#want the sound of the impact to scare people miles away

[anilovie]

wanna be slapped in the face with ani’s dick so hard i forget my past and can only communicate through hieroglyphs :(

[yngtort]

— toothache ❄️

♫ All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth ♫

kinkmas day 1

Fem!reader. mdni. 2.9kw. in which doctor bangchan fills your cavities and the entirety of your mouth.

It hurt like hell.

Exposed to the cold early morning air of the winter, your teeth ache in your mouth. The pain was so aggravating that it had you zooming through the icy roads, trying to get to the dentist as soon as possible.

You had a cavity.

It was obvious, but it still caught you off guard. You genuinely always took good care of your teeth. You brushed, flossed, washed, and even went the extra mile to buy that expensive LED teeth whitening thing from TikTok.

Your hygiene was top tier.

but you’re still pulling into the parking lot of diamond dental with your hand glued to the side of your face.

“Seungmin, I’m freaking the fuck out.” You mumbled into the phone as you hop out of your Nissan, locking it multiple times because you're that kind of person.

The type to worry over little things like a stolen car and dying in a dentist chair.

“It’s not that bad, y/n. You won’t even feel anything.” Your coworker, most importantly your best friend, tells you from the other end.

“You’re acting like you’ve never been to the dentist before.”

He’s right, you have been there— but just to get your teeth brushed a couple times and handed a sticker right after. Not, to be stabbed in the mouth with a needle.

“It’s just been a while and you know how I feel about people’s hands in my mouth.”

“I don’t like the way you worded that.” He faked gagged, “anyways, call me when you’re done, Kay?”

“Kay.” you replied, slightly disappointed as he hung up the phone. Leaving you to walk the path of shame into the dentist office alone.

-

After filling out an extensive amount of paperwork, anxiously shaking your leg for an hour, and losing a mean game of virtual uno— your name was finally called.

You were led to the back by a small lady whose steps were short but impactful. She was so fast, you couldn’t tell if you were a patient or a Maury cameraman.

“Go on in,” she gestured towards the basic oral operation room. You take a seat, awkwardly deciding to put your hands on your stomach.

fuck you’re scared shitless, and the woman seems to notice your discomfort as she tries to distract you with a small conversation. But your eyes are still trained on whatever the fuck she’s putting together.

You inadvertently move away as she holds a silicone piece to your lips, “open as wide as you can,” she instructed.

Gosh, this was embarrassing. You were almost considering letting your teeth rot. But no, that’s gross.

Once the what-ever-it’s-called is placed in your mouth, she brings over another contraption. You assume it’s just a glorified camera, which was correct.

after a few pictures of your teeth, which kinda hurt btw, the woman inspected the photo. “Looks like you have a cavity on one of your molars. Other than that, you take pretty good care of your teeth.”

Pretty good? You felt like your efforts deserved higher praise but whatever. She goes on to tell you what needs to be done and how long it will take.

You grimace at the details.

“The doctor will be with you shortly.” She told before promptly leaving.

And now you’re left in complete silence. Well, not exactly silence. There was some music playing in the back, falling in melody with the constant sound of mechanical wiring from people in the rooms over— probably getting the same procedure. It sounded like someone was dying in there, seriously.

Anxiety filled you to the brim as you considered darting out that room right that second.

But just as you’re about to swing yourself out of your seat, there’s a voice that enters the room.

“Hello, ms.y/n . I’m dr.bang, I’ll be taking care of you for the day.” The doctor says as he steps in-front of you and suddenly you don’t want to move from that seat anytime soon.

He’s an undeniable hottie, even in those generic dentist scrubs that everyone in the faculty sported. For some reason, he just sparkled in them. Maybe it was because of the bulging muscles and his tan skin— whatever it was, your mouth was watering.

“Hello,” you said rather dryly, still locked on the vain that ran down his toned arm.

The doctor gives you a smile, a bright one too, and pulls a seat next to yours. “I hear you have a cavity. Mind if i have a look?” He asks as if you really have a choice. like he’s not already lowering the back of your chair so he can get a good look at your pearly whites.

He goes in with a tiny mirror, holding your chin with his free hand as he inspects the cavity. “You’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth, hmm?” he asked, thumb gliding over your bottom lip.“suckers, perhaps?”

Damn, he called you out.

Now this may sound a little weird, but you’ve always had quite the addiction to lollipops — suckers, the tootsie pop ones specifically. it’s even gotten to the point where you have a jar of them waiting at home on your nightstand.

And it’s not even the flavor of candy itself, you just…like putting things in your mouth?

Moving on !

Dr.bang finally moves back, releasing your jaw that was just starting to hurt. “It's only a small cavity. just need to fill it in for ya and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Honestly, with a face like his, he could play in your hair for as long as he wanted to. Give it a few tugs while he’s at it.

“Okay, but um..” you gulp a bit, toying with the end of your jacket. “Are you gonna give me a shot? My mouth is a bit sensitive, and I was wondering if there were any other alternatives.”

The doctor chuckled softly hearing your concerns. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s heard something like this.

“Unfortunately, the numbing gel that we use wouldn’t be as effective for this procedure.” He said before placing his hand on your shoulder in a reassuring manner. “But I promise it’ll only hurt for a second. I’m sure you can take it, yeah?”

take what? him ? Or the damn needle?

You have no clue, but if he’s gonna talk to you like that, you feel like you could break through a wall if you put your mind to it.

The dirty thoughts don’t get any better throughout the rest of your time in that damn chair either. Dr.bang had quite the mouth on him.

“Open up for me” “atta girl.” “That’s it, just a bit more”, he would say this while fingers were damn there down your throat.

A bit of an overstatement, he’s drilling your teeth, but you wish was drilling his dick—

“All done.”

The back of your chair is lifted up and you try not to let your body slump over. You’ve been lying in that spot for about an hour and a half, teeth being tickled, and eyes being blinded by the dingy light above your head.

And yet, you don’t want to go home.

“Does everything feel okay, ms.y/n? Nothing bothering you?” he asks, removing his glasses and placing them in his —soft— hair.

You shake your head, “nope, just can’t feel my tongue.” You say, poking the side of your face, testing how much force it will take for you to actually start feeling it.

The doctor laughs at your comment, dimples on full display. “The numbness should wear off in a hour or so. Just try not to eat, don’t want you biting your tongue off.”

“Has that actually happened?” You asked, wide eyed and Mr.bang only laughed again.

“On occasion.” He told, “But you’re a smart girl, so I know you won’t disobey doctors orders.”

Does he get paid to talk like that? Or is he just written by a woman with daddy issues?

Both probably.

“Speaking of doctor orders, try to lay off the sugar, yeah? I’m sure you don’t want to see too much of me after today.”

—

“That was obviously an opening for you to flirt with him.” Seungmin scoffs as he closes the register.

You’re at your job, a small candy parlor called sweethearts, talking to your dear coworker about what transpired earlier that day. You didn’t spare him from the dirty laundry that harvested in your mind while you were getting the fill in. Seungmin doesn’t care tho, he’s not judgmental.

That, and you’re his only source of entertainment as the slow part of your shift comes around.

“Flirt? With the dentist? Isn’t there like a rule against that?” You asked, shifting the cherry flavored sucker in your mouth over to the other side of your cheek.

“For him, yeah” Seungmin shrugged, “but I doubt that anyone actually cares nowadays.”

“He’s probably in a relationship.” You popped the candy out your mouth, lips stained in a pretty red. “He’s too fine not to be.”

“And? ” he crossed his arms.

You blink at him a couple times, “I’m not fucking a taken man.”

“Loser.”

“You’re so-“ you sigh. “Whatever, just go restock something.” You push him from behind the counter.

The next few hours seemed to fade into each other as you stood absentmindedly behind the register. Seungmin had already clocked out since he got lucky and was offered a short shift for today. now you’re slouching at the register— phone in hand, while sucking on another tootsie pop.

“Just can’t stay away from those things, huh?” The voice grabs your attention with a force of seven suns.

you know that thick accent too well.

It had replayed in your head for the entirety of the day after your first encounter.

“D-Dr. bang?” you stutter, eyes round as you take in the man in front of you as he sets down a heart shaped box of chocolates.

“Chris.” he corrects, “I don’t like being called doctor outside the clinic. Makes me sound old.”

It makes him sound hot, in your opinion.

You nod a few times before clearing your throat, reminding yourself that you are on the clock.

”Christmas shopping?” you asked, still mentally going feral as gaze over his stature.

He’s dressed like a chase Atlantic song, how could you not ?

“Yes actually. I was looking for some small sweets to fill up a gift basket.”

“Oh” you perk, scanning the chocolates and placing them in a bag. “for your girlfriend?”

“No, don’t have one.” He says with a shrug, “it’s for my mom.”

A mamas boy ! Woo !

a spark of relief shoots through your body as you hear his words. You won’t have to be a homewrecker after all. Not saying that you were planning to but,, it’s just good to know.

“$6.58.” You tell and Chris follows through with the transaction. his hands brushes against yours as you pass the bag to him and you can’t help but blush like a schoolgirl.

“What about you?”

You blink, “what about me?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Is he showing interest too? Is that what this was?

“No, but I dont think these are the kind of questions doctors are supposed to ask.” you say teasingly.

“I’m just trying to get to know my patient better.”

“Uh huh, sure.” you raise an eyebrow, “got anything else you wanna ask?”

Chris crossed his arms, eyes flickering down to the stick that laid between your plump lips. The Candy was completely gone, leaving behind a blue hue on your mouth.

“Your obsession with suckers might’ve peaked my interest.” He told, “do they taste that good that you have to go against my orders?”

That's a really good question. it’s not the first time you’ve heard it, but it stumps you every time. You’re actually a savory kind of girl, like if you had to choose between pie or chips— you’re grabbing the saltiest bag you can find.

But it’s like all your life, you were always sucking on something. Your thumb, jawbreakers, ring pops— anything really.

“I don’t exactly know.” You start, thinking about how to word this. “It’s not exactly the taste…I just kind of like putting things in my mouth?”

Every part of you was expecting to be laughed at, but when not a chuckle left the man’s lips you were just confused.

“So you have an oral fixation?” He asks

“There’s a name for it?” “There’s a name for everything, love.”

“And how do you know all of this?” You push and Chris clicks his tongue.

“I’m a dentist, remember?” Chris takes a step closer, leaning against the counter. “I also know how to satisfy that urge you’ve been feeling.”

Oh.

—

you don’t remember how you ended up like this. pressed against the break room door, tongue tangled with a man you just met.

It’s a crazy situation, but honestly it’s not the wildest thing you’ve done.

your melting into his hold, kiss making you dizzy as if his saliva was laced with some kind of drug. it was absolutely intoxicating, the way his tongue explored every part of your mouth with no restraint.

“Taste so fuckin’ sweet.” He mumbled against your lips.

Chris’s hands roam under your shirt. his cold palms against your warm skin sends a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps follow behind him with every contact as he massages and squeezes your curves.

He pulls back from the kiss and you couldn’t help but whine at the sudden detachment. You try to get him back, but his hand grabs your jaw.

“Don’t worry pretty girl, I got something to fill that dirty mouth of yours.” He coaxes, thumb brushing your swollen lips. “On your knees.”

You take to the floor with no questions asked, eyes coming in direct contact with his bulge and you can’t help but wonder that would even fit in your mouth.

But you won’t back down from the challenge. Your hands almost beggingly climb up his thighs as you look up at him, silently asking for permission.

“If there’s something you want, say it.” Chris tells, head tilted to the side in such an attractive way.

You lean your face up against his leg, “can I put it in my mouth?”

The older grins, “Of course, baby.” He says before unzipping his pants and letting them drop to the floor.

You gulp at how thick his thighs are. Just imagine riding them, wetness dripping all over his skin.

And that’s not even the main event.

his boxers were wrapped so tightly around his dick, each inch was on display and it had your mouth watering. you wasted no time pulling them down, watching it pop up as it’s freed.

“ So big.” You whispered in awe before taking the base into your hands and guiding it to your lips.

“open up for me, love” Chris instructed and you do as told, parting your lips and taking him into your mouth.

the man above lets out a low groan as he's stuffed down your throat. He’s a little surprised at how easily you're handling his girth, lips wrapped around him so snuggly without a single gag.

“Just like that, good girl,” he praises as you suck him like a lollipop. “taking it so well.”

Your head bobbed at a generous rate, hands gripped onto his thighs while you slobbered over his dick. It was such a lewd scene to witness. only worsening when Chris grabs you by your hair, stopping your movements before he takes full control.

his hips reel away before slamming back into your face, fucking your mouth roughly. you whimpered as the head of his dick jabbed the back of your throat repeatedly.

Tears started to well up in your eyes from the harshness of his thrusts. Your throat was rubbed raw and there was an extreme ache in your jaw, but you can’t help being more aroused by the pain. The feeling of being tortured orally had your panties soaked.

So it’s only natural that one of your hands was tucked between your thighs, kneading your clothed clit between your fingers.

“Pretty lil mouth must feel so good finally being used, yea? been practicing on those stupid suckers just for this?” Chris asks cockily, knowing he’d never receive an answer.

He fucks you until his dick is twichting uncontrollably on your tounge, ready to release his thick seed down your throat. But before he even gives you the satisfaction, he yanks back, dick leaving your mouth with a pop.

He decided he’d rather see his cum painting your face than having it disappear without a trace. So he pumps himself in sync with your fingers that were still buried in your pants.

It’s only a matter of seconds before his white ropes drench your face— tongue, lips, lashes— all covered in his mess.

“Fuck” he curses and says something else, but you can comprehend. You're too deep in a daze.

“Y/n.” He calls and calls and calls and calls—

until suddenly his voice loses that thick Aussie accent and instead starts sounding more like your coworker.

“Yo, y/n? I'm gonna clock out soon.” Seungmin says waving his hands in front of your face, “your break was over 30 minutes ago.”

“W-what the fuck???” You blink, still confused and the male just sighs.

“You and your daydreams, man.”

:)

Kinkmas has finally started ! hope you guys enjoyed day 1. I had to quickly cut it short because I type too much and I definitely wouldn’t make the deadline if I continued. That being said, if you would like me to continue toothache as a series just let me know !

— sincerely nni

Tinytag list (open) : @sydnerss @sunnyyangie @foxinnie8 @panjakes

[makethatelevenrings]

Angel By the Wings - TWENTY

Chapter Warnings: discussion of abortion, small mention of domestic violence, pregnancy

Series Masterlist AND Mobile Masterlist

Bradley pressed the name in his contacts and waited for the phone to dial before he let himself think and further. His feet carried him a mile away from Hangman’s house to some 24-hour diner where the waitress called him baby and he could order a stack of pancakes larger than Jake’s ego.

Pregnant. Fuck. It could easily be his kid. Four weeks ago, he was pulling delicious noises from you as he fucked you like it was his goddamn job. And then when you said the words, it felt like ice water had been poured over his head. 

Because he had just gotten back from a mission where he nearly died and all he could think about was the fact that he could have easily left his kid behind like his dad did. He didn’t remember much of his dad, just bits and pieces that he learned mostly through absorbing it from other people, namely his mom and Maverick. But he was keenly aware of the grief that consumed his mom. She might have died from cancer, but he still believed a broken heart played a role in that.

He couldn’t do that to you. He wouldn’t. He saw what losing his dad did to his mom. He wouldn’t let that happen to you or Jake.

But it could be your kid, that traitorous voice in the back of his mind whispered. Do you really want to give up that opportunity? To be a dad? To be in a kid’s life? To impact them the way you were impacted, even if it had just been the legacy Goose left behind?

“Hello?” Maverick sounded confused when he answered Bradley’s call. They had seen each other only two hours earlier and now Bradley was calling him out of the blue.

“How did my dad react when he found out my mom was pregnant?” He figured he didn’t really have time for pleasantries when it felt like the walls were shrinking around him.

“I…well, he was excited. I think he was honestly more excited than your mother. Carole told him over the phone because we were deployed on a carrier for three months and he damn near hit the roof.” A soft laugh escaped Maverick. “He spent the next few months constantly talking to any parent on the boat asking for advice. And the moment he saw her at the baggage claim, he just started crying. I’d never seen him cry so much.”

Bradley looked out the window and saw his reflection stare back at him, a smile lifted on his face. His mom always spoke of Goose as though he hung the moon, but it was different hearing about their love from an outsider perspective.

“And did he ever…was he ever scared?”

“Oh, he was scared shitless. Carole told me he fainted during labor and I swear he had, like, six parenting books at all times.”

“But was he ever scared about…leaving me?”

Something rustled on the other end of the line before Maverick finally replied, his voice quiet. “What’s this about, kid?”

How do you explain to the guy who basically raised you after your dad died that you might have knocked up a girl and the other potential father was Hangman?

“Just curious,” he replied.

“Bradley.” Yeah, he knew that tone. That was Mav’s “you can’t out bullshit the bullshitter” tone. Bradley ran his hand over his face and then rested his forehead on his palm, eyes squeezed shut. The encompassing scent of black coffee curled around his shoulders and he was grateful for Doris’ continued refills.

“She’s four weeks pregnant, Mav, and the kid could be mine and the minute I found out, I just…”

“Ran,” Maverick sighed. “Because you thought about your mom. And you got scared.”

Damnit. Years of not speaking and he still had Bradley figured out in seconds. Bradley shouldn’t have called. He just dumped this on the man he was yelling at a week ago and nearly died with three days prior.

“Goose never regretted having you. The opposite, actually. He told me that he was grateful Carole had you around because he saw that she was an amazing mother. Of course, he wanted more time with you, but I can say for certain that he never, ever regretted having you.”

Bradley hated the sudden burn of tears that pressed against the back of his eyes and he focused his attention outside again where dark, heavy clouds were rolling in on the horizon. Huh, maybe a storm was coming in.

“Bradley,” Maverick got his attention again. “Any kid would be lucky to have you as a dad. You can’t let the past keep holding you back from your future. You’ll never give yourself a chance to live.”

“But what if I die and leave this kid and her behind?”

“And what if you don’t? Are you really just going to up and leave this kid? The mom? Carole Bradshaw didn’t raise you to be like this.”

That sent a shockwave of realization across his spine. Holy shit. His mom would kill him if she could see him right now. His mom who sacrificed so much and tried to keep a smile on her face even when she was in her deepest pits of grief. His mom who would have absolutely adored you and would have teased Jake endlessly.

“Thanks, Mav. I gotta go.”

“Hey, listen. You should come by my place sometime soon. We still need to have that talk, I recall. Bring your girl along, I’d love to meet her.”

Bradley grinned. “Yeah, that would be great.”

He hung up and tossed a twenty onto the table before he jogged out into the humid air outside. Shit, yeah, it really was about to storm. Even with busted ribs and his body feeling like it got hit by a freight train, he could probably outrun the storm.

Probably.

San Diego rarely got thunderstorms, but it was fitting that the silence in Jake’s apartment was shattered with a low rumble of thunder off in the distance. The sun was obscured by the thick clouds that swallowed the sky and you pushed off the bed you were curled up on. Hopefully, Jake would be in his room or napping on the couch or not paying attention to the fact that you were creeping out to stand on the porch and watch the storm roll in.

The moment you settled yourself on his cement porch, a blanket draped over your shoulders and you sighed. Of course he heard you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured once he sat next to you. Jake pulled the other edge of the blanket around his own shoulder, sealing the heat between the two of you. Lightning flashed across the sky and you tensed minutely, relaxing when you remembered the warm, steady form next to you.

“There’s no excuse for what I said, I was angry and I took it out on you and I’m sorry,” you added. He still said nothing and you took that as a moment to glance over at him. He was studying the clouds with the same cool indifference he looked at the pool table at the Hard Deck. You were about to beg him to say something when he began to speak.

“After my mom had Liz, she realized she couldn’t keep having kids if she wanted to run from my dad sooner than later. When she got pregnant again, she was able to make an appointment at the local clinic. She was only gone a few hours while the neighbor watched us, but when she came back, she seemed…I don’t know. She was sad but also there was this weight off of her shoulders. She had the chance to protect herself and protect us and save any future kid from that bastard.”

