed for a walk. He smiles when Steve emerges from his room in a new outfit. “That’s one you haven’t worn yet.”

Steve shrugs. “I was saving it.”

Bucky bites his tongue to keep from saying anything, privately tickled that Steve was saving a date outfit. Mostly, Steve’s been wearing the men’s extra small sweatpants and generic tee shirts that Bucky supplies him with, but today he’s chosen to wear something of his own. It’s just an Aerosmith tee shirt with a jean button up thrown over it, but Steve looks good no matter what he wears. At least in Bucky’s opinion. “Here.” he hands over Steve’s boots. They lace up, so Bucky hasn’t allowed him to keep them in his room. “You need a belt?”

“I’m good," Steve murmurs.

Bucky grins and claps his hands together. “Okay then. On with the tour!”

They walk the edge of the property. It’s the trail that Bucky jogs most mornings, and he tells Steve that. “This is big,” is what Steve has to say. “You have a lot of land.”

Bucky puts a hand on his shoulder and pulls him in for a hug. “Hey,” he says softly, speaking into Steve’s hair. “I know you’re thinking about ways to run away right now.”

Steve tenses in his arms, but he doesn’t deny it. Bucky kisses the top of his head. “It’ll get better,” he promises. “It will. Just gotta give it time.”

Steve avoids looking at him after that. They finish their loop of the property at the barn. Bucky decides not to take Steve inside, but he explains what he does there. Steve seems to take it pretty well, in Bucky's opinion.

“So once they’re dead, you chop ‘em up in there.”

Bucky inhales deeply through his nose and lets it out in a controlled sigh. “‘Chop’ isn’t the word I would use. I’m a trained surgeon, Honey. I treat their bodies with respect.”

“I think they’d disagree.”

“I harvest almost everything in the OR. Then, yes, the torso or other large remaining cuts get sectioned in here.”

Steve doesn’t seem to like hearing the word ‘Torso’, Bucky notices, and he makes a mental note not to use it around him. “There’s a dumbwaiter here too,” he tells him. “It leads to a separate freezer, which connects to the basement via another hallway.” Bucky can see the cogs turning in Steve’s head as he takes this information in. Steve is planning out every possible escape route he might be able to utilize, in the near future.

Bucky isn’t worried. Steve will come around. He just has to get them through that ‘near future’ without incident.

With the tour concluded, they return to the house and he locks Steve’s wrist at a spot by the couch. There’s a cord so that he’s got enough slack to move around the general area. Bucky gives him the remote control and Steve holds it in his hands like it’s a treasured object. “I can …” he seems to falter, which is adorable to Bucky. “I can watch whatever I want?” he asks meekly.

Bucky smiles. “Yeah, Honey. Go ahead. I’ll be working in the kitchen.”

Steve:

By the time it’s late morning, Steve’s already mentally exhausted.

Bucky’s ‘tour’ hadn’t been graphic or anything. Hell, mostly they’d just walked around the grassy path that runs along the tree line of the surrounding forest. But Bucky had detailed his harvesting process, his mail order service, his history with the whole, morbid affair.

And then there’d been the butchery barn.

That’s what Steve’s calling it in his head, since Bucky’s so god awful insistent that he’s a butcher and not a serial killer. "Bucky the Butcher." It even sounds like the perfect name for a prolific serial killer. Steve would laugh at him about it, but he’s pretty sure that would make Bucky get mad and stick him back in his cell, so he doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even argue. He just nods along to the information Bucky gives him, memorizing the parts that might one day help him out of this hellhole.

It’s kind of hard to remember it’s a hellhole, though, when he’s being treated so nicely. Especially when it’s by the man who was his lover before, the man whom Steve had trusted and liked (a lot. What does that say about him?), the man with whom he’d formed an emotional bond so quickly. Steve hates it, but it’s still there, coloring their every interaction.

The basement isn’t so bad, he thinks. At least when he’s down there, he remembers what he is: a prisoner. Not a boyfriend and certainly not the ‘partner’ that Bucky had described wanting. Steve knows though, he knows his best chance at survival lies in convincing Bucky that he can be the absolute best ‘partner’ ever. Steve thinks he can pretend well enough, maybe even for long enough.

He’s just worried about how much of himself he’s going to lose along the way.

