#trust doesn't rust

[cassette-cryptid]

I had an idea, here goes nothin

[suzcatonmars]

Land of Confusion

Chapter 20: Back In Black

Garthe and KARR embark on an unstoppable rampage through the city.

– Garthe –

I laid on KARR's horn, drowning out the peal of approaching sirens and keeping his yoke steady with my other hand. The police cars ground to a halt, rear tires kicking out on the slick road in a spray of water and smoke, completely blocking the avenue.

I took my hand off the horn just long enough to press Turbo Boost. In an exhilarating instant, the strobing lights vanished under KARR's prow as we sailed over the barricade, airborne and weightless.

KARR was muttering something about the insufferable racket of his horn when we crashed back down to earth, but my ears were ringing too loudly for me to pay him much heed. I honked again, because I could, because we were wild and unfettered and free, and I wanted the whole world to know it.

[bits-and-beasts]

finally put that "Megatron betrays the Terrans" au to paper,

Starscream isn't taking it well, and frankly neither is Dorothy.

(also! I accidentally called nova storm ion storm in the writeup and only noticed after I rasterized the text- please imagine that away lol)

[rozzywell]

Collection of some sort (seasons 1 and 2)

[heartbeetz]

Btwwww

[gotta-bail-my-quails]

man i thought i moved out to escape my family but it turns out i've jumped from the pan into the fire because holy shit my guys what the fuck??

[nonbinary-beast]

ok now you've got me invested in this crossover of yours and i'm curious, what does karr look like?? i'm wondering if you could make some sketches of him like you did with am, if you don't mind!!! i'm not very familiar with knight rider since this is the first time i've heard of it

Well, in terms of how he looks in the series, this is my favorite scrungo bungo that will hold a bitch hostage, I'm linking a video since he looks and sounds better in motion a la KITT vs KARR (s3ep6):

(he shows up around 31 seconds in, don't mind the title, the official youtube has a lot of weird ideas about how to describe their clips. There is no brainwashing.)

As for how KARR looks in the AU, I'm still working on that since I do have sketches in progress for him, but I would rather post the concepts for KARR when they are finished and colored.

[ghouljams]

Nikolai first strikes up a conversation with you while you're sitting alone in a bar. Your friends have made their way outside for a smoke, and you—ever so thoughtful—volunteered to stay back to keep an eye on the table's drinks and purses. You're so polite—nodding along when he speaks, interjecting with meaningful questions and letting out delightful snorts when he cracks wise.

He realizes just how pliant you are once he's fucking you with your face pressed into the pillow. There's no pesky squirming, just sweet muffled moans and the way your back arches obediently when he presses on it.

After a while it dawns on him just how long your air-supply has been suppressed by the pillow and he's quick to reach down and turn your head to the side. A kind of morbid fascination fills him when he watches you reflexively gasp for the fresh oxygen. Christ, do you not have any self-preservation instinct? What would have happened if he hadn't intervened? Would you have passed out beneath him without warning or complaint?

Nikolai recognizes that someone like you isn't to be taken for granted. Others would take advantage of your desire to please, hurting you in the process. He couldn't have that now, could he? You deserve a firm, loving hand and he deserves a devoted pet. It's like he has no choice but to keep you.

Now whenever Nik has to endure stories of his friend's failed flings he just laughs and shakes his head. "Couldn't be me, my любимая is so sweet for me. Isn't that right, моя умница?"

Hunting is a young man's game, it's why Nikolai prefers fishing. Silent and meditative, waiting for the fish to find his bait before he reals them in. He likes you the same way: gasping for air, eyes glassy, floundering against his grip with no hope of escape. A single well placed slice behind the gills. It's so much more... humane.

You're not suited for self-preservation, not in this world at least. You wander about with legs that shake like a fawn's, finding your place in the world under someone else's protection, a fish out of water. It's his fault really, he knows there's no point in something as pretty as you having to breed decisions behind those wet eyes, knows that soft things like you live better as treasured pets. There was a time when you wouldn't have had anything to do with your body but sit and look pretty, softened and plied with food and drink by hands gifted the divine right of kings. This modern world is too much for something like you.

It's lucky you fell into Nik's hands when you did, lucky that he recognized you for what you were before anyone else did. He needs nothing more than to feel you wrap your arms around his shoulders, than to feel the weight of you settle in his lap, than to listen to the soft breaths you take as you fall asleep, safe and sound, in the circle of his influence.

Quite a smart thing, finding him the same way butterflies find a crocodile's tears. Symbiotic. He could no more survive without you, than you could survive without him. You even out his edges, scrape away the filth that he tracks through life. You pull his head to your breast and coo your own praises with a slurred tongue. You don't flinch when he sinks his teeth into you, when he wraps his hand around your throat and watches your lashes flutter.

There is no reassurance like the glaze of your eyes, the part of your lips, the clutch of your sweet cunt, when he presses the sharp edge of a posture collar to your jaw. It could be anything, a knife, a gun, rusted metal or freshly oiled pistons, you'd trust him all the same, allow the treatment all the same. He doesn't need you to prove yourself to him, no grand gesture could echo as proudly as the way you suffocate yourself in pillows.

You poor thing. Need Nikolai to give you the air in your lungs too, huh? He's already taken care of everything else, so why not one more thing? Leave brains and ambition for the mammals, little fish.

[moonsaver]

Falling asleep on them (their shoulder, mostly)

Title is as it says lol. A small apology for not having neither the seraphim sunday out sooner nor the yan alphabet.

– contains; Sunday, Aventurine, Dr ratio and Boothill (separately) x gn!reader.

No reader warnings bc its just fluff with a hint of angst if you squint

Sunday

Pre AE sunday: it's rare for both of you to have quiet, private and intimate moments long enough for either of you to really relax, but when it happens, you must've also been dead tired the way you didn't even realise you were asleep until your head softly landed on his shoulder.

I imagine Sunday would like sitting on a sofa with you and just do his work silently beside you, sorting through his documents in quiet peace when it happens. When it does, his hands freeze for a moment, stopping mid-turn of a page when he feels the warmth of you on his shoulder.

He'd gently set his work aside for a moment and simply relish the feeling. He's too busy to really be there for the most part, but he's still nonetheless grateful youve always been there for him, and he feels guiltier the more he stares at your sleeping form. It's this mix of overwhelming love and guilt that eats at him – he wonders if he's really as good of a partner to you and if you would consider getting with someone else besides him that could possibly give you more–

-Aaand the thoughts stop, when your head slightly slumps more.

