#it's supposed to be fine as long as it's within a few hours though so this might just be my normal insomnia kicking about

[gibbearish]

hm one thing im not happy with on the original post is i said the staff hate campaign has been going on longer than the transandrophobia debate and then immediately talk abt matt maybe being the source, but i don't actually know how long he's been CEO, nor do i have the best sense of time regarding how long the transandrophobia thing has been going on, i was just going off of the fact that it just. feels like that's the order of events as i remember them. but also i mean i guess that is. actually just how remembering things works now that i think about it? i may be overthinking this

[kyseya]

Ancient Mummy

Imagine working as an archaeologist for a museum. However things hasn’t been going so well lately and there are hardly any visitors during opening hours. Sadly, you’ll be forced to close multiple exhibitions and if conditions are not met, the entire museum might have to shut down.

But by some miracle, a new tomb has been discovered in Egypt; undisturbed, unexplored and completely untouched by humans for centuries. It’s said to be the grave of an ancient king- a pharaoh- who was betrayed and murdered by his own cousin.

It’s the perfect opportunity! Maybe you’ll find something that can bring back interest and by extension, save the museum.

You go along with a few other colleagues to the site in Egypt. The journey was a bit tough but it was a hindered percent worth it. With avid curiosity you explore alone and with the others, the different things to find inside the tomb; artifacts and additional discoveries. It’s all very interesting. Wanting to save the best for last, you finally get an in-person look at the grave itself- the sarcophagus.

You have already heard the main tale of the pharaoh within, so you are a little surprised that there is more to the story than you previously believed.

Over the entire stone coffin were multiple hieroglyphs, each one helping and becoming a story together. Your collegue read some inscriptions and told you a basic summary of what it’s about.

Centuries ago there was a king. He had a wife whom he adored more than anything. She was provided with riches, glory and honour. There was nothing he wouldn’t accomplish for her. The people saw the care he held for his wife and therefore both respected and feared her as well, since any ounce of rudeness might end up with their heads spiked on a pole. It was a punishment fitting for those who dare disrespect his queen.

Unfortunately tragedy struck- a disease, more specifically. It took the lives of many and left whole villages empty. That hardly mattered to the pharaoh though, all his focus went to his ill wife; she, too, had been snatched by death. Up until the moment of her demise the pharaoh spent all day and all night at her side, attentively worrying about her needs. When she was gone he was ruined. He didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep, he didn’t even have the energy to clean himself. What was the point? His beloved was gone so there wasn’t really anything left for him.

It was after this that everything took a turn. It appeared that the king had enough with laying around and decided to do something. There were records of him behaving strangely- even by ancient standards- and drabbling in dark magic. He was later overthrown by his brother, who ordered him to be buried alive. It was quite the terrifying penalty go give one’s sibling. The brother didn’t want the darkness to spread out into the world from the old pharaoh, so he locked him inside the sarcophagus and sealed him far away.

What a tragic story, you thought. Well it was back in the old times and a lot of things were practiced then that aren’t okay in modern day. You suppose it wasn’t the most horrible incident that have happened.

It hadn’t been long since your colleague told you the backstory of the tomb and its inhibitor, but now the others wants to get to the good part and open up the stone coffin. You don’t think it’s the best idea in the world- of course something like this needs to be examined closely and so on, but there is something special about the tomb.

Ever since you’ve arrived, you have had a strange feeling following you around. It’s hard to explain. You feel almost drawn to the sarcophagus or perhaps it’s because it feels as if it is looking back at you. You tried ignoring it, however, the feeling came back stronger than ever the moment the others began preparing to open it up.

You should have told them of your concerns. If you did, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

The first few seconds after opening it everything was fine. All was as it should be; people flocking around to see the discovery and fawn over it while being mindful of its fragility. Then it changed. Your colleague who had been the closest had suddenly been strangled by the thin, dirty arm belonging to none other than the ancient corpse that previously had been resting in death. Everyone was silent as her face turned blue from the lack of oxygen. It was only after she fell to the floor dead that people began panicking. It was hard to process what had just happened, after all.

There was chaos.

Folk ran around like chickens fleeing from a fox that’d managed to get inside the coop. In a way, that was exactly what was going on, though. You had watched as the mummified corpse sat right up and climbed its way out of the cold coffin. It stumbled on its bony legs and quickly found a cornered man and approached him. He screamed when the mummy grabbed ahold of his face and brought it before its own. The creature started sucking the life out of the man- literally.

The man who had previously been a healthy and active person was now shrivelled up like a raisin. His face was dry and wrinkled. He died soon afterwards, only a soft wheeze leaving his lips as he passed.

The opposite seemed to happen to the former-corpse, though. It attacked more and more people and for every kill, it appeared to revert to its original state- a man, pharaoh of an ancient kingdom. The flesh grew back and filled up in the right places and he seemed human again.

How can that be? He had been dead for centuries. Although, just about everything was pretty fucked up in this moment, so his make-over is the least important factor.

You backed into a corner. Your eyes followed the mummy’s every move, it was impossible to look away. There was hardly anyone left apart from you. The one person that was still there was getting attacked by the monster and it wasn’t long until they were reduced to nothing.

Now it was just you and the creature, and it appeared it knew that too.

It turned to look at you. The mummy had now completely reverted back into a man and he was nothing short of breathtaking(and very naked, but you tried not to think about it). It pained to to admit it but it was the truth. He was easily the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on. His long, dark hair flowed when he stalked towards you. Despite his outer beauty, you couldn’t forget what you’d just witnessed him do.

Trembling, you pressed yourself against the wall. “Stay away.” you weakly mumbled.

‘This is it. My time is over.’

You closed your eyes in fear and braced yourself for the pain that would undoubtedly come; only it didn’t. Instead of death, a hand grazed your cheek. It was a light touch, one reserved for something valuable and fragile.

A raspy voice talked, “…My love..it is you..”

You had no idea what he said, it sounded like an ancient language. You had studied hieroglyphs but did not know anything about what speech might’ve sounded like. You decided to be brave and slightly opened your eyes.

The mummy was staring at you, but there was no malice or hatred in his expression. In fact, the only emotion you could find on his face was amazement, shock and….love? No, that can’t be. This is not some ‘lovers reunited’ situation.

“How can this be? Death took you and left me all alone- not that I hold you accountable, of course. I know you would never seek to hurt me.” the mummy kept muttering to himself. “Perhaps….the magic worked after all?”

His face brightened and he smiled gently at you. Whilst he happily went on about something, you became more confused than earlier. What the hell was going on? He committed multiple murders in one swoop and now, suddenly, he is acting like you’re friends talking about your day. He isn’t even human! Or at least not anymore, not really.

You voiced this opinion weakly, “Ummm, could you let me go?” You tried pulling away from his touch, uncomfortable at his caresses.

His brows furrowed at your reaction. From the look of it, he didn’t understand you any better than you did him. He focused at the subtle way you attempted to peel his hand off your arm. You let out a yelp when his arms snaked around your waist and he pulled you into his embrace.

He leaned down and whispered into your ear, petting your hair at the same time. “Wife, why do you seem unhappy at my presence? I do not understand. Are you not joyous at our reunion? I love you so, I cannot comprehend any reason why you would not wish to see me.”

Even if you didn’t know what he was saying, you could hear the sadness in his voice. The pain and desperation. No! You couldn’t feel sad for him. He had murdured multiple of your colleagues, he’s evil! Although, why hasn’t he killed you yet? It’s very strange indeed.

The mummy continued, “I can sense things are not as they used to be. Things are different now. Although I do not know the extent of it. However I am most certain of one thing; I have miraculously been reunited with my love and I do not plan on letting you fall through my grasp again.”

He held you in an almost suffocating hug.

“I shall make you my queen once more.”

[screampied]

friendddd need some geto or nanami 😋 fluff where he helps you study like pull an all-nighter and then soft smut and he praisesyou for doing so well.

❤︎ ໋𓈒 nanami helping you study then rewarding you after you finish

warnings. fem! reader, praise kink, soft dom nanami, reader's in college, doggystyle, talking you through it, mdni.

it’d be quite late at night, the clock nearly struck around two.

you let off a soft sigh, nanami’s words falling into silent ears. of course, you deeply appreciated his help, but the current study had your mind thrown in for a loop. you sat on his lap, leaning up against your palm before letting off another sigh.

“you get frustrated so easily, sweetheart,” nanami hums, leaning in to pepper a few kisses beneath your neck. he was so warm. you couldn’t help but smile despite the vexed pout sitting on your lips. he holds you close to his chest as your pout remained on your lips. “you’re almost done for the night, don’t pout.”

nanami continued to help you, his patience never wearing thin. “…fine,” you’d huff out, and within an hour you end up remembering all the methods he taught you. nanami watches with a soft gaze before you slump back on his chest, exaggerating out a cute sigh.

“now now, was that so hard? my good girl,” nanami kisses the back of your head. his touch was so gentle, yet after all that work you felt a bit turned on—especially from being so snuggled up against his lap. “awww,” he mutters, feeling you rub on his thigh. you were so handsy, he knew what you wanted and nanami hums. “is this your way of asking for a reward? you want…me, princess?”

“y-yes,” you mumble, his cologne started to get stronger and stronger. it wafts against your nose, simply enticing. nanami was so warm up against you, even him dressed down was sexy. he wore nothing but sweats and a white tank top, bulky beefy arms wrapped around your waist. “i need it.”

“need it?” he repeats, a tender smile tugging on his lips. you let off a cute gasp once he makes you sit up — slowly bending you over the desk.

nanami was so slow, purposely slow to make you lose your mind. he gently runs a thumb near the hem of your pajama shorts before sighing. “such a greedy girl, do you think you deserve it? let me know, baby.”

you pout, just aching for him to be inside already. your brain was practically fried from the immense hours of studying and you pathetically nod. “i deserve it kento. want you so bad. you—you called me your good girl.”

“i did, didn’t i,” he purrs right up against your ear. his voice had a slight rasp to it, so deep. he was such a tease, and you whine once you start to feel his bulge prod against your ass. “mhm. that’s true, i suppose. even though you kept whining about trying to get me to tell you all the answers, you did finish.”

“k-kento.” you’d moan, feeling his dick twitch beneath his briefs. you wanted him inside desperately. just being hunched over the desk, arched perfectly for him . . it had you throbbing.

nanami chuckles, whispering out a, “okay. okayy. if the princess wants me, she’ll get all of me.”

gingerly sliding down your sleepwear pants, nanami sighs. seeing you drench all through your panties, he springs out his length before prodding it all against your folds. you moan, feeling him pinch your underwear with two fingers, dragging it to the side. “wet girl. were you this wet the whole time i was helping you?”

“y-yes,” you whimpered with such honesty. he simpers, hearing your breath start to come more erratic and hitched. your bottom lip quivers once he gradually wraps a big hand around his length, brushing it against your entrance. “fuck me kento, waited s-so long.”

“good things come to those who wait, sweetheart,” he says in a hushed tone—you let off a soft mewl at his fat tip, it’s slowly sinking into you before he teases, pulling it out — in and out, in and out. your sheeny spit-glossed ips quaver as well as your legs before you pout. “aw. such an impatient girl. tryin’ to grind against me all nice like that, so cute.”

nanami couldn’t help but tease you. even if it was just a little bit. the moment he finally starts to sink his way into your slick entrance. your mouth slightly went agape. so thick . . it had your head spinning, lips parting and mouth salivating. he grows quiet the minute you do, and the sounds of your own squelching pussy became his favorite tune to listen to.

“niiiice ‘n warm for me l-like always,” he breathes, and his voice grows a bit lower than usual—it’s insanely attractive. he lowly groans the moment you involuntarily clamp down on him. “did such a good job … today.”

nanami brings two rough hands towards your hips, gently stroking your sides with his thumbs. and once he’s fully inside, he presents you with a single thrust. you jolt forward, moaning from his girth expanding inside of you before you slip out a giggle. “k-kento, i want you to fuck me.”

“hm. is that not what i’m doing, baby?” he asks politely, blond eyebrows raising in pure curiosity.

you move your hips forward before panting, desperately wanting more from him — to feel him reach spots you didn’t even know could be reached. “you can be a little rough with me kento, i can handle it.”