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[kyuusberry]

can i can i can i request a fluff please? 🥹 a seeeeeuuuulgiiii fluff?

bear — kang seulgi

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗻𝗼𝗻𝗲

𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆: 𝗻/𝗮

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 𝟳𝟴𝟮

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗳 𝗮𝘀𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀.. 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗼 𝗿𝘂𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗺𝗼 😓 𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗼 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁!! 𝗶 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝗮𝗱 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸

© 𝗸𝘆𝘂𝘂𝘀𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰. 𝗻𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁𝘀. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴.

“love, pleaseeeee!” you pleaded, holding onto her shirt. “it’s soooooo cute!” seulgi rolled her eyes, hiding her smile.

“no, y/n. i have no money. i gotta save it on groceries and stuff for the members since it’s my week to buy it.” you frowned, letting go of her shirt.

“whatever.” seulgi’s neutral face turned into a frown as well when she heard your reaction. “baby, i’m sorry. really. i’ll make it up to you soon, i swear.”

“swear?” you raised an eyebrow. “swear.” she replied, a smile on her face. “let’s go then!!”

“where to? my treat — nothing too expensive. i still need to have money for rent and food..” seulgi sighed. “here!” you led her to a blind box figurine place, filled with things like smiski and sanrio.

“you can pick two. since they’re small.” you got distracted very easily, mostly just looking around and telling seulgi how cute they all were and how you couldn’t choose. not that she was complaining of course, she enjoyed seeing you happy.

in the end you ended up picking two of the smiski bed series. “they’re so cute! seulgi, look!! we can match! since they’re both from the same series.” your cheeks were slightly red and seulgi found it adorable. “wanna open them here or somewhere else?”

“let’s open it here.” your box had the smiski sleeping figure and seulgi had the fussing one. “they’re so cute. i can’t.” seulgi took you home and you didn’t want her to leave, but she had to go grocery shopping for the dorm — which was half true. she ended up going back to the mall and bought the bear stuffed animal you wanted.

“thank you so much.” seulgi smiled, the bear in a cute little bag and sealed nicely. she put it next to her in the passenger seat, a replacement for you at the moment and headed to the grocery store.

“hey, seul.” irene smiled, helping seulgi carry the groceries from the front door. “hi unnie.” irene’s gaze instantly noticed the small white bag on the floor. “what’s that?”

“a gift for y/n.” irene nodded. “what is it?” she asked, setting the bags on the kitchen counter. she began putting away everything, seulgi helping her. “just a stuffed animal she wanted.”

irene laughed, “you buy her everything she wants. she’s so spoiled. not that i’m complaining, but she is. even though you give her a ton of gifts, you better be treating her right. gifts are something, but the way you treat someone matters even more.”

“i know, unnie. i am. she deserves the world and i’m giving her the best i can.” she sighed. irene smiled, “you’re doing great, seulgi. don’t worry.”

“ugh, is there food yet?? we’re starving.” yeri groaned, walking out of her room with joy following behind. “there will be soon. where’s wendy?” irene looked up.

“bathroom.” joy was too busy on her phone texting someone. “hey! park sooyoung, who are you texting!” yeri tried taking away her phone to see. “no one!”

-

“who is it?” you asked, looking through the small hole in your door. you saw it was seulgi and immediately opened it, hugging her within seconds. “can i come in?”

“oh yeah! sorry.” you laughed awkwardly, standing out of the way so she could come in. you noticed she walked sideways so you couldn’t see her back. “hey, kang seulgi. what are you hiding huh?”

“surprise!!” she held out the bag and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. your eyes went wide, “oh my gosh, seulgi, thank you! you didn’t have to get me anything you know.. now i feel bad. and it’s not any special occasion.” your arms were around her neck, a smile across your face.

“let’s go to the living room to open it.”

-

“no way seulgi. seriously?? after you said no?” you looked at her with an “are you kidding?” face. you weren’t complaining.. okay maybe a little, but it was cute so you weren’t gonna. too much. “if you have no money it’s okay. i don’t mind. all i need is you.”

“i know, i know. but i felt a little bad.”

“seulgi!” you hit her arm, the brown bear stuffie in your lap. “it’s cute, so i think you should be happy.” she huffed.

“still, don’t spend your money on me all of the time! materials don’t matter much to me. it’s you that matters. you are my girlfriend after all. not my necklaces or food or this bear you got me.”

“fine, fine. i’ll refrain for a while.” seulgi put both of her hands up. “thank you, love.” you smiled, “i love you. i hope you know that.”