He sighs, and leans his head on yours aswell, finding and interlocking his fingers with yours. He settles to relish the moment.

AE Sunday: basically the same, except he doesn't overthink nor is he working. But rather, he's in one of the trio's rooms in the corner leaning on the destroyed pillow fort which was done so to make space for the Monopoly game they were playing. He smiles when it happens, closing his book and gently setting it aside, settling more into the pillows and gets cozier. He'll play a bit with your hair, press a kiss to your forehead, and whisper sweet nothings to you – he talks about visiting new worlds, his feelings so far, how he feels so lucky to experience all of this with you. He tries to cover your ears so you don't wake up from the boisterous energy from the trio playing a few ways away. Maybe they also join you two and make it an impromptu cuddle session turned into a joint napping session.

——

Aventurine

A bit shocked when it happens, and originally thinks you're not actually asleep when it does, teasing you a bit. But quickly shuts up when you don't respond like your usual bantering self, and tenses a bit at your silence. He leans over carefully to see your sleeping face – and only then does he really accept you're asleep.

He stays tense for a moment. The moment is a bit too dangerously vulnerable for him — rather, the amount of trust you'd have in someone to sleep on them, is something he's a bit overwhelmed by thinking of.

If you stay asleep long enough he'll eventually relax, and realise how tense he was for a while when his shoulders pain a bit from it. He'll just stay silent for a moment, his eyes would be distant and his thoughts would be incoherent, but eventually they all settle down into silence when your soft breathing grounds him to the presence.

He sighs, followed by a very soft chuckle, before he presses a small kiss to the crown of your forehead, and wraps an arm around your shoulder.

——

Boothill

If the smell of gunpowder and rust and blood doesn't deter you from sleeping on him, and neither does his hard body, then you're in good hands!

His arm would probably be lazily draped over you from behind the couch, while he taps a bit on his phone, trying to mute some of the annoying notifications from a bounty or something when he feels you shift. Only you don't move away – but rather move towards him.

He looks slightly up from his phone and to his side, realising you've fallen asleep. He carefully shifts a bit, pockets his phone, and adjusts your head so you're sleeping on the "softer" parts – like the scarf around his neck or his top, making sure you're not pressing up against any hard bodied, sharp parts on him. Maybe even takes his hat off and places it so that it blocks the light from your eyes.

After that's done, he smiles smugly, before picking up his phone again and switching to the camera.

If you've made it this far being asleep, I hope you can survive the flashbang of his phone as boothill curses his device to hell and back, forgotten to have switched off the flashlight.

——

Dr. Ratio

At first, he quirks an eyebrow when you lean your head on him, but it doesn't take long to figure out you've fallen asleep.

He's still– well, tries to stay annoyed. But he really can't. Something about you softens him so much he (almost but not really) hates it. He softly scoffs, before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and making sure your head is positioned properly, you won't drool on him, etc..

If you don't wake up to it, he'll talk to you a liiitle while you're asleep. It's just mundane things to him – what he's reading while you're asleep, what he plans to study next, an experiment or so he's interested in, etc.. all while his hand gently rubs up and down your arm to soothe you.

He's surprisingly comfortable to sleep on – if he doesn't have anywhere else to be. Even then, he's actually very gentle. He'd be huffy about it later, but it doesn't defeat the fact he picks you up carefully and places you somewhere safer to sleep and makes sure you're comfortable and safe before leaving.

Don't fall asleep while in the bath. He'll just wake you up and urge you to leave the instant he realises you're asleep.

——

[abbotjack]

Consumed by the thought of Pope being with someone who calls him sweet little pet names just because it's natural to them and they love him etc. but him having to get a handle on that because the way they coo "baby" and "sweetie" sets off something in his brain that reminds him of Smurf.

Anyway I take your characterizations of Pope and Jack as gospel so was wondering what you think of them with pet names? Just because I think they can say so much about a character! I feel like Jack would be easy with them but Pope would just stick to someone's name, but I think it would be so special for him to get to a place where he can be called loving names and have them actually feel like love, you know?

(Same Pope Anon as before, Season 5 is tearing me apaaaaart, I will never get the way his voice broke when he told Deran about blacking out out of my mind, ok thank you so much!!!)

Ah, yes—two men for whom love-language is a ruin. Not just damaged, but decimated. Emotional blast zones, littered with the debris of things they needed to hear but never did. Like abandoned train stations where tenderness was supposed to arrive and never came—just echoes, just rust.

ANDREW "POPE" CODY : Canonically haunted. Biblically undone.

Pope doesn’t use pet names. Not because he thinks they’re silly. Not because he’s too macho. But because to call someone something soft requires a certain vision of love—one that was never modeled for him. Affection, in the world he was raised in, was surveillance dressed as care.

When Smurf cooed “my baby,” it wasn’t an act of love. It was a lock clicking shut.

To Pope, pet names don’t feel like sugar—they feel like a test. He associates them with manipulation. With ownership. With someone peering into his ribs and calling it comfort while rearranging his bones for their own use.

So when someone tries it—when someone who means it slips in a casual “baby” or “honey” or even “love”—it doesn’t feel casual to him. It feels loaded. His body stiffens before his brain even catches up. Because something in him remembers.

Remembers what it was like to be sweet-talked by someone who would slit your throat with the same voice.

That’s what Pope fights against.

This is a man who wants love like a drowning man wants air—but doesn't always recognize the shape of it when it comes. It’s not that he doesn’t need tenderness. He craves it. But craving something and knowing how to receive it are oceans apart.

He’s the kind of man who will flinch at “baby,” but memorize the way you say his name. He'll use your name like a prayer, a grounding technique, a confession. He doesn’t say “sweetheart,” but he’ll brush your wrist with the back of his hand when no one’s looking. He won’t say “I missed you”—he’ll stare at the door ten minutes before you’re due to walk through it.

It takes time—biblical time—for Pope to rewire the synapses that tell him love is a threat. But when he does start to accept it, when those words start to sound like freedom instead of control, it’s a rapture of its own kind. Quiet. Earth-shifting. Sacred.

Because here’s the theological truth of Pope Cody:

He doesn’t trust what comes easy. But he remembers everything that’s offered in faith.

And when he finally calls someone “baby”— in a cracked whisper, in a moment when the world is on fire and his heart is steady only because you’re holding it—that name becomes holy.