“oh…?” he snickers softly, leaning in to plant another kiss behind your ear. “my smart girl thinks she can handle me?”

“kento,” you whine, and nanami feels you make a cute attempt at swiveling your ass against him. he lets off a faint grunt before smiling to himself. seeing you so needy amused him—of course, he couldn’t tease you for too long. nanami makes you arch over all the way over the desk to where your chest bumps against the plethora of scattered papers. “f-fuck me, jus’ fuck me please.”

nanami parts your legs open for you a bit, getting a perfect alignment before he’s fully in this time. a perfect fit . . nice and snug. he had such a thick base, within a few seconds it smacked and smacked against you.

even still, he continued to be gentle with you.

a tender grip on your hips, yet his strokes were incredibly sloppy. with a tongue briefly lolling out, you babbled out his name numerous times until spit glossed over your lips.

doggystyle with nanami — it was always one of your favorite things to do. he preferred positions where he’d see your pretty face, stroking your cheek while you came on him and all. he didn’t mind this either, nanami caresses a part of your ass before giving it a light squeeze.

“huggin’ me so good. s-so good like a good girl,” he huffs out out in shaky pants.

nanami couldn’t help but feel his cock twitch at the way you were bent over for him. the way you’d whine for him to keep going, to stuff you full until nothing but the remnants of his own sticky cum ran down your thighs. he always did adore how you were his messy girl.

“you didn’t wanna study did you, baby? you—you just wanted to be like this,” and his breaths were heavy. you gnawed on the bottom of your lip as you felt the head of his cock run against that particular spot. nanami was so thick. the right amount of thickness, so thick it had your toes curling. you tried suppressing moans but by this point, you couldn’t care less. “bein’ bent over for me isn’t gonna make you any smarter, y’know?”

“i— i knowww that.” you moaned, feeling your thighs start to ache and ache. the way he reached all the right spots with such ease. he found it cute with the way your words were all whiney and dragged out.

you started to feel it, wave after wave ebbing alongside you . . . that familiar dry taste lingering inside your mouth. you felt yourself squirming a bit before letting off a sweetened moan once his cock head brushes right up near your g-spot.

“f-fuck fuckkkk,” you’d mewl out, gasp after gasp escorting past your sheeny lips. you were so close. your thighs tremble beneath him and he leans up close to you, coating your neck with multiple soft kisses. you moan, his cologne filling up your sinuses before you let off a squeak. “kento, ‘m gonna c-cum. keep—keeeep going.”

nanami puffs. “mhm. give it to me, sweetheart,” and his voice was a smooth low melody. his warm breath went against your earlobe, and he gently nibbles on it to make you spiral even more. nanami slows his hips down, giving you more precise strokes. “relax on me, there we go. smart girl,” and he’s gradually talking you through it. your eyelids flutter, legs barely standing before within seconds you come undone. “that’s my girl.”

you’re still panting, the abrupt surge of ways that left you had your breath nearly stolen from you. your pussy throbbed — even once you felt him start to slowly pull out, brushing a thumb against your slick pulsating heat.

“do you think i’ll um.. pass tomorrow?” you mutter in broken words, glancing down at your scattered papers.

nanami spins you around to kiss the top of your forehead, looking at you with kind eyes before letting off a nervous chortle, “no baby. i checked over your work and you only got like four right.”

[leviraaaaaa]

Farewell, Captain. (Levi Ackerman x injured!reader)

Cw: mentions of blood.

Summary: Levi Ackerman finds you in the verge of death.

-

It was going to rain

You bit down on your lip in worry. This was bad.

The expedition was supposed to be a small, short one. Just to catch a new titan or two for Hange's experiments. Go out, catch them, come back.

It was a small squad, about 15 people only. Section Commander Hange had picked out only a few to accompany. Being Levi's second, and one of the most treasured soldier in the military, usually they wouldn't call you for such simple tasks. The only reason you were asked to tag along was because you were also section commander Hange's assistant, you helped them in conducting the titan experiments. You didn't really mind as you had nothing better to do anyways. And by now, these small expeditions doesn't scare you as much as they used to.

You were ranked at the rear of the formation, along with two more. On one side, Sasha rode besides you, deeply focused. Captain Levi had, for some reason ordered her to come as well, to your joy (Though you suspected it was more of a punishment to stop her from stealing food, since banning her from meals only made the problem worse). You were glad hearing your best friend's coming too as the journey would be far less boring, although Sasha wasn't too enthusiastic. She kept groaning about how hungry she was and how she'd have to wait a couple more hours before she gets some food. (Irritated also because captain Levi had stripped her out of all hidden snacks before setting out.)

On the other side of you were a new recruit. She was in Section Commander Hange's squad, recruited because of her apparent brains in therotical knowledge. But Hange wanted her to have a bit of experience on the outside world too, so there she was. First ever expedition. Poor thing was shaking like a leaf.

Two nights ago, the special operations squad was sent out to clear the area out of any titans, baiting them towards where the trap was set along the South-East abandoned Tsuchou town. So the route was expected to be safe. And though precautions were taken, you and your teammates were much more relaxed, as you rode along, joking and laughing.

Except the new girl. She'd been rigid as stone since you've set out.

Suddenly, the girl closed the distance between you, pulling her horse so near, your legs almost touched. You looked at her, surprised. She'd been keeping noticable distance from you and Sasha until now.

"It's... it's going to rain, won't it?" She muttered quietly, glancing at you from the corner of her eyes.

You looked up and nodded, eyes shifting to the sky. "It appears so, yes."

"How long are we going to go on for?"

"Just a little further. We should be by the traps in about an hour."

The girl's shoulders visibly sunk, her face falling. "Another hour?"

"Hey," you called out softly, noticing the fear in her body language. She looked pitiful. "It's going to be fine. I know exactly what you must feel like but I promise you nothing's going to go wrong today. It's just a short trip, so hang on okay?"

Sasha shot an encouraging smile to her following your words.

She pursed her lips, giving a tight nod. Her hands gripped the reins tighter.

"I know..it's just..it feels so wrong." She whispered. "The sky was fine when we came out, then it turned dark within moments."

You understood. It really had been a good day. Or so it had seemed when the expedition began. Bright blue sky without a single cloud. Then half an hour in, it turned dark, thick black clouds appearing out of nowhere. And wind was blowing so heavy you could barely keep your eyes open, the dust that was getting kicked up by the horses kept flying into them.

It did feel wrong.

You thought about it for a second as you watched the girl gradually shifting further, regaining the distance. Her eyes unfocused, a worried expression settled.

"Sash, think I'm gonna go ahead." You told Sasha.

Sasha immediately started shaking her head but she barely had time to got any words out before you squeezed the horse's sides, telling her to speed up. She did, hooves clashing against the ground, leaving small clouds of dust. You passed through your comrades, ignoring their side eyes.

Breaking ranks was absolutely unpermitted unless in life threatening situations. But when you're favoured by the higher ups and second to none but Levi Ackerman, you get a lot of free passes and unspoken privileges—which, needless to point out, you abused whenever you could.

You speedened up until the familiar figure caught your eye. Nudging your horse, you manurvered it towards him, catching up to him in moments

Levi glanced at you sideways with narrowed eyes, annoyance flashing through his features at your appearance.

"Tch." He clicked his tongue. "Why the hell did you leave your post? Just because it's not an actual expedition doesn't mean-"

"Yeah, yeah" You cut him off, not in the mood for a lecture. Levi's eye twitched, but he didn't say anything. He never did.

If it was anyone else but you, Levi would have taught you a lesson right there. And if it was anyone but Levi, you would for sure at the very least be demoted for speaking in such tone. But though none of you would admit it, the relationship between you and Levi were much casual than it should be between a commanding officer and a soldier.

"It's going to rain, captain." You pointed towards the sky. "I don't like this. Can't we camp out or something? We've cleared out the area two nights ago anyways, there shouldn't be titans around. It'll be safe and we can continue later."

Levi sighed. "Tell that to four-eyes. I tried. They won't listen to me. Keeps saying, 'its not much further'."

You grimaced. When it came to titans, section commander Hange lost all rationality. "It won't be a light rain either. Looks like a fucking storm is coming."

Levi nodded in agreement. "I'll see what I can do." He huffed "You don't have to worry about it. "

"I'll be hella pissed if I get drenched, I swear."

"No one asked. And go back to your damn post, you little pest." He finished sharply, giving you a warning glance.

You obligated, even you knew when to step back. Pulling down on the reins, you slowed your horse down, turning it around to go back to your original spot. Sasha and the new recruit were staring wide eyed.

"You really need to stop doing that. One of these days, captain Levi will just go batshit on you." Sasha shook her head, a grin on her face.

"We'll see." You snorted.

"Seriously, I don't even know why he lets you screw around like this, if it was any of us-"

"Did you ask him about the rain?" The rookies high pitched voice cut Sasha off. She was staring at you, face contorted in anticipation.

"Yeah, kid." You responded gloomily. "Don't think they'll stop unless it actually starts raining."

She didn't say anything, just looked away, distancing herself with her horse again, knuckles taut on the reins.

"She's just scared." Sasha muttered, glancing at her.

"Weren't we all?"

"Don't remind me." She shuddered at the reminder of our first expedition—the one where more than half of us were massacred by the female titan.

You watched the sky with squinted eyes, as the clouds had covered the last rays of the sun, creating an eerie dark ambience, even making you shift warily in your position.

The kid was right, it felt wrong.

Somewhere far away, thunder rolled. Once. Twice. The rumbling sound was almost deafening.

That's when the first drop of rain hit your face. It rolled down your cheek and fell on the ground.

And then the sky crashed down upon the earth.

A curse escaped your lips, completely unprepared for the sudden phenomenon. Surprised yelps from others joined yours. Hastily, you wrapped your cloak around yourself tightly to regain some warmth that you lost.

Oh dear. This was definitely bad .

Within seconds, the world was white. You couldn't see anything. Only faint outlines and blurred green. Somewhere far front, you heard Hange groan and Moblit screaming out to move out to far right to the forest to take shelter underneath the trees.

Despite being half blind, you followed the orders, pulling the reins. You felt the thuds of Sasha's and the new recruits horses match yours.

Then Sasha gasped.

She hissed out your name, her voice terrified.

"Titans." She whispered.

Your heart fell. No.

"What?" You yelled out, praying to God you heard wrong.

"I can hear titans!" Sasha said louder this time, the panic in her tone clear. "From everywhere!"

Damn Sasha and her extraordinary hearing abilities.

"Shit. Shit shit shit!" You cursed out. Why? How? The area was supposed to be clear. Why were they swarming on you then?!

"We have to let the others know!"

"How!? The rain is too thick and loud for the signal guns to be seen or heard! Hell, we probably won't even hear titans come up until they're breathing down our damn necks!" You were losing your cool, the panic settling in.

Scouts did not go out in expeditions when it rained. It was a rule. Never.

But here the fuck you were.

You heard the rookie whimper right beside your ear. Your head turned to see her almost over your shoulders, eyes wide with terror as she heard the conversation, eyes switching from Sasha to you.

"It'll be fine." You said to her, trying to calm down for her sake. But you knew as well, the chances of it being fine was next to fucking zero because Sasha's ears were too fucking accurate. "It'll be fine, just stick close to me-"

The terrified yelps of several people up front cut you off and your blood froze.

A huge, enormous figure standing before you, staring down with wide, hungry eyes. A creepy smile on its face.

You stilled, right there. Your breathing stopped.

No no no.

Not here.

Your horse reacted before you processed it, throwing itself to the side just as the titans feet slammed against the ground just where you've been, sending tremors down the earth. It's grubby hand swooshed over your head.

The mount flailed wildly as you tried to keep balance. You were about to whip the reins and get the hell out of there when another cry pierced through your bones.

From much, much close.

The rookie.

You whipped your head to see the girl running the exact fucking opposite way, the titan following right behind with big, heavy thuds.

You didn't even care where Sasha might be.

She was experienced, she'd be fine.

The kid won't be fine.

In a split second decision, you turned your mount around, grabbing it's neck as it charged in full speed following the titan, speedily crossing it.

You were going in the forest.

Not the wisest decision you've made because you still couldn't see anything except for the outline of the titan behind you, you could crash into a tree any second.

But fuck.