“i do.”

[mistress-of-malevolence]

For this year's Mer-may (which I definitely didn't almost forget about) I present Angler Fish N & Octopus Uzi~ just the sketches though.

◀◁Possible AU details below? ▷▶ Warning: Long.

Ok, so I've never really made an AU before. Still, While I was designing these I was trying to figure out how the sea/ocean creatures would work good not just with their respective species (worker, disassembly) and abilities but also how I could integrate their pre-existing designs so that they would look nice and make sense.

First, I decided I didn't want them to be robotic for this since I like working with organic creatures a bit more. Having flesh eliminates most movement restrictions when posing since the body material is malleable. while the idea of robot mermaids is cool, I didn't feel like drawing a bunch of joints and stuff like that. Second, If they were organic then I needed to figure out why they were fighting if it wasn't for a huge human plot to destroy rouge AI. And finally, how was I going to incorporate their powers like absolute solver and other such stuff without necessarily using technology. Having all these things in the back of my head while I was drawing led to the following, so without further ado, here's that ↓. This gonna be long, I can already feel it...

_______

◇Story stuff.

A long time ago, merpeople ruled the water in peace. Humans kept to the land and the only thing they had to worry about were the sirens: Natural predators to the merpeople.

In the eyes of the merfolk, sirens were dangerous. Mindless, bloodthirsty monsters that couldn't be reasoned with. fortunately, their naturally heightened senses left them sensitive to sunlight. This kept them mostly contained to deeper, darker waters than the merpeople usually inhabited.

During the day it was safe to hunt, play and generally flourish as a species and at night they would hide in sea caves and other small spaces that a siren would have trouble fitting into.

That's how it was for many peaceful years. Occasionally one or two would die a victim to the monsters of the deep, but that was just nature.

But slowly as time moved forward and Humanity continued to develop, the merpeople were driven to deeper waters to escape pollution and being hunted.

Uzi's mother, Nori began having visions of a terrible fate that awaited her kind if things continued as they were and after weeks of pleading with her people and her husband to heed the warnings, she went to the sirens alone. for what reason? No one really knows. It's a mystery that only she knew the answer to.

After getting stung by the sirens paralyzing venom, her husband Khan made the heartbreaking decision to put Nori out of her misery before the sirens could do any worse, leaving him to raise their infant daughter Uzi by himself.

The incident resulted in a lot of deaths and many of the families of those that had passed blamed Nori. Saying that she was a mad woman and rumouring that she was a witch who had been meddling in dark magic that caused her to lose her mind and wander towards her death.

Seventeen years later, Uzi had grown up to be an unstable and particularly angsty teenager with a strained relationship with her colony and her father. Uzi believed that the ever-looming threat of the sirens was not something to hide from, but to confront head-on. Such notions labelled her as her mother's daughter in the worst ways possible: Crazy, an incident waiting to happen, most likely going to get eaten by a siren for reasons they will never understand.

Khan had kept the colony safe since Nori's death by having everyone hide away in a cavern big enough to house them but with an entrance so well hidden that everyone believed that the sirens would never find a way in.

Inevitably, Uzi grew tired of cowering and after fashioning the first semi-modern weapon her people had seen out of sea trash and other things humans had chosen to toss into their waters, she snuck out to confront the enemy.

The siren's lair was decorated rather grimly, with the nest seemingly fashioned out of the bones of long-dead mermaids, skulls stacked up together to make the walls of the lair. Inside the dimly lit den was a single male siren who was in the middle of feasting on a mummified corpse which looked to have been drained of all its blood.

As soon as he noticed her, he rushed toward her with killing intent. Uzi's fight or flight kicked in as she brandished her weapon, but it failed to deter the monster in his bloodthirsty craze. He grabbed her by the shoulders, stinging her with the paralyzing toxin in his Claws. Uzi barely managed to break free from his grip by slashing his face with her weapon, sending him reeling back from shock.

Uzi immediately felt her limbs growing heavier but ignored it in favour of taking the opportunity to take the Siren by surprise. While he was distracted she threw her weapon to the ceiling causing an avalanche of skulls to come crashing down on top of him. Uzi had only a moment to breathe, thinking her enemy was buried and dead before a clawed hand burst through the top of the pile like a zombie about to dig itself out of the grave.