JACK ABBOT : War medic. ER attending. Human sandbag.

Jack Abbot, on the other hand, gives language like it’s blood. Like it’s something he owes you for surviving another day in a world that takes and takes.

Where Pope withholds softness because he was poisoned by it, Jack offers it because he understands the cost of not hearing it.

He’s spent too many nights telling people “You’re okay, you’re alright” while pressing gauze into open wounds. He’s seen last breaths. He’s memorized the look people get when no one’s ever called them “love” before they died. He doesn’t play with words. He wields them.

Jack is a man of contradictions. His words are tender, but his voice is wrecked. He calls you “darlin’” with the cadence of someone who has said it to people bleeding out on concrete. He says “babe” when he’s teasing, sure—but “sweetheart” only when he’s scared.

He’s the kind of man who says “hey, gorgeous” while pulling a bullet casing from a trauma log. Who sighs “baby, c’mere” when he’s too tired to process anything else. Who says “my girl” under his breath in the middle of a 2 a.m. debrief like it’s a lifeline.

But here’s what makes it Jack-coded: he doesn’t use pet names to make you feel small. He uses them to remind you you’re still here.

Where Pope avoids nicknames because they once meant ownership, Jack uses them because he’s spent years trying to build a new language—a better one. One where no one bleeds alone. One where kindness can sound like a whistle across a busy trauma floor and still mean something real.

And yet—it’s not performative. He doesn’t hand them out like candy. You earn Jack’s pet names by witnessing him. Not just the soldier. Not just the doctor. But the man who folds your laundry on nights you don’t come home. Who memorizes your sandwich order. Who knows when not to say anything at all.

Because here’s the gospel truth of Jack Abbot:

His love isn’t loud. It’s discipline.

And that discipline bleeds into the way he says your name like it’s armor, the way he calls you “baby” when he’s rubbing the bridge of his nose after a 14-hour shift, the way he’ll whisper “mine” only when he’s too tired to pretend he’s not terrified of losing you.

Pope has to relearn language. Jack has to redefine it.

Pope hears “baby” and flashes back to being a pawn in someone else's empire.

Jack says “baby” and means, "You're still alive. You're still mine. Thank God."

Pope doesn’t trust words. Jack has to use them, or he’ll drown in silence.

One was raised in a house where love was used like a gun. The other became a gun, just to keep the people he loves from ever bleeding out again.

And that’s why pet names matter.

Because for Pope Cody, learning to let someone call him “baby” is the most vulnerable thing he’ll ever do. And for Jack Abbot, saying it is the most honest.

[cassette-cryptid]

Why didn't Garth and K.A.R.R. get a team up episode?

(outside of the videogames)

[seat-safety-switch]

Trust me when I tell you that I love my local Mexican restaurant, with their molcajetes full of sizzling beef and their extremely inexpensive tacos. There's just one downside: their parking lot kind of sucks. It's one of those narrow 1960s jobs, where you have an exit only on one side, and it's constantly full of food-delivery types blocking the lane so you have to do weird ninety-point turns just to park.

Now, let's get one thing straight: I do not at all care if I get my doors "dinged." A couple years ago, a then-new Acura MDX parked a little close to me, and their kids banged their door into my door. This was enough contact for the rust demon to jump from my Valiant onto their car, and by the time they had returned from the store, their vehicle and its delicious Nipponese steel had been wholly consumed. Only the tires remained. No, I just don't like the inconvenience of having to strongarm-steer my wheezing piece of garbage into this tight lot. Things are bad enough that I've actually thought twice about going to get Mexican food. I know. I can barely believe it myself.

My parents didn't raise me to be someone who gives up easily. In fact, if you ask Child Protective Services, they didn't raise me at all. Television brought me up to idolize heroes like reruns of Clutch Cargo and whatever cool robot toy they wanted to sell that week. And if there's one thing those daring pioneers wouldn't accept, it's a slightly inconvenient parking lot.

What's the easiest way to fix a parking lot with only one exit? By adding another exit. Turns out the city construction workers nearby just keep their keys in the bulldozer, as long as your definition of "in the bulldozer" also includes the site supervisor's locked office inside a fireproof safe that doesn't stand up to the weight of a bulldozer rolling down the hill into it after having its parking brake released. I plowed a neat car-width divot through the nearby sidewalk – take that, walkable neighbourhood – and now the vibe of the entire parking lot had changed for the better.

Unfortunately, I had not counted on the increased traffic that this would bring. All of the city, it seems, was also putting off getting Mexican food. This slight inconvenience factor actually served as a pressure-control valve of sorts. With the floodgates wide open, the place was now crammed stem to stern with hungry rich folks and their conveniently-parked luxury cars 24 hours a day. Let this be a lesson to all of you: never try to make things better.

[bodybaggage]

Phantom in the League

---

The Watchtower hummed with its usual low energy, the heartbeat of Earth's greatest defenders. The Justice League had just wrapped up their latest meeting, discussing the increasing dimensional rifts appearing across the globe. Batman, ever the detective, had been the first to suggest the possibility of a more mystical cause. Naturally, the League looked to Zatanna and Constantine for guidance. But before they could dive too deep, another voice cut through.

"We could always ask Phantom."

Superman’s suggestion was simple, straightforward, and met with a few curious looks. The Kryptonian had always been one to trust his teammates, but Phantom’s origins had been one of the best-kept secrets in the League. Phantom, the young yet mysterious ghostly hero, had been a valuable ally since he’d been recruited after saving Star City from a rampant ghost attack nearly a year ago.

The League had grown used to his presence. His ethereal glow, the way he seemed to fade in and out of sight like a wisp of smoke, and the cryptic smile that often played on his lips. He was a mystery, one they had chosen to respect, but now? Now, they needed answers.

"Do we even know where to find him?" Green Lantern asked, hovering a few inches off the ground. "He just… shows up."

"I can find him," Batman declared, his voice a low growl that brooked no argument. "He can't stay hidden forever."

"He's never been a threat, Bats," Flash pointed out, leaning casually against the conference table. "He's just… Phantom. He helps out, doesn't ask for anything in return, then he's gone."

"That might be true, but we need to know who or what we’re dealing with," Wonder Woman added. "If these dimensional rifts are tied to his abilities or his world, we need to be prepared."

Superman nodded in agreement, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "Let’s just ask him directly. If he trusts us enough to fight alongside us, then he’ll trust us with the truth."