He spoke about his father with such venom that you had to reach out and cup his cheek, your thumb brushing along his hairline. Jake inhaled against your touch and then turned to face you, his bright eyes clouded by memories.

“Whatever you choose, I’ll be there. I’ll drive you to the clinic and take care of you afterwards. If you keep this kid, I’m all in. I never considered being a father before and I’m scared out of my fucking mind, but I swear to you that I would never, ever treat you or them like my father did.”

“Oh, Jake,” your voice broke at his promise. “I know you would never hurt me. I don’t think you’re even capable of hurting a fly. You’re all bark and no bite, Tex.” You bumped your shoulder against his and he leaned into you, his lips coming up to press against your temple.

“I’m terrified, but there’s this part of me that keeps saying what if? What if I keep it? What if I give this kid the best damn life? What if I have the life I always wanted but never thought I could have?”

“Whatever you need, you’ll have. Money, clothes, a house, furniture, I’ll handle it. If you want me around, I’ll be there. If you want me gone, I’ll disappear.”

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder and smiled against the growing tears in your eyes. Rain was starting to patter down onto the ground, filling the air with the rich smell of soil.

But above the noise of the rain came another pounding.

You raised your head just in time to see Rooster jog around the side of Hangman’s truck and stop directly in front of you two in the pouring rain. Jake sat ramrod straight, his gaze darting all over Bradley as the brunet bent over to catch his breath.

“Jesus, Bradshaw, you have cracked ribs and you ran?” Jake exclaimed.

“You have what?!” you yelped. Bradley waved both of your concerns off and then straightened up.

“My dad died when I was two,” he rushed out. “And it wrecked my mother. And I can’t let that happen to you, but Mav basically told me I’m being an idiot and he’s right. I can’t let the past continue to make my decisions. I can’t let that fear hold me back.”

You stared at him, wide eyed, as you took in his words. You pushed the blanket off of your shoulders and stood. The cool rain poured down on your head, but you didn’t care. You needed to hear this straight.

“And if the baby isn’t yours?” you directed the question to both of them. “I can’t get a paternity test for five more weeks.”

“Fuck the what ifs! If anyone has questions or judgment, they can fuck off,” Bradley shouted. He raised his arms from his sides and extended them out, welcoming the incoming storm. Jake stood as well, a wild grin on his lips that made you breathless.

“I agree with the chicken for once, darlin’. Fuck ‘em. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out when we get there.”

You could feel your own smile blossom and you glanced between the two men. “So if I told you right now that I wanted to keep this baby, you would be okay with that?”

Bradley swooped in, his chilled hands enclosing around your cheeks as he laid a kiss on your lips before retracting so he could do the same to Jake. Your heart was beating quickly, not from anxiety but from exhilaration. Holy shit, the three of you were doing this.

You grabbed one of each man’s arms and tugged them further down the driveway. The rain soaked you to the bone, but you didn’t care. You threw your hands up in the air and let out a burst of laughter. Jake wrapped his arms around your waist and spun you around. The three of you were like little kids. You jumped into puddles, danced in the rain, and laughed harder than you had in days.

“Alright,” Jake surprisingly was the one who ended the fun. “Back inside you two. Can’t have our angel catching a cold and you need to rest, Roo.”

You rolled your eyes but acquiesced. Of course they were going to become incredibly protective. Jake wrapped his arm around your shoulders as you headed back into the apartment.

“Miss,” Bradley said with an air of elegance. He bowed as you stepped across the threshold and you snorted at his theatrics. 

“Thank you, sir.” You curtsied and accepted the towel he offered you.

“You should take a shower, angel. To warm up,” Jake said as he shut the door behind him and locked it. You considered his words for a second and took a step backwards into the apartment. Your soaking wet shirt was plastered to your skin but you tugged it off and chucked it in the direction of the laundry room.

“I’d hate for you boys to miss out on all the warm water,” you taunted. You spun on your heel and dashed off towards the bathroom with two pairs of footsteps following close behind.

As the warm water trickled down on their heads, you found yourself shielded from the brunt of the spray as the men sandwiched you between them. Jake stood at your back, his left hand splayed across your torso and his lips pressed under your ear. Bradley delicately slid the loofah across your skin, watching in awe as the suds traveled across your skin and disappeared in the water. You gently slid your fingers through Bradley’s curls and let your nails scratch across his scalp, eliciting a delicious moan from him.

You helped the soap wash out of Bradley’s hair before you grabbed his hand just as he swiped the rough fabric against your thigh. You grasped his left hand and Jake’s right, settling them both over the slight rounding of your stomach.

“That’s her?” Bradley whispered.

“How do you know it’s a she?” Jake hummed. He stroked his hand down the tiny curve of your barely-there bump. “It could be a he.”

“Angel isn’t that cursed. Three of us?” Bradley shot back. You chuckled and rested your head back on Jake’s shoulder.

“As small as a poppy seed,” you murmured. Fuck, how on earth could you care for something so small? How could you protect this little thing from the world? What about when it came out of you?

“Don’t you worry, baby,” Jake whispered into your hair. He sensed your trepidation and instantly set about soothing away your worries. “Roo and I would never let anything happen to you two.”

The brunet’s handsome face earned a fierce glare and he nodded, head jerking sharply before he moved in closer. “Promise.”

A million questions swirled around in your head and you were plagued with even more worries. But here, in this moment, supported by these two men, you felt safer than you had ever felt before.

Tag List: @mizzzpink​ @xoxabs88xox​ @dreaminglandsworld​ @khaylin27​ @loveforaugust​ @phoenixssugarbaby​ @atarmychick007​ @mak-32​ @itsmytimetoodream​ @krismdavis​ @emma8895eb​ @startrekfangirl​ @hangmandruigandmav​ @lunamoonbby​ @startrekfangirl2233​

[mariacallous]

On March 11, Syrian farmer Ali Ahmad Barakat was driving a tractor to his fields in the fertile rebel-held lands of the Al-Ghab plain, just a few miles away from the front line with Assadist forces. For years, Al-Ghab’s farmers had refused to let the violence scare them away from working their fields.

But Barakat was about to become the next victim of a terrifying new Syrian Army-piloted weapon: a dirt-cheap, kit-built suicide drone.

Attacking civilians with drones isn’t new, but until recently, the vast majority of these attacks were carried out by more expensive long- and medium-range drones specifically designed for military purposes—characteristics that limited them to a small number of actors worldwide.

Armed groups such as the Islamic State began to experiment with small, cheap, off-the-shelf and custom-built drones in the 2010s, taking advantage of the consumer drone boom, but their attacks were largely focused on military targets and objectives.

Now, the picture has changed.

Small, inexpensive drones have become an indispensable tool on modern battlefields, as combatants come up with ever more creative ways to use these tiny flying robots. Inspired by these tactics, some fighters in conflicts from Myanmar to Syria are starting to use drone warfare techniques recently refined in the Russo-Ukrainian War, such as the use of tiny and ultra-fast suicide drones crafted from cheap hobby racing kits, as well as consumer camera drones rigged to drop explosives, to target, kill, and terrorize civilians.

And we don’t know how to stop them.

Since Russia first invaded Ukraine in early 2022, I’ve been monitoring the crucial role of small drone technology in the conflict, motivated by the hope that better understanding drone warfare tactics might make it easier to protect civilians from their dangers.

This March, the Syrian White Helmets civil defense group contacted me. According to their information (which has been published in a recent report), more and more civilians in the rebel-held front-line areas were getting attacked with small suicide drones. According to a number of sources, Russian military specialists had recently begun training Syrian Army forces to use both first-person-view (FPV) suicide drones and anti-drone guns. Russia’s drone warfare techniques were beginning to spread.

The attacks have shocked even hardened medics. One White Helmets volunteer, Ali Obied, was in the first group of medical workers to arrive on the scene after Barakat was killed. “When we reached the site, we saw how the suicide drone attacked the driver directly—it killed him and slaughtered him into pieces. We collected the pieces of the driver one by one,” he said. They were forced to withdraw quickly from the scene when, over a walkie-talkie, a spotter informed them that other drones were hovering nearby.

Another volunteer, Walid Abdeen, responded to an attack on April 16 that hit multiple civilian cars and a public market, injuring five people. He was confident that a suicide drone was the culprit, an observation backed up by other witnesses who saw the drone in the air before impact.  “When suicide drones explode, nothing remains from it, just small pieces—but the sound of the drone is the same as those drones used by journalists,” Abdeen said.

The volunteers agreed that this similarity to peaceful drones was a problem. “It’s difficult for civilians to differentiate between them in the sky, and all of a sudden, they attack someone—a house, a center, or a car,” said Ismail Alabdullah, a media coordinator and volunteer for the White Helmets.

“Those drones, if they want to kill someone who is walking to his school, or even the White Helmets, if they’re returning to their [medical] centers—the drones can find individuals, attack the centers, kill directly,” Alabdullah added. “We have experience with mortars, rockets, and artillery shelling attacks. But this new weapon is incredibly dangerous because it is so precise and cheap to develop.”

White Helmets representatives say dozens of these FPV drone attacks are happening each week. Thanks to the terror spread by these relentless attacks, civilians who have hung on in Syria’s border regions for years are finally beginning to leave.

These drone-powered mechanisms for spreading mass civilian terror aren’t restricted to Syria: They are also on the rise in Ukraine. Targeted attacks by Russian drones on Ukrainian civilians rose dramatically this summer. And while top U.N. officials condemned this uptick in attacks to the Security Council in March, the onslaught shows no signs of stopping.

From July 1 to 21 alone, I collected 34 separate cases of alleged attacks on Ukrainian civilians by Russian drones, drawing from open-source information posted by official sources in the Ukrainian government. As in Syria, most attacks in Ukraine seem to be taking place near the front lines, where relatively short-range FPV racing and consumer drones can reach, and with the same goal of spreading terror.

On July 2nd, a Ukrainian woman was reportedly injured by an FPV drone while she stood in her backyard in Berislava. Days later, on July 11th, authorities reported that two female volunteers were injured after a Russian FPV drone hit a humanitarian aid delivery point in Stanislav. Then, on July 18th, Kherson Oblast’s governor reported that a 74-year-old man in Oleksandrivka was killed by a Russian drone attack – one of a number of older civilian victims.

Some attacks have hit moving civilian vehicles, including minibuses and personal cars—and a number of clearly marked humanitarian and medical vehicles. On Jan. 26, Ukrainian media reported that a Russian FPV drone had attacked a marked car belonging to an aid worker working with a NGO connected to the U.N. Refugee Agency’s humanitarian mission, destroying the car. A journalist who was riding in the vehicle said that it was “very likely that the operator could see the labels on the car.”

Later, on May 29, a Russian drone attack killed a Ukrainian ambulance driver and seriously injured his wife (who had been riding in the vehicle). Soon after, on June 8, Oleksandr Prokudin, the governor of Kherson oblast, reported that after a spate of shelling in the vicinity of Bilozerka, a Russian drone had attacked an ambulance that arrived on the scene to help, injuring the driver.

The tactic has spread beyond Ukraine and Syria. In Gaza, Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor reports that Israel has increasingly turned to small quadcopters to attack civilians and journalists, while Palestinian sources in Rafah told AFP in June that they lived in fear of “quadcopter drones, which mercilessly target anyone walking.” Israel has long used consumer-type quadcopters and racing drones for military purposes, including to drop tear gas on protesters in Gaza in 2018 and to counter so-called fire balloons sent from Gaza during the same period.

In Myanmar, rebel groups fighting the military junta have become adept at using small, cheap consumer and custom-built drones for both intelligence-gathering and for attacks. In recent months, Myanmar’s junta has begun to catch up: In September and October 2023, villagers in the Sagaing region said they were repeatedly attacked by bomb-dropping regime drones.

In another incident this July, the Insecurity Insight NGO reported that armed Myanmar military drones attacked a health center in the Sagaing region, killing a midwife, her two-year-old child, and at least five patients affiliated with the local resistance forces, as well as injuring at least 15. The patients who were killed reportedly had been injured in an earlier military drone attack, and had been seeking care for their injuries at the time

Mexico’s drug cartels, too, have become frequent users of consumer and DIY drones in recent years, both for smuggling and for terrorism. Like Bashar al-Assad’s forces, the cartels appear to view these sudden, shocking drone attacks as an effective way to terrorize civilians into ceding strategically valuable territory. In May 2023, more than 600 people were reportedly displaced from communities in Mexico’s Guerrero state due to cartel drone attacks, and attacks since then in the state have reportedly killed civilians and targeted local schools.

These tactics are spreading, and there is little guidance for civilians, including journalists and aid workers, on how to deal with them. Most existing writing on the subject is geared toward attacks from larger, more powerful, and stealthier long-range military drones.

Thankfully, there are some things the international community can start doing today.

National and international bodies and organizations concerned with civilian protection, such as the United Nations and the International Committee of the Red Cross, should come together to strategize around how best to protect people from small drone attacks. These groups should loudly condemn the terrorist attacks and investigate possible violations of international humanitarian law—as well as sponsoring the research and reporting needed to better understand the problem.

Russia’s war in Ukraine has led to the rapid development of new technologies for detecting drone radio signals in the air, new tools for electronically disabling drones, and a wide variety of other basic drone defense tactics (including the revelation that you can hide from thermal sensors by throwing a yoga mat over your head). Perhaps some of these tools and tactics could be adopted for civilian use.

Finally, we need more collective clarity around the legality of attacks on civilians with small drones under international humanitarian law as well as the legality of civilian efforts to defend themselves. Currently, interpretation of the law doesn’t adequately account for tiny flying robots in combat. As I wrote with my colleague Ossama A. Zaqqout in 2018 (and again in 2022), the presence of identical-looking small drones in the airspace over today’s conflicts makes it very hard for people on the ground to tell whose drone is whose.

Under international humanitarian law’s principle of distinction, combatants must distinguish themselves from civilians—but unlike manned aircraft, drones are too small to carry marks visible from the ground, and they can’t respond to radio checks. We need better solutions to avoid these cases of mistaken identity.

There’s also uncertainty around how humanitarian law might apply to civilian efforts to anticipate—and defend themselves against—drone attacks. Will civilians lose their noncombatant status if they use counterterrorism tools against small drones? Do civilians lose protection if they monitor radio waves for armed drone presence and report that information to combatants—or if they post that information online in a public place?

As is the case with so many other novel consumer technologies, we’ve swiftly figured out how to use drones both to help humanity and to hurt it. But civilians aren’t doomed to be easy targets—as long as we summon the international will to find ways to protect them.

[pocket-lad]

AOH my god has this been done before wait. Huge Adelaide “death” scare (not dead !! Never . But def roughed up and unconscious) I’m unsure where this could fit into any of the amazing fics u made but we need Ian inconsolable , I want this man in tears almost if that man even cries. All the angst. (then the insurmountable relief and softness when she wakes up lol) You characterize him super well, I’m so curious to see what you could possibly do with this idea..

Let's tear this man down >:)

~

Alan marched into the bunker with Ellie, intent on locating a gun or two to take these raptors out. And then they were out of here for good. It was a shame he also had some devastating news to deliver - news that might get him killed by something other than a dinosaur.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. They were in a large clearing, maybe a mile from the visitor’s center, when a herd of Gallimimus wheeled directly toward them. It was so fascinating, the way they flocked like birds. He honestly could have sat there all day.

But they were very large dinosaurs, and he was in charge of three exhausted, vulnerable people. Urged on by Adelaide, Lex, and Tim, Alan sprinted back the direction they came, each hand holding onto a child for dear life.

A big log rested on the grass ahead, and it offered as good of protection as any. Without slowing down, he and the kids leapt over the side then pressed their backs against it, waiting for the dinosaurs to pass. But as he did so, he felt the infinitesimal weight on his shoulders disappear and a faint scream filled the air.

When he realized what it was, it was too late. Alan’s head whipped around to locate Adelaide and catch her, but the moment his eyes landed on her was the moment of impact.

Before her body could tumble off the side of the log, Alan gathered her up and held her close to his chest so that they could wait out the herd. She wasn’t moving.

The dinosaurs disappeared, but Alan was too scared to pull Adelaide into the light. He sat there, blinking and breathing, nothing more.

“Dr. Grant?” Lex said, worried by the sudden shift in his demeanor.

That was all Alan needed to pull himself out of it. He slowly extricated his hand from his chest and laid his palm out flat.

Adelaide laid limply in his hand, her limbs bending every which way and her hair splayed out across his palm. Alan floated her around, trying to get a good angle to see if her chest still moved. When he couldn’t see anything, he held her up against his ear. He didn’t hear anything, either. He had no way to know if she was breathing.

“Is she okay?” Tim asked.

“I don’t know.”

***

Malcolm was going to kill him. There was no world in which Malcolm didn’t kill him. Alan couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it. It was now a matter of how to break it to the man.

The first thing Alan heard when he entered the bunker was, “Where are they? Where is she? Are they okay?”

The only sound that followed was the hum of the emergency lights.

There was no point delaying the inevitable. Ian, Ellie, and Hammond watched Alan intently as he reached into his chest pocket and pulled out an impossibly tiny person. Ellie already knew what was coming. She couldn’t bear to watch, yet somehow she couldn’t force herself to look away.

Alan held Adelaide out on his palm.

“What - what - what’s this?” Ian asked.

Alan closed his eyes. “Ian, you have to understand-”

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, you bring me - you bring me Adelaide right - right now.”

“Ian-”

Ian quickly snatched Adelaide from Alan’s hand and held her up to his own eyes. If her chest was moving, he sure couldn’t see it. In an effort to quell the sudden burst of anger and sadness and fear and guilt, his jaw tightened so hard he thought his teeth would shatter. He slowly raised his gaze up to Alan. “What happened?” he seethed.

“We were running and I jumped over a log. She fell from my shoulder and I couldn’t catch her in time. I’m sorry.”

Ian looked Adelaide up and down, his eyes flickering back and forth in disbelief. She was so small, even smaller when she wasn’t awake to try to make herself look bigger. Even collapsed and unconscious, putting no effort into holding herself up, she was still so light. He gently nudged each of her limbs into place so that she at least looked comfortable. They moved all too easily under his fingers. 

“Della,” he whispered. “Della, come on. We’re going to get out of here, Della. Adelaide, come on.”

“Ian-” Ellie interrupted, tears welling in her eyes.

Ian ignored her. He held Adelaide to his chest. Maybe his rapid heartbeat would wake her up. She complained that it did that sometimes when she slept in his pocket. He frantically pulled her away to check. Still asleep.

The sound of clanging metal caught his attention. Dr. Grant was in the middle of pulling a couple guns out of storage. He didn’t even look bothered by the circumstances. Ian’s face turned red as an unbridled rage bubbled up in his chest.

Without thinking much about it, he shoved Adelaide at John Hammond, who instinctively reached up to hold her. Ian would need both of his hands for this. He lunged from the table directly at Grant, relying solely on his one remaining good leg. He more so fell into Alan, but grabbed him by the shirt collar and pinned him against the wall with his body weight. The gun clattered to the ground. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Get off of me!”

“You killed her. You son of a bitch, you bastard, you killed her.”

Alan couldn’t procure a response in his struggle to get the tall, heavy man off of him. With the help of Ellie, he was finally able to push him away, back toward the table he came from. If it wasn’t for Malcolm’s wilting leg, Alan wasn’t so sure he would have won that fight.

His clothes rumpled and his patience growing thin, he regarded Malcolm as he leaned against the table, panting. He looked in bad shape.

“I am sorry, Ian, I really am. But those kids are out there and we have to go find them before something happens to them, too.”

Ian wasn’t listening. He shot up - Grant’s irritatingly calm voice was all that was needed to prompt a round two - but Ellie eased him away again. His leg screamed in pain. He slowly slid down the side of the table and slumped to the ground. His conversation with Hammond came rushing back.