Panic surged through her and with as much strength she could muster she pushed away the darkening of her vision and forced the few tentacles that didn't refuse to move to propel her forward with enough force to hopefully finish the job.

The siren's head burst through the pile of death with a groan of pain, but before he could do anything else, he was knocked unconscious as rock made contact with his already aching head.

All was silent for a moment, Uzi fighting for consciousness as her vision continued to darken, whether she was just crashing from the adrenaline or if the toxin was shutting her brain down she wasn't sure. but then the monster woke up, a confused look on his face as he pulled himself out of the skeletons. he blinked and turned his attention to the little creature before him.

"Did you just hit me with that rock?"

"Holy crap it talks."

_______

◈Extra details.

-The sirens and Humans have a deal with each other that if the humans drive the Mer-people deeper into siren territory the sirens will kill the species off in exchange for making them more powerful.

-Apparently, the humans want them dead because they are considered a threat, and can't be reasoned with.

-this is a giant lie on the human part, as they have made no attempt to talk with the merpeople and plan to kill all the sirens after the mermaids are dead.

-Rather than absolute solver being a program I'm changing it to being some form of magic that the humans discovered mermaids had after analyzing corpses that had washed ashore.

-In order to gain this power plan on reverse engineering it from the merpeople's remains while eliminating the prospective threat to humanity at the same time.

-The humans claim that they will make the sirens more powerful by implementing them with tech that will supposedly allow them to live and hunt during the day.

-This tech would actually be something of a remote detonator that once activated would be used to kill all the sirens off at once.

-I haven't decided if all sirens are angler fish, but probably not because that would be boring for me to design.

-Not all merpeople are Octopi though, that's for sure.

-I'd say that since merpeople can be the same species without necessarily being based around the same sea creature, the babies would simply take after one parent entirely.

-This would make sense in this as to why Uzi looks like the spitting image of her mom.

-While trying to figure out Absolute Solver I was really channelling Ursula for Uzi with the skull and the octopus stuff and it all just kinda resulted in sea-witch.

-Both mermaids and Sirens got bioluminescence as a default so that we don't gotta stifle that glow they got in canon.

-Since it wouldn't make sense for fish to have screens and stuff of their faces and bodies, those dark areas where the face-screen would be are just body markings now.

-Uzi's hat is now a sea anemone that just kinda chills on top of her head, kinda like how they do with crabs in real life.

________

I know this was really fucking long but if you made it to the end, thank you very much for reading❤️

Im still workshopping this and I don't even know if anyone has already done something like this. I wouldn't be too surprised if they had since it's May and Mermaids are pretty popular... idk, if I make a fic I'll let you know.

[spacexseven]

ALSO since you are a lover of The Chuuya ill do some pathetic subordinate au chuuya stuff too! I'll try to make this one shorter since the dazai one is such a monster.

I think hed kinda do the opposite thing that dazai does- not that he doesnt kiss your ass a LITTLE, he’ll definitely send a bunch of gifts to your house and rush to complete some of your work for you and write you love poems (that he never sends, too embarrassed. probably for the best. his prose tends to go from Suprisingly Sweet to Incredibly Creepy really fast.), but unlike dazai hes pretty attached to his reputation and thus doesn't wanna burn it away by sobbing for you until you finally cave and come hold him, as much as he might like to. to keep up his street cred while still getting you to trust him, he'll have to be more subtle. (he's not subtle at all everyone knows)

I could see his MO being to just kinda. put himself in your space as much as possible. surely, if he just hangs around you and doesnt insult you or anything like that you'll eventually realize hes not that bad? he'll even come and help you with your work, see! nice guy, really! please forget all the shit he used to say to you and that time he choke slammed you into a wall he won't do it again!

he finds himself really wanting to be useful to you. he was a pretty shitty superior, he'll admit that, but there has to be a way to make it up to you! if there's something you want, he'll get it for you. a task that needs doing, he'll complete it. a nuisance that needs to be dealt with, hes your guy. very easy for him to go to the traditional Ill Kill For You yan route here, anyone whose bad to you will know his WRATH. abusive relative? not anymore! cheating ex? bye bye! some fuck harassing you? gone! anyone who hurts his angel has to die, hes put you through enough already as it is.