---

Phantom had never been easy to track, but Batman had his ways. And when Batman wanted to find someone, he did.

The Batcomputer pinged with a soft alert as he isolated Phantom’s spectral energy signature, something the Dark Knight had painstakingly compiled over the past few months. It was faint, almost undetectable, but there was enough to trace a general location: an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Gotham. Fittingly enough.

---

When the League arrived at the warehouse, it was eerily silent. The only sign of life—or unlife—was a soft, pulsing green light emanating from the cracks in the walls. Superman could hear the faintest murmur of voices, and Wonder Woman felt the magical energy in the air thickening, almost like stepping into another world.

“Stay on guard,” Batman instructed, though he knew everyone was already on high alert.

They pushed open the rusted doors, revealing a scene none of them had expected. Phantom was there, hovering mid-air, his back to them. But he wasn’t alone. Standing before him was a massive, imposing figure, crowned with a spectral crown and draped in regal, ghostly armor. The very air around the figure crackled with power—power that seemed to warp reality itself.

"Who the hell is that?" Green Lantern whispered, his ring already flaring to life.

"That's Pariah Dark," Phantom’s voice cut through the silence, clear and calm. He turned slowly, his eyes glowing a vivid green. "The former Ghost King of the Infinite Realms."

“Former?” Wonder Woman questioned, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Yes,” Phantom continued, descending to the ground as he spoke. “He’s no longer the king because… I am.”

The League froze. Superman’s eyes widened slightly, and even Batman seemed taken aback, though he quickly masked it. The implication was massive.

Phantom noticed their reactions and sighed, looking almost tired. “I was hoping to keep this quiet, at least until the time was right. But I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

He walked forward, the green glow around him dimming as he shifted from his ghostly form into that of a human boy—one who looked no older than seventeen. His black hair fell into his face as he offered them a weary smile, his bright blue eyes meeting theirs with surprising warmth.

“My name is Danny. Danny Fenton. And, yes, I’m the current King of the Infinite Realms.”

“The Infinite Realms?” Superman asked, though the name already resonated with him. He had heard of it before—an interdimensional realm of ghosts and spirits, a place of both immense power and danger.

Danny nodded. “It’s… complicated. The realms are like a web of dimensions, all interconnected and constantly shifting. I inherited the throne after defeating Pariah Dark.” He gestured towards the massive ghost, who remained silent, his eyes glowing with an eerie intensity. “It wasn’t exactly by choice, but it’s my responsibility now.”

“So, you’re a king,” Flash summed up, trying to wrap his head around it. “And you’ve been, what? Just hanging out with us, fighting bad guys on Earth?”

Danny chuckled, a sound that held a hint of bitterness. “Pretty much. The Infinite Realms are my duty, but Earth… Earth is my home. I couldn’t just abandon it, not with everything that’s happened.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Wonder Woman asked, her tone gentle but firm.

Danny hesitated, his gaze falling to the ground. “I didn’t want you to see me differently. I’m still me, still the same guy who fought alongside you. I just… have a lot more on my plate than most.”

“Kid,” Green Lantern said, lowering his ring, “we’ve all got our secrets. But this? This is big. You could have told us.”

“I know,” Danny admitted, his voice soft. “But I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to bring my problems into your world. But with these rifts appearing… they might be connected to the Realms, and that means it’s my responsibility to fix it.”

Batman stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Danny’s. “And Pariah Dark?”

The ghost king finally spoke, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to echo through the very fabric of reality. “I am here at the behest of my king. I no longer seek to conquer. My past… transgressions have been put aside.”

Danny glanced at Pariah, his expression unreadable. “Pariah Dark is… complicated. But he’s under control. I’m keeping him in check.”

There was a moment of tense silence before Superman spoke, his voice carrying the authority of a leader but the warmth of a friend. “Danny, we’re a team. We face these challenges together. If the Realms are a threat, we’ll help you. But you need to trust us, just like we trust you.”

Danny looked up, meeting Superman’s gaze, and for the first time, he truly felt like a part of something bigger. Not just a king, not just a hero, but a member of the Justice League.

“Okay,” Danny agreed, his voice firm. “I’ll tell you everything. And together, we’ll stop whatever’s threatening both of our worlds.”

The League nodded in unison, the tension slowly dissipating. They were in this together, just as they had always been.

As they prepared to leave, Danny couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. The burden of his secret was still heavy, but now he wasn’t carrying it alone. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he truly belonged.

And as the Watchtower’s doors closed behind them, Danny knew that whatever came next, he wouldn’t have to face it alone.

pt.2

---

[boycrazygirllover]

psst... we got more adrian chase recently... he does have a new haircut

YOU SHOULD EXPECT NOTHING OF ME!

That being said... enjoy cutting Adrian's hair.

-

"It's awful. Oh my god."

"What?" His hands rake through the sides, the very recently fucked up sides, like he's a New York greaser. "Nahhh."

His tone, earnest even while he's actively looking in the mirror, almost has you believing him. But then he turns his head and you see the side where your scissors dug too far into his hair, a fucking chunk gone, and reality sets in. 

“It’s concave.”

"Yeah, you could spelunk down here. I love it."

"It, you're not taking this seriously." You scoff, chewing the inside of your cheek, trying not to absolutely freak out. Is glue a stupid idea? A clip-on bang? “How do you feel about wigs?”

"Mm," he hums, mussing up the front of his hair, "I prefer lace fronts, but I feel like a hat wig would match my Fennelsona better—”

“Your what?” He'd given it thought?

He checks himself out from the side, catching your eye in the reflection. “Honestly, I could go shorter. Should we go shorter?"

His fingers pry the scissors open, round-tip craft ones that are beginning to rust because he never fully dries them after washing, just closes and lets the water eat the blade.

"Stop it."

You reach for the scissors, more gentle and less defensive than you would’ve been if you weren’t two and a half years into your relationship with him. He turns around, and in one swift movement, grabs his front curl, one of your favorites (because you do have favorites), and snips far too close to the root.

“Wh—! Oh, my god.”

“The feeling of the hair cutting, it’s like chopping celery, but if celery was as thin as hair. See?”

"That doesn't even make sense." You're starting to drown. The urge to exert complete control. The inability to do so.

The unmistakable sound of scissors snapping. Another curl.

It falls to the floor, keeping its "C". It's the very one you wrap around your finger when he's out of the shower. Is it crazy to tape it inside your definitely-non-existent scrapbook of him? 