“She’s three inches tall, John!”

“And who brought her here?”

Ian had been too eager, blinded by his pride. He wanted to be the one to show Adelaide the world. She told him she didn’t want to come here. She was scared to leave the house, to travel far away, to be around a bunch of unknown giants. She was so scared that a human would take her away. Ian laughed it off at the time, thinking she worried too much, and that if he showered her it wasn’t so bad, maybe she’d open up more. He thought he knew what was best for her. He should’ve listened.

From the beginning, it was painfully clear that it was only a matter of time before someone got hurt. The park was doomed to fail, perhaps even catastrophically, and when dinosaurs were the main attraction…He just couldn’t imagine the ones to get hurt would be him or Adelaide. But the systems that fail don’t reward those who predicted their failure. Failed systems don’t discriminate. They take down everything in and around them.

“Give her here,” Ian muttered numbly. Hammond nodded, gently handing her over. Adelaide’s head lolled from side to side as he did so. She looked the same. Still unmoving. Still unconscious.

In the heat of the moment, Hammond was the closest and only option. If Ian was going to beat the hell out of Grant, he didn’t want Adelaide’s delicate body anywhere near the fray, so he pushed her into Hammond’s hands. Ian trusted Hammond, in most aspects, about as far as he could throw him, but he trusted he would keep the borrower away from harm for a few minutes. He trusted him with the task more than Grant, at least.

Ellie bent down to Ian’s level and rubbed his arm in reassurance. Then she was off with Alan to do something. Save the kids, maybe? Ian wasn’t paying attention.

His eyes bored into Adelaide for an eternity, searching for any sign of life. If he stared long enough, he was bound to catch a twitch of her hand or a flicker in her eyes. She was bound to wake up.

For once, Hammond didn’t say anything. He didn’t have any smart comments or consoling words, and for that, Ian was grateful. If Hammond opened his mouth, he was going to get hit.

A single tear leaked out of Ian’s eye and trickled down his cheek. And then another. And another. He wasn’t crying. He didn’t cry. His face didn’t contort and his breath stayed relaxed, but the tears built up too much and the dam broke.

One landed on Adelaide, drenching her face and shirt. Ian moved her out of the way.

It was his duty to protect her. She was always so confident and full of life, it was hard to imagine she wasn’t as durable as any other human. But she wasn’t. She was tiny and fragile. Ian forgot that, or maybe he ignored it. Either way, his blindness got her killed.

What was he supposed to do now? Take her back to Texas? And then what? Adelaide would be gone forever, with nobody to remember her except the few people who made it off this island.

“Why don’t we get you into the car?” Hammond suggested. Ian’s tear soaked face and dead eyes made Hammond falter for only a second before he continued. “They may need a pickup when they’re done.”

Ian didn’t want to move. But the world kept on moving whether he wanted it to or not and Adelaide deserved to go home. It was time to leave.

Hammond carefully helped Ian to his feet and supported him as they made their way to a Jeep. Not once did Ian look away from Adelaide. Not when they left the bunker, not when they left the building, not when Hammond situated his leg in the Jeep, not when they pulled up to the visitor’s center.

Not until he heard Dr. Grant’s voice. “Mr. Hammond, after careful consideration, I have decided not to endorse your park.”

Ian glared at him, and in their brief moment of eye contact, he saw the guilt plastered all over Grant’s face. He’d live with that guilt for the rest of his life. Good.

The presence of the people around him slowly came to his attention. Ellie and the kids stared at Adelaide.

They were worried. Maybe sad. He knew that. But the way they stared wasn’t like the way he stared. It was an invasive stare that would make Adelaide undoubtedly uncomfortable if she was awake. Instantly, Ian closed his hand around her and held her to his chest so that they couldn’t gawk anymore. They didn’t deserve to look at her anymore.

“Dr. Malcolm, is she-” One of the kids asked.

“Yeah, yeah, um…she’s…” He took a shaky breath.

“What are you going to do?”

“I uh, don’t know. What do you think I should do?” Ian asked. When he looked up, he saw it was the girl talking. Lex.

“Um…”

“No, really, cause I haven’t - I haven’t the foggiest idea.” The intensity built as he spoke. What kind of ridiculous question was that, anyway? What are you going to do? Kill John Hammond and Alan Grant and tear this whole island to the ground. That’s what he was going to do.

“Let’s leave them alone, okay?” Ellie suggested quietly.

Alan helped Ian into the helicopter when they arrived. He climbed in and pulled his hand away from his chest. Maybe this time…

But still she laid there, as dead to the world as before. Her face was slack, her body bruised and bloody. And there was nothing Ian could do to fix it. There was always something Ian could do to fix it. There was nothing Ian could do to fix it. 

Alan spoke. “Ian, believe me, I never-”

“Just - just don’t.”

“I did everything I could-”

“Hey, uh, I said DON’T.” Ian’s voice boomed throughout the interior of the helicopter. The space fell into an uncomfortable and agonizing silence. They lost so many people, but to have one of the dead trapped inside with them as a constant reminder…

Ian blinked away the oncoming tears as he slammed his head back against the headrest, studying the ceiling. He absently stroked Adelaide’s arm. He always liked to feel her in his hand, to know she was right there, safe with him. She was always safe in his hands. If only he had kept her with him when he lured the T-Rex away. But no, she just as easily could’ve gotten herself killed there as well.

Ian handed Adelaide off to Alan the previous night because he knew he would watch after her. Because Alan was a dinosaur expert and an all around smart, level-headed man. He would take better care of her than Ian could. Logically, the choice he made was sound. So why did just looking at Grant bring on such bitterness and hate? Why was he filled with so much regret? Why did it hurt so bad?

The world passed them by. Pelicans flew alongside the helicopter, uncaring and free. Hammond regarded the mosquito trapped in amber that sat atop his cane with detached interest. Alan and the kids fell asleep. Ellie watched them, wishing she could take a picture. Ian didn’t feel anything, save for the cold, lifeless weight in his palm.

A loud gasp for air accompanied by a large spasm in Ian’s hand drew everyone’s attention.

Adelaide was soaking wet and disoriented. Her back protested her startled jump into consciousness, a sharp pain radiating up her spine, through her neck, and into her head so that she could hardly move.

She tried to recall the previous events. There was a field. Dinosaurs. Running. She was thrown into the air and then…nothing.

She was in a hand. It was warm and spongy and she could feel the life pulse beneath her. Whatever they were doing and wherever they were now, Adelaide almost thought it was better she didn’t know. Almost.

Ian’s mouth fell open. If he couldn’t believe Adelaide was dead an hour ago, he sure as hell couldn’t believe she was alive now. But she was. She may have been extremely hurt, extremely scared, whatever, but she was alive, and the gaping hole in his chest left behind by her death flooded with relief so strong it was nearly tangible.

Ian regarded the borrower with the same intensity he did when he first snatched her out of Alan’s hands. His eyes jumped back and forth, searching not for a sign of life this time, but for a sign that she was hurt. His hand stayed motionless, frozen due in part to shock.

“Adelaide,” he breathed.

Adelaide blinked her crusted eyes open. Just lifting her arm to wipe the gunk away sent another flare up her back. She could have sworn that that was Ian’s voice. But she was probably dreaming again, and to get her hopes up would be to have her hopes dashed. Again.

“Ian?” she whispered tentatively, still unable to see through the haze.

Air came at her fast, and before she could brace herself, Adelaide was pressed into dark fabric, held tight by the hand. No matter what dinosaur they were running from, she did not want to be in this position. She thought Alan understood that.

Not only that, but it hurt. Whatever caused her to black out, it did a number on her body, and there was no way it could stand this pressure for much longer. She wiggled around as much as her poor body would allow, pushing and shoving along the way.

Adelaide thought she felt something along the lines of a laugh come from the Bean with the way the chest abruptly contracted and expanded and the way she could hear the expulsion of air through the giant lungs.

Why would he laugh? What was going on?

Gravity forced her into a prone position as the hand pulled her up into the air, and light emerged all around her.

They were not on the island. At least, they weren’t in nature. The world around her was metal. And the person holding her was not Alan. It was Ian. Ian was alive.

“Oh my god!” Adelaide cried.

“Oh my god yourself!” Ian said.

“Oh my god yourself! Ian!” She scrambled to an attempted stand but settled for a seat. She surveyed the palm around her, grabbing his thumb with both hands and pulling it close. She ran her hands along the skin. It was real. He was real.

The thumb suddenly sprouted a mind of its own and pushed inward, nudging Adelaide’s shoulder. She flinched but remained unbothered because it was Ian Malcolm, alive and in the flesh. A large drop of water splashed down next to her.

Adelaide just nearly dodged it, the quick movement hurting her back. But that wasn’t the issue. The issue was the water itself. It was a tear... Ian was crying? Crying wasn’t something Adelaide thought he was even capable of. Something must’ve gone horribly wrong, but she couldn’t think of anything so bad that it would make him cry. Who died?

Instead of asking any helpful questions, the one that came out of Adelaide’s mouth was, “Is that why I’m wet?” It didn’t escape her notice that she was still soaked from the torso up. Not only did Ian Malcolm cry, but he cried on her. Gross.

“Della, we thought you were dead.”

“W-What?” Adelaide had blacked out a number of times in her life, most of them being around Beans. Something about the toll of living in a constant state of fear…Regardless, it wasn’t unheard of for her to go unconscious from time to time. Before she could ask why they thought this time was any different, Alan’s voice came from across the helicopter.

Right. There were other people here too.

“You fell when we were running from the Gallimimus,” he said, and for once it was the giant who had trouble maintaining eye contact. “I couldn’t catch you in time. I am so, so sorry.”

“No, you don’t - you don’t get to talk to her,” Ian said.

Adelaide jumped in. “Woah, calm down. I should’ve held on better. That’s my fault.” She shifted her focus. “Thank you, Alan, for watching over me.”

“Don’t thank him,” Ian scowled.

“I can thank him if I want to thank him!” Adelaide shouted, but doing so caused another flare in her back. Ian’s thumb returned, gently resting on her chest. The weight forced her to lie down, which she assumed was his intention. If she had the strength to fight it, she would have, but laying down did feel nice.

Alan watched the pained movements. “You hit the ground hard. I’d take it easy if I were-” His advice was cut short by a glare from Ian.

Adelaide rolled her eyes. “It’s okay. We’re okay. We’re going home.” She slowly scooched over until she was resting up against his chest, relishing in the soft fabric of his shirt and the heat that human Beans seemed to have an endless supply of. “You know I’m never letting you out of my sight again?” It was only partially a joke.

Ian chuckled. “Oh, you think I’m going to let you out of my sight? Cute.”

Adelaide’s body vibrated in time with his voice. “I am not cute,” she insisted.

At the same time, she curled her body up even further against his chest, pulling her legs close and feeling the slight rise and fall as he breathed like the gentle rocking of a ship. As the minutes passed, she paid attention to his heart rate while it progressively slowed down. He really was worried about her.

Ian watched her settle in. Adelaide was correct - she wasn’t cute. She was absolutely adorable. And absolutely alive. And they were absolutely going home.

[strawberryamanita]

Ranty rant rant about homonationalism and white Christian paranoia because I'm pissed off. Thoughts may be out of order because my brain is jumbled, so I apologize in advance.

Okay, so:

The thing about the argument that "in X country/city they'd kill you for being queer" just not working on me is that... I don't care. I just don't care. I really, really don't care. That statement doesn't move the needle in either direction in my head.

I don't care what a hypothetical thug or savage or predator or whatever stereotypical strawman pops up into your head to scare me thinks about me. If they even exist, they're in another country, thousands of miles away from me, don't know who I am personally and have no access to me. Nobody is swimming across an ocean with a dagger on their way to my exact location at this moment because they heard that I'm a fruitcake. I don't have the energy to care about made-up enemies – that part of my brain is occupied by real issues that are happening right now.

Does this person who wants me dead have a name? An address? Do you know what they look like? Is there any recorded evidence of them saying this about me?

Then shuddap.

I don't care what people think about me; I care about how they treat me. This has been the case since I realized it was the case, and it will continue to be the case. These things can look virtually similar sometimes, but they are not.

My response to someone wanting me dead is not wanting them dead first, faster, more brutally, before I die. That's really just not where my brain goes. In that moment, I'm not wishing for more violence, I'm wishing for less of it. I'm prioritizing my safety, weighing how much of these actual thoughts can be put into action and how soon, and then working on feeling through whatever uncomfortable emotion such a statement caused me to reflexively feel. And then I move on appropriately.

The thing about thoughts is... they're thoughts. I don't have a black eye or a swollen lip or a bruised chest from someone thinking that they want me dead. It can hurt if they tell me this, but it doesn't cause me physical damage.

This is gonna sound like a non-sequitur, but I'm trying to make an intelligible analogy: as someone who has to deal with chronic pain, has to deal with a body that's constantly crying wolf, I've had to learn the difference between hurt and harm in order to understand my bodymind. The number of times I thought I had something internally wrong with me, only for the doctors to find absolutely nothing (not just downplaying my pain but literally finding nothing), is embarrassing, and it does not help that I adopted a hypochondriac mindset from my family. The logical part of my brain can't curb this imagined pain no matter how hard I try; at this time, I can't discern between chronic pain and pain from actual injury, though I have recently asked my therapist if we can look into whether that's even possible.

I digress. The point I'm trying to make is, in this analogy, the imagined pain equates to one's negative thoughts of me, and the pain from actual damage equates to these thoughts being put into action. They can both hurt, but one of them has an actual impact on my person, and it can continue to affect me for any subsequent span of time.

I hope that makes sense; please let me know if it doesn't.

Saying a thought out-loud is situationally somewhere between a thought and an action, depending on how vulnerable you are to that particular person's words. If you care what a person says -- if you deem it important enough that it makes an impact on your life -- then it feels more like an action. And sometimes, those words are objectively important, like a politician trying to put a new law into effect that will actively hurt you and people like you. That's why I distinguished between what people think of me versus how they treat me -- sometimes these lines can blur, depending on the aforementioned.

People who dislike you can still treat you kindly; conversely, people who like you can treat you horribly, sometimes without even realizing it.

Even after you telling them it's hurting you.

Multiple times.

Because as long as their intentions are good, they're apparently exempt from any feedback that would require to look inwards...

Again, I digress.

Look, I don't want a cross-section of your brain where I can see the nuance of every thought I inspired you to think. I just want the minimum amount of respect that every single human being is entitled to -- the respect that an excruciating majority of humans are not regularly given.

But all these stupid debates, by design, are getting away from real, tangible issues in the world -- such as genocide, slavery, displacement, artificial famine and subsequent plagues ravaging entire nations, right stat now, as I am typing this. I don't care if some hypothetical caricature of a human in your head wants me to die for being queer; we can talk about educating them on queer history ot whatever when this person isn't wracked with pain from hunger, trying to identify their family members from beneath the rubble of a building or between the scorched fabric of what was once a tent.

Priorities, people.

And no, none of this is to say I'm better than anyone who may struggle with these thoughts. At this point I don't even know if this is a common way to think or not, and I don't really care either. I don't have a holier-than-thou mindset, I just have a strong conviction about this topic.

I don't want anyone to starve to death, no matter how much they hate me. I don't want anyone to die of preventable diseases, no matter how much they hate me. I don't want anyone to suffocate under the ruins of their residence, no matter how much they hate me. And it's honestly a little rude that you would assume that of me.

In closing: it doesn't matter if I'm being killed by a wild, jibbering, Cenozoic parody of a non-white/non-Christian human being, or the cleanest-cut, whitest-collared, most experienced in optics and performative action-ass white Christian in history, for being gay. If I was killed for being gay, then I was killed for being gay, and I can be killed for being gay literally anywhere in the world. I can be killed by a family member for being gay – and some people will try and justify the murder, because I'll have been killed by a white person. If I'm killed by a person of color or a non-Christian, the news will double-down on their narrative of the Poor Little Paper-Skinned Bleeding Moth Sacrificial Lamb White Christian Girl (which isn't even accurate, because I'm a 28-year-old transmasculine person, but nobody cares about that in any capacity, you know they're gonna bury me with a headstone that says “Beloved Daughter” no matter how many times I come out to them) being killed by the savage, not-as-evolved-as-us-white-Christians-who-God-loves-more brutishness that they believe runs in the veins of anyone whose skin is darker than skim milk.

But none of that will matter to me. Because I'll be dead.

Drowning is drowning, whether in 100 feet or 1 foot of water. Nobody's murder of a queer person is more brutal, more sophisticated or more righteous than another's. If the people who bring up the “you'll get killed here for being gay” argument actually cared about the safety of queer people, they'd rail Florida, Texas, Oklahoma, Ohio, and all the other US states about the danger they've put their queer population in these past couple years. We “have problems on our own soil” until someone actually points them out, and then we immediately stop the traffic of progress to talk about how horrible the rest of the world is.

Give. Me. A break.

[ilgaksu]

for everyone who was lured into the concept of @difeisheng and i's detective l au on the grounds of the liang wan content, may i offer you the following a.k.a when your ex-roommate gatecrashes your apartment when you're getting dressed for your not-a-date with the local mob boss. featuring actual historical 1930s shanghai cabaret music.

“I am trying,” Hei Xiazi reminds Liang Wan, “To get ready.” 

But five years prior, they’d lived in a one-room apartment while searching for somewhere bigger and better, so when Liang Wan says, “I have seen it all before, Hei-ye,” it’s not really wrong. She even gestures to the scar slipping up above the neckline of his undershirt, once a wound she had sutured shut while he had still been pretending to her he didn’t know how to hurt, never mind whether this injury itself did, which is a -

It’s a low blow, but those are Liang Wan’s speciality sometimes. People look at her little heart-shaped face and the round and outraged shine of her eyes and they do not see the full and awful truth, which is that she is a force as unstoppable as an earthquake. You do not reason with earthquakes. You simply brace yourself for impact and hope the ceiling doesn’t cave in. 

However, Hei Xiazi still remembers her as a small and scared woman on a ship to Europe, with no family and no future and barely her own name, drifting with every mile at sea further and further away from everything she had ever known. 

(At the time, Hei Xiazi had assumed she was running from a man: so often, what’s worse for a woman than a man?  

The answer is: men, plural. Multiple of them. 

Fuck the Wang family. They never deserved her, for all she’s a fucking nightmare.) 

So, overall, when Hei Xiazi pushes her out of his bedroom and shuts the door in her face, he’s a lot more gentle about it than he could be. She tries to open it, but Hei Xiazi is already turning the lock in the door. 

“Fine,” Liang Wan calls through the now locked door, “Keep your chastity intact if you insist, Hei-ge. There’s so much of it left, after all.”

Hei Xiazi listens to her stomp through to his main room, and calls, “Don’t touch my gramophone,” through the door at her. He, almost immediately, then hears the sound of her changing the record on it anyway. He knows, without having to look, what she’ll have reached for. Right on cue, the opening strains of Unobtainable Love start winding their way to him under the door, much like a cat yowling - and all of the same incessant yearning, for all it sounds much more pleasant. 

He sighs. He changes his undershirt, which had been clean before Liang Wan had retaliated against him, and now is sticking to his skin. His slacks, miraculously, are either safe or dark enough to look safe, because he doesn’t have another pair as well-suited to tonight’s dress code. He finishes buttoning a clean shirt over it all and unlocks the door. 

In his main room, sitting daintily on one of the heavy wooden chairs at the matching table - all of it kept over from the previous occupant and at cheap rent because the poor bastard had dropped dead on the kitchen floor or something, and Hei Xiazi had nearly laughed when the landlady had worried he’d not want it for the bad luck - Liang Wan is helping herself to his leftover dinner. Hei Xiazi watches her inhale the last several dumplings in succession with a sense of resignation.