- 🩹

i love your wonderful brain my friend :>

cw: yandere themes, stalking, implied breaking in + murder

compared to dazai, chuuya's hit by guilt faster, and harder. it takes a great toll on him, but he abhors the idea of anyone knowing that he was feeling broken-hearted and remorseful over some lower-ranking member. so unlike dazai's public (and embarrassing) pleads for forgiveness and lovesickness, chuuya's far more...silent about it. sure, he makes sure you're receiving his gifts, lightens your workload, and watches out for you, even deciding to avenge you in many instances. he's aware of and has long accepted the fact that he will never be recognized for his efforts, never be thanked for his help and he definitely isn't going to win your favor with anything he does, but how can he leave you alone?

of course, everyone else knows. there's whispers amongst the members of black lizard that executive chuuya nakahara personally takes care of anyone who dares utter a single negative word about you, koyou has to deal with chuuya's numerous requests for advice, and even dazai knows that chuuya's become a lovesick little puppy (naturally, he fails to notice the irony).

it's a regular sight now, to see chuuya bent over and scribbling on a piece of paper, before groaning and ripping it to shreds. anyone who manages to put together the strips is able to see what looks to be multiple lines of poetry, quite eloquently written if not for the extreme emotions being expressed in them.

while he avoids meeting with you directly, chuuya can't help but linger. he waits around the corner from your home, hoping to catch a glimpse of you walking by. he stands by the pavement outside the bar you frequent, cigarette in hand, figuring out a way to bump into you and make it look accidental, hopes you'll stop if only to stare for a moment. at least he's not all in your face and annoying you to no end like someone is, and that should score him a few points, right?

and yes, he yearns to be of some use for you, wants to help you in any way possible so that you don't see him as a nuisance and throw him aside forever. and if helping you meant staying behind you and cleaning up, if helping meant exacting revenge in your name, or even if it meant staying out of your way, he'll do it without complaint.

[musicloverxoxo7]

All night long – featuring Namjoon

Namjoon   x   fem!reader

Summary: All night long, that’s what Namjoon promises. How long can you last?

Themes/warnings: smut with a bit of plot, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, nipple play, vibrator, multiple orgasms, bit of fluff, established relationship

Wordcount: ca. 1.1k

Disclaimer: 18+, DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE UNDER 18

I do not own BTS. They merely inspire me. None of this is related to their persons in real life.

“You really meant all night long?”

You squeeze your eyes shut as the second toe-curling orgasm hits you. You had the first one from Namjoon toying with your nipples. The second one from him fingering your clit. All while watching TV.

“All night long, honey”, he whispers into your ear with his low voice. “Or until you fall asleep.”

“Mh, sounds good.”

Namjoon gets up.

“Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

Relaxed and a little tired you look at the movie playing on the TV. You’ve missed a few bits here and there, but the plot is quite easy to follow. Namjoon comes back with a bottle of lube and your vibrator. He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“You want to torture me with pleasure tonight?”

“For as long as you want to take it, honey.”

His eyes melt like chocolate as he looks down at you. Namjoon sits down next to you and puts the stuff on his other side. He turns to you and cups your cheek. You look at him.

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

“Can I please use the vibrator on you?”

You know how much he likes to watch you squirm under it. It’s a toy you usually only use when he’s gone.

“Okay. I’ll trade my pants for your shirt.”

He doesn’t need telling twice. Before you’ve shimmied out of your sweatpants, Namjoon is already sitting back on the couch, shirtless.

Once you’ve gotten rid of the pants you run your hand down his honey-colored chest. You love touching him. Namjoon hums. You can feel the vibrations.

“Alright, I’m ready.”

You drop your hand to his thigh and squeeze a little. Namjoon guides the vibrator to your clit and turns it on on the lowest setting. It jumps to life and within seconds your head drops back.

After the two previous orgasms you already are sensitive. It won’t take much to send you over the edge again.

You open one eye and look at Namjoon. He has turned so his knees face towards you. With one hand he holds the vibrator. The other strokes the erection very visible through his grey sweatpants.

His mouth has dropped open a little, spilling out guttural moans. His eyes are still on you.

A wave of pleasure rolls over you as he hits your clit at a particularly good angle. With your eyes closed again, you grip his thigh tightly. Whines comes out of your mouth, and you can’t control them.

“Like that, baby. Keep it like that.”

Namjoon, smart as he is, has figured out that once he hits a nice spot, he just has to keep at it.

“Higher level?”

“Yeah, turn it up one.”