"Hey, you moron! Come back here!" You yelled out to her in frustration and desperation. She didn't even turn around, only speedened up. "That's the wrong fucking way! Turn around!"

You moved, fast as the wind, raindrops stabbing your face like tiny little frost needles, making you wince.

You entered the forest, deeper, deeper.

This was bad.

And then it got worse.

It was the red that caught your eyes. The type of red you could recognize anywhere.

Blood was splattered all across the ground, the rainwater washing it away.

Oh no no no.

The crunch of human bones jolted you awake as you looked up to see the titan that had been the cause of it. You stared. Stared. Stared as it stared back at you.

You looked down, right there on the foot of it, rolling around was the detached head of the girl.

You gazed back up.

And then you saw two more. Slowly, steadily coming out of the forest, disturbingly enlarged organs swinging with every steps.

3 titans in front. 1 in the back.

What have you done.

You had barely turned your gear switch on when the first titan struck, stomping down your horse. Just in time, with the gap of a second from being smashed, you pressed on the triggers, the wires shooting forward, planting to whatever surface they had found and pulling you with it.

It was reckless. Stupid. Using ODM gear when you couldn't see shit. But you were in a forest so hopefully it'll randomly latch onto trees. Or it could fucking slip because of the rain and you could die. But you took your chance, not that you had a choice.

One of the advantages titans had was that they could see clearly in the rain. Their enormous pupils followed your movements, hands reaching out to grab you. You twisted just in time, releasing the wires and shooting them again, using them to swing yourself further and faster.

And you did that. Every time the wires shot out, your heart caught in your throat thinking it'd miss and find nothing to latch onto but fate must've had your back because it didn't.

Until it did.

Perhaps it was the stupid rush of confidence you gained from moving so perfectly, that you had speedened up. That was the downfall. Though one had latched, the other anchor slipped, missing the branch and instead going over it. The moment you realized it, you knew it was over.

The momentum from before and the pull of the wires, you slammed against the trees, hitting your head so hard, you felt your skull crack, the pain ripping through your brain. The anchor that had latched onto the tree didn't bury itself properly and you clashed right against it. The metal hook went straight through your shoulders. And nothing could ever have prepared you for the agony that panged through.

You dropped, back clashing against the ground. You lied there, sprawled and bleeding out, the rain pooling in your eyes, blurrying your already hazy vision from hitting your head so hard. But you watched the titans surround you, an almost giddy look crossing their stupid expressions.

Those little fuckers.

And so you watched, helplessly, as one of them reached out, pulling you up by your legs, your head dangling upside down.

And all you saw was big wide eyes and gaped jaws.

One of the other reached out, wrapping it's fat fingers around your midsections, pulling you towards itself. The one holding you groaned, pulling you back, as if it didn't really want to share. Your abdominal muscles and organs strech to the point you thought you'd split in half.

What a shit way to die, you thought.

You survived Shiganshina, you survived Trost, you survived that damn 57th expedition.

And you were going to die here.

Alone.

While four fucking ugly as hell titans fought about who got to eat you.

'Second to none but Levi Ackerman', your ass.

But your friends, you thought. Eren had yet so much to go, that you won't be there to see. Before you left, when you've said goodbye to Connie and Jean, you smacked both of them in the head, that wasn't a good farewell, was it? Sasha would go hungry during meals because you won't be there to share half your food.

You wondered if captain would be the slightest bit of sad.

Had he noticed you missing by now? Would he miss the little banters and bickerings you had every day with him? Would he be disappointed that you were going out in such a lame way?

You closed your eyes, dangling upside down was not helping your case. Your head was starting to get empty as you felt the blood pool down in your head.

That's good. At least you won't be conscious while you die.

It won't hurt.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four. Five. Six. Seven....one,five, four? Ticktocktickticktocktick-

Then you fell.

It wasn't a gentle drop You hit the ground again, full force. And this time you felt your leg bend awkwardly, a bone snapped.

But it didn't hurt, not really. You were too numb by now.

You felt the ground shook as something heavy impacted. Four times. Followed by loud, gutteral animalistic growls of a titan.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

One. Two. Three. Four.

But it was the sharp metallic sound of a sword clanging was what woke you up.

Your eyes opened and you saw steam.

Ah. Were the titans dead?

But who killed them?

Your head turned sheepishly and you found the answer.

There was Levi, staring at you with wide, wide eyes, mouth slightly parted. His swords were discarded by his side and he just stood there. Was his hands shaking?

Oh, that's funny. That's the first ever time you've seen captain react that much. He looked funny with such big eyes. Was it because of how filthy you were? You couldn't see yourself, but you knew. You must've been caked in blood and mud. Is that why captain was so shocked?

Your mind was so fuzzy, you wanted to go to sleep. Would the captain mind if you fell asleep here? In this filth?

Levi finally registered the sight. He shifted, still in a daze, and then he dropped, straddling you. Careful enough to not let any of his body weight touch you.

He looked so scared.

"Shit." He muttered. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Oi brat—" His hands closed around your arms, shaking you. Your brain felt as if it rattled in your head. "Fuck–can you hear me?"

His hand pressed against your face and he flinched at how cold you were. You only stared at him through half-lidded eyes.

Then, weakly, with all you had, you parted your lips, the words barely audible.

"...welcome to the party, captain. Bit late though I'm afraid." You mumbled. "You do realize shaking me doesn't actually help, don't you? Unless you want me to throw up or something."

Levi felt his heart hitch.

"You little shit–" he took a sharp breath. Then slowly, carefully, he slightly shifted you holding your hair back to inspect how bad the damage was, and it wasn't a pretty sight.

"I'm a goner, aren't I?" you muttered quietly, wincing when one of his fingers accidentally grazed against the injury. Levi immediately pulled his hand back, his hand stained red.

"Shut up." He hissed, trying to keep his growing anxiety from showing. "You're bleeding like shit. Thats way too much blood."

"I'm aware, can't help it." you groaned when your leg moved a bit too much, "Got it on your clothes too."

"I could care fuck less about it right now, you dumbfuck." Levi snapped out. The he shifted off of you, kneeling beside. He unhooked the green cloak around him with fast fingers. The green surface was smeared with dark red in places.

Carefully, he pulled you up by the shoulders, cradling you against his chest. You almost cried at the sudden feeling of warmth, and the sharp wave of pain that shot through your bent leg. Tears stinged your eyes. "Bite me. I knew you cared." You joked, an attempt to lighten the dire situation and to ignore the way your whole body ached and how you already felt the lack of oxygen in the air. Levi let out an irritated breath as he used the cloak to wrap around your head to stop the bleeding. His breathing loud and heavy beside your ear. "Can you shut up, you ungrateful brat? I'm trying to save your damn life."

Levi worked so gently, it was unfamiliar. You wondered as your head rested on his shoulder and his hands worked around you, every movement slow and careful, trying his best not to hurt you more.

Ah, so even the harsh captain can be this gentle. And despite emptiness clouding your head, you felt slightly glad. At least you got to see this side of him. This is a nice way to die.

As if he had somehow heard your thoughts, his jaw tightened. "Don't even think about dying. That's a fucking order."

If only the world worked like that.

Levi knew he wasn't doing a good job. His hands shook too much, and it was causing you unnecessary pain. He froze everytime you winced, taking a few seconds until you stilled, then continuing. He was also aware of how dirty the fabric was, with dirt and mud, but this'd have to. It's either this or watching you bleed out to death.

"Okay," he whispered quietly under his breath, more to reassure himself than you. He turned you so he could see your face. An absolutely panic stricken look passes him when he sees the tears. "Fuck, Did I hurt you too much? Does it still hurt?"

You sniffled, mouth twitching to a grin. You tried to ignore the pounding in your head. "It's not your fault. You didn't do anything."

Levi nodded, his eyes shifting to your shoulder. "How the fuck did this even happen?" He hissed sharply, seeing the metal anchor buried deep in the flesh. "Even when you get injured, it's in the stupidest ways possible." He thought about it for a second, biting the insides of his cheek. Unsure what to do. Then he sighed. "Shit. It's best to let it stay there. If I try to pull it out, might accidentally tear something. And the bleeding would be too much to handle."

"Nice." You groaned, then all of a sudden, broke into a fit of coughs, blood spilling out with each jolt. Levi's eyes widened at the sight, pupils blown out.

"The titans." You coughed, trying to explain. "Must've fucked up my insides. The grip was too tight."

Levi frustratedly ran a hand through his hair, uncaring of the grime and filth. His face screwed up and eyebrows knitted together, the fear in his eyes wide and clear. Internal bleeding was much, much concerning.

"Captain," the word was a groan. Your eyes were so heavy, begging to go to rest. Would that be so bad? "...I don't think I can make this one out. I'm dying, aren't I?"

"No you're not. But if you don't stop talking, I might actually make you a goner." Levi deadpanned while going over your leg. You snorted, the slight action paining you. But it was nice. With him fussing over.

"Come on, we gotta get you back-hey–" he slapped your cheek, seeing your eyes flutter. Gentle but sharp. "Don't pass out, kid. Better keep those damn eyes open. Stay awake. Stay the fuck awake, you hear me?"

His fingers fiddled with your uniform straps, removing the gas tanks and the overall gears. He had to cut down the wire that stuck with hook that was latched to your shoulder since he couldn't take it out. The removal of the extra weight made you feel slightly better.

"Alright," Cautiously, he hooked one arm over your shoulder, the other under your knees. "Brace yourself, this is going to hurt as fuck." Then, though carefully, with one sweep pull, he picked you up. And despite his warning, and the mental preparation, he was right. It hurt like shit. A soft cry escaped your lips. "I'm sorry, just–just hang on." He mumbled, cradling you close to him, adjusting your head so that it rested against his shoulder. He knew it wasn't the most ideal position as it'd be hard for him to move with ODM while holding you like this, not to mention your leg would not probably be in the best state either. But he couldn't think of a better position, your head needed support, he couldn't let any weight on your abdominal muscles either.

Then without moving his arms from beneath you, he reached for the ODM triggers with his hands and pressed his fingers down.

The takeoff was the final push. The jolt as he kicked off the ground and the pain that followed right after was the limit. You knew you were going to die.

"You pretend like you don't give two shits, but you're going to miss me once I'm gone aren't you?" The words escaped you without thinking. You weren't really thinking at all, it's just this urge that took over. But if you're going to die, you wanted to keep talking. You wanted to hear his voice. You wanted him to scowl and snap at you to shut up. So until you can't, you wanted to keep talking. One last bicker. Never in your life had you thought he'd be the one to hear your last words or that his ones would be the last you'd hear. And you didn't mind. At all.

"Fuck off." He responded coldly.

"I'm serious."

"You're serious? Now that's a shocker."

There he went, from one tree to another. You grinned, looking up at his contorted face. He was trying so hard not to panic, his eyes flicking from you to the route.

"Captain."

"Can't you just keep your mouth shut for once in your fucking life?"

"Said life's on the verge of death, so I'd rather not."

"Stop saying shit like that. You're not dying on me."

You sighed. He was wrong. You were indeed dying on him. Despite the warmth of his body pressed against you, you could feel your own temperature lowering dangerously. The cloak he had used as a makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding weren't helping much better either as you felt blood trickle over your eyes. You felt weak, dizzy, disassociated. You could barely remember where you are and where you're going.

"Captain. Thank you for choosing me."

"What?" Levi's eyes shifted towards you, surprised and confused. It was such a strange sight. The bangs he so carefully kept were now all messy and disheveled, some strands sticking to his face with sweat. You returned his silvery gaze.

"Thank you for choosing me. Letting me be a part of your squad. Saving my ass everytime I fucked up. For everything, really. You weren't the nicest, but you have a good heart. And I'm not the best at expressing gratitude but I had to let you know."

"Shut up." Levi hissed through gritted teeth, his voice cracked ever so slightly. The rain had lessened into a drizzle.

"Once I'm gone, there won't be anyone to nag you to go to sleep. Remember to take breaks, won't you?"

Levi wouldn't look at you. He couldn't look at you. But his hold tightened. "Shut the fuck up. Keep talking and I'll drop you." Oh, but you had to keep talking. Your breaths were numbered you could tell. And you wanted to spend them on talking.