[storytimewithnova]

Turn it down angst/hurt comfort

In this AU Sho  has dolores super hearing and is sensitive to nosie Sho pronouns for those that want to know is She/they

Backstoy/explaintion: A new Manager Started and she saw how everyone was with sho and she wanted that attention she starter a rumour (Rumour- sho is bullying her and is sleeping around was dating daichi) The bitch (Jenny) who is just jealous that everyone likes sho so she start to make rumors up that spreads round  the school like wild fire getting sho kicked off the team and out of school this new manager doesn’t know who she is dealing with be Sho’s family is very influential the new managers parents also work for  Sho and Satori’s parents what will when sho tell them what happened and the bitter bitch’s parents gets fired and her allowence gets stopped will karasuno regert it

X As for sho the rumours hurt so much it coursed a lasting impact on them where they hurt themselves Goshiki was there to save them from themselves they are going to tell people what has been going on with the help of the Chaotic friend group and Goshiki helped

In the Volleyhoes GC (Author chan clearly isn't creative)

Atsumu: I suffer from anxiety and depression how do those to energies go together?

Yaku:wait because you're on to something

Osamu:or my brother is on something To be determined

6 servers online

Shira:umm guys you okay?

Kenma:hey Rin i got tea for ya

Suna:ooh hit me what is it

Kenma:🎶So, did you hear about the other day🎶

Jenny:Hear what?

Everyone:^

Suna:no what?

Kenma:🎶They say that Karasuno is in dismay🎶

Suna:why bestie

Kenma:🎶I heard that everything was not okay🎶

Yaku:Kenma spill it please

Everyone:^

Kenma:🎶The Team might even fall, and then decay🎶

Kei:is this about that oh yeah and if they do fall apart honestly they deserve it

Suga:Tsukishima!!

Kei:what you can't scold me anymore i am not part of the team i am part of  Inarizaki now continue they need to know guys

Everyone else-the friend group:????

Yams:🎶What do I do about this future sight? Don't want to give the people any fright🎶

Yams is scared that the rumours of the team is true and now he found out his best friend has bailed he not 100% sure why but he is scared of the future of the team

Ennoshita:🎶Need to find Sho just to make things right Unless we wanna fall by candle light🎶

Yachi:why do you what to find Jenny's bully

The rest of Karasuno minus forgotten: yeah true

Sho:🎶Through doors and through the cracks I always listen but never act🎶

Meaning she heard the rumours Jenny spread about her she always listen to them she took the beating evey day and she never acted on the rumours or denied she just took what they dished out

Satori:Imōto what are you saying

Sho:🎶And though I wish that I could just turn it back The rumors speeding through a narrow track🎶

Goshiki:i am right here Love do you want me to add them yet or wait

Satori:add who Goshiki what is going on it involves my Imōto

Goshiki: you will see soon senpai and of course it does it's the reason she is at our school

Sho:🎶Everything is way too loud The roar of whispers in every crowd I'm sick of all the noise right now Oh, can someone please just turn it down?🎶

Satori:shit sho is that getting worse do you not have plugs

S.P.S: What are you talking about Tendou

Satori was going to reavel one of sho's secerts and that was her senstive hearing

Satori:have you ever notice sho cover her ears if yes that is she has really sensitive hearing her hearing picks up more compared to yours or mine so when she said about rumours speeding through a narrow track she means all the rumours she has heard for all different directions are going straight to her making it harder for her to concentrate her hearing is that good it can pick up sound from a mile away

Noya:that's insane how does she deal with volleyball us screaming

Satori:ear plugs but seems she is out ever noticed she speaks in low whispers

Kita:yeah and i had always wondered about that i guess that to do with her hyper sensitive hearing

Satori:bingo

Jenny:why are we even entertaining this Attention seeker who bullied me for no reason i might add

Goshiki:shut it will you skank Karasuno keep your whore on a leash

Sho:🎶 Candle, won't you just keep burning bright? The prophecy won't be our demise (keep it down) Clear blue skies, no rain, just shine If we stick together, we'll be alright (oh-oh-oh) I can hear your fear I can make them disappear (turn it down) There are secrets I won't tell Not unless they break the spell🎶

Kunimi:🎶And you could hear it through the school's halls A crack and scurry coming from the walls So, can we answer to the future's call? Or will we end up losing it all?🎶

Akaashi:🎶Why couldn't she just shut her mouth tonight?🎶

Akaashi is Referring to Jenny

Akaashi:🎶She ruined everything, just out of spite🎶

Still referring to Jenny akaashi is saying she ruined a stable relationship she (sho) had with Karasuno

Kinoshita:🎶Oh no, my team is fading by the day The pressures sinking in, I can't run away🎶

Goshiki:sunshine i am going to add them

Goshiki added 2 servers

Mrs Hinata: hello Tsutomu dear why are we here

Mr hinata:Young Man why did you add us?

Goshiki:back read Auntie Uncle

Satori:Hello Mother Father

Mrs Hinata:Satori Darling are you looking after Sunshine

Satori:Of course Mother

everyone minus the friend group: .........

after back reading

Mrs Hinata:sunshine continue

Mr Hinata:we will deal with this after you are finished Princess

Sho:🎶Through doors and through the cracksI always listen but never act And though I wish that I could just turn it back The rumors speeding through a narrow track🎶

remember the team mom's are mother figures not fanon so kita is acting in a mother figure way or a over protective big brother

Kita:what did karasuno do to you baby fox

Karasuno RN 😨

Sho:🎶Feeling like I'm always just barely there Only a shadow, and it's never fair The volume's growing, don't wanna know what's going on at all NOT ANYMORE!!!🎶

Goshiki:Sho!!!!

Shira:Tsu what is happening

Jenny:TCH🙄😒

(Me: keep acting unbothered you little bitch that will change soon)

Mrs Hinata:watch who you are talking too you young lady

Jenny:the mother of a slut and a bully

Goshiki:Auntie minus the friend group and Satori does  anyone  here know who you and uncle are

Mrs Hinata:No dear i don't think so but we will tell them after sunshine is finished

sho:🎶I'm at my final straw My hearings hardly a blessing at all Heeding to everybody's call Is there a line that I can draw?🎶

Goshiki:I'm right here focus on my voice alone Just me there is no one else you need to listen to

Goshiki got his headphones and play soothing music

Sho:🎶Everything is way too loud The roar of whispers in every crowd I'm sick of all the noise right now Oh, can someone please just turn it down?🎶

Karasuno:jenny is right she is attention seeking and being dramatic

Sho:🎶Turn it down Oh-oh-oh-oh Can someone please just turn it down? Oh-oh-oh-oh Turn it down Can someone please just turn it down🎶

Atsumu:ma'ma can you tell us who you are

Mrs Hinata:of course Atsumu  dear would you like to go first

Mr Hinata:I am Hikaru Hinata CEO of Sunshine Corporation the very same company your parents work sorry correction worked at Jenny

Jenny:😨

Mrs Hinata:and I'm Hana Hinata Model Actress and Co CEO OF Sunshine corporation we hear you have been bullying and spreading Rumours about the Heiress aka our daughter

It was at that moment jenny knew she fucked up

Goshiki:not all Auntie her and Karasuno's actions and give sho panic attacks she has been self harming because she got bullied by other students that was on jenny side that is why she is at shiratorizawa

Mrs Hinata:Tsutomu sweetie I told you to call me Mom after all you are set to be Engaged to our little sunshine

Goshiki:sorry mom but right now this is about sho not about our engagement  don't get me wrong mom not all of Karasuno was behind Jenny's little plot like Kei Yams Kinoshita Ennoshita and Narita they are in the clear

Semi:anything to say Karasuno 

Karasuno: .....

Kuroo:how do you all feel knowing you hurt Chibi chan like that the best thing to happen to all of us you go make the most cheerful happy person Like this

Karasuno.....

Mr Hinata:@Takada Ittetsu old friend

Karasuno:?!

Takada:yes Hikaru how may I help you?

Mr Hinata:in light of what I have learnt about  Karasuno team and a few words with the principal I Hear by announce Karasuno Volleyball team Disbanded and Disqualified from Nationals

Daichi:with respect sir you can't do that

Ukai:actually yes he can he the sponsor I was going to tell you about before you screwed sho over and you lost a Coach and advisor

Karasuno: .......

Kuguiri:wingless again I see you believed someone you known for what a week to someone you known longer which is our sweet sho who you guys know would never hurt a fly let alone a waste of space like Jenny come on guys lets go we're done here auntie Can we come over to check on sho

Karasuno:😣

Mrs Hinata:Of course Nao Goshiki is with her

Shira:we will be there soon tell sho  i made her favourite teriyaki

Mrs Hinata:keep doing that jiro she will never want you to leave

Shira:well i do technical live with you any way i am dating your son after all

Mrs Hinata:of course dear  see you all soon

Mrs hinata and Mr hinata offline

Takada:Jenny you are hear by banned from the club and expelled from the school on orders of the principal the rest of you know what is happening with the club those that weren’t involved see me at the end of the day tell me what your planning to do before we leave

The 4 minus kei says: Hai

5 severs leave the group chat Enno Kino Narita Yams Kei

Suna:Okay CFG lets head out we have a sunshine to cheer up

The friend group: Hai

Multiple servers left the GC

Satori: Sis if you are reading this can you and Goshiki come home please anwser me then go offline

Sho:Hai omw

Goshiki:With sunshine

3 server left the GC

Kita:Everyone else that are still volleyball players offline

Everyone else went offline

Jenny: Tch

Suga:Shut up already

Daichi:Yeah we are ruined because of you

Jenny:Tch whatever i’m going home

-------------------------KEEP READING-----------------------------------

Jenny got home to her parents scolding her about bullying and making up rumours about the Heiress they have lost their job and she has lost her allowence because of her jelousy as for Karasuno they feel nothing but regret they tried recruiting new people to the club but once word got round about what they did no one was interested some of the members also quit volleyball and went to new clubs like the forgotten trio Kei like i said moved schools and yams moved to Jozenji

[thehoneybeast]

Storm (Silco/fem!Reader 9)

Start here

Previous chapter | Next chapter

So umm.. it's going to get sadder and angsty from here on out to a certain point.

Hopefully I can keep going until then..

Thank you to all you who still keep on reading! I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: death, physical injured children, nudity

The disaster was enormous. You had seem the smoke rising from a mile away, dark clouds travelling to the sky, screaming of death and wasted lifes. The actual cries of pain and fear followed not too short after. People fled from the ruins of the factory like rats, trying to bring as much distance between them and the tragedy as possible. You were the only one heading directly into it. And it was overwhelming. The smell of copper, toxins and spilled chemicals filled the air, voices of despair and desperation travelling along. You had seen many people die, had accompanied some patients on their death bed, but this was different. This was a battlefield. The consequences of a long ongoing war, finally bubbling to the surface and reaching for the weakest people involved. So many corpses. Most of them children. You didn't know where to begin, so you searched for a place in the center, somewhere the others would see you, maybe find a little hope in themselves when they saw help appear. You looked over the scattered bodies, checked their pulses until a small hand reached out to yours, grabbing your attention. It belonged to a boy laying on his side, a deep gush in his torso, blood and dirt covering his face. He looked up at you with empty eyes, as if his body had reached out to you without his demand. Your mind pushed the horrors of the sight around you into the back of your head, jumping into professional medic mode.

Your bag fell onto the ground next to you, as you crouched, careful to find balance and started inspecting his wound. The edges were unsteady, probably torn by some part of flying metal, the actual impact could be dire, it was hard to tell through the blood and dust that had settled onto the poor boys body. "Hey, it's okay. I will help you, let me just-" you reached for his shoulder with the intention to turn him into a stabilising position to enable easier breathing, but the feeling of sharp metal against your throat stopped you. "Get away from him." It was a male voice by your ear and when you didn't react right away, the blade pressed harder, cutting the surface of your skin. "I'm trying to help." You pressed through gritted teeth, more angry than scared. This kid needed help, as well as many others and you had not time to loose. "Who says that they want your help?" The voice answered, matching your tone. Instead of replying, you scoffed, grabbing the arm attached to the knife and moved back from the boy, hoping that whoever had felt the need to interrupt wouldn't take too long to let you go again. You faced a mask instead of a human expression, the abstract face of an owl covering his entire face, a black hood the rest of his frame. One glimpse of the green glimming board across his back and your brain had made the connection. "Firelight." It passed your lips with a sigh before your eyes shot bak to your patient. The two kids that cowered behind him weren't relevant right now, as they seemed to be relatively unharmed. The mysterious figure reacted to your slipping attention, by pressing you hard against the ground, knife back at your throat. "Who are you? What is your business here?!" His voice was angry and only now did you hear other footsteps around you. He wasn't alone. "I already told you. I'm trying to help-" "She is with Silco!" It was a kid's voice cutting through your words and it had you closing your eyes in resignation. The pressure on the knife grew instantly but you were too annoyed to notice. "What does he want? Why would he send someone to help?" Sure, this was going to be easy. Okay, don't waste time, think logical. "They are his most efficient workers. The fewer he has to replace, the better." You tried to sound cold and thanks to your growing impatience, it worked. The knife left after a moment of hesitation (and probably a glance to the boy, you assumed) and you wasted no more time, turning right back to the boy and starting his treatment by disinfecting the wound. You felt eyes in your back but you ignored them, until the boy struggled against your hands. "Keep him still! He is going to hurt himself by trashing, I need to get the dirt out and closr the wound." It took a moment until the masked men reacted and you imagined an irritated expression underneath his mask but that was none of your concerns now. The boy cried out and you put one hand against his dirty cheek.

"You will be alright. I know, this hurts but you will make it through, okay? You're a tough little boy, right?" You smiled at him and after a moment of keeping eye contact, he nodded. "Good. You're doing very good." You kept working on him, your gloved hands already covered with blood. "You're not with Silco." The voice came from the men assisting you and you didn't bother looking at him when you answered. "Actually, I am. He just doesn't know I'm here." Silence followed, at least for you, your head was so deeply focused on the patient before you. When the wound was stitched up and bandaged, you got up, already roaming the scenery for the next victim. The other firelights seemed to busy themselves with similar tasks, searching for kids, removing parts of the buildings interior off their bodies or helping them to their feet. It crossed your mind, that Silco was underestimating how many of them existed but that was information for another time. Now you were happy to see other people care and help and it motivated you even more. "Who are you?" Geez, this one was persistent you thought, settling down to another small body, though your heart clenched when you saw the damage done. The ribcage was torn open, organs were open to the world to see. This one wouldn't make it. Scared green eyes looked up at you, endless fear in them. "Psssh. I'm here. You're not alone." Your hands cradled their head, moved it into your lap as you brushed the dirty hair with gentle fingers, humming an old lullaby. Their breath was calming, hands reaching for yours. "It's okay. You are okay. I'm right here." You kept soothing over your own pain, as you watched the light fading from their eyes. With a sad smile, you pressed a kiss to the cooling skin. "Rest now." Before you raised your head to look back at the stranger. To your suprise, he had removed his mask. Most likely to not scare the kid in its dying breath and behind it you found a younger face than expected, dark skin, white hair and certainty in his eyes. "The name's Ekko." He said, his eyes still resting on the dead kids face. "Y/N" you replied and when you struggled to get up, he offered you his surprisingly strong hand. "You're gentle. That's unusual for someone working for him." He commented and you sighed. "Perhaps, but it doesn't really matter now, does it?" Your eyes found a wailing kid with a broken arm. Unfortunate, but not an emergency. Another one with a torn off arm. Maybe still alive? You made fast steps towards them and when someone stepped in front of you, a sceptical look watching you, Ekko spoke again. "She's okay. Let her through."

It only dawned on you now, that the young men somehow was the leader of the group, another information you would rather not have. You went to work and with the help of the others, you saved nearly all of the survivors, round about twentyone workers. Despite the success, the dead outnumbered you today and you felt ill seeing so many lost life's, so much wasted potential for a brighter future. Than again, they would've lived in Zhaun and noone really knew what destiny this town could hold for you. Ekko ordered his people to take the kids in, a sight that was rewarding as they wouldn't have to live in the streets with their wounds, at least you hoped so. Ekko seemed like a determined but good hearted mem and you wanted to trust your guts on this one.

"Why are you doing this?" The question came when you were packing up your things, your clothes stained with blood and dirt, your eyes heavy. It had surely been five or six hours since you arrived. "What do you mean?" You asked without looking up from your bag. Ekko was leaning against a wall next to you, his gaze studying your features as if still trying to find something hidden underneath. "Why would someone like you work for Silco? He is responsible for all of this. You seem like a person that should despise him." That sounded familiar. You sighed, irritation in your voice as you spoke. "I don't need to justify any of my actions. Why do people keep insisting on knowing what I should want? The world is not as simple as some of you make it out to be." You closed your bag, bringing it up over your shoulder, looking back up at Ekko with subtle anger. "It's none of your business." He raised a brow but didn't reply. Sighing again, you wiped your hands on your clothes, calming down. "Sorry. I'm just tired of being questioned about my doings. Thank you and your people for your help, I will go now." You turned your back to him, heading for the outside of the demolished factory. "If you ever decide that he isn't worth it-" you rolled your eyes at the indication but looked over your shoulder to meet his eyes one last time. "We would consider to give you a chance." You smiled weakly at his words, silently raising your hand in a simple goodbye and left the chaos behind you. It wasn't going to be a comfortable conversation with Silco, but as soon as you left the first corner behind you, Sevika came into view and every hope for slipping past him was crushed under the angry gaze she welcomed you with.

"I would like to reduce the part of my job that requires me to babysit your stupid ass every other day, but you aren't going to do me that favour, are you?" You were to tired to fight so you just shrugged, walking past her. "Hey!" A jerk on your arm had you stop in your tracks, as she turned you around. "Are you trying to provoke him? Is this some fucked up kink of yours?!" Oh, she was angry. That could only mean he was as well. You shook your head, looking at the ground like a scolded child. You felt empty and heavy at the same time. The sight of dying children, crying for parents they most likely didn't have, was damaging to your mental health, especially considering that you were sleeping with the men who allowed this to happen. It was easy to keep distance to the reality of that fact when you weren't confronted with the outcome directly, distracting yourself with work, but today you had seen it. You had felt the lifes fade in your hands, lifes he had sacrificed without a second thought. And you had known but chosen to ignore it in order to make him happy. You felt sick to your stomach. "What am I doing here..?" You asked yourself and the grip on your arm got harsher. "That's a good fucking question." Sevika growled and you felt yourself wanting to run. To run from her, run from Silco, run from the questions he would ask, from the feeling of desperation that was growing in your heart.

Instead you followed her home. Your mind was wiped empty, images of what could be happening to you running marathons in your brain, fuelling the uncertainty inside of you. Sevika more or less shoved you into Silcos office, the men himself stood with his back to you, facing the window. "Leave us." The order was cold and if it wasn't for the gnawing feeling of sadness in your heart, you would've been scared of his demeanour. His head turned, his black eye staring over his shoulder at you. "Sit." Another command. He was beautiful. It was his stoic features, his elegance, his confidence that was so attractive but that wasn't it. You had seen him genlte. You had seen him vulnerable. And you loved him, oh so much. Without any form of emotion on your face, you headed for the chair opposite of his, but he stopped you with words, his body stiff and unmoving. "Not there." His voice was lower now and the first indication of anger slipped in. You sighed. Everything was so damn complicated. Everything hurt, once you tried to make sense of things. You were just so tired. Your throat closed up under the heaviness that invaded your heart but you followed his wish anyways, sitting down in his mighty chair, facing his desk.

"I'm sorry-" "How does it feel like?" The question was hissed into your ear, he had moved to your side without you noticing. "Do you feel powerful, knowing that you can lie to me over and over again? Do you enjoy the feeling of control?" If it wasn't so damn sad, you would've laughed at that. You? Control? Over what exactly? Definitely not him. Not yourself, either. "I didn't lie." You knew it was a weak argument and he chuckled without humour. "I was on my way to the bedroom, when I heard about the victims-" "And our brave little hero just couldn't stay away now, could she?! You just love to play the role of the saviour, even if it means that you have to cooperate with firelights, isn't that right?!" He jerked the chair around so that you had to face him, one hand on one of the chairs armrests, caging you in. You looked up at his face, contorted with anger. "They were just children.." you replied weakly, but his expression stayed cold, one side of his lip twitching upwards in a snarl. You searched his eyes for any sign of regret, remorse about the wasted lifes, but you found nothing. And that nothing spread into your chest and suddenly, you couldn't breath, all air leaving your lungs with an agonising wail, all of the bottled up fear and pain collapsing on your heart.