“It's just hair,” he says, with hair so short it defies gravity.

“It's your hair.”

You can’t keep the look of mild disgust off your face. He resembles a barbie doll in the hands of a six year old. You think he'd take that as a compliment if you said so.

“I'm glad you cut it. My hair, I mean.” Like there was anything else that could mean. “You wanna cut more?”

He snips the scissors at you, waving them a touch too loose for your liking. 

“I’m so okay.” You're really, really not. And the understanding that you're really really not makes it even worse. Why are you so sensitive? Why is indifference so unattainable?

Adrian turns back around to the mirror, crouches lower to meet you where you are, and with that sick, perverted, kind, achingly thoughtful glint in his eyes, and a soft wet kiss to your temple, he guides your hands to chop off another curl before you can even think.

"No fuckin' biggie."

You pinch the outer leg of your jeans. If he says it's no biggie, then maybe it is. Maybe you have to trust him.

"No biggie."

[fridaysmind]

Yandere!Starscream x Autobot!Reader

Chapter 1

GN!Reader; Yandere is in the early stages, a departure from canon. I hope you're like it! TW! Mentions of war and death, rough treatment (with Star, of course)

The sun disappeared over the horizon, its path across the firmament reminded only of the remnants of its escaping rays.

Starscream's optics did not dignify the beauty of the organic planet, focused on the painful wound in side. Seeker sent a request for help to the Autobot medic, not wanting to even think about one polished red mech, but there was no response.

It was getting harder and harder to ventilate, space was beginning to blur when a cracking sound was heard off to the side of the lying Starscream. With a nervous shriek, he turned his helmet lightning fast toward the noise and your gazes collided.

The scarlet mark on your chest almost blinding him, the former Decepticon recognized your faceplate with difficulty. Seeing junior Autobot medical personnel is such a rarity. Ratchet appears on the battlefield once every eternity, and Starscream had seen you, their aide, only on screen.

Young features without a single scar, clean frame with hardly noticeable scuffs, and only tired optics gave away experience in this endless slaughter. You were sent to help, weren't you?

“Oh, what are you doing here?”

No. You were clearly just passing through. Starscream's wings, who was rapidly losing precious energon, drooped in helplessness. He expected you to walk away indifferently or mock him, but as you took quick steps toward him, Starscream mustered the will to transform his fist into a cannon and point the trembling limb in your direction. You raise your palms, asking him to calm down.

“I merely wish to help you, you're losing energon.”

“I notice it without you, genius!” Starscream reacts to everything overly emotional again. “Anyway, I've already asked your medic for help.”

You smile strainedly in response, trying not to bring the Decepticon down. You're already mentally regretting starting this conversation in the first place.

“Fine, but you won't mind if I provide first aid before he examines you, will you? To conserve power reserves and prevent possible rusting. Everything will be under your supervision.”

It didn't take him long, looking at you in disbelief, to agree. And here you both are, in a desolate area, with only the sound of screeching birds in the distance. Starscream squinted as he watched you carefully examine the wound, reaching into the first aid kit and pulling out what you needed, his figure slowly relaxing even as he continued to hold the twitching weapon in your direction.

You commented on the need for painkillers, ignoring his disgruntled look. The clean instrument, the new ampule opened in front of him, nothing made him stop questioning. He doesn't want to argue, because he might scare you off and not get any help at all, but he's not about to good-naturedly trust dubious liquids. As you pulled out the drug and prepared to inject it, you instantly felt the warmth of the muzzle against your forehead.

“Don't do anything stupid.”

The drug was successfully administered and the systems confirmed the quality composition, blocking pain signals.

“What did you get that wound from? It's pretty deep” you somewhat awkwardly try to dilute this atmosphere with some words. The self-contained seeker sputtered very quickly.

“Ah, I bet you'll never guess how that happened...”

Perhaps he should have thought about what information or benefit he could provide in return, but the processor was focused on the dialog, and on your soft touch that almost doesn't hurt, the smooth movements of your fingers, and your pleasant voice... is it the medication doing that?

You gradually finished all the work, but Starscream's message for help went unread, and he guessed without difficulty that Ratchet wasn't coming. It didn't surprise and hardly upset him. Millions upon millions of years had made his used to such a fate, used to never waiting for an outstretched hand.

The Seeker gently squirmed under your scrutiny, all discomfort receding and for a second the mech thought it was not just strange, but truly shockingly well done.

At the same time you're answering messages from a medic who lost you, on the verge of spark collapse.

Just writing that you were near Starscream was enough to cause a green portal funnel to open a second later, and an unfriendly medic to run out of it. Seeing the seeker's hand transformed into a cannon was enough to make Ratchet seize with hot anger.

“Get away from that flying parasite immediately.” The medic's expression was once again expressionless, pointing the blade in your patient's direction.

“That flying parasite can hear you just fine, you single-celled rusty!”

Their aggressive bickering was gaining momentum, so you just had to get in between the two of them, and while you turned the doctor's attention to yourself, Starscream gladly stopped the whole circus by simply transforming and soaring into the sky. Ratchet sighed heavily and shifted his menacing gaze from the departing Starscream to you. There's a serious conversation waiting for you at the base.

***

It took an extremely long time to return to the Harbinger, Starscream flying away from your rendezvous point too reluctantly. The processor was busy scrolling through the memories of the past day, especially clinging to the details of the last half hour. Your appearance in the setting sun, your careful gaze examining his wounded body as if with genuine concern, your peaceful voice and touch, touch, touch.

It was beginning to irritate him, who were you to sit in his head anyway? Starscream walked through every available room of the abandoned ship, tried to occupy himself with observations and grand plans of conquering all of Cybertron, but fatigue and hunger added to the mix, so with a sour expression on his face he just laid down on the sleeping platform, preparing to recharge.

No matter how much he tried to rest, his thoughts kept making his helmet heavier and heavier.

The pain still lingers in his memory, the sharp pain of the aftermath of the battle. Another city of formerly beautiful Cybertron had not survived, Autobots be damned. The sky has been completely consumed by darkness, buildings completely destroyed, floors engulfed in fire, street decorations reduced to ashes, and innocent citizens scattered here and there on roads and parks, with charred bodies and frozen emotions of horror and grief on the faceplate. It is partly a joy to return to Nemesis and hide one's gaze from this picture.

But not the joy of seeing familiar faces again.