"And hydrate. Don't drink too much tea. Stop being mean to Hange and Eren. Let Sasha eat, don't ban her from meals when she fucks up.." the words slurred, your voice becoming quieter with every words and each were punctuated with heavy and heavier gasps. Your eyes closed. The light was too bright for you. And blood was pooling inside your mouth, choking you. "..they care for you. I hope you know that. So be nice every once a while. It won't kill you I swear."

Levi sucked in a breath. "Oi, brat." His voice was so far, so far away. You wanted to reach out and hold on to it, somehow wrap yourself around it. So unlike the usual stoic and dry comments he'd send through your way.. "...I take it back. Don't shut up. Keep talking. Keep blabbering whatever the fuck- Don't die on me, not like this–shit–not like this—" Guess he did care after all. "—stay with me, come on, stay with me.–"

You were fading. Drowning. Floating. But you heard him. His words a broken record, repeating over and over in your brain—staywithmestaywithmestaywithme…

You apologized silently. You would if you could. But the air was choking you and you couldn't stay any longer. You'd stay with his mean ass for life if you had the choice, didn't he know? Didn't he know you dedicated your heart for him?

Oh. Time's out.

Goodbye.

Captain.

(might write a part 2 lol)

[pocketjoong]

❥𓂃𓏧EARLY MORNINGS

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS): You wake up to find Hongjoong in your studio. What started with you helping Hongjoong, turns into an unexpected confession from the idol himself.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING) idol!Hongjoong x afab!producer!Reader

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (GENRE AND AU/TROPE): friends/co-workers to lovers. idiots in love.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS) smut. pwp. use of pet names (princess, love, etc). choking. oral (f!recieveing). orgasm denial. soft joongie. joongie is whipped. lmk if I am missing something. MDNI.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT) 3.3k

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (NOTES) Happy Hongjoong Day everyone!! I wanted to write something sappy, but I'll just keep it to myself, mostly bc I really don't have the words to express my admiration and love for this precious little human. So, if you enjoy this, please do consider reblogging or leaving feedback! shoutout to @joong-of-gold for beta reading this! TYSM

You awaken to the distant, muffled rumble of thunder, a gentle intrusion on the stillness of your soundproof studio. The first glimmer of awareness reveals the early morning hour, for light filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow throughout the room, but the sun is nowhere to be seen. You can also tell that it rained a few minutes back because you can see the wet streaks on the window and the fog that lingers outside. 

In the haze between wakefulness and sleep, you realise that you are covered with a jacket that is definitely not yours. Inhaling deeply, you catch the scent of familiar cologne that clings to the soft material. Your gaze shifts, and sure enough, you spot him seated on your chair, bathed in the soft, ethereal glow of the computer screens. Hongjoong looks beautiful in the soft light of your studio, akin to an angel, as he works on something you’re unable to discern from the couch. You blink away the remnants of sleep, confused as to why Hongjoong is using your studio when he has his own a couple of doors away.

“Hongjoong?” Your voice is a mere whisper in the silence of the studio as you sit up, absentmindedly watching the way his jacket falls and pools onto your lap.

“Oh, Y/N, you’re awake?” Hongjoong leans back into the chair, his fingers running through his recently dyed hair, which appears somewhat tousled as if he'd been frustratedly tugging at the strands. His hair is a dirty blonde and way shorter than it was when you saw him yesterday morning, a few inches away from being a buzz cut, but it suits him well. But then, you suppose he looks good in all hairstyles. After all, you’re yet to see him in one he’s unable to pull off.

Your curiosity is piqued, and you tilt your head as you regard Hongjoong, noting the fatigue etched across his features. A quick glance at the wall clock tells you that it’s just past five in the morning, prompting you to wonder how long he has been in the building. Given that the last time you checked, the time was before 4 a.m., it dawns on you that he must have entered your studio sometime within the past hour. The realisation that he didn't return to the dorms last night tugs at your heart, and a sigh escapes at the thought as worry for him grips your heart.

“Sorry for barging in unannounced,” Hongjoong begins, his voice carrying slight remorse. “I was working on something, but then I got stuck. I thought being here would provide some inspiration... But..." He trails off, shoulders lifting in a half-hearted shrug. As he begins to rise up from your chair, you quickly shake your head to signal him to remain seated.

"Just," you reply with a sigh, pushing yourself off the couch and stretching, wincing at the satisfying crack of your joints. "Lemme freshen up and get some caffeine into my system. Would you like some?"

Hongjoong politely declines with a shake of his head, already returning his attention to the screens. “It’s fine. I had a cup about twenty minutes ago.”

“Mmhkay,” you mumble as you exit the studio to wash up. Upon your return, you feel notably more alert, though you're confident that a cup of strong coffee will definitely help you more. You search the closet for the coffee grounds, tiptoeing to reach the packet.

“You know, you look…” Hongjoong’s voice trails off, his gaze sweeping over your figure as though he's searching for a gentler way to phrase his thoughts. You've barely managed an hour of sleep in the past 48 hours, and you’re sure exhaustion has taken its toll.

“Like a mess?” You interject with a wry chuckle, playfully finishing his sentence while switching on the coffee machine.

“Nah, you're too pretty for that,” he smirks, causing you to roll your eyes in response, even though his words send a delightful pang through your heart. “But you look like you haven’t been getting much sleep, which is surprising since you were in dreamland when I arrived.”

“That's because I haven’t,” you admit, watching the coffee streaming into the cup you've placed beneath the machine. You hum happily when the smell of coffee permeates the room, making you relax further. “If you don't count the one-hour nap I managed after finishing that video call.”

"Video call?" Hongjoong echoes, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“Yeah, there's this American band that's eager to collaborate on a track with me, so we were hashing out the details until the wee hours, around four a.m.,” you explain, picking up the cup of coffee and turning to look at Hongjoong, who now appears to be deeply engrossed in the contents on the computer screen. “You sure you don't want some coffee, Joong-ah?”

"Mhmm, I’m good," he responds, brows furrowed as his attention is momentarily diverted by your offer.

You nod, even though he can’t see it and take a sip from the cup, savouring the rejuvenating warmth. It breathes life back into your tired form, revitalising you in a matter of moments. Crossing the studio, you lean against the wall, observing as Hongjoong plays with the sounds. 

You both share a quiet moment, with Hongjoong immersed in his work and you taking intermittent sips of your coffee. In the silence of the studio, your thoughts drift back to the day Eden introduced the two of you. Despite being Hongjoong's age, you had already earned a degree in music production and established a modest reputation in both the Korean and Western music scenes. Eden had recognised your talent and had been quick to scout you, asking if you'd like to work for KQ. It was an appealing proposition, one that offered you the flexibility to pursue personal projects without forfeiting your earnings from outside ventures. So you had agreed without any hesitation.

Not long after, the older man introduced you to Hongjoong. You had already heard of him, the sole trainee at KQ for several months, eager to delve into the realm of music production. So, Eden entrusted you with the task of guiding Hongjoong’s musical journey since you had a professional degree. Although you were initially hesitant, circumstances conspired, and over time, a strong friendship blossomed between the two of you.

“So,” you begin, finally setting down your half-empty cup of coffee on the cabinet on noticing Hongjoong’s visible frustration. “What's got you all worked up?”

“I want to remix a track for the new album,” he replies, gesturing toward the computer screen in a state of vexation. “I had this vision when Eden hyung told me about it, but nothing seems to click.”

“Can I see what you’ve done so far?” You inquire, moving closer to lean over his shoulder, regarding the screen with pursed lips. You hold out your hand, requesting for the headphones. When Hongjoong doesn't immediately pass them to you, you turn to face him, only to find him peering at you through half-lidded eyes, his expression inscrutable. In a sudden, surprising move, he pulls you onto his lap, eliciting an involuntary squeak from you and a hearty laugh from the mischievous idol.

“Sorry, love,” he says, though there is a distinct lack of remorse in his tone. “It'll be easier for both of us this way.”

He removes the headphones from around his neck and allows you to wear them before pressing play. As the music fills your ears, you’re acutely aware of Hongjoong’s arms encircling your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder. Despite the delightful distraction, you focus your attention on the remixes he's crafted thus far. It becomes evident why he's been wrestling with frustration; each track seems to lack the spark that’s needed for them to stand out.

“Did you have any other ideas?” you ask, swallowing hard as he nonchalantly shrugs while still entwined with you. His movement causes his chest to press against your back, and you can’t help but be flustered. You knew that he had been working out, but actually feeling his defined muscles beneath his shirt is a different sensation.

“Not really,” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear as he responds.

“Hmm,” you hum, doing a run-through of ATEEZ’s songs and attempting to conceive something more fitting while nestled against the group's leader. The endeavour turns out to be a more difficult enterprise than you initially anticipated. But you won’t complain; after all, he isn’t one to indulge in casual skinship, so you attribute it to sheer exhaustion and his mounting irritation. “I don't know if you've considered this... but there might be something that could work. Remember the beats I shared with you last week?”

“Do you mean this one?” he responds by humming a fragment of the track you had shared with him. With his chin still resting on your shoulder, his lips linger perilously close to your ear. You muster every ounce of restraint not to shiver pleasantly at his honey voice. “I had thought about it initially, but I didn’t want to use it without asking you.”

“Allow me to give it a try. I’m not entirely convinced either,” you assert, clearing your throat as you carefully get off Hongjoong’s lap. Retrieving your coffee mug, you lift it to your lips for a sip to regain your composure. Yet, in the very next moment, Hongjoong deftly snatches the mug from your grasp and takes a sip himself, letting out a light chuckle as your eyes widen in astonishment. You could swear you catch a whisper of “so cute” slipping from his lips under his breath, but you can’t be entirely certain, as he surely wouldn’t utter such words about you. Or would he?

Opting to dive into work, you retrieve the laptop and settle onto the couch, immersing yourself in the process. Lost in the task at hand, you’re completely unaware of Hongjoong’s intense gaze on you. It is only after you have a basic idea ready that you glance up and freeze. Shifting awkwardly in your seat for a brief moment, you bite your lips before patting the vacant space beside you on the couch. Silently, you press play as he takes his place by your side, watching him curiously as he focuses on the music filling the room.

“Wow,” Hongjoong breathes when he's done listening to the raw remix you’ve created. It's nothing extraordinary, merely an attempt to know if you’re going in the right direction, but the way his eyes sparkle as he looks at you tells you that you’ve struck gold. Before you know it, his lips are lightly grazing your cheek in a tender kiss, his proximity allowing his nose to gently brush against your skin. 

It should alarm you, how quickly you’re melting into his touch, so easily giving into him. This feels inappropriate; you're coworkers first, friends second, and you're uncertain about the ethical implications, considering you both work for the same company. But as he nuzzles into your cheek, all rational thoughts fly out of the window.

“Damn it, Y/N,” you shiver at the rawness in his voice. “You're so cruel. How am I supposed to contain my feelings for you when every time I convince myself I'm content with just being your friend, you do something like this, and I'm head over heels for you all over again?”

“Hongjoong,” Your voice is breathy, and the way you say his name with a gasp almost sounds like a prayer.

He swears, drawing you closer and gazing into your eyes with an intense longing that leaves you wordless, “Don't say my name like that if you don’t want me to kiss you senseless.”

“Who's stopping you?” You whisper, fisting the front of his shirt in your hands, desperately searching for something to ground yourself.

Eagerly, he closes the distance, lips meeting yours with an ardour that takes you by surprise. He nips at your bottom lip, and you feel your resolve crumble. You allow him to dip his tongue into your mouth. As he pulls you onto his lap, you straddle him, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, drawing him closer. Abruptly, Hongjoong breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathes, closing his eyes when you shake your head. “If I don’t stop now, I won’t be able to hold back.”

“Joong,” you murmur, cradling his face between your hands, your lips finding his jaw. “Please.”

“Are you sure?” He whispers, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “I’d planned on asking you out on a date first, to be honest.”

You giggle at both the unexpected confession and his endearing hesitance, causing him to pout in response. You understand where he’s coming from; he’s usually steadfast, not easily swayed by desire or impulse, but it appears that his usual unwavering patience is slowly unravelling.

“We can do that later, I’m not going anywhere,” you say, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Although, if you're not comfortable going further, we can stop.”

Hongjoong shakes his head, his lips finding yours once more in a slow, sensual kiss. “I want you,” he mumbles between each lingering kiss. “I always have.”