This wouldn't work. Nothing could dissolve the canyon that gleamed between you and him, between your painfully different souls. You could either sacrifice all and everything of yourself in order to be with him, or you had to leave. Despite how much your heart cried out for him.

Silco retracted in shock at the noise leaving you, bewilderment in his eyes. Then he saw the agony in your expression, your beautiful face twisted in distress as tears started to pour and you shrank down into a pitiful little mess in his office chair. That was not what he had expected. He had wanted you to explain yourself, to provide reason to your actions, other than what his twisted mind told him about betrayal and manipulation, but now he had broken something and he didn't know how or why or how to take it back. His anger shrank immensely, making room for worry and regret, as he returned to your side, sinking to his knees in front of you, steadying your face with his hands. His eyes tore into you, asking for the source of your pain.

"Darling? Dear, please look at me. Tell me what's wrong." Through tears you caught his eyes, while he was gently wiping the undying streams of your cheeks. He was pleading with you to say something and when you found your voice, you could only offer him two sentences: "I- I love you. I love you, Silco. I love you- I'm sorry-" and then you fell towards him, pressing him as close as physically possible, wrapping your arms tightly around his back. "Shhhh.. It's okay. I love you, too. I love you. I forgive you." But oh, he couldn't forgive you yet, for you were weeping apologies into his shoulders, not for what had already happened, but for what you knew, was still waiting for the both of you.

He was patient with you, holding you close, soothing your skin, humming into your ear until your breath finally calmed and the sobs slowly stopped shaking your body. You had sunken to the floor, his back leaning against his desk as he cradled you in his arms. His face was still, his brows furrowed in a thoughtful expression, his hands brushing your hair. Your staggering breath became more even and exhaustion made you heavy, curling closer into his slender chest. His heart was beating steadily under his skin and you clang onto that feeling. "I'm sorry." Your voice was hoarse and hollow. "I..I couldn't.." your throat closed up again, threatening to make you tear up for the second time, but Silco hushed you, his warm hand on your burning cheek. "I know. You just wanted to help." He met your eyes and the sorrow he found in them had his chest in a tight grip. "There were so many.. So much blood.." you looked down at your hands, your clothes were still covered with blood that slowly turned brown as it dried against your frame. Silco sighed, lifting your chin to avert your glance from the misery spilled out over your body. "You shouldn't have been there. It is not your duty to save them. You only have to save yourself." He kissed your hairline, but it felt wrong to you. He didn't understand. He only tried to make you feel better, not seeing that it was him that had you so broken. He tried so hard to make you happy. "You are too precious for this world. It is a mystery to me, how you kept that amount of kindness in your heart." He leaned his head on top of yours, sighing heavily. "I really wish you had stayed here." Silco watched your expression closely, saw the thoughtful distance in your eyes, still glistening with tears. "I don't think I can be the way you want me to be.." it was a whisper, a fearful undertone to your voice. He furrowed his brows in irritation, guiding your head up to meet his eyes.

"I don't want you to be anything-" "You ask me to ignore my wishes to help. You.. you want me to-" "Stay safe." His voice cut through your words harshly and his grip on you tightened. "I want you to be happy. To see you like this is... unpleasant, to say the least." It was your turn to sigh and you closed your eyes, pushing your face into his neck, inhaling the scent of him, forging it into your memory. "Life is unpleasant sometimes." You mumbled and he hummed. "You don't need to tell me that, dear." A sad smile tucked at his lips. His beautiful, imperfect lips. "You are the first sunshine that reached down here in long time. I don't want to loose that." Your heart ached and a whimper left your lips, as a new wave of fear and pain washed through you. How were you supposed to leave this man? Despite all logic, you had managed to reach his heart only to, what? Tear piece of it with you as you run? Break an already broken man? You felt horrendous. "Why do you have to be so beautiful..?" it was a teary whisper and he raised an eyebrow at you. He didn't need to say out loud that it was unusual for him to get such a flattering comment. "I never felt like this before.." it was true, your previous life had been lacking of any real connection to other people, you had been too careful, to busy. Silcos unlikely eyes watched as his hand found yours, intertwining his long, slender fingers with yours. It was such an innocent gesture compared to everything else and it meant the world to you. "Neither have I." He answered softly, kissing your forehead and staying there. Your heartbeat was steady now, painful but steady. Everything felt so normal here, in the safety of his office, the calm after an eventful day. You could nearly imagine to forget what happened, forget about your dreams in order to make room for him. But that wasn't who you were. And it most likely would never be.

Sighing, you leaned back from his warmth, already missing the feeling of his head against yours but he seemed content with the idea to get up amd helped you to your feet. He watched you carefully, seemingly worried that you might be of balance after such an emotional outburst. You met his eyes, reaching for gis hand. "Can we.. go to bed?" Silco looked over your form and softly shook his head. "You will need to wash first, darling." He reminded you and before you could protest, he already lead you down the way through his bedroom and towards the bathroom next to it. He let go of you to face the bathtub in the corner, it was big and looked inviting as he filled it up with water and the view alone had you relaxing a little. You opted for sitting on the closed toilet, your limbs heavy and tired as you watched his slender frame undress the vest and pull up the sleeves of his dress shirt in an all too familiar way. You smiled weakly as he turned back to you. "You will need to undress, if you want me to take care of you." His smooth voice was tempting you to think of something more than just the comfort of a bath but you were too exhausted to give into it. Silently you pulled of your clothes, Silcos hands assisting you without ever initiating anything other than gentle ease. You sighed as the hot water met your tired body and you sank down until only your nose stuck through the surface. You enjoyed the embrace of the warmth and the weightless feeling of floating in the water. When you moved back up, your hair clang to your scalp amd the same slender fingers helped you moving it out of your face. Your eyes met his again, as he kneeled beside the barrier of porcelain, his expression a mixture between concentration and admiration as he started to help you clean. It was more of a massage than anything else, you barely had to move at all as Silco willingly helped you relaxed, rubbing down the filth of yiur skin. Despite his unfazed expression, you could've sworn to feel some sort of enjoyment in his movements and it made your head swim in adoration for this stoic men who had become so used to play the role of the big bad villain. He was so very careful in his movements and you wondered whether he had earned this skills through raising Jinx or if he had them before that but you mind went blank when his hands brushed over your neck, sending shivers down your body.

"You are beautiful, Y/N." The compliment slipped from his mouth like a simple observation but it warmed your heart none the less. His hand came to rest on your jaw, moving you to face him with genlte force. "Don't ever leave me." Silcos voice was unusual weak and it caught your mind of guard, a sad smile gracing your lips as you nodded weakly, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. Once your body was clean, he moved on to your hair, skilfully massaging the back of your head as he caressed your hair between his fingers. It was amazing being taken care of for once, no worries blurring your head as you concentrated on the feeling of his fingers against your skin. "I love you." It left your mouth in a hazy daze, your eyes closed and leaning back against him. A soft kiss was pressed behind your ear. "I know, dear."

The bed was especially welcoming after this draining day, a lightness in the way he held you close, his breath travelling over your skin in a calming rhythm. His arms were wrapped around your torso, not willing to allow any room between the two of you. His words echoed in your ears as you listened to his soft breath, a blanket of sadness coming to rest over you. You loved him. You really did. But your dreams were crying out for you to be fought for and now that hope for change had grown inside your heart, you had to comply if you wanted to be able to keep the person alive that you were.

@liv-victoriano @potato-dragons @sunflowercandie @motherswarrior @yesnessieme @eprilin @imalovernotahater @htmlbitxh @illiniana @silcovinzant @redsakura101 @faerieandfishsticks @stainedpomegranatelips @subbing-for-clones @fandoms-will-be-the-death-of-me @sana-within-you @oodanijadeoo @lenaexplorestheinternet @janilovecookies @shameshomalo @creepysupermarvelpaladin @shadow-pancake9 @komatheterrible @ilikemymendarkandfictional @the-not-so-iconic @rosenightwings @vaaalexandra @usualsworld @janesofia7 @ancientbeing10 @shuttlelauncher81

[buckyownsmylife]

Girl That You Love - Bucky Barnes x Reader x Steve Rogers smut

The one where there's a threesome on a mission.

Warnings: smut, punishment, oral sex (m), dom!stucky, asphyxiation on dick, p in v, subspace, double penetration, anal, name-calling,  dacrophylia, threat of noncon?, but most likely cnc, references to suicidal behavior

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: this was requested a while ago. Thank you to the lovely @sinking-in-mercury​ for helping me make it better.

We barely made it inside the cabin when Steve’s voice reverberated on the wooden walls. “Kneel,” he ordered, and I turned around to find him staring at me with icy cold eyes I barely recognized as his.

I knew I had fucked up. The mission had been a disaster on all ends, but he didn’t care about his own mistakes at a time like this. We had an entire evening to kill before the quinjet could come pick us up, and I knew I’d have to suffer through a lot of punishment before the light of morning appeared again.

I heard fumbling behind me, but couldn’t find the courage I needed to look for Bucky. Steve was staring, waiting for me to follow his orders, and if I made it obvious that he wasn’t the only thing in my mind, I’d be in even deeper troubled waters.

And so I sank to my knees, sitting back on my legs as I made quick work of his suit’s pants to expose his gorgeous cock to me. No matter how long I was with them, the sight of their members would still frighten just as much as they excited me.

The head was red and throbbing, much like Steve’s temples as he waited for me to get on with it already. I wanted to look around for Bucky so badly, but I resisted the temptation as I leaned closer and engulfed his dick with my lips, making sure to keep my hands behind my back so I wouldn’t piss off my captain even further.

Any time Steve played the bad cop, James would be there to calm him down, counter each rough action with a sweet movement, and I missed that now. I wanted to feel his fingers massaging my scalp, his soft voice urging me to take Steve even deeper, to let him fuck my throat fully.

But he didn’t seem to be near us, and that scared me. The disappointed expression on his face when he saw just how narrowly I had escaped death in that old factory was all I could think about.

So I tried to focus on Steve and his pleasure. He wasn’t giving me any signs of it, knowing how much I enjoyed hearing his moans and grunts, but just the sight of his sculpted body paired with the taste of his skin was enough to have me dripping.

And that’s when I felt it. That familiar tingle up my spine, the rush of being watched by a predator. Bucky was near, I instinctively knew it before he even pulled me by my hair so I’d release Steve and leaned over me, devouring my lips in an upside-down kiss.

This wasn’t soft, or sweet, or even kind. It was a show of possession that invaded every part of my soul, leaving me soft and pliant under his fingers, exactly how he wanted me to be. I could only ever get this way when both of them had their hands on me.

Without any sort of preamble, he pushed me back onto Steve’s dick, gagging me against it with the help of the grip he had on my head. The sounds of my suffocation only had them laughing, and I was relieved when he relented and let go of the back of my neck, but that was only until I felt his hands gripping my ankles.

I knew what was coming before Steve’s hands held my chest. They’d done this before, but still, my heartbeat spiraled out of control once I was suspended in the air, mouth still filled with Steve’s cock when Bucky’s entered me from behind.

My desire skyrocketed. There was just something about the rush of adrenaline that being on these men’s hands caused me… It got to me every time.

I knew they’d never let me fall. But the uncertainty caused by the position was still there, and it just had me falling into subspace that much quicker.

They moved in silence, grunts barely audible as they each pulled me in different directions to use my body in search of their releases, knowing how much I loved to hear any sounds that escaped from them. By the time Steve finally pulled me off of his cock, pushing me into Bucky’s arms, who then turned me around so I could face him, there were tears and spit running down my face, yet I didn’t make any move to brush them off.

They liked it, and I didn’t want to do anything else to disappoint them today.

I felt Steve approach me from behind before I felt his fingers brushing the hair away from my back so he could deposit a kiss on one of my shoulders.

A soft gesture, gentle, even, but I couldn’t be fooled. I knew my boys too well by now. This was only the calm before the storm.

“I hope you’re ready, princess,” his tone putting an icy cast on the usually sweet pet name. “By the time we’re done with you, you won’t be able to walk for a week straight.”

I screamed as he penetrated my other hole, my head falling back on his shoulder as his hands took a hold of my hips laying over where Bucky’s already were holding. I’d taken both of them enough times to be able to handle being used like this, but the stretch and burn of being filled so completely never fully went away, regardless of how frantically they fucked me.

Bucky was watching my blissed out face with darkened eyes by the time I was able to open mine again, a dangerous smirk taking over his expression. I knew I wouldn’t like what he was going to say.

“You know she enjoys this,” he addressed Steve, although his gaze remained on me, “the little whore.” The comment felt like a slap to the face, I was never used to hearing them address me as anything other than the loveliest pet names.

Except in times like these. Times when I disappointed them, made their stomachs churn with fear and angst, thinking I’d left them for good, thinking I was dead.

Was it weird that I silently thrived on it? Bucky wasn’t wrong. I loved when they treated me like this, like I was disposable, used me for their pleasures without caring about how it would impact me.

Ironically, it only ever happened when they were reminded of how much they couldn’t live without me.

“Just like she enjoys making us suffer,” Bucky continued, nothing but spite and anger in his gaze and tone. “Making us worry about her…” I yearned for a kiss, something soft in the midst of all of the roughness, even if I did love the roughness.

It was the beauty of times like these - they made me cherish what I usually took for granted, what I could have at any time.

“What do we have to do to get you to learn, huh?” Steve’s hands around my neck as he breathed out the question against my skin had me releasing a loud moan - louder than I usually felt comfortable letting escape. However, we were all alone in this safe house, with no one to hear my delicious torture for miles and miles, and I knew my boys would take advantage of that.

“Do we have to make you cry?” Steve insisted, other hand sneaking around my body to circle my clit, making my thighs tremble as I did begin to cry, desperate for a release I knew they wouldn’t grant me. “Fuck you until you pass out and then continue to use you?”

The suggestion shouldn’t have made me so aroused, but it did. It did and they both knew it, so they continued, “So you’ll wake up covered in our cum, drowning in it, knowing that we took full advantage of this body that you’re so careless of?”

Punishment be damned, I came with a scream. As my walls contracted around them, I heard them curse, hips losing control as they too were brought to their releases because of me.

I whimpered when they both pulled away, hiding my face in Steve’s neck as he carried me in his arms to the bed we’d all have to share. I don’t think any of us minded the prospect, even if it wasn’t what the people who designed the safe house probably intended it for.

Two hands brushed the hair off my face as I was deposited on Bucky’s lap. Groggily, I struggled to open my eyes and focus on him after being fucked so brutally. “Sweetheart, pay attention to me.”

His tone didn’t leave space for any arguments.

“Will you promise to be good from now on?” He questioned. “Obey our orders?” But I was too out of it to answer them. At my innocent silence, Steve sighed, sitting by our side and grabbing my jaw so I’d look at him.

“Honey, we are so in love with you.” I sighed happily at the words, making him smile at my visible comfort around their presence. “And we need you here, with us. For as long as possible. So we need you to learn to be afraid of death. Okay?”

And as I considered not being in their arms right then, but in the cold, hard ground of the battlefield, bleeding out, I swear that I began to know that fear.

[heniareth]

I was really curious about what your opinions on the DAO companions are :) I know we have talked about some, but I'd love to hear more and about the others as well :D I hope it's ok to pose this as an ask :)

Sure! That sounds like a ton of fun. This might be a long one tho. Mind you, this is not the finished version of the answer. I'd like to link stuff and add a cut, but rn that's not possible. I'll update it when I can.

Edit: I have updated it ^^

Let's go alphabetically bc why not.

Alistair:

Sweet guy. So sweet. There was a moment when I was hard pressed chosing between him and Zevran (alas, Zevran won). Also, he's weirdly tall according to the wiki? How did I not notice that before?

Let's get a bit more serious now, Alistair is a great guy. The only reason he's not the hero of the story is because he doesn't want to. He has all the qualities of a leader: he's good at dealing with conflict (as evident with the conversation with the mage at the beginning. He gets where he wants to get without antagonizing the mage, but without allowing him to trample all over him). He's a solid tactitian and knows how to make allies (he suggests to use the Grey Warden treaties, after all). I bet if he was in the leadership position, he'd even not bicker with Morrigan. His moral code is pretty tight; some might say too tight, but I think it's less about the moral code and more about learning to judge people by their actions, not by the labels they fit into (Morrigan is a proud apostate and therefore bad. Wynne is a humble circle mage and therefore good). He also has a bit of a black-and-white way of seeing the world. I empathize a lot with Alistair, especially with his experience with the Chantry and his subsequent reluctance to deal with it. I really wish I had gotten to know more about concrete experiences he had during his training as templar, but he seems reluctant to talk about it (gee, I wonder why).

Since I've only played the game once, I haven't really picked up on Arl Eamon's abuse towards him, which apparently exists (Isolde, however... I mean, even if he were Eamon's illegitimate son, he's a kid, ma'am, he didn't exactly get to chose his parents. So that's so not okay). Alistair's way of speaking about them both, however, is either sign that he has not come within a hundred miles of acknowledging how much it hurt him, or that he's already gone through the whole process and has decided to forgive them. The latter shows a very strong character; yes, he relies on the approval and leadership of others, he has his issues, but he's already started working on them.

That being said, irl Alistair would be like a little brother to me. I'd tease him relentlessly (all in good fun and I promise to stop if it makes him uncomfortable, but he's just so teasable). I still wish the videogame gave him the chance to take important decisions for himself. But that, of course, would somewhat defeat the point of the game.

Leliana:

Another sweet, sweet person. Her singing voice is amazing. Her belief in the Maker inspires me (I'm a religious person and seeing religious characters represented in a positive light is Very Cool. It's also sometimes a source of discomfort, because the Church has done a lot of very messed up stuff and positive representation can sometimes veer into apologetics for things that should not be excused, but that's a whole other can of worms. The bottom line is that religious characters sometimes work for me and other times don't and Leliana works for me very much bc she's an outsider inside the Chantry).

Leliana is best friend material, tbh. I'd love to get to know her irl, discuss theology and philosophy and maybe even politics? She makes mistakes and has prejudices, but, tbh, so do I. And I do get the feeling that she tries her best to learn. From the times she intervenes in a conversation between the Warden and an NPC, she shows herself to be compassionate and open to the needs of others. What I get from her character is that she genuinely wants to help, which is something that I adore of her. I suspect that she sometimes has a hard time deciding wether she's a good person or not. She has killed and seduced and worked for a morally dubious person, and she doesn't show the same nonchalance about it as Zevran (though they both do discuss their line of work in very... professional terms). This is, however, more of a headcanon than actual factual canon.

I also very much enjoy her girly side, like her interest in shoes and dresses. She's one badass woman who also looses her cool about the latest fashions in Val Royeaux. I like that. Between her and Alistair, a non human noble Warden has as good a help to navigate the Fereldan court as they're going to get. Leliana is also, I can't forget that, clever and insightful. It'd be easy to write her off as the innocent chantry girl, but she's so much more than that. Her kindness is paired with foresight, I think. She knows that taking on the trouble to help now can go a long way in the future. I just have a lot of respect for her.

Loghain:

This one's gonna be short bc I didn't recruit him. He's an amazing villain and would probably be a great Warden as well. He reminds me of Denerhor from LOTR; once a hero/stewart of his people, ambition and desperation have driven them both down a terrible path. I have also only little idea about his past. People say he lost a lot, and I believe it wholeheartedly; it doesn't excuse the fact that he plunged the country into a civil war in the middle of a Blight. I don't have a lot of sympathy for short-sighted politicians. I wish he hadn't made himself regent. That's what I take away from his character.