Knockout turns curiously toward the door as the wounded Starscream steps inside, his interest replaced with all too obvious disappointment. Of course, the mech doesn't even try to hide the fact that he's not happy to see him. Despite his proven professionalism, it's as if every movement of his servo is deliberately making him uncomfortable again and again. The hot tool crashes into the space between the armor, burning the seeker and he cries out, pushing back with his whole body.

“Is it so hard to...not make it uncomfortable?” Starscream growls irritably, glaring at the bright red medic as he looks almost insulted.

“This is war, not role-playing, am I obligated to babysit?” the doctor raises his voice at the superior without fear, fearing nothing at all. “There isn't much painkiller left, we need to save up.”

Of course, he wouldn't behave so boldly with his Lord. It seems that permissiveness towards the commander in chief is becoming something of a trend. And Starscream knows the founder of that fashion, boldly implying that it is impermissible to cross anyone but a seeker. Bastards, but there's no energy to think of resisting the system.

As Knockout set all the instruments aside, silently declaring the end of aid, Starscream looked back at the hastily made stitches with displeasure.

“You're not going to, like, finish your work?” the growl turned to an impatient hiss. The lack of recharging multiple cycles was doing its job. He must hold his temper, he must. He is Vos' heir, he has a duty to hold himself with dignity.

“You just got back from a battle where our side lost?” the scarlet transformer didn't wait for an answer. “Fine, then what's the point of carefully caulking everything but the vital if you're going to be flying around the room like a ball right now?”

Something about those words, spoken so indifferently and mockingly, struck a cybernerve. Starscream stared at the doctor standing back, unable to find the words to describe his defeat. Long claws gripped the metal of the medical bunk until it creaked.

Standing up so abruptly that his optics darkened in front of him, the commander dashed for the exit, ignoring all pain, only to escape from that feeling of humiliation again.

The Seeker, with a heaviness beneath his breastplates, swallowed and rolled over onto his other side.

Thoughts returned to your lithe body, colored by the rays of the sun receding over the horizon. Your fingers move quickly, crisp, but the treatment is almost lulling. You hum in thought, pull out the last vial of medicine for someone from another faction, and work on his frame with a look that almost makes Starscream believe you care. And your optics. As is the Autobots' custom, blue. But despite the fatigue, there was still a curiosity lurking in them, and all of it together seemed to echo in the very depths of his processor, awakening hazy memories of someone dear and close to him from the past.

About someone who always wanted to learn new things again and again on expeditions, someone whose curiosity and craving for knowledge had extinguished the spark. Someone whose name he promised not to remember...

No, he's definitely going crazy.

[moonydustx]

A not so funny story

requests | mastelist

Summary: With Uta controlling everyone and the marine attacking, you needed to contain an unconscious Law who was looking to join the fight. Now, you need to deal with the consequences of him finding out about this.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x F!Reader

Warnings: blood, Law hurts Reader (not on purpose), they both love each other, but they are idiots who don't know how to talk. Law doesn't know how to express his feelings in this one. Angst, kinda fluff/happy ending.

W/C: 3.6k

A/N: I just saw the movie Red and the idea came to my mind. I need to shake off the rust and get back to writing, I thought it would be a good solution. Despite being linked to the film OP Red, there may be some things that differ from the canon.

For those who haven't seen the film, a spoiler-free context: in the film, we see a singer called Uta, who Bepo is a fan of and, together with Law, go to the show. Problems happen, she puts everyone to sleep and with her power, she manipulates these sleeping people to fight with other people who want to stop her.

italics apply to flashbacks and thoughts

Part 2 | Part 3 (NSFW)

The cold stone beneath you contrasted with your hot, sweaty body. You could feel the wounds burning on your body and if you reached out your hand, you could find the cause of them, your captain.

In the distance, you could hear someone calling your name and it didn't take long for Penguin to appear in your field of vision.

"Are you okay?"

"He gave me a hard time, but I'm fine. And you?" You grumbled, sitting up and taking in your surroundings. Apparently everyone had gone back to sleep.

"We're tired but fine. You're bleeding, do you need any help?"

"Everything is fine." You stood, with his help. "We need to get them out of here, I doubt the marines will miss the chance to catch so many pirates gathered in one place. At the very least, this will end in a fight."

You chose to help carry Bepo back to Polar Tang. Even though he was big, sharing the weight would be much easier than carrying Law alone. As soon as you entered the submarine, you disappeared from sight, leaving all of Uta's fight behind.

"Do you guys need help? I can see some pretty bad injuries from here." Ikkaku approached, already stopping the blood on your forehead. "Are they both okay?"

"We should take them to the infirmary and keep them under observation." you warned, seeing two other crew members carry them out of sight. "Can we get away from the fight?"

"Yeah, off their radar." someone answered you in the background.

"Perfect, keep us at this depth, keep an eye on the radios, any sign of change, if Law hasn't woken up, you look for me." You leaned against one of the tables, trying to ignore some of the pain in your body.

It was supposed to be just a quick show, at least that's what Bepo had said. Unfortunately for Law, he ended up being the polar bear's requested companion.

"Sure you don't want to change places with me?" Law appeared next to you, while you finished cleaning the kitchen.

"No captain, I'll be right here, with my duties." You smiled at him and, despite being frustrated, he let out a sideways smile.

"You know that I'm the captain right? That I can give the order and you have to go and I don't."

"You wouldn't be so mean, would you?" you asked indignantly and on one of the few occasions, you heard him laugh, even if it was low tone. "Captain!"

"I'm kidding. Just keep an eye on everything, okay? Don't let Shachi and Penguin cause any trouble."

"Yes, sir. And you, enjoy the show."

You were almost regretting not accepting the proposal. Law would certainly be much better at containing you and preventing you from getting into a big fight than you would be doing the opposite. But you liked the idea of ​​him trusting you.

"Everything is alright?" Ikkaku took you out of your reverie, noticing your body slightly bent and the blood falling on your forehead.

"Try holding back a furious Trafalgar Law from wanting to get into a fight and tell me if that's okay." You laughed, even though it took some of the air out of you. "Just a few bruises, nothing major."

"Come on, I'll help you take care of this." Ikkaku gently pulled you by the hand.

"Boys, do you deal with them?" you asked and they both nodded. "If Law wakes up, don't say anything to him about our little fight."

"You mean, about the big fucking beating he gave you?" Shachi teased you, earning a push.

"Exactly. He has bigger problems to worry about than dealing with this."