His words elicit a whimper from you, and you grind your hips against him, causing the denim of his jeans to rub deliciously against your aching clit. Gasping at the contact, you meet his gaze, finding his lips swollen and rosy from your kiss, his pupils dilated with desire. The next moment, he pulls away from you and eagerly tugs at the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. You giggle at his eagerness, “Greedy, are we?”

Hongjoong smirks and leans down to press his lips against the top of your chest, murmuring, “Only for you, my love.”

A quiet moan escapes your lips as your hands find their way into his dishevelled, dirty blonde locks, tugging just hard enough to coax a groan from him. Hongjoong retaliates by sinking his teeth into your neck, biting down gently before withdrawing. When you practically melt into him, he smirks teasingly, “You like that, princess? Want more?”

You nod, gasping as one of his hands darts to your back, skillfully snapping open your bra. His other hand slips to your throat, exerting gentle pressure, almost experimentally, just enough to encourage a deeper breath.

“Mmm. Not like that, doll. Use your words,” Hongjoong pulls away fully, allowing you to see the smouldering desire in his eyes, a sight that sends your head spinning. It takes you a moment to find your voice, long enough for him to caress your cheek with one finger, prompting you to close your eyes. “Don’t leave me hanging, Y/N.”

Your eyelids flutter open, and you gaze at him with a sultry intensity. “I want you to touch me.”

A sly grin curves his lips as he leans in, nipping your lower lip provocatively. “See, now, that wasn’t too difficult, was it, princess?”

You let out a whine as his thumbs rub over your breasts, teasingly tracing patterns. He lowers his head to suck on the skin around your nipple, his lips leaving faint marks. Hongjoong’s mouth is warm and wet, and every time his tongue brushes over your sensitive flesh, your body arches up against his in yearning. When his teeth graze over the tender area, you can’t help but grind against his pulsing erection, desperately needing friction against your clit. “Joong, please.”

“I’ll make you cum, princess. I promise,” he says, offering an innocent smile that contradicts the desire blazing in his eyes.

You're on the verge of delivering a clever retort, but any semblance of wit vanishes when his fingers push your panties aside and plunge into your heat. Your mouth falls agape as his skilled fingertips find the sweet spot deep inside of you, making your toes curl. A primal need stirs within you, and you roll your hips to meet his fingers, and it’s not much later that your legs begin to tremble. You’re close, so close, but just as you're on the cusp of ecstasy, Hongjoong yanks his fingers back, causing you to let out a desperate sob.

He hushes you softly with a soft kiss, his lips a tender apology, “Just a bit more, princess. Can you hold on for a bit longer for me?”

As Hongjoong gently eases you down on the sofa, you notice that he’s still dressed. You pout, tugging at the edge of his shirt, “Joong… off, please?”

“Patience, my dear. I promised I’ll make you cum, didn’t I?” He moves off the couch, pulling you closer to him to spread your folds.

“Fuck—” You arch off the couch, a sharp gasp escaping your lips the second his lips close around your throbbing clit. One of his hands keeps your legs pressed to the side, not allowing you to close them. For what feels like an eternity, he keeps you pinned, fucking you with his tongue and fingers but never allowing the release you so desperately seek. You’re a sobbing, sensitive mess by the time he pulls away for what seems like the hundredth time and sweetly wipes away your tears. It’s not until you hear the crinkling of a condom wrapper that you realise Hongjoong is kneeling on the couch, already undressed and ready.

“You did so well, princess,” he smiles warmly, guiding your legs to wrap around his hips. “I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

You nod eagerly, your voice almost desperate as you implore him, “Please… Joong, yes.”

He takes his time as he eases into your folds, knowing that you’re sensitive and you’re grateful for his consideration. Once he’s fully inside of you, he withdraws slowly, repeating the motion with a gentleness that leaves you breathless. Your nails dig into his shoulders, pulling him to you as you yearn to be as close to him as possible.

“Y/N, my love.” Hongjoong coaxes your eyes open gently, his eyes filled with concern. “Loosen up, please. I won’t be able to move otherwise.” 

Taking a shaky breath, you relax, prompting him to smile. “That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

He slowly works up a rhythm, and it doesn’t take long for you to feel your high approaching. Sensing that you’re close, his warm fingers close around your throat to apply just the right amount of pressure. You clench around him in response, making him moan, deep and loud, as his eyes roll back.

“That’s it, princess,” he whispers, his hands trailing down to rub at your clit while he thrusts in and out slowly. His eyes draw shut as he revels in the sounds of your moans, your words unclear as you gasp out his name. “Will you cum for me, Y/N? Hm?”

You finally snap, your body feeling like fire as you succumb to pleasure. Hongjoong grabs you to keep you still. “You feel incredible, princess.,” he gasps, voice laced with desire. “You’re so good for me.” 

All the sensations are too much for him, and he curses, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he chases his own release. The room fills with the sounds of both of your moans before Hongjoong collapses on top of you, showering affectionate kisses on your face and neck.

For a brief moment, neither of you utters a word, still caught in the hazy aftermath. Your legs feel like jelly, and you’re still a bit woozy, so you simply watch as Hongjoong eases back. He ties off the condom and drops it into the trash can near the door, dressing quickly. Then, he returns to you with damp tissues that he borrowed from your cupboard. “Are you okay, love? Feeling sore?” He inquires, concern evident in his gentle voice.

“A little, but it was absolutely worth it. I knew you had it in you,” you tease, playfully winking at him, and both of you share a tired yet content chuckle.

“Good,” he responds with a warm smile, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “Do you need anything?”

“Cuddles?” You pout, gazing up at Hongjoong.

“Anything my princess wants, she gets.”

[brucewaynehater101]

TW: mentions death, blood

Here is the angst some of you requested. Let me know if I need to add triggers

He isn't going to make it to eighteen. This is a fact. Tim knows, with certainty, that he isn't going to survive that long.

Being a vigilante means that Tim's life expectancy is drastically reduced. He went from possibly dying of old age as the CEO of Drake Industries to becoming a casualty of The Mission. Tim knows the odds. Dick surviving to adulthood is the outlier, not the standard.

So, Tim knows he is going to die within the next few years. Either his blood is going to stain his yellow cape, or Timothy Drake will meet his tragic end in Gotham's streets. This is indisputable.

He had assumed, though, that he would last at least a year as Robin.

He thought Bruce would've been safe.

Tim had spent so long cultivating his plans and carefully navigating his interactions with Bruce. He pushed and pulled Dick, Barbara, Alfred, and some JL members into Bruce's social support. He helped mend their issues, subtly insisted Bruce upgrades his communication skills, and paved the way for a stronger bond.

He denied invitations to spend the night at Wayne Manor, he feigned being full at requests for dinner, and had ducked away from hair ruffles and shoulder pats. He maintained a childlike gaze, a helpful countenance, and a polite business mask.

In the few months Tim has been Robin, he has worked tirelessly to ensure Bruce would have support when Tim inevitably died. He maintained their mutual professional distance to minimize the hurt his death would cause the Waynes. He had designed everything to his best abilities. Tim is going to die, but he would help Bruce before then.

Bruce wasn't supposed to die with him.

Batman and Robin were trapped in the sewers after a cave-in. Apparently, Killer Croc, wrestling, and unsteady foundations were a recipe for a severely concussed Bat and a definitely not panicking Bird.

It could be hours before the two were found deep beneath Gotham's surface. Hours of someone scouring their last known whereabouts for clues before traversing the maze the city uses for their sewage. It could be hours before anyone even noticed their disappearance. Between Bruce's distress signal being crushed in the fight, Tim's being lost in the scuffle, and them being miles underground, this significantly hindered their ability to call for aid.

It might take days before Batman and Robin are unearthed.

From the way the rubble occasionally groaned and trembled, they didn't have that.

Bruce is physically present, his head is cushioned on Tim's lap, but the man's eyes are foggy. He keeps drifting into unconscious before Robin wakes him up again. Each time the man's eyes flutter shut, Tim fears that would be the last time.

It's fine. Tim's okay. Overall, the kid only has bruises on his skin and a few shallow cuts. He might be panicking, but he's physically okay.

Bruce, on the other hand, has a head wound that's sluggishly bleeding into his eyes and dripping down his face. His ribs are cracked from when the man tried to protect Robin from the tunnel collapsing.

Tim can hardly keep his panic at bay when the man starts to doze again. His hand lightly pats Bruce's cheek as he begs the man to open his eyes.

"Hey, B. You're gonna be alright." Tim's voice trembles slightly, but Bruce is too out of it to notice. "It's not going to be much longer. You have to hold on."

Bruce closes his eyes again.

"Bruce. Keep your eyes open."

At the command, the man struggles to pry his eyelids apart. Glassy light blue eyes focus in Tim's general direction. There's an emotion of the man's face that the teen has never seen before.

"We could..." Bruce's voice strains with the effort to speak. Still, he continues to rasp out, "Tomorrow. We could go to the library."

Although it is idiotic to hope, a part of Tim becomes elated at those words. The entire time Tim's been Robin, Bruce has kept him at a distance. They were coworkers, and Tim was necessary, not wanted. The teen could handle curt responses, long silences, and hasty dismissals. At least the man was frank with his expectations and personal boundaries. He never gave false promises or a fake welcome. Bruce was honest with Tim.

If they made it out of there, the man would keep his promise. The two of them could spend time together as Bruce and Tim, not Batman and Robin.

A soft smile appears as Tim regards his mentor. "I'd like that, B."

Bruce's face becomes fond, and his hazy eyes peer up at Tim. "I am glad you're here with me, Jay."

Tim isn't Bruce's son. He isn't the boy whose ghost drapes itself over the shoulders of his grieving father. He isn't a brawler when he fights, and he prefers sci-fi over literary masterpieces.

Tim has two parents. They hardly answer the phone and are gone for months on end, but they exist. They love Tim, in their own distant way.

Tim knows his name is Timothy Jackson Drake and not Jason Peter Todd.

Yet, in the washed-out illumination of an emergency flashlight, the kid faintly beams at Bruce.

"I'll always be here, Dad."

[cod-dump]

Ah yes hello it’s me again with my antics

one day Nikolai is like doing work in his office (I imagine price and him share an office in the house but price isn’t there right now) and Nikolai is just doing some paperwork for his construction and randomly teen!ghost walks in and says “dad, can you help me with my homework?” And Nikolai is just trying not to burst into tears after hearing Simon call him dad then like two hours later Gaz walks in and nik is like “you need something kiddo?” And Kyle is just like “I just want your company pops” then like later price walks into their shared bedroom and just sees nik crying in the corner is he’s like worried and shit price walks up to him like “what happened??” And nik through tear he just says “they’ve started calling me dad!”

-🫠

Undeserving (teen!Ghost au)

some slight angst (also before Roach’s addition)

———

It was sudden when the boys started referring him as ‘dad’ or ‘pops’ or ‘da’. It was so sudden that Nik had been an emotional mess for a few days since it started. Teary eyed, unable to look at them, wallowing — John was honestly worried about him for the first day.

“I’m fine,” Nik had assured him while looking like he was going explode from the unshed tears.

He didn’t feel fine. He felt so many things, all of them suggesting that he wasn’t fine. He was so happy but terrified. Nik never saw this for himself, this happy, domestic life with a family. He came here to repay his debt with Kate and her people, he never planned on anything like this happening.

He was just supposed to shadow a little boy until he was in a safe environment and in good hands. He wasn’t supposed to still be here. But he was, and it felt like the results from him deciding to stay and see how things would turn out for Simon were undeserving.

He didn’t deserve John. He was an amazing, wonderful man. Perfect in Nik’s eyes. His dedication to caring for Simon even though it was different from his usual work — that was strike one. Nik watched him go from caring for Simon as a basic guardian to loving him as his own son.

Strike two was witnessing the man defend his new life. He strayed from the front lines of hidden wars and bloody battles to something domestic, something soft and simple. Something that men like them tended to never get. And when John had it within reach, he took hold of it and refused to let go.

Of course, strike three was infamously John demonstrating his ability to protect his family and his home. He was a hardened soldier, and Nik witnessed his cold efficiency at his calling. Witnessed how familiar a gun was in his hands, how he seemingly detached himself from the reality that came with placing a bullet in another man’s brain.