He does. Your stomach is clenching from the waves the vibrator sends through you. You want to sob and claw at something. Instead, you squeeze Namjoon’s thigh more tightly. He sucks in a breath.

You open your eyes again. He has his dick out now, stroking slowly. Precum is dribbling down his head. It looks like he’s throbbing.

Namjoon withdraws the vibrator. You look at him, pleading.

“Focus, honey.”

You close your eyes again. After a few more seconds, the vibrations slowly return. Until the vibrator comes down fully on your clit and you can barely handle it anymore. You press your hips forward, rocking into the toy.

Your head drops further back, and your mouth opens in a silent “o” as you come undone. Namjoon notices the usual signs and lets you ride it out before turning off the vibrator. He tosses it to the side.

“That is so hot. Every time.”

Leaden tiredness comes over you. Three orgasms are a lot.

“I don’t know if I can last much longer, definitely not all night. But”, you look at his dick, which he’s still stroking slowly.

“But you want a little more?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Get into whichever position you want.”

While Namjoon applies lube, you lie down in front of him, one leg up on the sofa’s backrest, the other on the floor.

Namjoon, seeing how wet you are from the orgasms, licks his lips. Butterflies fly through your stomach.

He lowers himself over you and guides himself to your entrance.

“You are beautiful.”

The way he smiles down at you, as if you were the only person in the world, makes you feel warm around the heart. Your cheeks color.

Namjoon barks a little hyena laugh, slowly pushing into you.

“You blush from being called pretty, but I could do the naughtiest things with you, and you never would.”

“Perspective.”

He chuckles.

You sigh once you feel he’s fully in.

“After all of this I won’t last long.”

“That’s okay. I just wanted to feel you in me.”

Namjoon’s eyes get that glazed over look he has every time he’s super turned on. He starts moving slowly and deliberately.

“When you say things like that…”

“You like it.”

“Very.”

Namjoon’s lips seek yours for a kiss. It’s gentle, just like his movements. You angle your hips a little and moan into the kiss when he hits a particularly nice spot. He keeps hitting that spot, going a little harder.

In need for air, you break the kiss and gasp. Above you, Namjoon is panting. He bites his lower lip as he keeps thrusting. Beads of sweat run down his forehead, jaw and sculpted chest.

“I… I…”

You don’t get out a full sentence before another orgasm has you clawing at Namjoon’s back, your eyes rolling back in your head.

Namjoon lets out a relieved sigh and, after a few more thrusts, lets go. He pulses in you while you keep squeezing around him.

Namjoon collapses on you. Your hand comes up to stroke his hair.

“I’m not sure I can go all night either. I already feel tired”, he mumbles into your neck.

“I’m fine with that. I’ll probably fall asleep within the next ten minutes anyways.”

“Maybe we’ll be ready for a round two after the movie.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

As you listen to Namjoon’s slow, steady breathing next to your ear, you feel drowsy. It takes less than five minutes for you to fall asleep.

An hour later, as Namjoon carries you to bed after the movie, you’ll end up waking up and then riding him until you both see stars. But that is a story for another time.

© musicloverxoxo7, 2022

Please do not copy, translate, or repost my work. Doing so will make you legally liable for stealing intellectual property.

[harlowtales]

Jack has nightmares and trouble sleeping and goes to his personal assistant for comfort and to tell her how he feels.

18+ sweet couples❤️

“Stay tonight. I promise no funny stuff.” Jack said. It had been a late night of traveling and you and Jack and his crew were finally back in Kentucky. On the road something happened where Jack apologized for not being completely professional and you had got past it so this offer to stay over had you suspicious. At the risk of losing your job you declined.

“Jack I would love to but given the situation it would be…” You started to say

“Inappropriate? Not professional” He mocked and finished your sentence

“Exactly” You affirmed “I’m going to get Neelam to take me home. Goodnight Jack.”

“Goodnight y/n.” Jack said sullenly as he saw you out.

You had trouble settling in and stayed up to binge on Netflix when you heard a soft knock on the door. You opened the door to find Jack standing there in his bonnet and pyjamas.

“Jack? What on earth are you doing here?” You said surprised and yawning “Are you ok?”

“Uh no.” He said wringing his hands “Can I come in?”

“Of course” You said letting him walk past into your tiny apartment.