You and Ikkaku headed towards the dorm you shared. Your friend made a point of supporting you at every step, even if you insisted it wasn't necessary. She sat you down on the bed and grabbed a small first aid kit hidden on one of the shelves.

"Why not tell the captain?"

"Outch" you mumbled with one of the stitches she had on your face. "I have a feeling he's not going to like that we got into this fight without his presence."

"I think he'll be more resentful that you were the one who held him back." You laughed at her silly observation, then grumbled with another needle. Damn fight. "Don't act stupid."

"What you mean?"

"I'll let you choose. Between you being the only one who can steal books from him without him complaining or about every time we disembark, you having to be on his side. Should I mention that time he freaked out because Kid wanted to take you to the crew from him?" she laughed to herself, at her own memory. "What do you need to see that he likes you too?"

"And who said I like him?"

"Okay, you still want to keep hiding your feelings for him, just hide it better." she laughed again. It was clear to her - and anyone else who saw - that there was something between the two of you. You just prefer not to feed this illusion. "Still, I agree that he won't like all this one bit. Let's try to keep out of his sight."

Law was still trying to assimilate everything that happened. Uta's show had turned into a war scene and in the end, even he had become a puppet. That idea would haunt him for a long time.

Despite recent events, Polar Tang was quiet, too quiet. He could hear some buzzing, nothing he could identify. Another thing he couldn't place was you. The last time he saw you, he had tried to bargain for your presence at the show, even though he had asked to change places with you, he didn't think the idea of ​​going with you was bad. You'd probably hate the song, but he'd enjoy your sarcastic comments about any awkward situation. A small laugh crossed his lips when he thought about what you would say to see little Bepo.

At dinner, he observed Shachi, Penguin and Bepo, talking to each other. The concerned expressions denoted the seriousness of the matter, but that could come later. Even though he slept through it all, he still felt tired.

At lunch the next day, again, nothing from you. Ikkaku was also missing. It was impossible for the two of them to have disappeared together and without any justification. He tried not to think about the worst-case scenarios, but no matter how much he denied it, he wasn't such an optimistic person.

It only took a few seconds of your three companions stalling for him to know that you and Ikkaku were up to something or had already been up to something. He left them behind, following with firm steps to your room.

"I didn't see you two at lunch or yesterday at dinner, I wanted to know..." you two found Law leaning against the door of your room. His relaxed position disappeared in seconds when he looked at where Ikkaku's hand joined your forehead. "What happened?"

"Just a few scratches, nothing major." your colleague replied before you could open your mouth. She knew - actually, you weren't that good at hiding it - about your feelings and how easily you could wrap your head around your own words.

"Yeah, they're from yesterday, some scratches." you tried to complement, the captain's serious expression made it clear that that hadn't helped at all.

"Nothing much and that's why you haven't shown up since yesterday?" he grumbled and before he could continue his lecture, he felt his body being pushed forward, with Bepo, Shachi and Penguin falling beside him. "What the fuck?"

"We just wanted to know if you already know that she was the one..." before the bear finished speaking, the other two covered his mouth.

The grey eyes trailed from you to Ikkaku, to the group lying next to him, and back to you again. The small stress that was forming inside Law turned into concern when he saw the small trickle of blood dripping from your eyebrow.

It only took a few moments away for you to appear like that and he would never tolerate that, you didn't need to know about his feelings or how he was already thinking about taking revenge on whoever had done that, he would deal with it after taking care of your wound .

"Everyone out." you made to follow Ikkaku, stopping a few meters away. "Not you, I need to see this."

The door to the small room knocked subtly behind Law, who waited for a few seconds to approach you. The two of you already had a considerable height difference, but when you felt Law's cold, tattooed fingers on your chin, you felt even smaller. He turned both sides of your face, despite the cold touch, you could feel your skin burn beneath his fingers.

"You're warm, but I don't see any trace of infection." Not this one, you thought. "Give me the name?"

"Name?"

"Which idiot did this?" he replied without much patience, his fingers leaving your face behind.

"This is going to be a funny story." you laughed, stopping immediately when you saw him look deep into your eyes, his expression serious in an almost irritating way.

"Someone decided to hurt one of my crew. I don't think it's such a funny story. Who did it?"

"Captain of the Heart Pirates, Trafalgar Law." your answer didn't seem to catch him instantly, with each word that left your mouth, you could see him getting paler and paler. "I believe you already know, but Uta managed to control everyone who was asleep to attack the pirates and the marines and with that, you and Bepo were also controlled. The boys held Bepo and I had to deal with you, but everything is fine. "

"They told me about Bepo..." he seemed lost for words, taking a certain distance from you and leaning on the small table in your room. "So you restrained me, alone?"

"You, actually Uta, didn't have access to your Devil Fruit powers, it ended up being easier. After all, our mission was just to keep you two away from the navy." you explained, leaning on the opposite side to where he was, seeing his crestfallen expression. "Like I said, it's okay captain."

"Where else did I hurt you?" the question took you by surprise, making it difficult to hide your reaction. "I know my strength, I have a feeling it wasn't just that. I could see it myself, but I trust you, so please."

With your fists clenched and your gaze following your every step, Law could see your hand go to your ribs, along with a grumble, as you bent down to pick up a small cloth and fill it with something that smelled similar to alcohol. As much as he noticed you trying hard, he could see you limping. He watched you smear the contents on one of your cheeks and your arm, revealing some bruises.

You stopped in front of him, letting him analyze. Despite the pain throughout your body, Law's proximity was almost like an anesthetic. If he stayed there, you wouldn't mind spending the day under his gaze. Law took your arm, gently sliding his fingers under the bruise, watching you flinch in discomfort. His hands practically put your arm back in place and placed themselves on the zipper of your jumpsuit.

Your hands placed themselves next to his, pulling the device and opening the entire piece. Of all the times he had dreamed of touching your skin, none had felt like this. He liked to imagine how soft it would be, to think about how your body would shiver, to feel with his own lips every piece of exposed skin, while he heard you ask for more. All the purple spots he had dreamed of leaving on your skin were nothing like the one he saw. Thoughts would need to be put aside at that moment.

His hand knocked down one side of your jumpsuit, showing the large bruise on your rib, which made him hold his breath for a few seconds.

"What else?" his voice was barely audible. He knew there was more to it, but he didn't want to be invasive.

"Just this cut." you took off the other strap of your jumpsuit and let it fall below your waist, showing the wound on your thigh. It wasn't that big, but when you both looked at the place, you understood where all the warmth in your body was coming from. "Shit. It wasn't like this last time I looked." actually it was, you just wanted to spare him the worry.