John had Nik’s full heart, his adoration and dedication. Of course his children had that, too. Simon technically had Nik’s love first, even though the man still had yet to admit that. He had yet to acknowledge he cared about Simon long before he ever met his soon-to-be father and became enamored with him. It was impossible to deny that now when Simon and Kyle calling him ‘dad’ had him in shambles. He certainly felt he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve any of this.

“Nik.”

John’s voice never sounded sweeter than when they laid curled up in bed. Nik tried to not react but John had that special ability to always get a reaction from him. He shook when he felt John hold him from behind. He was so understanding, he didn’t deserve that.

“You know I’ve seen you cry before,” John whispered, still holding him so gently.

Nik let out a sob and John pressed a kiss to his head. He would hold him until he fell asleep. He would wake not feeling as conflicted. And later that morning when the boys greeted him, he couldn’t help but smile.

[buckymorelikefuckme]

a shore thing

bucky barnes x fem reader

i decided to write it hehe

a/n: any and all mistakes are my own! feedback is encouraged & welcomed :) xoxo

Bucky calls your name for the umpteenth time, beyond exasperated as you stumble away, giggling uncontrollably as you evade capture. He's hardly tipsy anymore, having decided to nurse a single beer for the last couple hours when he noticed how heavy you were drinking. Somebody needed to be responsible, he told himself. Even Steve was letting loose more than usual. But, to be fair, they were all on vacation.

“Guys, the taxis are here,” Nat announces, yet again, leaning heavily against one of said vehicles. “Bucky, we gotta go.”

“I’m trying my best here,” he replies. Although, that's not entirely true. “Someone should've cut her off ages ago.”

“Boooooo,” you heckle as you run past him.

Bucky sighs heavily. “Fine. You can stay here by yourself.”

You pause abruptly, almost tripping over your own feet, but you catch yourself before you face-plant into the gravel. “You're leaving me?” you ask in a pitiful tone.

“Yup.” Bucky turns and takes a few steps away, hearing you whine in protest. “Have fun.”

“Noooo, wait!”

Your uneven steps come closer and closer to Bucky and as soon as he gauges you're within arm’s reach he spins around with a smirk. It makes you lurch to a stop, gasping as it dawns on you.

“Betrayal!” you shout, pointing an accusatory finger at him. You try to take off running again, but Bucky is quicker. You're swooped up into a fireman’s carry before you even register your feet leaving the ground. “Ack! Put me down, you absolute caveman!”

Sam sticks his head out of the taxi. “There's room in this one.”

Bucky steers his steps that way, feeling your tiny fists beating his back the whole way, and plops you into the open seat. You let out a cute oof that he ignores as he tries to latch the seatbelt. You're a squirmy little shit though, and he soon finds that the only way he’ll be able to get the group back to the hotel is to enter the taxi himself and pull you into his lap. He quickly shuts the door and finally latches the seatbelt around the both of you, telling the driver to go.

Sam shakes his head in amusement in the seat beside Bucky. “You're seriously the only one who can rally that firecracker of a woman.”

“Hey!” you object with a pout. “I'm drunkies, not deaf. I can still hear you.”

You and Sam begin bickering and Bucky rolls his eyes, but he doesn't do anything to interfere. He's too busy trying to think about literally anything else other than the ginormous mistake he made by placing you on his lap. You, the person he's been in love with for far too long now, who has absolutely no clue of his feelings and sends constant mixed signals.

There are days he's sure you feel the same with the way you look at him, but then the next day you go out of your way to make sure he knows the two of you are just friends. He's losing his fucking mind. He doesn't know if he should tell you how he feels or try to move on.

You're wiggling suddenly, body jostling atop Bucky’s and his mind is forced to return to the present, only to see you and Sam slap-fighting like children.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” he addresses the driver, “I swear they're actually adults when they're not three sheets to the wind.”

The driver waves off the apology with a chuckle. The fight ends with you pinching Sam’s nipple, his cry of pain and outrage making you giggle wildly and throw your head back onto Bucky’s shoulder. After you catch your breath you sit up and wiggle some more until you're sitting sideways and can look at Bucky. Your eyes are glassy and your smile is sly and a touch wonky, and Bucky still thinks you're the cutest, sexiest woman he's ever known.

“Why don't you like me for real?”

The taxi is uncomfortably quiet. Bucky blinks a few times, shifting his gaze to Sam, who’s suddenly very interested in the passing streetlights and palm trees outside the window. Traitor, Bucky thinks. With no help from his supposed friend, Bucky looks back to you.

He clears his throat. “I do like you.”

“No,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “I mean like, like me like me. Like, more.”

Bucky is silent again, his mind whirling with a million questions–the biggest one being what the fuck?

“I'm not sure what you mean,” he says carefully. He hopes playing dumb will work in deterring the conversation, but he should've known better.

“You always just joke about it, but you never mean it. Always get my hopes up.”

“What are you talking about?” he blurts, truly flabbergasted, but he cuts you off before you can reply. “No, don't answer that. You're drunk, okay? You don't know what you're saying.”

You poke his cheek roughly, pouting. “I just want you to like me back, Buck. Wanna kiss you whenever I want.”

Bucky swallows thickly, unable to take his eyes away from yours as you lean in closer.

“Don't you wanna kiss me?” you question, reaching up you play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “Can I kiss you, Bucky?”

Your lips graze his, a feather-light touch, and he exhales shakily. Of fucking course he wants to kiss you. He's wanted nothing else for the last year. But he doesn't want it like this. He says your name, voice low in warning. You either don't hear him or you don't care.

Bucky’s eyes flutter closed as you continue pressing light kisses to his lips, the corner of his mouth, his chin, along his jaw. He fists his hands where they rest on either side of you, praying for the will to remain strong.

“You're drunk,” he repeats, a last ditch effort in getting you to stop, but even he can hear how weak the protest is.

“I still know what I want, what I feel.” You brush your nose against his. “I want you.”

Sam coughs pointedly beside both of you. “We’re here.”

Bucky is quick to unlatch the seatbelt and help you out of the car. Nat walks over and grabs your hand, Steve walking leisurely behind her.

“Let's go to bed, please,” she begs as she drags you with her.

You begin whining again, reminding Bucky of your inebriated state. He shouldn't have let you kiss him. You're not going to remember any of this tomorrow. Guilt punches him in the gut. He's so fucking weak when it comes to you.

“I wanna sleep with Bucky,” you complain as you resist.

Natasha squawks. “What?!” Her eyes are as wide as saucers, flicking back and forth from you and Bucky. Sam fails to hide his snort.

“His bed is bigger,” you explain, “You take up too much space.”

Natasha gasps. “How dare you!”

You turn to Bucky with pleading eyes. “Bucky, please let me sleep with you.”

“I… I'm not sure that's a good idea,” he replies.

You stomp your foot. “Pleeeease?” Your pout is lethal. “I promise I won't take up too much space.”

Sam puts his hand over Nat’s mouth before she can start yelling, doing his best to frogmarch her into the hotel so they don't cause a disturbance. Steve follows languidly, which is the sign that he's quickly coming down from his drunken high and will likely crash the moment his head hits the pillow.

“You should just sleep in your room with Nat,” Bucky advises.

“I don't wanna sleep with her,” you say, stepping back into Bucky’s space. One of your hands grasps his shirt, the other trailing across his chest. He fights the shiver threatening to run down his spine. “I wanna cuddle you.”

You look up at him through your lashes and Bucky knows he's lost. He sighs. You grin and giggle, grabbing his hand to lead him inside the hotel. He's quiet the whole ride up in the elevator. Your head is resting on his shoulder, humming along to whatever song is playing in your head. You’re still holding his hand.

When you're both standing in front of his room door, Bucky pauses, about to try one last time to get you to go two rooms down to the one you're supposed to be sharing with Nat, but you snatch the key card out of his hand and open the door before a word can leave his mouth. He doesn't trust you to be alone right now, and with Sam babysitting Nat and Steve probably snoring away in his own room, Bucky accepts his fate. He enters the room, closing the door with resignation.

“Ugh, god, these heels are the worst,” you grumble as you trip your way over to sit on the bed. You fight with the small buckle before making a noise of complaint. “Buckyyy…”

“Jesus,” he mutters, huffing as he walks to you.

He kneels in front of you and carefully takes your shoes off. You hum, pleased, once your feet are free, wiggling your toes.

“Why do you wear them if you hate them so much?” he mumbles.

“Because they make my legs and ass look fantastic, duh.”

Well. That's fair, Bucky supposes.

“Can you unzip me now?”

Fuck. Bucky chokes on nothing.

“Unzip you? What are you planning on sleeping in? Your pajamas are in your room,” he points out.

“Can't I borrow one of your shirts?” you ask, blinking innocent eyes up at him.

He doesn't trust it one bit.

“Please, Bucky? My dress won't be comfortable.”

Your pout makes yet another appearance. He doesn't bother pointing out that you wouldn't have this problem if you went to your own room. You'd ignore him anyway.

“Fine,” he grumbles. He rifles through his bag to find a shirt for you, grabbing pajamas for himself while he's at it. “I'll go change in the bathroom.”

He turns to head that way, but you stop him.

“My dress,” you remind him, spinning around and pointing at the zip.

Bucky's pretty sure you could do this by yourself, but he's just ready to go to bed at this point, so he’ll do whatever he has to to get there. He tries not to put too much thought into the action, but his mind can't help but wander, imagining unzipping your dress with different intentions. The more skin that is revealed to him, the more his breathing picks up. He takes note that you didn't wear a bra with this dress, which makes him realize you'll be wearing his shirt with only your underwear beneath it. He curses mentally.

He steps away like he's been burned once the zipper reaches the bottom. “There you go,” he says, voice gruff.

He doesn't wait for your response, quickly escaping into the bathroom before anything else can be asked of him. It doesn't take Bucky long to change his clothes, but he still lingers in the small space to gather his wits, taking his time as he brushes his teeth, and even splashes some cold water on his face. He stares at himself in the mirror for a moment.

“She’ll forget all of this by morning,” he assures himself.

He's not fond of the way that statement makes his stomach twist.

When he leaves the bathroom, he finds your dress pooled on the floor in the same spot you stood as he unzipped it. You're standing next to the bed, fidgeting with the hem of Bucky’s shirt that hangs off your small frame. He raises a quizzical brow.

“I don't know which side you prefer,” you say, unsure.

Bucky feels himself soften at your expression. “I'm good either way.”

You dart for the left side, lifting the comforter and sheets and snuggling underneath them. Bucky's lips twitch, but he resists smiling.

“C’mon, Buck, I want cuddles,” you entice, patting the spot beside you exaggeratedly.

He only hesitates for a split second. It's late and exhaustion is settling in his bones. He’ll worry about consequences in the morning.

You waste no time in invading his space once he's in the bed. You nudge his arm until he lifts it, worming your way under it and placing your head on his chest, your own arm slung over his waist. Bucky goes still, holding his breath until you get comfortable. Slowly, he lets his arm fall across your back, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh.

“Bucky?” you whisper.

“Hm?”

You nuzzle into his pec. “Love you.”

Bucky's eyes snap open then. His heart begins hammering in his chest and he prays that you're close enough to sleep to not notice.

“Goodnight,” he rasps after a minute passes by.

Your only reply is a light snore. Bucky feels his heart crack in his chest.

~

The next morning, Bucky lies awake, staring at the ceiling. He's not sure exactly how much sleep he got, but it wasn't a lot. You only got clingier as you slept, practically wrapping your whole body around him.

Bucky is a weak, weak man.

Sunlight begins peeking through the curtains, eventually finding its way to the bed and across your closed eyes. A frown forms between your brows and he almost smoothes it with his thumb. The only reason he stops himself is because you groan and turn away before he can.

“Turn it off,” you croak.

“The sun?” he retorts with a laugh.

“Yes,” you reply derisively. “Kick its ass for waking me up.”

Bucky smiles to himself. “Whatever you want, my love.”

It feels like the room freezes in time after the endearment escapes him. With a jolt, you sit up and face him. Bucky can't read your expression, but that's mostly because he's doing his best to look anywhere but your face.

“Seriously?” you gripe. “You're still going to poke fun about that kind of shit even after what I said last night?”

That gets his attention pretty easily. He meets your gaze and hates the dejected look on your face.