“Cute place.” He said looking around

“Thanks. It’s cozy.” You said “Are you ok Jack?” You said concerned

“I had a nightmare…again…well I have them every night but this one really shook me up and I went for a drive and wound up here.” He explained

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked

“No.” He said shortly

“Ok…well do you want to watch a movie?” You asked trying to figure out how to help him.

“Can I sleep with you? Not like that! I mean just like for comfort not anything like that.” He asked

“Ummmm I don’t know Jack.” You said unsure “My couch is available if you like.”

“Y/n please forgive me coming onto you.” Jack pleaded “I thought you were feeling me. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” Jack apologized

“It’s fine. I wish it were different honestly.” You said kindly “But I need this job and Neelam trusts me.”

“I know…you’re right. I’m sorry.” Jack said making himself comfortable on your couch

“Goodnight Jack sleep well.” You said as you headed to your room.

Jack tossed and turned. He had been having a terrible nightmare for weeks on end that he didn’t want to talk about. He didn’t realize he had fallen asleep and woke up to the smell of bacon sizzling. “Did you sleep well?” You asked smiling and your hair was in a messy ponytail and still in your pyjamas. It took everything for Jack not to want to kiss you again.

“Um yeah I did thanks.” He said taking off his bonnet and shaking out his curls. You tried not to notice.

“Please sit.” You said motioning for him to have a seat at your little table. You dished out a nice helping of bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs and pancakes.

“Holy fuck y/n. You went all out. That’s so sweet.” Jack said. He began to wolf it down. He often was so busy he forgot to eat. “Oh my fucking god.” Jack said with his mouth full. “What the fuck do you put in your fucking pancakes??”

“Just some nutmeg and cinnamon, ooh and vanilla. You like them?” You gushed. It was a treat watching Jack really eat for once.

“Like them???” Jack said his eyes wide “Urb has to have these!! I’mma rub this right in his face.”

“Ok since you’re here I would like to go over the tour schedule coming up.” You said getting right to business and adjusting your glasses which wasn’t making anything easy for Jack.

“Can you put that laptop away?” Jack said furrowing his brow

“Ok….Jackman what’s going on with you?” You asked. He was acting so weird lately

He sat back in his chair and put his fork down and looked at you with his head to one side fiddling with his beard as he often did when he wanted to choose his words carefully. “Imma say this.” He said “I like you. A lot.”

“Oh.” You said slowly suddenly feeling a bit faint.

“Now what I do about that I don’t fucking know.” He said crossing his buff bare arms.

You sat in silence and watched him finish eating as tears welled up in your eyes. “I’m fired aren’t I?” You said through your soft sobbing.

“Ah hey shhhhh. No…well maybe.” He said with a bit of a grin. “Come here.” He motioned for you to sit on his lap. “I can get you other opportunities. I won’t do that to you.” He promised as he wrapped his arms around you “but with the way I’m feeling, you working for me would be too hard. I’m sorry.”

You sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “K great there goes my apartment. I can’t afford to not have something steady.” You said fearfully

Jack realized you had real worries and stopped kidding. “Y/n look at me.” He said “I want us to be a thing. Like for real.”

“I don’t know what any of that even means.” You said blowing your nose from crying

“You’re the most fucking adorable thing I’ve ever seen. You’re hard working, great with people. I know we can find you another job. What I’m worried about…what keeps me up at night…is not being able to find another girl like you.”

You didn’t know what to say and just turned and gave him a big bear hug. “So is that a yes? I can fire you and you be my girl?” Jack said rubbing your back

“Yes Jack please fire me!” You said smiling wiping your tears and laughing all at the same time.

You shared a kiss and he picked you up bringing you over to the couch that was only a few feet away in your tiny place. You got under a big quilt and laid on his chest. He kissed the top of your head and picked up the remote. “Now what were you watching?” He said as he turned the TV back on.

“Oh shit no!” You said trying to take the remote from him.

“What??!” He started laughing when he saw on YouTube that you were in your Jack Harlow section and all his videos came up. You had pretended you weren’t really a fan all this time. You sank under the blanket in embarrassment and he tickled you.

“Hey let’s have popcorn” You said escaping the blanket and darting into the kitchen.

“Nice save y/n.” Jack grinned putting his hands behind his head of curls and breathing a sigh of relief that if he had you to snuggle up to he may never have nightmares again 😴

@itsyagirljaz @killatravtramp @heavyhitterheaux @ride4harlow @jacks-daycare