Edit: One thing I forgot to mention that really impressed me was his death. I had Alistair duel him (that was a rough duel), and then it kinda just jumped to a cutscene of my Warden nodding and Alistair executing him. That didn't sit well with me. I didn't want to kill Loghain, and less so in front of Anora. But what impressed me was that Loghain just accepted it. That takes a whole lot of guts. Compare that to Howe's death, and how he screams out that he deserved (more, probably, or anything but death) and it's crystal clear who the more noble of the two is. Loghain strikes me as very lawful neutral, and any neutral alignment has the particularity that it can be dragged towards good or bad, sometimes without the characters noticing it (which is interesting from a DnD perspective; neutral is often concieved of as just as stable as good or evil, but that may not be true. But that's a different post). Anyway, Loghain's death was impactful.

Morrigan:

I could kick myself for not maxing out her approval in the first play-through. I got to enjoy a bit of her friendship by the end of it and boy was even that little bit worth it. Friendship with Morrigan is something that is hard-won. It's all the more precious because of that.

Morrigan is full of paradoxes, I think. She's incredibly wise in some ways, yet also very short-sighted (”just kill them, don't solve their problems”. Morrigan, dear, I'm not going to gain a lot of allies if I kill everybody who poses a problem to me). She is so intelligent, but emotionally... not so. She knows so much about some things, and very little about the next. She's incredibly wilful and knows what she wants, but follows Flemeth's orders all the time through. She hungers for power and independence, yet craves closeness, but won't allow herself to have it. She asks you to prove yourself to her and is extremely critical of your actions, I think, because she's afraid. She bites the hand that feeds her because it might hit her next.

Like with Eamon, I haven't managed to catch the undercurrent of abuse that seems to permeate Flemeth's relationship with Morrigan. Except there are signs, because there must be something Morrigan is scared of and who has instilled all that rage in her, and that's Flemeth. Also, she clearly hates/does not care about her and wants her dead (unless killing Flemeth was part of Flemeth's plan as well? Hm.)

Morrigan is that one person who you are nice to, continuously, because nobody else is. And suddenly she becomes less cold. And then friendly. And suddenly you're asking yourself why everybody hates her, because she's a really good friend! I just wish the other companions came to a similar conclusion, especially Alistair and Wynne.

Oghren:

They did this man dirty. He has such great lines and I'm convinced he was a great person before Branka disappeared. He has that dwarven warrior spirit, and while he looks like Gimli, some of his most impactful lines remind me of Dwalin or even Thorin Oakenshield himself. He could be so noble had he gotten some character development, damnit!

Oghren as he is written is somewhat disgusting. I hate the lechering comments and the drunkenness. And still, I don't hate him because of those amazing lines he has when he's actually sober. It's frustrating and I'll give him that character development myself if the game won't. I strongly associate the song Whiskey Lullaby with him, bc that's how he would have ended up if the Warden hadn't taken him along (warning: the song talks about suicide and alcoholism). Like I said, they could have done such cool things with his character. As he is written now... it's just sad. Moments of lucidity drowned in alcohol and creepy jokes. As you can see, I don't blame the character for either. The alcoholism happens all too often irl. The creepy jokes... I put that one on the writers' tab.

I actually think Oghren could have been a great mentor figure (I know, I shock myself as well sometimes). Next to the Grey Wardens, the ones who know most about fighting darkspawn are the dwarves because they have to deal with them constantly. Especially a warrior caste dwarf like Oghren could have brought a lot of that invaluable knowledge to the team, especially since there are no Grey Wardens in Ferelden but two extremely green recruits. Next, you get the chance to give Oghren the command of the teammates you leave behind in the battle of Denerim with the reason that he has lead men into battle before. Where did that suddenly come from? Oghren should have been right up there telling my Warden that they were doing this wrong, that they needed more food (and booze) and a confident leader to keep the armies they've called together going. Oghren should have been able to tell my civilian city elf who got recruited into the Grey Wardens a six months ago how one leads an army. How one presents oneself to inspire confidence, how one doesn't crack under the pressure, how one gets the leaders of said armies (some who hate each others guts i.e. Dalish elves and humans) to work together. And, last but not least, Oghren could have had a great story about grief. This is a man who has lost most of what made him (and what he hasn't lost he's spilling down the drain with every mug of ale). This is a man who, if you take him into the Deep Roads, has to see what his wife did to his family, how his wife got absolutely obsessed, and can be forced to kill said wife or watch her die. All Wardens loose their home and families at the start of the story. It would really have rounded the whole narrative out if the Warden and Oghren could have recognised their grief in each other and hashed it out somehow. Such as it is, Oghren is a depressed drunkard and there is nothing we can do about that. I find that frustrating.

Rascal (a.k.a. Dog):

Best boy. 100/10. I wish we had gotten to see the reaction of the different origins to the mabari (because elves probably have a whole different experience with them from mages or humans. And dwarves just... I think they straight up have none? XD). Other than that, no complaints. The name Rascal was the one I gave my dog because you have to be a right rascal to survive what he did and play the pranks he plays. Smartest breed in the world indeed.

Shale:

Shale is one of those characters that I recruited rather late in the game, so I haven't had the chance to explore their personality and worldview, really. I didn't even get to take them to the Deep Roads (this will be ammended in playthrough nr. 2). As such, I don't have particularly strong opinions on them (or her? The wiki refers to Shale as 'it', but that sounds weird). But, because I know so little about Shale, I have a lot of questions. First, what were they like before they were a golem? Shayle, as she was called then, was the best warrior of her time if I remember correctly. Why did she become a golem? Was it to be able to eternally protect her people? Was the sarcasm the golem Shale exhibits also part of the dwarven warrior Shayle or did that come later (if for thirty years you have nobody to talk to but yourself, you better be entertaining. And I can imagine how it could make somebody terribly jaded as well).

Next, how attached is Shale to their golem form, exactly? According to the banter, they infinitely prefer it to a squishy fleshy form. If that is the case, however, why go to Tevinter to try and become a squishy dwarf again? It's not like that process could be reversed if they wanted to become a golem again; if Shale survives to the end of the game, the Anvil of the Void is destroyed and Caridin is dead. Was the whole spiel about their indestructible form a façade? It might have been, but not because Shale actually disliked their form. I think it would have more to do with the loss of their memories and with the very invasive experiments and alterations of Shale's body made by the mage Wilhelm. The loss of memories means that Shale is unable to remember life as a fleshy creature. They might be deflecting by pretending that they didn't care for that experience anyway because of the superiority of their golem form. The modifications made to their form by Wilhelm would have alienated them from their body. In light of this, it's significant that Shale asks the Warden to decorate their form with crystals.

All of this is, of course, pure speculation. I may have easily missed or forgotten details that would disprove the above thoughts. All in all, I like Shale and I hope we meet them again in DA4 (given that it's mostly set in Tevinter). It's a liking from a respectful distance, because Shale is tall and made out of rock and also way more experienced than I will ever be (they are literally the oldest member of the Warden's little Blight fighting squad).

Sten:

Sten is another person I'd keep a respectful distance from physically. That seems to be the what he would prefer, at least. I've enjoyed his character a lot, especially because he seems pretty clear-cut at first, but slowly lets the nuance of his person show (gruff and stoic, but then he has an eye for art, a sweet tooth and he likes cute animals). It's also very interesting that there's no moment when you learn "the truth" about him the way you do with Zevran or Leliana. There's no big reveal about his life under the Qun before coming to Ferelden. He says he was sent to monitor the Blight, but honestly? If neither Ferelden nor Orlais knew there was a Blight, how could the Qunari know? I think he's lying, and he takes his secrets back with him when he leaves Ferelden. And yet I think I know him enough to say that a Warden who has become friends with him has nothing to fear from Sten.

One thing I find very interesting about Sten is how he thinks. His conversation about how women can't be soldiers has been analysed a lot on this page I think. He seems to be arguing based on a different paradigma than the one the Warden has. He also seems to have a very clear-cut view of the world. What is fascinating to me is that, when arguing with the Warden and learning about their culture, he is not necessarily becoming more lax about his worldview. I think it's more likely that he is expanding his paradigma, the structure of thought through which he understands the world. I don't think that he is now convinced that women can be warriors as well. I think he rather understands that, in Ferelden, the relationship between occupation and gender is different than under the Qun. Which of the two he thinks is more right or more agreeable, I have no idea. I'm also not very interested in that. But I find it fascinating how he always seems to be looking on quietly, gathering data, classifying it and trying to fit it into his understanding of how the world works. I wouldn't be surprised at all if his original party was a scouting party to see how vulnerable Ferelden was at that moment to outside forces. One thing I don't understand with all of this is why he urges the Warden to meet the Blight head on. No smart soldier would suggest that, except if they are foolishly proud (and Sten doesn't seem like that kind of guy tbh). I get that the Warden takes way longer to gather allies than expected because they first have to solve all of their allies' problems. But surely Sten sees the need to have allies? Is he just that impatient? Does he have a death wish (à la, I lost my sword and am without honour, better to die sooner than later and in glorious battle)? Was he his group's previous commander and is he now having trouble following somebody else's orders? Or maybe it's his way to make sure the Warden knows what they are doing? To push them into becoming the self-assured commander their allies will need once they're all gathered? I really don't know. I like the last option best, however.

For me, Sten is my fellow, more experienced soldier. Like Alistair, he can potentially be the Warden's brother in arms, but he's definitely the older brother here. He probably doesn't take kindly to tearful confessions of how hard everything is, but I feel like he's otherwise a solid rock to lean on. I feel like the Warden can trust him to do what is necessary and count on him no matter what, especially after they get his sword back. His devotion from that point on is honestly so powerful.

Wynne:

Wynne was such a support for my Warden (except with the whole conversation about love vs. duty and that she may have to choose between Zevran and ending the Blight and that she should therefore break up with him. Wynne had a point. Astala was so not willing to sacrifice her relationship with Zevran. But the whole conversation came at a point where she was already so disillusioned that she blew up in Wynne's face (”can i please just have one (1) nice thing????”)). But all in all, Wynne is great.

She has a lot of flaws. She was very marked by her life in the Cricle and, for all her age, she has little experience living outside of it. She is also a conformist despite her strong moral core. In a way, her ability to find peace with her lot in life impresses me deeply because it speaks to a lot of strength of character. Sadly, however, strength can be ill applied and used to suppress. I think she has convinced herself that the Chantry is right under (almost) all circumstances to be able to rationalize the life that mages live. She's had her son taken away from her as a baby and an apprentice killed. Her reaction seems to have been to convince herself that this was right, or for the greater good (and now I'm thinking about the Guardian's question at the temple of Andraste's Ashes; are you wise or do you just repeat what others have told you? The answer is not as clear-cut as it might be). This is why she is so irritated by Zevran and Morrigan. By aligning herself with the Chantry, she is, in her eyes, good. Zevran and Morrigan are not; they do not conform to Chantry morality and they defend themselves tooth and nails against somebody who would try and convert them. This is something Wynne never allowed herself to do; she always did the "right" thing and it has cost her so much. I'm not saying she was right (it would probably have done her some good to rebel from time to time, and to trust her own gut instinct more), but in light of this, it hardly surprises me that she's so judgamental. She has to be, or she would be forced to confront all the evil she has not fought against all those years and all the hurt that has been caused to her by the very institution she protects (and thank God she only tries to argue and can appreciate it when people have found a good life outside of her comfort zone. If she tried to convince by force or, for example, drag her former apprentice back to the Circle... boy oh boy that would get ugly). If you think about it, Wynne really is a good example for what happens if you live by a philosophy of always choosing the lesser evil.

Something that I keep forgetting over her grandmotherly and dignified character is how damn powerful she is. She has escaped the carnage at Ostagar; HOW!? She protected those mage apprentices in the Circle tower for God knows how long. In the battle of Denerim, she wades through an army and comes out alive on the other side. The wiki lists her age at 40, I think, but that doesn't make a lick of sense unless 75 years of age are the Fereldan equivalent to 100. This lady, about whom people make grandmother jokes, did all that. It's impressive.

Zevran:

You know, I would really love to know what Wynne thinks about the events at Kirkwall in DA2. It might be a disaster for her, or it might pave the way for one last bit of character development. She certainly didn't want to return to the Circle after fighting the Blight. That may be an indicator of some change in her stance on the Circle of Magi.

Edit: I forgot that she is what the Circle considers a literal abomination! Holy cow, how could I forget that?? Anyway, her conversation about what being an abomination means is so... heartbreaking, actually. It's so tentative. So careful. "Am I an abomination? Am I the same thing that has killed my students? The same thing as Uldred? Am I lost and damned? Did I invite this spirit in? Is this my fault?" Like wow, Wynne is going through something huge right there. I love it. I have to continue playing the game to see what it ends up as, but it's fascinating and such a huge thing that she allows the Warden in on that.

Ah, Zevran, my beloved (he has stolen my heart so much it's not even funny anymore). He's funny, he's charming, he's so so loyal and it breaks my heart. Zevran is the one about whom I've read most meta: these three wonderful posts for instance, as well as this one about his possible lack of scars, and this one about his lack of freedom. All of these have influenced my opinion of him and they are great reads.

I have talked about Zevran with you before, so I'll just skip to the new stuff. I have come to conclusion that Zevran is an artist at heart. This is totally not biased by the fact that I also do art, but hear me out. One of his preferred gifts are bars of silver and gold. While those have the obvious utility of basically functioning as money (they can be sold to any silversmith or goldsmith and their value is pretty stable through time and in different countries), there's also this from his codex: "Zevran shows an affinity for the finer things in life—hardly surprising for an Antivan Crow—but his appreciation can be more poetic than he lets on. A simple bar of refined silver or gold, uncomplicated by a craftsman's hammer, is elegantly valuable." Tell me that is not an artist's eye that sees that gold and sees the beauty in it. Then, there's also the meta about Zevran the Seducer which I linked above and link here again. It talks specifically about how he lets himself enjoy the target and be seen in his enjoyment. Tell me that is not an artist's eye that beholds the beauty of something he is set out to destroy. Even his talk about his assassinations show this. He talks about it as an art, the way somebody would talk about the brutal intervention in stone that produces a sculpture. Yes, it's a rationalization of the act of killing and yes killing is still wrong. But he doesn't go on about it on a moral tangent the way Alistair or Wynne would (”this person was bad, killing them was necessary”) or even through the argument of survival like Morrigan would (”it was either them or me and it sure as Hell wasn't going to be me”). He talks about the pleasure of a job well done, of the satisfaction of striking the precise point and executing a plan to the perfection so as to minimize chances of discovery and to make a clean death possible. And pleasure in seeing and in doing, this I firmly believe, is absolutely fundamental for an artist.

My favourite part about my Warden and Zevran as a pairing is that Zevran precisely brings out that ability to take your pleasures as they come and to really savour them. Fighting the Blight is tough; it's so important to find good things amidst the chaos to stay sane. If Astala saves Zevran from himself by offering him a place to stay and a purpose, Zevran saves Astala from herself by keeping her from running herself into the ground trying to save the world.

There are some things I don't like about Zev. The incessant flirting, for example, sometimes makes me uncomfortable (it becomes enjoyable for me once the Warden and him are in a relationship, but before that? Nah, no thanks). I wish he would also leave the other female characters alone (and there's so many more shameless comments of his aimed at Morrigan, Leliana or Wynne than at Alistair or maybe even Sten).

---

And that's my take on the Origins companions (this was rather long. Whew ^^' I hope it was still readable and that you enjoyed it!!) Thank you so much for the ask!! It's been a joy thinking about this. I was worrying at first that the less prominent companions like Sten or Shale wouldn't get as much content but... well XD

[wheresmybuckyhoes]

Are you done

Summary: You and Bucky end up trapped in a room together and you lose your temper

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Swearing, angst, aggression

Fear not winter’s children, for the next part will contain all the smut and sex pollen you can ask for, just please interact so I know if you actually want a part 2!

‘This is all your fault’ you snarl at Bucky as he pounds and pounds at the thick metal door caging you in like wild animals.

 ‘If you had just listened to me for once in your god damn life we wouldn’t be stuck in this fucking room’ you continue, pacing up and down the tiny room. Why did Bucky just blatantly refuse to listen to you whenever you were paired to go on missions together. He always listened to Steve, or Sam, or even Tony for fucks sake. You had worked so hard on this one, spending weeks alone gathering intel and planting bugs, only for his stupid ass to go and ruin it all. It was his fault that he hadn’t just stayed outside like you had asked him to, allowing the door to close, trapping you both inside.

Your eyes flickered over the few possibly useful things in the room: A vent on the ceiling, a broken code panel and a huge metal door. ‘Stop that’ you commanded Bucky as you turned to glare at him with crossed arms. Bucky said nothing in response and continued to beat the door. ‘That’s not going to help us Bucky, stop’ you repeated, frustration rising in your voice. It may have been uncalled for, but the mix of anger and claustrophobia coursing through you caused you to rush towards him, shoving him sharply in the chest.

He blinked at you. Your eyebrows furrow together in annoyance as Bucky barley budges from his spot and simply continues to pound uselessly against the door, the clanging sound echoing around the small room. It was too much for you, and you were not having it today. You were finally done with his bullshit. You push him again, harder this time, enough so that he slightly loses his balance and stops his endless banging. He turns to look at you with an irritated glance before turning his back to you and looking around for any sign of weakness in the infrastructure of the door and wall.

‘Are you kidding me’ you ask, almost laughing as your body scrambles to find an appropriate way to respond to his behaviour. ‘Bucky we need to think for a second can you just turn around and stop...stop moving for a se...second BUCKY’ your breathing had become rough and uneven, and for the love of god WHY couldn’t he just sit still for a SECOND.

‘SAY SOMETHING’ you scream at Bucky’s back, fists balling up either side of you. ‘YOU ARE TO BLAME, BUCKY. You had ONE job. ACT AS MY FUCKING LOOKOUT AS I SEARCH EACH ROOM. BUT NOOO, THE BIG BAD WINTER SOLDIER COUDNT POSSIBLY TRUST ME OF ALL PEOPLE TO CARRY OUT THE SIMPLEST OF TASKS SUCCESSFULLY. JUST HAD TO GET INVOLVED, YOU WITH YOUR...YOUR BIG METAL ARM AND STUPID MASK AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON...’ you had lost it and were projecting all of the week’s frustration at Bucky, and he was not having it.

As you continued to throw a temper tantrum like an annoying child, Bucky whipped his head around, body quickly following, and backed you right up against the door with his vibranium hand covering your mouth. You could almost taste the metal as your cries were muffled, feeling the impact of the cold wall on your back. Your eyes widened in shock at first before quickly transitioning into a look of anger as you tried to throw a pathetic punch at Bucky’s face, but he quickly caught your arm with his enhanced reflexes. For a still moment, you looked aghast between your caught fist and Bucky’s narrowed eyes. Before you could say or do anything, he flipped you over onto the dusty floor, kneeling on your back and pinning your arms behind you. This one hurt a bit.

You were shaking slightly, rather trembling, breathing heavily. ‘Are you done?’ he asked calmly as he leant down towards you, applying the slightest bit of pressure on your back making you whimper. ‘I said’ he repeated as he took his time to annunciate each word ‘Are. You. Done?’ You nodded helplessly as Bucky took some off his weight off of you, not quite wanting to move yet fearing you would try to unsuccessfully lash out at him again. He finally got off you and you rolled onto your back, wiping away the ghost of a tear. He held out his flesh hand for you, which you took carefully, feeling yourself effortlessly hoisted up. You shuffled back half a metre until you were leaning against one of the dull walls, sliding down and pulling in your knees in shame.