“What–what are you talking about?” he questions, thrown.

Your chin wobbles slightly before you scoff, whipping the comforter off your body as you attempt to leave the bed, but Bucky sits up and grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Wait–”

“Let go of me,” you demand, refusing to look at him.

“Not until you tell me what the fuck is going on,” he replies firmly.

You turn to him with a glare. “You're still joking about my feelings for you, even though I made it perfectly clear how I felt last night.”

“Felt? You… you don't feel the same anymore?” He's grasping for straws here. “I thought–I mean, I didn't think you were serious. You were drunk, I…”

“It doesn't matter if I still feel the same or not,” you reply, the fight leaving your body.

“Yes, it does!” he exclaims. “God, of course it fucking matters. If you have feelings for me, I need to know.”

“Have I not made it abundantly clear already?!” you retort. “If you're that fucking dense, then here you go: I'm fucking in love with you, you big, stupid, gigantic ass–”

He cuts you off by dragging your body to his and kissing you. You make a sound of shock, but you don't push him away, so he deepens the kiss, tilting his head and flicking his tongue at the seam of your lips. You open for him with a gasp, your tongue meeting his and making you both moan. He pulls away, chest heaving.

“We're both stupid,” he declares. “I'm in love with you too. I thought you were the one not taking it seriously.”

Your dazed expression begins clearing and realization sets in. “Oh my god,” you mumble as you yank him back into a kiss that has him reeling.

“Do you know,” he starts between kisses, “how fucking hard it was—to be a gentleman last night?”

You giggle. “I was hoping you wouldn't be a gentleman.”

Bucky curses, manhandling you until you're flat on your back. “That can be arranged.”

“Promises, promises,” you goad, biting your lip.

“Exactly,” he replies, lips tugging into a smirk.

~

Needless to say, the two of you have to put up with merciless teasing for the rest of the trip… But it's worth it.

[siriusblackloml]

Day 7 - Tom Riddle (Kinktober 2023)

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1700+

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: swearing, smacking, derogatory terms, oral sex, TOM BEING VERY, VERY TOXIC. LIKE MAD TOXIC BRUH. MDNI (18+)

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist┊Day 8

Never in a million years would you ever intentionally try to do something that would piss off your boyfriend. That is the very last thing you would want to do. Therefore, it should be understood right off the bat that you never, ever meant to upset Tom today. Simply put, you made a small mistake.

Sure, a part of you knew that you were breaking the rules, but it was only meant to be brief. The contract that Tom had you followed in order to keep a clean, pristine relationship between the two of you included many…rules. These rules varied among different topics and areas of intimacy. However, one of the biggest rules that Tom insisted that you followed at all times was that you could never be seen with boys by yourself. It didn’t matter if they were your friend for a few days or even years; he was your boyfriend, therefore he was much more important.

Tom knew that he couldn’t completely separate you from boys at this school, there were literally everywhere you went. However, he figured it looked better if you were only around boys other than himself if you were in a large group with other girls. He has always been such a firm believer that if you were to be seen hanging around boys by yourself that it looks bad on your relationship. It would appear to the remaining students of Hogwarts that you had a lingering eye. Or, in his own words, it would make you look like a whore.

You didn’t want that, of course. But this simple little mistake you made today was never meant to blow up into something so big. You were innocently studying at the library, or at least had been for some time before you realized you were growing hungry. As you were just about to exit the library, a classmate stopped you in the middle of your walk. A boy, whose name you weren’t quite sure you could place, asked you, “Hey, Y/N! Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, but do you remember how many scrolls long this paper has to be? I can’t remember for the life of me.”

In an instant you stop in your tracks at the question. Turning your head towards the voice, you share a soft smile and respond in a cheerful voice, “Yeah! It’s supposed to be three scrolls long. Good luck with that.”

The boy says, “Thanks, you too! I really can’t stand these papers. They’re such a pain in the ass sometimes.”

This should have been your cue to leave. Then again, you’d been at the library for what felt like hours now. You deserved a quick interaction, and how likely would it be that Tom would be coming in here anytime soon anyway? You take a step towards your classmate and chime in agreement, “Yeah, I totally agree. I have so much trouble trying to get to three scrolls, and I know it’s going to be even worse later in the year when we start getting assigned five scrolls minimum.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine though. You always do so well on assignments.” He tells you.

In a matter of seconds, your cheeks are tinted pink from the compliment. You appreciate the boost of confidence. Maybe it was dumb that you were so easily flattered by a boy that was clearly not your significant other, however you didn’t seem to care. You liked that he saw you for your talents within the classroom and made sure to tell him such. “Thanks! I really appreciate that.”

“Y/N.” A familiar voice echoes in the library.

Your heart drops instantly. It was as though the air around you was sucked out of your lungs from the sound of your boyfriend catching sight of you breaking the rule. You knew damn well you were in for a punishment later that night, there was no doubt about that. It was unfortunate that he was going to treat you like you had cheated on him when clearly you hadn’t…it was even more unfortunate that the thought of Tom’s cruel, toxic behavior made your panties wet beyond belief.

Later that night, you’re glued to the floor by your knees. Tom’s trousers were already pulled down while his girth was shoved down your throat. Eyes watery, spit pooling from your mouth, you groan around his length as he pummels himself into your wet cavern over and over again. You moan around Tom, “Hmpf! Ah, T-Tom!”

It was perverted the way Tom’s face alters so proudly to see you flail around from the strength of his thrusts. Your hands were holding onto his thighs like it was a lifesaver from the massive blows to your throat. The sensation of your warm tongue licking at his cock makes him groan. Without missing a beat, Tom continues thrusting into your mouth. “Such a dirty girl. You deserve this, Y/N. You deserve to be used after today. Need to make you feel like the whore you are.”

Your hearts rapidly racing like crazy. Despite the disgusting words that spewed from Tom’s lips, you continued to moan around him and attacked his cock with quick motions of your tongue. You were enjoying every moment of this, though. While he could be overbearing sometimes, there was nothing about this situation that was scaring you. If anything, it only turned you on even more.

Your eyes meet Tom’s as you look up at him through wet eyelashes. His grin flickers into something more sinister as he continues to watch you cry over the force of his length. “Such a whore. You can’t even stop yourself for one second, you need the attention of some boy in the library. Wonder what he would think if he saw you now. Choking on my cock like some dumb slut.”

Suddenly, Tom has pulled out his length from your mouth. He smacks the tip against your cheek a few times as a reminder that you are still beneath him, that you’ll always be beneath his power; but that was fine by you. You loved the way he treats you even if it is degrading. You knew you deserved this. Because after all, you’re a dirty whore for sitting alone with a boy that wasn’t your boyfriend.

Coughing from the burning sensation in the back of your throat, you look up at your boyfriend and tell him, “I-I’m sorry, Tom. I really didn’t mean-”

“Get on the bed, now. Hands and knees.” He commands you in a dark voice.

Not wasting another second, you strip off all clothing and get onto the bed without a second thought. The cool air of the bedroom hits your glistening cunt. In the midst of all the dirty talking and face-fucking, Tom had managed to find a way to make you soaked wet. You feel his hands trail along your bare bottom. Goosebumps run up and down your thighs. Tom seems to take note of this behavior and allows his fingers to dig deep into the plumpness of your legs. He squeezes the fat and gives it a quick jiggle, right before pulling his hand back to slap the flesh hard. You yelp out of pain, “Oh, fuck!”

“My naughty whore. You should be able to handle this, right? It’s what you deserve after today.” He says huskily, getting into position between your legs. He smacks your thighs once, twice, multiple times in a row. Your skin stings in pain, red and hot from the blows.

However, you loved every second of it. You know Tom loves it when you apologize, so you continue with your begging. “I’m sorry! I love you, Tom, I do. I only want you and your cock.”

At the mention of his girth, the boy instantly grabs the base of the member. He guides the head of his cock to spread your wet lips, barely grazing your clit. Your entire body shudders and you let out a soft moan. He tells you, “If you really do want me, you’ll have to prove it. Take me like a good girl.”

Looking back at Tom, you stare at him intently as you feel the tip of his member push past your lips and enter your wet hole. You comply immediately to his wants and push back against him so that he can enter you easier. As scary as he sounds, you know you two have a safe word that you could blurt out at any moment if you truly were terrified. Which you weren’t, and he knew this. Without prep, it burned like hell to feel Tom push himself inside you, but felt satisfying nonetheless. Your mouth is open wide as you let out a whine. He inserts himself all the way in, making you gasp loudly. “F-Fuck, Tom. F-Feels so good.”

“That’s fucking right.” He growls, hands finding their ways to your hips. He pulls out and slams inside you harshly, thrusting into your sweet pussy with enough force to make you fall forward onto the bed.

Face pressed against the mattress, you scream loudly. “Yes! YES! Fuck me, you feel so good! Such a big cock!”

You can feel your breasts rock back and forth violently from the intensity of his hips slapping against your bottom so harshly. You can feel his balls slapping against your ass as he continues to fuck you relentlessly. He hammers into your cunt with deep, long strokes and nearly laughs at how hard you squeeze him like a vice. “You’re so damn tight. Damn, I love fucking your pussy.”

You arch your back and can feel your ass ripple from the force of his thrusts. Not long after Tom pistons his cock in and out of your hole, you feel an orgasm rocket through your body and leave you a moaning mess. Juices leak out of you and onto his member, and the sight makes your boyfriend fall apart.

He pounds you into submission, groaning loudly as the knot in his stomach grows tighter and tighter. Tom spanks you with the emphasis of each word, telling you, “Take. My. Fucking. Cum.”

He pulls himself out of your leaking cunt, stroking his cock to spray his warm seed all over your thighs. You sigh blissfully at the feeling of his liquid covering your bottom. It was incredibly hot and made you smile wide. You turn your head to Tom, watching him grin at the artwork he left on your legs. You ask him, “Are we good now?”

He nods his head, wiping sweat from his brow and tells you, “Yes. You did well, honey.”

And that’s all you need to hear to be able to fall asleep happily later that night.

TAGLIST: @calmspencer, @baddiebbarbietngz, @slytherclaw1978, @serendipitous-fernweh, @pandanation24, @rachelreallyroars, @tinafuentes, @chvmpion-jack, @ethereallovr, @godknows-shetried, @waggoth, @ellieswhor3, @wildestdreamers-tv, @faefaes-world, @hahahafucku, @delusional-13s-blog

[imagine--if]

Headcanons for hurt reader (this could be someone attacking her on the streets but not too deep yk) and bruce comforting her… please

A/N: So this is the requested part two of this post, which was where The Riddler obsessing over you kind of got out of hand and The Batman stepped in to save the day 🙃 so here we are with Bruce! I might have to do a part three of bonding with Bruce later hehe 🖤 enjoy!!

Wordcount: 1.1K

The enormous, gothic gates of Wayne Manor swing open steadily as one of their posh cars rolls into the driveway, driven by Alfred. Just one call from The Batman twenty minutes ago and everything was sorted, just like that. It was as if his presence allowed him to bend wills, instil fear in everyday Gotham rioters and a spark of hope in the more peaceful ones who just kept themselves to themselves and looked after their families.

What kind of effect could you call the one he was having on you?

Was it the same as his own?

"I really hope I'm not imposing," you say in a slight fluster to Alfred, who parks up the car into a long, lit-up garage. "I mean, the, um, The Batman said it was fine, but..."

"It's no imposition at all, Miss," Alfred says with a genuine, kind look, stopping the engine and getting out first to open your door for you, offering a hand to help you out. "As for Bruce Wayne, he is unused to guests, but in a circumstance like this I assume he'll be happy to oblige."

A small weight of uncertainty weighs in your chest, and you walk up the grand entrance of the Manor meekly, feeling completely out of place; you, a supposed everyday person in Gotham, suddenly called out for acts of charity and roped into a whole, terrifyingly obsessive ordeal with the Riddler, and billionaire Bruce Wayne, tucked safely and secretly away in his home as it all goes by.

He doesn't appear at first as Alfred works the advanced security indoors and leads you into a lovely, wide gothic hallway. Alfred sweeps off his coat and puts it away, and you shift awkwardly on the spot, thumbing the lightly worn material of your hoodie, your clothes damp and uncomfortable now after all you've been through wearing them. Alfred seems to notice, and he gives you a reassuring smile.