You adjusted your jumpsuit, leaving the top hanging around your waist. Your eyes searched for Law's, but he seemed to be far away, even just a few centimeters away. For some time, he didn't say anything. His eyes followed one point you had shown and others, looking for other signs. His hands prostrated in front of his body, why had he done that? Why hurt you?

"Law?"

"I...I..." the words seemed stuck somewhere inside him. His hands placed themselves next to your face, a gesture you hadn't received from him yet. "I don't know how to apologize. Forgive me, I didn't want any of this to happen."

"No need, Law, really. I was doing what any of us would do, taking care of our crew, taking care of our captain."

Again the words seemed to have escaped him. He just wished he could hold you and apologize a thousand times, hold you there and heal every little part of you and never allow anything to hurt you again. Some conscious side of him screamed in the background that this wasn't anyone's fault, but the sound seemed so far away to hear, while the picture of what he had done was so close to him.

A few seconds passed, his hands were still on your face, while you just enjoyed the awkward affection you received. He didn't know how to deal with that feeling, it was a guilt like he had never felt. Along with a fear, a need to see you well. There were too many things to deal with and at that moment, he chose to be the most rational one.

"It's infected and may have broken something." Law let his medical side take control of the situation. "Room. Shambles."

Before you even noticed the blue dome surrounding you, the two of you had already been transported to the infirmary. You remained standing in your place as you watched the captain hurriedly walk around the room, collecting some materials and before you could try to get on the stretcher, the two of you were already being taken to another place.

The table full of books, the small window of the Polar Tang showing some little orange fish passing by outside, a cozy bed, even with the sheets spread out. That definitely wasn't your room. You watched Law leave the materials on the table and reach Kikoku. You saw the blue dome again, this time, you knew that he was using his powers to confirm that you had indeed presented all your injuries to him.

"I was worried about your rib, but apparently it was just the bruise. Now about your leg, I may need to redo those stitches and medicate you. I can't let the infection spread."

You knew he was nervous, bordering on anxious, but you had known him long enough to know that stopping him from treating you would be even worse. You had chosen to hide your injuries so that Law wouldn't feel guilty, now that he knew, you didn't have much else to do.

"Law." you called out to him carefully, as he prepared the medication. "Do you mind if I bathe first?"

"Sure, I mean, no problem. Just wait a second." He walked away from the table and piled up some things, which he handed into your hand. "Here's my towel, I also left some clothes in case you want to use them, if you don't want to, that's okay. I can ask Ikkaku..."

"This is perfect, thank you Law." you hugged the small bundle of clothes close to your body.

"Room." again, in a matter of seconds, you were at the bathroom door. "I'm sorry, but your leg is really hurt, you shouldn't force it while walking."

"Okay" unlike the time he had taken you to the infirmary, now he had transported you close to each other, which made the air disappear from your lungs. "Can you wait for me? I mean, you said I wouldn't I should force my leg and..."

"I'll be outside, just call me and I'll be here." Please call me, Law's inner voice practically screamed.

Your shower was much quicker than you expected. Just knowing that he was waiting for you outside made butterflies fight in your stomach. You gently dried your body and took the clothes he had given you. Something that looked like shorts - it might have been underwear, but you didn't worry about that right now - and a black button-down shirt. As soon as you button the last button, you can pay attention to the smell of the fabric. Something soft, woody, you wondered if that was his scent.

"Law?" All it took was a small call and he soon entered the bathroom. Not as discreetly as he expected, his eyes roamed your body. "Can you help me?"

"Of course" your feet left the floor, giving you a few seconds to assimilate that he had picked you up and carried you back to the room. He hadn't done this before, but you preferred to just enjoy the sensation, locking your arms around his neck.

With a few steps inside the room, he placed you lying on the bed, pulling a rod further to the side, only then did you notice the hanging IV.

Law bent down, reaching your arm level, cleaning it with a small piece of cotton. He looked at the wound on your leg. In silence, he cleaned the area and took some bandages, placing them across the entire length of the wound. The contrast between your warm skin and his cold hands was strangely comfortable. You wished they would last a little longer there.

"I think we can leave these stitches for another day, but I need you to take this medicine. It's an antibiotic, the infection is small, but I'd rather take care of it soon." He pulled the small needle, seeing your face pale. "I'm sorry darling, but it's the best option we have."

Darling.

That word would echo in your mind for a long time. The fear of the needle that was about to come into contact with your skin eased when you saw the care he took with each gesture.

"Just don't look, okay?" He waited for you to close your eyes. "Just a few seconds and that's it. You'll feel sleepy, but that's normal. As soon as you wake up, I'll bring you something to eat."

He got up and started to adjust the pillows on the bed, the ones that were around and under you. His hands rested around your body, his body was on top of yours, even without any immediate contact. It was inevitable not to get lost in his eyes, or see him do the same with yours. You would like to engrave that in your memory, forever.

"Are you comfortable?" his face still had the same tense expression from the first moment he found you in the room.

"I am, I promise." you replied, in a burst of courage, you brought your hand to his face, touching his cheek. "Law, what worries you so much?"

He walked away, sitting at the foot of the bed. You just straightened up so you could look at him. His tattooed hands took off his hat, fingers tangling against the dark strands.

"I can't deal with the fact that I did this. I did this to you. Of all the people that could have been there, I hurt you." he grumbled, turning so he could look at you. "You do not understand."

"Actually, I understand." your answer left him stunned for a few seconds. "But don't blame yourself, you didn't choose this, captain"

"I know, but at the same time..." he huffed, trying to find the right words, which scratched his insides every time he looked at your scourged face. "You understand me, huh? I mean, I don't just see you as a crew member and something tells me you don't just see me as your captain. And knowing that of all the things that could have happened, I hurt you. I promise compensate you for everything."

"About what you said, about what we see in each other." your thought was interrupted by a long yawn. "What should we do about this?" You made to get up, but the IV attached seemed to transmit drowsiness straight to your body. Your eyes were already starting to get heavy.

"That we can deal with this later. You took care of me, now it's my duty to take care of you. For that, you need to rest." His hands reached yours, giving a slight laugh when he saw you fighting with your own eyes, wanting to leave them open. "I promise not to hurt you again or let anyone else hurt you."

Before you fall asleep for good, you can feel his lips on your hand.