You sat in silence for what felt like hours as Bucky continued his search for a way out of the minuscule room. He had tried to reach the vent on the ceiling to no avail, and had given up trying to break through the seemingly invincible door. Meanwhile, thoughts were rushing through your head at a million miles an hour. Would Bucky hate me now? Do I deserve to be an avenger if I can’t even keep calm? What would Nat say if she saw how pathetic I had acted? Finally Bucky had seemed to give up. You heard a quiet sigh followed by heavy footsteps and you felt a presence lower itself beside you. After a few a minutes of more silence, you felt a hand reach out, tilting your chin up gently so you were gazing up at Bucky. He was looking at you with some sort of sympathy behind his eyes, an unfamiliar emotion to catch him showing towards you. You lowered your knees as he in turn lowered his hand, looking into those blue crystalline eyes and feeling so, so guilty.

‘I’m...’ you tried to speak with a shaky breath as your eyes found the floor once more ‘I’m sorry, Bucky. I know it’s not your fault, I don’t know what came over me to shout like that’ you whispered. Silence. You swore right then if Bucky was ignoring you again and not answering that this time you would actually punch him hard and...wait no, not quite silence, but a strange hissing noise. Your head snapped up to look at Bucky, who was staring all winter soldiery at something. ‘B...Bucky?’ You asked, following his line of sight to the cloudy white substance seeping in through the ceiling vent. ‘What the fuck is that?’ You asked, a tone of concern rising in your voice as you noticed Bucky’s whole body tense up, the plates of his vibranium arm whirring as he moved to get up.

‘Shit’ Bucky cursed, a panicked look flickering across his face. ‘Please not this. Anything but this. DON’T DO THIS TO HER’ he pleaded as you scrambled up onto your feet, feeling your heart rate increases exponentially. ‘What is it Buck, your scaring me. Do what to who?’ you questioned, usually confident voice hushed and timid.

‘It’s... no it can’t be...’ Bucky turned to face you, a mix of sadness and horror plastered on his face as he placed both his hands on your shoulders in an almost protective stance. ‘What...’ you trailed off.

‘sex pollen’

-> Read part 2

[kimistorm]

Did you just ask me out on live stream? [Yang Jeongin]

Fandom: Stray Kids

Pairing: [Jeongin x GN! Reader]

Warnings: none!

Requested by: @stupendousfriendcalzonehands Thanks for the request! Let me know what you think~

Prompts: "After how many ½ inches does it become a date?” “Did you say you knew how to do this?”

It started as a bet. You and Jeongin couldn’t keep up a weekly podcast for more than 2 months. The way Han phrased it, you could just do it on YouTube and in your dorms, but no, you were fueled by spite and somehow convinced your professor to allow you, Jeongin, and Hyunjin to live stream from the university’s audio studio.

Two months later and you had a small following, so you just continued. Much to Han’s shock.

“On to the final part of the show,” you spoke into your microphone as you scrolled through the outline, “answering your questions!” you let out a snort, “I don’t know why you guys keep asking us for advice. The other day Jeongin tried to joust Seungmin with an icicle.”

“And I won!” your partner declared gleefully with a wide grin.

“Mmm, debatable,” you teased, much to Jeongin’s chagrin, effectively wiping his face of the smile. “He only claims he won because Seungmin’s icicle broke first.”

“Yeah! That’s how it works!”

“But he hit you with it before you broke it!”

Jeongin threw his arms up in frustration, “this isn’t fencing!” From beyond the glass, you saw Hyunjin shaking his head in tired resignation as the two of you deviated from the script yet again and couldn’t help but giggle. “Deal with it Hyunjin,” Jeongin whispered into the mic when he saw what you were giggling at, causing your laughs to escalate. Hyunjin glared at the two of you and Jeongin put his hands up in surrender, “okay okay, actually onto the questions now. Which were chosen by our dear Hyunjin," he mocked with faux sincerity before an evil grin grew on his face, "so if this becomes boring blame him.”

Hyunjin looked like he was going to enter the recording booth and whack the two of you over the head with the rolled-up outline in his hand as his mouth was open in a muffled yell.

“Before Hyunjin takes us off the air, let’s answer some of your questions!” for the third time you tried to continue with what you were supposed to be doing. “This one’s from John. Hey (y/n) and Jeongin! There’s someone who I really like and I want to ask them out on a date. We’ve been getting dinner together, but I don’t think either of us really classify it as a date. It’s mostly been under the pretense of ‘I’m starving, you’re here, let’s go.’ How can I make that leap into asking them on a date versus a friendly get-together? Thanks for the help!” there was a pause of silence as the two of you tried to think of a response, “no offense John, but you’re asking the wrong people. I’ve never been on a date,” you side-eyed Hyunjin for him letting this question pass, “and Jeongin-”

“I’ve been in the same position.”

“What?” you shrieked and the three of you winced as you heard your loud voice through your headphones.

“Warning for headphone users.” Your dark-haired friend mumbled under his breath and took off his headphones to rub at his ear.

“Hold up, when was this?” you looked at Jeongin in bewilderment. The two of you were best friends, and this was a new development for you. You had never heard of Jeongin crushing after someone. Granted, you had only known each other for about 3 years, since the two of you started university, but with the number of late-night ramblings and how often the two of you are together, it could’ve come up.

Jeongin merely shrugged. “I totally understand you, John, it’s difficult, but here’s what I did.” You nodded your head to allow Jeongin to continue, seeing as you had no way to help. “It’s hard to tell from your letter, but how close are the two of you? I got closer and closer to the person who I liked. It developed from ‘hey you’re in the same class as me,’ to something more. It became late-night shenanigans, staying up late talking about anything and everything, watching movies, and of course, doing homework together. Though, to be real, we suck at doing homework when we’re together.” He added with a laugh.

There was a pleasant smile on his face as he reminisced this person, he looked genuinely at peace, and it surprised you. Whoever this person was, they made a big impact on Jeongin’s life. It was strange that you never heard of this person, besides, Jeongin seemed to have had some closure with this person. Did it end badly? Is that why you never knew of this enigma? But he looked so happy? It kind of hurt. This person was so pivotal in his life and yet he hid it all from you. Maybe you weren’t as close as you thought. “Half inch by half inch, we became closer.” There was a definitive look on his face as he gave a nod, seemingly happy with his answer.

You, on the other hand, were a little more unconvinced. That couldn’t be the end of the story. Maybe you were a little more miffed because this was news to you, or maybe the reporter in you was finally coming out and wanting to know the conclusion. Either way, there was a bit of an edge to your voice as you asked, “okay, so after how many ½ inches does it become a date?” you turned the conversation back to John’s question, “John seems to already be friends, he just wants to take this person on a date.”

Jeongin let out a scoff and rolled his eyes at you, “it’s not linear.”

There was a pause and when it seemed like Jeongin wasn’t going to speak up again, you continued your dubious proddings, “did you say you knew how to do this?” there was an offended shout from Jeongin and he kicked you from under the table to elicit a startled yelp from you.

“I hope none of our listeners are using headphones.” Jeongin shook his head in empathy, “because my ears burn.”

“You’re the one who kicked me!”

Jeongin childishly stuck his tongue out at you, “things will work out John. I’m sure the more you get to know them the more things will fall into place.” He reassured, though you weren’t feeling reassured, and you figured John probably wasn’t either.

“Did you ever ask your person out on a date?” you asked, still wanting to get closure for your story, seeing as Jeongin wasn’t keen on providing it.

His face reddened and you resisted the urge to crow teasingly at him, “not yet.” He mumbled into the mic, but it was loud enough for you to hear with your headphones.

You leaned back in your chair to get away from the mic and let out a screech, “you don’t know what you’re talking about either!”

“You were just going to write off John’s letter! I couldn’t let you do that.” He protested with his face still red and his gaze averted.

“Ask them out John!” you took matters into your hands seeing as Jeongin was clumsier with love than you were. Hyunjin sure picked the wrong question this time. “There’s no time like the present. Don’t twist one of your normal dinners into a date, specifically plan it. Ask them if they want to go on a date at some other time than what the two of you normally do. The worst that could happen is they say no.”

“That’s mortifying! I could never do that!” the aghast look on Jeongin’s face did little to make you feel guilty.

“That’s why you never asked out your person on a date.” The hurt look that fell on his face did though. “Oh no, I’m sorry.” The chaotic atmosphere that filled the recording booth stilled and you went over to hug your friend, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“No, you’re right.” He continued in a quiet voice, “I guess I got too scared to do anything, so I decided things were perfectly all right the way they were, even if I wish it was different.”

You smoothed his hair down absentmindedly from your awkward standing position and his sitting position, “relationships are scary. I think you, and John, are valid to be scared.”

“But you’re also right, there’s no time like the present.”

You let out a quiet laugh, “and in the end, neither of us was able to help John.”

“Maybe this will,” you pulled away from Jeongin in confusion so you could look at his face. There was a nervous look settled on his face and he refused to look anywhere close to you, “do you want to go on a date later?”

Your jaw probably dropped comically as you looked at him in bewilderment, “wait-are you-did you-?” did he ask what you think he did? Did he just ask you out? On-air? Was that buzzing in your ear from your headphones? Was this a setup from Hyunjin? Was Jeongin John? Somehow, even as your mind was racing a hundred miles a minute, the terrified look on Jeongin’s face was able to clear through the mess and register in your mind. You took a deep breath to stop your word vomit, “yeah.” You smiled, “let’s go on a date. Maybe a dinner date?”

The terrified look immediately washed away and was replaced with a relieved look, “that sounds great.”

Hyunjin’s yelling was so loud that the two of you could faintly hear him screaming, “finally!”

Masterlist

Context bonus: "After how many ½ inches does it become a date?” One of my female friends was trying to describe to one of my male friends dating, but none of us know how to date.

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Let the Stars Witness

Okay okay holy— omg I did it! My first request and from an admired writer of mine no less!

From @kim-monsterlings : Hi and welcome!! Really looking forward to seeing your work! ~ If you would, could I request some form of friends to lovers with an orc? (Prompts maybe like, "you deserve better.") Thank you! <3

Since it wasn't specified on what their genders are, I hope your okay with what I went with! And I kinda trailed off from the prompt (or rather it's different but similar)

Anyways you'll know when you read!

•

Pairing: Male Orc (Duruk) x Human Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: None.

•

"You know, I never thought I would be friends with anyone here, especially with someone other than my, well, species," you tell your companion, your eyes not leaving the cloudless night sky as you lied on your back on the roof of his house. The stars were out tonight.

If you told your younger self that you'd be having great escapades (if running away and getting into a series of trouble fall under that) with an orc, you would most definitely cry your eyes out because you thought were being teased, taking it as a hurtful comment. You were sensitive like that. Part of the reason why no one would even go near you, afraid they might hurt you with a pat on the shoulder or with one word alone. You became the prime target of bullies, finding twisted amusement at your pathetic reactions. A crybaby, they called you. But it wasn't your fault you didn't have much control over your emotions. You were weird, asocial, timid, maybe even depressed. Having a neglectful family didn't help either, it just worsened.

•

The morning you met Duruk was after the orientation. And it was not so good for a first impression.

Long story short, you cried.

But since you're perhaps curious as to what happened exactly, let's elaborate.

You had your headphones on, the melodic sound of gentle rain played in a 3-hour loop and blocked out other noises, your eyes glued to the path you were on. You took long and hurried steps, wishing you could teleport to your classroom and hide in the back, disappear or become invisible.

You were distracted, or should we say, focused on the ground and expecting everyone to step aside and let you through.

Well, except for the one who had his back on you.

You crashed—not an exaggeration— into something- someone massive. You stumbled back and landed on your bum, wincing from the impact. Luckily, your headphones were safe (ah yes, priorities), detaching from your ears and landing on your shoulders. When you looked up to see who it was, you thought your eyes were gonna fall off, grow little legs, and scamper away.

Before you stood an orc, halfway turned to glance at whoever it was that tried to push him, his sharp tusks jutting out from his maw. His brows were furrowed as he looked down on you. Sure, he wasn't as tall as the orcs you've seen around the city and campus but still was over 6 feet, with muscles thicker than your thighs, easily hulking you.

You tried to get out an apology and run as far as you could go, but you just sat there, frozen as you strained your neck to meet his gaze, you couldn't look away. Your heart was trying to claw its way out into the surface.

Then you felt the tears swell up.

They cascaded down your face before you even could stop them.

The orc's eyes widened at your reaction and crouched down to your level in an instant that he almost fell over. His hands hovered, not sure what to do.

"Hey, hey, please don't cry. Please don't—"

"I-I-I'm re..really s-sorry p-please don't hurt m-me..." You managed to choke out pathetically, hiccuping in every word.

"Shhh now hey, it's okay. It was an accident— what? No! Why would I do that?" he replied. The orc peeked over his shoulder and to the sides. "Let's get you to somewhere, uh, less crowded," he added. You turned your head and saw that you had an audience, whispers went around as they sent pitiful and disgusted glances in your direction, only making you cry even more.

He proceeded to unceremoniously lift you into his arms, bridal style, and dashed away. You gripped the front of his shirt and shut your eyes. You were trembling now, scared of what he might do to you. How could you even fight back with your small stature?

It wasn't long until you felt him slow down and placed you carefully on a bench. The orc knelt in front of you, brows scrunched up as he studied your face.

"You okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

You didn't reply, only staring at him through your glassy eyes as you heaved.

You flinched when his hand started rubbing your back, his other hand placed on the side of the bench to balance himself.

He continued to caress your back and murmured soothing words in hopes of calming you down.

Your tears didn't stop falling until moments later when you came down from your initial fear, the warmth of his palm leaving your back once you did. All the while the orc remained where he was, at a loss of what to do next.

You rubbed your sticky face with the collar of your pale and blotchy crimson sweater, sniffing and taking slow, deep breaths before you spoke.

"I... I'm sorry for causing you trouble. E-Even going as far as to take me somewhere quiet. I...appreciate that." You thought you'd pass out with the way people gathered around you, it was suffocating. "Thank you..."

"I panicked," he started, "Sorry—I mean, it's okay, you didn't do anything wrong. I get that a lot of people run away from the sight of me, but you didn't, and just froze there on the ground so..." he shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck.

You shook your head. He was such an imposing figure to many, their first thought was most likely to get away or scream at him.

"You looked angry... When I bumped into you." You slammed into him actually, but he didn't budge an inch. Guess it was one-sided.

"Oh, that? Well, my brother scolds me a lot for having such a grumpy face, scaring humans away. Like he was the one to talk when he's taller and bigger than me! People would faint on the spot when they see him, I bet!"

The image your mind conjured up tore a laugh out of your body, two orcs arguing about how not to terrify people at sight was damn hilarious. When was the last time someone made you laugh like this?

The orc grinned, your reaction a contrast to that of earlier.

You opened your mouth to say something but the ringing of the great bell resounded, cutting you off. The two of you stood up as you realized you were late for your first class of the school year.

"So, uh, what now?" you asked.

"How about we go to our class, then maybe meet up later? Oh, fu— my mother will gut me— I haven't introduced myself!" He blurted out, his voice making you yelp with the sudden outburst.

Clearing his throat, he reached out, "I'm Duruk."

In turn, you gave him your name, taking his hand and smiled. "Hello, Duruk."

•

True to his word, you met again later when lunch came. The cafeteria was packed so you settled on getting the convenience food they offered and eat somewhere quiet.

Your conversation that day spiraled when you found out the two of you had a lot in common. From your favorite rock band to your favorite flavor of ice cream.

You both strongly agreed that vanilla ice cream was superior.

You agreed to meet up during breaks, always having something to chat about.

Eventually, you became inseparable.

He even changed and transferred to your class just so the two of you could be together at the start of the day rather than walk half of the campus to see each other every time.

You became best friends, sharing each moment in school, may it be helping the other stay awake in a boring class, or copying homework when one of you forgot to do it. Soon enough, Duruk started inviting you to his house to hang out. He did mention he had four other siblings, but he lived alone. You came by almost every night and on whole weekends to escape from home, only a few miles in between. No one would notice you gone anyways, but you returned around midnight, not wanting to impose on Duruk no matter what he says, so he walks you back instead.

You basked in each other's company. The odd and scrutinizing glares didn't go unnoticed when you two were together, but you shrugged them all off.

It didn't take long before you started having feelings for the orc, a little wishful thinking that you could be more than friends. You noted lately that his touches would linger seconds longer than usual, hugs and even a hand on your shoulder and back seem to be warmer and —you dare say— affectionate. It weighed heavily on your heart, your simple crush turned into something else, and it only grew with each passing day, and every laugh you shared.

But of course, you swatted those away, buried them deep inside every damn time they climb back up. Who could even love you? Yes, you have Duruk, he likes you, you think. But that's the end of it. Just close buddies. You can't take the risk of ruining your friendship with him and make things awkward with the only one you had! What if he stops talking to you, weirded out by your confession? You don't want to go back to being alone again, your heart can't take the rejection that came with it.

So you endured.

•

A little over five months ever since the embarrassing accident, here you are now, stargazing with your best friend.

"Well, good thing you didn't watch where you were going that time then," he says, chuckling beside you. His hands cushioned his head against the hard surface. "I wouldn't have..." he trails off.

"Hm, what?" you ask. Duruk went silent and didn't answer you for a time. You were about to let it slide but then he breathes in audibly.

"I wouldn't have met an angel if you did. Should've caught you in my arms, but sadly I didn't move fast enough." He replies, his voice deep and mellow.

You straighten up and turn to face him, your brows shot up, incredulous to what he just implied.

"W-Wait. What?" you squeak, your heart thumping hard in your chest, your skin warming up even in the chilled night air.

Is he—

"You're so cute, y'know that? Fuck it, it's all or nothing," he whispers under his breath as he sits up to face you. His expression was unreadable, but you see in his mahogany eyes a familiar glint of determination. "I'm not good with long-ass speeches so I'll make this short," he breathes in before he continues, "I feel something for you, for a while now, more than a best friend does, like...in a romantic sense. I want to cherish you and hold you in my arms every time I see you, I- ah fuck- damn it I just—" he growls, "I love you, so much and if you don't love me back then please re—"

You shut him off with your lips against his, Duruk's tusks pressing against your cheeks as you held his face in your hands. He was stunned for two solid seconds before returning the kiss, his arms snaking around your waist and pulling you close and into his lap.

You feel something wet roll down your hand and you immediately jerked back to see his face. The orc was crying.

Did you do it wrong? Were you so terrible at it—

"I don't deserve you... A monster like me doesn't deserve an angel like you."

Where was this coming from??

"Say that again, I dare you."

"I don't de—"

This idiot!

You pecked his lips to cut him off.

"You big dummy," you begin, "I love you too, idiot. You may be a monster but not what everyone else defines you as. I love you as you are. You're my best friend, and dare I say my l-lover now. Is that right...?"

Duruk gives you a small, gentle smile, "If you'll have me, then yes, for as long as you want me to be." He says, sniffling a sob as a couple more tears tumbled down his rugged face.

You never thought you'd see him like this. He was the one who kept making you laugh with his stories and terrible jokes. Before you, in your hands was someone vulnerable, his eyes soft and fond as he gazed into yours.

It made your heart pound and it hurt.

You leaned in and he met you halfway, kissing once again, deeper and more intimate this time. Real. You brought your arms around his neck, your tears spilling out and he tightened his grip around you. It felt like a dream, too good to be true, but the way he hugged you like you were the only thing that anchored him in this world made you believe it wasn't. All of this was real and you couldn't be anymore happier.

From above, the glittering stars, the light gentle as they shone, bear witness to two freed hearts, bottled up feelings gushing out like a broken dam as you embraced one another and lost yourselves in the moment of bliss, cheeks stained and clothes lightly damp from the tiny rivulets of liquid that dropped down.

It's a lovely night, isn't it?

[derekmorganscrocs]

Her Lipstick: Ace x Reader

Pairing: Ace (Nancy Drew CW) x Reader, Valentine’s Special.

Word Count: 1,725 (short but sweet.)

Summary: With everyone else having their nights planned out with romance and dates, Y/n and Ace get stuck manning the night shift at The Claw.

Notes: Ideally takes place after the aglacea is gone, and we’re finally having a quiet moment. But like SPOILER ALERT!!!! if Owen lived. ALSO A QUESTIONABLE ENDING BUT I LIKED IT NGL.

Ace’s Dad’s name is Tom by the way, this is key info for later.

“No one’s even gonna come in, George. It’s Valentines, and last I checked, crappy fried clams aren’t most people’s version of romance.” You glance her way from the kitchen, pausing with an alarmingly large knife in hand. The parsley in front of you isn’t going to chop itself, but your hands are starting to cramp.

“Yeah, well it’s business hours. Just humour me this once? I’ll owe you one.”

“George, you already owe me like nine.” You roll your eyes and look her way, attitude softening slightly at her expression. Knowing how she felt when the whole crew was a day away from death, about missing out on her and Nick... it puts a little graciousness in your heart. For their first Valentines together, why not just help her out? “I’ll do this one for free. Wait! Not for free! I’m still getting paid right?”

“Yes,” she laughs. “Thank you.” Nodding your way once more, she turns and heads out, closing the door behind her. You sigh, turning back to your cutting-board. Finishing with the stack of parsley and dumping it in a plastic container, you throw the knife in the sink. Surveying the restaurant quickly, as well as the parking lot, you ensure the coast is clear before heading to the freezer.

These days it seems like everyone’s got someone except you. Nancy and Owen, Nick and George, Bess and Lisbeth, hell, even the weirdo chef no one likes who only works fridays has a girlfriend. Not you though. You and Ace got stuck on the Valentine’s shifts no one else wanted because you were the only two available. Admittedly, Valentine’s wasn’t a big deal to you, you just thought the tacky decorations were kind of entertaining to have around. However, it kinda sucks when you’re single. And crushing. Speaking of crushes, you snap yourself out of your thoughts at the idea of a certain floppy haired boy.

“Ace?” You look around for your shift partner and best friend... and yes, crush, who for some reason isn’t in his usual happy place. Or anywhere to be seen. He doesn’t respond, so you look in the pantry, the dark corner by the lockers, and even the supply closet. He’s nowhere to be found. “Ace?”

“You looking for me?” Ace puts a hand on your shoulder, coming from behind you. Not gonna lie, it scares the crap out of you. And you whip around and punch him in the face. Then you realize it’s him and let out a small gasp.

“Ace! Oh my god, I’m so sorry-“ you lean down, taking his hand and helping him up, as he massages his jaw with his other hand. That’s embarrassing. Really embarrassing.

“My fault,” he mumbles. “Forgot you scare...” he pauses for a second, trying to find the word, “...punchily. Good hit though, really starting to get that impact value.”

“Thanks, I think. I’ll go get you some ice, can you just watch the dining room?”

Ace nods and you head to the freezer. Of course there’s no ice. Why would there ever be ice when you need it? You root through the options of ice packs for Ace’s eye, as you think to yourself.

Lately, you’ve been making yourself a fool in front of Ace. See, it wasn’t this bad a few weeks ago, when you liked him but didn’t know you liked him. You throw a box of clams (ew.) to the side. Now that you’ve realized, you’re a hot mess. Next you find a singular frozen fish (also ew.). He’s been acting a little off too, and you’re worried it’s because he knows. Now you’ve found a lobster that you’re pretty sure has been there since the place opened (ew x3). Oh look, some frozen bread (that won’t really work).

What you don’t know is that Ace has also just recently realized his feelings for you, and his dad, Tom, has just tricked him into bringing you over to their place later. You finally find a box of heart shaped popsicles, and take a couple of them back to the kitchen, where Ace stands, leaning against the counter.

“This is all we have. Valentine’s special, have some heart shaped chemicals for your black eye.” You hand him two of the three popsicles you’re holding. “I also brought you one to eat. If you’re crazy enough to.” You hop up on the counter beside him and sit cross legged, tearing open the third wrapper.

“If you are, I am.” He rips open one of the frozen treats and places the other below his eye. Looking down at the wrapper from the one he opened, he makes a face. “I can’t even read half of these things.”

“Hey, I could’ve brought you the lobster.”

He knows exactly what you’re talking about and backtracks his critiques of the popsicle. The two of you sit in silence for a few seconds, disturbed by the bell ringing. A woman walks in, which grabs both your and Ace’s attention, but she just pins a flyer to the bulletin board and leaves. Exciting crowd.

Soon enough, the snack popsicles are gone, and the ice pack popsicle is slush. Ace throws the melted package into the sink, the slush inside making a questionable ‘plop’ sound as it hits the metal. The two of you stand around a little longer, before packing up the perishables and putting them back in the freezer/pantry. Business is slow, and it’s boring. The two of you are back to waiting around, and Ace ends up laying across one side of a booth, you on the other. The two of you pass a rolled up napkin back and forth, tossing it over the table to the other person. It doesn’t keep you entertained for long, though.

“You bored?” You turn your head and look at him under the table.

“Yeah,” he chuckles.

“Same.” You sit up, getting a slight head rush as you do. Ace mirrors your actions, minus the head rush. The two of you stand, but before you can start wandering around aimlessly-

“You, uh, you have something on your face,” he chuckles softly, his goofy grin turning into a smaller smile, a certain softness appearing in his eyes. You reach for your cheek, trying to swipe whatever it is off your face. Seems like you miss, because Ace chuckles, before asking- “Can I?”

You nod, and he wipes your cheekbone with his thumb, his lips parting just a little bit as he lets out a small, nervous, chuckle. Suddenly your heart is beating about a thousand miles a minute, and as Ace’s eyes settle on your lips for a second, you look at his face, taking in every detail that you can.

The bell rings and the door opens, making you and Ace launch away from each other. A strong gust of wind blows in, and no one walks in, making you sigh. The wind literally blew open the door. Horseshoe Bay is dead quiet tonight. No customers. You close the door, and realize it’s nine pm, so you flip the sign to closed and lock the door.

“Hey, Y/n, you wanna come to my place? My dad told me he’s making food for three tonight.” Ace watches as you make your way to where he stands by the kitchen.

“That his way of inviting me over?”

“Guess so,” Ace quips with a smirk, throwing an arm around your shoulders as the two of you walk to the locker room. After double checking that the freezer is sealed, you lock up The Claw and head to Ace’s place, hitching a ride in Florence, of course.

When you get to Ace’s place, the smell of cherry pie wafts straight into your face as soon as you open the door. Ace’s dad stands by the coffee table in the living room, and his face lights up when you walk in. You sign a quick hello, Ace doing the same behind you. Ace also throws in a cautionary ‘don’t embarrass me’ but that goes unnoticed by you, you’re too busy checking out the coffee table. There’s all sorts of food that you love, especially compliments of Chef Tom.

You flop onto the couch, snatching a fresh baked dinner roll off the table. Ace flips on the tv, sitting down beside you, and Tom heads back to the kitchen to clean up. Looking around, you notice some of the sweet little Valentine’s decorations around the house. There’s a few plastic hearts hanging around the rooms, and some red streamer thingys. They bring a smile to your face, despite being a little corny.

“Dad knows you like the tacky decorations. No matter how much you say you hate them.”

“Your dad is so sweet. I always feel like part of the family when I’m here,” you say softly, pure joy radiating off your face.

“Okay, I gotta be honest for a second,” Ace blurts out sharply, seemingly out of nowhere. Your heartbeat speeds up a little as anxiety bubbles in your chest, and you nod quickly. “It’s because he wants you to be part of the family.”

“What?” Your eyes widen as you look at Ace. “Sorry, that makes no sense.”

“You really are blind. Nancy told me you couldn’t take hints but I didn’t think she-“

“Ace!” You put a hand on his thigh, cutting him off. He pauses, getting back on topic.

“Well... you see. You’ve always gotten along great with everyone. Especially Dad, sometimes I’m convinced he’s your best friend. And I made the mistake of telling him that I have feelings for you, so now he’s like extra nice. Because he wants me to be happy.”

“Oh wow,” you laugh, suddenly a lot more relaxed.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s stupid, and-“

You cut him off by grabbing his shirt and pulling him towards you. You kiss him, and he obviously kisses back, his hands settling against your face as he pushes himself closer to you.

“I like you too. Thought it was obvious,” you breathe against his lips. He lets out small chuckle.

“Not really,” he whispers, and then kisses you again.

Now your arms are over his shoulders, and you’re basically on his lap as the kiss heats up a little. Tom is forgotten until the sound of footsteps behind you causes the two of you break away again. You turn to see Ace’s dad come over and put a plate on the table.

You sign a ‘thank you, Tom.’ his way, and he smiles widely back at you. He glances over at his son beside you, and his eyes widen slightly. Glancing back and forth a few times, he lets out a delighted chuckle when he makes the connection.

“You two? Finally,” He signs quickly.

“What?” Ace tries to play it off, but fails miserably. He’s not the best actor. About thirty seconds of your and Tom’s laughter and Ace’s denial go by before Ace folds. “What gave it away?”

“You’re wearing her lipstick.”

TAGS:

@ananad1

@remmysrecs

@bookish-bucky

@sahi-raa

@peakyrogers

[luciusmalfoysimp]

Using Your SafeWord For the First Time With Lucius Malfoy (one shot)

this one shot is going to be nsfw, and it will involve mentions of poor mental health/depression and anxiety. if you are in fact struggling with either of those two, please know you are loved by so many people. message me anytime :)

this is gonna have a dom!Lucius (of course) and a relationship involving bdsm.

warnings: impact (ie spanking and more), restraint, mentions of poor mental health

Your cries of pain rang through the air and echoed against the walls as you received another harsh strike to your rear. You currently found yourself bent over your partner’s bed, your hands harshly tied together behind you with a thick, dark green rope, a piece of black silk covering your eyes, and your ass red, sore, and exposed to Lucius, who stood behind you, staring at your state.

The past few days had been incredibly rough for you mentally. Your mind was filled with all sorts of intrusive and unhealthy thoughts, plagued by depression and anxiety. As much as you wanted to open up, your anxiety only told you that Lucius didn’t want to hear them, as he already had enough stress with work; he didn’t need to be concerned about you.

Your mind was getting so rotted and poisoned that you needed a release. You decided to turn to your partner in a different way, and asked him to just let you have it, hoping the physical pain he’d inflict on you would drown out the mental.

Ragged breaths shook from your body as you anticipated your dominant’s next move. You could hear his quiet footsteps as he paced back and forth, and you could practically hear the smirk on his face. In a condescending voice, he asked you if you were enjoying yourself, and you replied with a hoarse “yes, sir.” The fluttering of the tassels on the flogger in his hand was a noise you were all too familiar with, and you wondered when his next strike would be. You shivered as he chuckled quietly and you heard him walk away. What is he grabbing now...

Your question was quickly answered as you felt the cold metal of your dominant’s cane lightly rub against your flesh. Beneath the blindfold, you felt your eyes widen as you realized what tool he would be using next on you. Can I really handle his cane today...? No, I know I can... Despite what you told yourself, you could feel a pang of doubt in your stomach. A hand suddenly gripped your hair and you felt Lucius’s hot breath on the shell of your ear.

“I’d prepare yourself if I were you...” His voice was a seductive snarl, and your only response was a quiet whine. As he backed away, you could feel your already sweat-slicked palms get damper from anxiety. Your heart began to race as Lucius intentionally stood still, leaving you to wonder when he’d at last begin the torture.

It almost seemed like slow motion. You could hear the air being cut by the sharp swing of the cane, and then the white-hot pain spread all across your rear. Instantly, you let out a voice-clawing yell of surprise and pain, and you felt tears fill your eyes. You couldn’t see it, but Lucius smirked down at you with pride. He loved seeing you so vulnerable and completely his.

Another shriek left your throat as you were hit again, and you gritted your teeth, letting a groan out through your tightly clamped jaw. You didn’t want to cry, you were too strong for that. You needed to focus on the pain...

Even though you told yourself this, you felt your mind wander to the thoughts that clouded all things positive. As you were struck a third time, these thoughts seemed to amplify in volume, with words of not being good enough and feelings of unworthiness getting louder in your head. The silk against your eyes started to dampen, and the shockwave of pain coursed through you, this one being much worse as Lucius decided to put his whole arm into the swing.

Your reaction was instant, as you screeched from the incredible ache on your already burning backside. You instinctively pulled against the ropes restraining your wrists as you felt tears slip from beneath the soft fabric of your blindfold. Internally, you hoped that the next impact would be lighter, but to your horror, it quickly became apparent that he put the same amount of strength in this hit as the last one. You went to scream but no noise came out, only an inhale. Lucius hadn’t put much time between his strikes, and the sting from the last was now more intense.

That’s when your mind began to explode. Hurtful phrases towards yourself began to just completely rip through your brain at what seemed a million miles an hour. Everything became 100% more intense as you began to go into sensory overload. Lucius’s breaths and footsteps from behind you sounded like it was being played through a concert amp at full blast, the light you could vaguely see through the blindfold suddenly was in competition with the sun, the blanket beneath you became course and uncomfortable, the light saltiness from your tears was suddenly the same taste of sea water...

And Lucius struck again.

I can’t fucking do this, I can’t fucking do this...

This phrase drowned out the rest of your thoughts, and with a deep breath...

“WHIPLASH.” You sobbed, your body completely trembling.

This had never happened during a scene before, and Lucius’s then sadistic mindset completely shattered at the raw desperation in your voice. It completely shook him, actually confused him at first, and it took only a split second to ground him and melt from his current headspace. In an instant, he threw the cane to the side, the clattering of it hitting the ground unknowingly frightening you and making you shrink into the mattress, bringing your bound hands closer to your head to protect yourself in some way. Instinctively, you began to repeatedly say your safeword in a hoarse voice, tears flowing faster.

It nearly broke Lucius to see you this distraught. He grabbed his wand and with a flick of his wrist pointed towards your tied hands, the rope loosened. You shuddered as you felt him quickly pull the rope away from you, and despite him removing your blindfold, you kept your eyes screwed shut. Lucius pulled your torso up as he sat in front of you, his hands going to the sides of your face while you sat on your haunches.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” His tone was so soothing and you could feel yourself calm ever so slightly. The warmth from his hands left your face momentarily and you heard some rustling of a soft blanket nearby. Kitten-soft fabric wrapped around your bare shoulders and went down your back, warming up the fabric from your thin black camisole. You gripped the blanket and pulled it tight against you.

“My love, please look at me.” Lucius’s voice was as soft as the blanket, you allowed your eyes to open. His face was clouded by tears, but you could make out his rare worried expression and his beautiful hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. The tears flooded and your sight was cleared better.

His expression, which was usually cold as ice, was one that you’d only seen on a few occasions, usually when you’d accidentally get hurt or when you got separated from him on Diagon Alley for a good fifteen minutes. His brows were furrowed, his piercing eyes glinting with concern, lips slightly parted as he awaited your response.

Opening your mouth, you went to explain yourself, only to be overwhelmed with emotion. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t get a word out as your crying took over you, your body shaking with each sob. When you looked at Lucius through your tears, all you could see was an expression of heartbreak on your lover’s face, and you buried your face into your palms, trying to hide your hurt.

He truly was heartbroken as he watched you completely break down in front of him. All he wanted to give you in life was joy, pleasure, and safety. The thought of you experiencing any kind of negative emotion honestly slightly scared him. He’d always hoped to see you content and full of smiles. Of course he knew that you were human and you experienced other emotions than happiness, but seeing this intensity of utter distress and sadness gave him a cold pain in his chest.

You felt his hands move to yours, lightly gripping them and prying them away. You hesitated, but let him remove your shielding hands as you sniffled, your throat burning as you tried to keep yourself from crying any further. All you could do was stare at your hands in your dom’s, trying to avoid eye contact as much as you could. This attempt failed as one of his hands left yours to grasp your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up and eventually meeting his incredible blue-green eyes.

“My love...” His tone gave away his concern as well. There was a slight tremble to it that you picked up on. “Please, tell me what is going on.”

Taking a deep breath, you slowly began to express your recent painful thoughts to him, instantly tearing up again. You told him your hopes of coping with his sadism, hoping that the pain would overshadow your thoughts, and how when he used his cane, it only amplified everything: your thoughts, your senses, and your pain. A flicker of regret could be seen in Lucius’s eyes as you said this. Lastly, you told him how you didn’t want to burden him with your struggles.

The entire time you spoke, Lucius never broke eye contact, and would stop you to make you look at him when you’d look away. He wanted you to know you had his complete undivided attention and that you yourself wouldn’t get distracted in anyway. As you spoke, his hand ran up and down your shoulder, a reassuring gesture that he was there for you. His other hand lightly wiped your tears away and cupped your face, another soft action to help you feel secure.

Once you’d finally finished your explanation, your dominant pulled you into his lap, his arms around your waist. You put your arms around his neck and buried your face into his shoulder, enjoying his warmth and closeness. His left hand came up from your waist and cupped the back of your head. The two of you sat for a minute in silence as silent tears went down your face.

“Darling...” Lucius’s rich voice broke the silence. “You never, ever need to fear that your feelings can’t be shared with me. I need to know when you are unwell. I absolutely adore you, and I want to make things better for you when you’re hurting.” You felt his embrace tighten. “Let me take care of you...”

And with that, the two of you stayed together for a bit longer before he insisted on you taking a warm, comforting bath, which you agreed to. He gently brought you to his master bathroom, which had a luxurious jacuzzi tub, and sat you on the edge as he waved his wand and the taps turned on instantly, warm water filling the tub quickly.

As the tub filled, you vacantly stared into the water, feeling out-of-body in a way. Your mind felt heavy yet empty, like TV static. While you stared, Lucius was quick to grab a few of your favorite essential oils and drop some into the tub, the water becoming silky. He noticed your vacant gaze and walked over to you, cupping your chin to make you face him. His other hand tugged at the hem of your camisole, asking to take it off. You hazily lifted your arms and allowed your partner to take off your last piece of clothing, throwing it aside. Once the bath was filled (which didn’t take very long), you sank into the warm water and allowed yourself to relax.

Lucius’s hands ran down the back of your neck and landed on your shoulders, which he lightly began to massage. You closed your eyes in bliss at the magic of his hands, which were able to find every knot and tense spot and diffuse it quickly. As he did this, he brought his lips to your ear, whispering nothing but sweet praises to you.

“You’re alright.” “I’m here.” “You’re safe.” “You took everything so well.” “I’m so proud of you.” “I’m so lucky to have you.” “I’m so glad you’re mine.” “You don’t have to worry anymore.”

Each time he spoke did more to ease your mind, and you eventually found yourself crying quietly once again, but tears of relief. He was right: you were safe. Lucius would always be there to protect you and be right by your side.

At last, the water of the tub started to get cold. Lucius helped get you to your feet and wrap you in an incredibly soft towel. As you stood before him, towel covering you from your chest to your knees, your tearstained face finally dry, Lucius couldn’t help but to pull you into a quick embrace, his lips solftly touching your forehead.

“Would you like to get changed into anything, my pet?” He asked in a soft voice. You nodded and Lucius sat you on his bed and left for a minute. When he returned, he produced a long nightgown (or a matching pajama shirt and pants if you’d prefer) and slowly eased you into them.

Usually, when your naked form was in view of your dominant, he couldn’t help but just absolutely salavate at the sight, wanting to indulge you in nothing but utter pleasure until you were seeing stars. But in this moment, your nudity wasn’t anything sexual to him. He didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable after all that you’d endured.

Finally dressed, you were brought to his bed and you climbed in, allowing yourself some peace. After lighting a fire in the fireplace from his wand with a mutter of a spell, Lucius changed out of your view into a simple black pair of elegant silk pajamas and then got into bed behind you, his face going into the back of your neck as his arms went around your torso. You turned over as he held you and buried your face into his chest, your arms returning the embrace. You ended up falling asleep to the blissful sound of your lover’s voice quietly praising you, the fireplace cracking in the background, the warmth of his body against yours, and his hand lightly petting your hair.

Once he noticed you were asleep, Lucius sighed quietly to himself, content to see you at ease. He closed his eyes, thinking to himself how lucky he is to have you in his arms at that moment, and with that, he fell into a peaceful slumber beside you.