"We can send for some of your things, Miss, don't worry about that. Or you could order new things online. Orders often come within a few hours here."

Of course they do. Here, you'll be treated like royalty, and you blush just thinking about it, an overwhelmed rush of adrenaline hitting you, snaking its way through your body.

"I'll take you upstairs," Alfred continues, with a magical kind of sixth sense into your needs though you've only just met. "Then we can get you settled properly, and you can rest up. You must have been through a lot."

You shrug, raising your brow. "Yeah. It's been... yeah, a lot."

"Well, try not to worry yourself too much, Miss, especially now you're here. It's the safest place you could be in Gotham."

You nod with a small smile, following the butler as he takes you to a beautiful corridor with multiple guest rooms branching off opposite each other, leaving you to take your pick.

"I'll try not to get lost," you say, half-joking, half-serious, and Alfred nods with a knowing smile.

"Ah, yes, it does take some getting used to. There's a map of the whole Manor in the top drawer of every bedside chest in each room, which you could make use of. Feel free to wander whenever you fancy. Except for the Waynes' old wing," Alfred adds, a sad note tinging his voice, "and the basement area is restricted too. Other than that, I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay, and try to relax. You're quite welcome here."

"Thanks," you say gratefully, but can't help asking once more, "Are you sure he won't mind?"

"I don't mind," a different, deeper and lower-toned voice answers you instead of Alfred, and you flinch in surprise as Bruce Wayne himself stands before you both.

You have to force yourself to stop staring at the mysterious, reclusive billionaire, the soft, smooth brown shades of his hair and deep, dark brown eyes that bleed into your gaze, effortlessly yet intensely reading you, a sombre, indifferent expression on his face. His clothes are all black, and he squints slightly in the chandelier's light hanging above you, bringing life to the stretch of the hallway.

"I don't mind at all," Bruce repeats, looking you straight in the eye. "I'm glad you're... that you can be safe, here."

"Oh," you breathe in a daze of wonder and shock, too much happening in twenty-four hours for you to keep up with. "Thank you, I... yeah, I'll be fine."

Bruce nods, and it seems like he wants to say something, but he falters, gaze dropping to the ground in his antisocial awkwardness. You wait patiently, Alfred smiling and leaving you to it quietly.

"I guess you heard about what happened," you assume, playing with your hands as you try to bring back the conversation, and Bruce's eyes flick back to yours. "With The Riddler, I mean. Do you think he'll figure out that I..."

"That you're here? Maybe. But the chances of him breaking into the Manor and taking you from this site are slim to none. Our security is of a high standard. You'll be okay here."

There's a mixture of something meaningful in Bruce's eyes that you struggle to work out. Sympathy? Concern? Care?

"It won't happen to you again," Bruce tells you, so convinced by his words that you believe them just as easily, relaxing with a light sigh through your nose. "I... I won't let it happen. I'm sorry it did."

You frown in confusion, giving him a half-smile. "It really wasn't your fault. But thank you."

"You don't need to thank me," he responds, and after a beat of comfortable silence, he speaks up again. "I'll leave you to it, then. Try to rest."

You nod in agreement. "Okay. I'll try not to get lost at the same time. Don't want to give you the fright of your life when I suddenly walk into a secret room or something."

You cringe a little at your words, levity trying to lighten the mood, but to your surprise, a flicker of something that looks like a very small, but very genuine smile graces the young man's features briefly.

"I'll show you around tomorrow, if you want," he offers. "You'll be here until The Riddler is caught and apprehended, so it's best if you stay on Wayne grounds. But there's stuff to do, I guess, and... well, there's a library..."

You smile encouragingly. "I love books. I kind of like writing them too. I journal now and then."

Bruce blinks, before that faint, sweet smile reappears, and your heart skips seeing it. "So do I."

[quiet-admirer]

Devotion

As promised, here is a little excerpt from Chapter 3 of my current work-in-progress, an enemies-to-lovers M/M queer weight gain kink and feedist story, Devotion, about 2 hardcore punks in 1979 :) Enjoy!

The walk home from the 7-Eleven was tantalizingly, excruciatingly long at first, but once Ira threw out a “How d’you think that bassist tonight got tone like that?” they got to talking shop, and it was like Diego blinked and they were at his apartment door.

Diego flopped onto the futon with the box of SusyQs on his lap and unwrapped his third of the night while Ira unlaced his boots across the room.

“Want a drink? There’s beer in the fridge.”

Ira slid off one boot then the other and stood them neatly by the door. “I don’t drink. Or smoke,” he said with unrestrained disdain. “I don’t do anything. I’m not going to waste time and money poisoning my body and my mind. I want to actually experience my life.”

God, Ira being not only totally straight but also a self-righteous snob about it made so much sense that Diego didn’t know why he’d even thought to offer him a beer in the first place.

“I don’t. Grab me some mind poison, will ya?” Truthfully, he was more in the mood for a Dr. Pepper, but giving Ira a hard time was more satisfying.

Ira pulled a face. “Get it yourself.” He sunk into the couch next to Diego and nudged the box of snack cakes with his foot. “Keep eating, SuzyQ. When you get through this box I’ll order the pizza.”

Diego had never before met anyone who gave him a truly carnal desire to throttle them and yet at the same time kiss them to within an inch of their life. It was as if this one shorter-than-average man single-handedly generated so much irritation that it flooded Diego’s brain and had nowhere to go but to overflow directly to his dick. And somehow he’d also enjoyed every minute he’d spent with Ira in the days since they’d made up. Only Meena could’ve made Diego smile more than he had in the past few hours.

With so many opposing emotions flooding his veins, all Diego could manage was to stuff the cake into his mouth pointedly before retrieving both a beer and a Dr. Pepper for himself, and knocked into Ira maybe a little more than was necessary when he returned to the futon. It took him two more SuzyQs to feel levelheaded enough to resume his questioning.

“So, how does this eating part usually work? Do you handcuff me to the chair and make me eat? Blindfold me? Spoon-feed me like a baby? Am I supposed to act like I don’t like it – is making someone eat how you discipline them – or are you more of a praise guy? Or do you just jerk off while you watch?”

“Hm, well… Any of those, I guess. There isn’t one way to do it, everyone’s different. Just depends on what gets ya hard – and gets you eating, you know?” He looked at Diego thoughtfully. “You’re kind of creative, when it comes to weird sex stuff.”

“Thanks for specifying that the creativity is for weird sex stuff in case I got confused and thought you meant I was a creative person generally, or as, say, a musician.”

“You’re welcome,” Ira said with a nasty sarcastic smile. “With the guys I’ve been with, a couple of them did want me to tie them up and act like I’m forcing them to eat. That’s fine, I don’t mind that. My favorite is probably just feeding someone, though. So, basically I keep giving them food until they physically can’t eat anymore.”

“Huh, okay.” Diego was no stranger to that feeling, and it sure wasn’t a bad one by any means. He mulled the logistics over in his head. “Let’s try that. So, you’ll just keep handing me slices of pizza until I tap out?”

“Yep. And if you’re too full to keep feeding them to yourself but you want to keep eating, I’ll feed them to you,” Ira explained.

“Too full to keep feeding myself but want to keep eating…” Oof. Okay, this was sounding more and more like Diego’s kind of sex. “You know, I can really put it away under the right conditions, but… you’ve been with some serious eaters, huh?”

Ira laughed. “You could definitely say that.”

“And is there any roleplay or anything? Are there certain things you want me to say or things you want to say?”

He shook his head. “No roleplay the first time. Especially since you’re new to all this. I want you to get a feel for what it’s like eating that much. It can be a lot for some people.” Ira reached over Diego’s lap and retrieved the Dr. Pepper, and Diego let him even though it had definitely been for himself. Ira cracked open the can with a hiss and took a long gulp. “And you don’t just want to eat: you want to put your 30 pounds back on. But the thing about gaining a lot of weight is that it’s not like other pervert stuff where you can just put on a costume when you’re feeling horny; it’s not something you do here and there. You have to eat more on a regular basis.” Ira stood and paced halfway across the room before turning back again.

“Not everyone likes doing it this way – the eating a lot at once way. Some people prefer eating a little more at meals and snacking throughout the day,” he gestured in the air with his can of Dr. Pepper like he was a professor giving a lecture. “So, tonight we’re just seeing if you’re into this kind of eating. I’m going to be responsible for your weight gain, and– well, you already know putting weight on and keeping it on isn’t as easy as it looks, so I like to play to a guy’s strengths to get that to happen. That’s why I want to see what your real reactions are when we start out. We can add the fun stuff as we go.”

It sounded surprisingly sweet when Ira talked about it in a practical way and not just in a heat-of-the-moment ‘I’m going to be the one to put all this weight on you,’ cue evil laugh, kind of way. He was dominant in the sense that he was looking out for Diego; taking care of him. Not just fattening him up, but helping him gain weight. A dictator maybe, but a benevolent one, which on Ira was ridiculously endearing.

“I think I get it,” Diego smiled. “‘With great power comes great responsibility.’”

Ira looked at him with distaste. “Is that from the bible or something?”

Diego snorted. He grabbed the phone off the upturned milk crate beside the futon and shoved it into Ira’s chest. “Just order the damn pizza.”

Diego finished the first box of SuzyQs and they’d moved to necking on the couch by the time two large pizzas arrived.

Ira opened the first box but paused halfway through reaching for the first slice.

“Oh, you said you were into leather, right? Do you have gear, or– anything you wanna wear while we do this?”

“Oh. No,” Diego scrunched his nose. “It’s all too big for me right now.”

“That sucks,” Ira said, with actual sympathy. He picked up the first slice of pizza, pepperoni, and offered it to Diego. “Maybe I can help you out with that.”

Diego took as big of a bite of pizza as he could fit in his mouth before taking the slice from Ira. “Please do,” Diego said through a full mouth.

“You should try them on for me so I can see what we’re starting with.”

“Sure.” He crammed in the rest of the slice and stood, kicking a box out from under the futon. Still chewing, he dug in the back of the closet for his jacket and pants.

They weren’t anything fancy, no bells or whistles, just a pair of black leather pants and a simple leather jacket; vintage, but he took a sense of pride in them all the same.

Diego stripped, then pulled on the pants without bothering to unbutton them. Kneeling, he removed the lid from the box.

“Boots. Harness,” he pointed. He slipped the harness on, then the jacket, and stood again. He had to widen his stance a little to keep the pants from sliding down.

Ira had another slice of pizza in hand as he joined Diego in the center of the room. Same as the first slice, Diego took a bite as Ira held it up for him before taking it for himself.

Ira circled Diego like he was inspecting him, appraising him. It sent a little thrill through Diego’s stomach knowing that as fat as he already was, it was clear from some of the things Ira had been saying that he still thought of Diego as pretty small.

Good. Diego never wanted to be this size again. Ira had better get a good look now.

After a final turn, Ira hooked a finger in Diego’s waistband and tugged a little, exposing about an inch gap between the leather and Diego’s skin. He did the same with the harness: a hand-me-down from a guy who probably had about a hundred pounds on Diego, so Diego had already been on the smallest holes of the buckled straps before he lost the weight. It would be easy to have a bootblack add in another set of holes, but that thought always made this size seem long-term, permanent.

So here he was: harness hanging limp off his chest, leather pants loose through the thighs, shoulders and biceps not quite filling out his jacket. But he couldn’t bring himself to be self-conscious. Ira’s hungry gaze roaming over him, and the quickly vanishing second slice of pizza infused the buzz of potential into the air. The space between himself and his leather wasn’t feeling quite so large tonight.

Ira was smiling as Diego finished slice number two. “You look hot. I’ve never really been that much of a leather guy, but… you might’ve sold me.”

“You should see me when they actually fit.” He brought his hands to his hips and gave Ira a cocky smile. “My ass looks really great in leather.”

“Already does.” Ira stepped in. His hands slipped past Diego’s jacket, fingers ghosting along Diego’s sides. “I can’t wait to get you filling these out again. C’mere.” He dropped back down next to the pizza box and beckoned.

Diego shed his gear. He didn’t bother with a shirt but pulled on a pair of well-worn, comfy sweats – a larger pair; tonight was calling for eating pants.

He settled on the couch next to Ira, making himself comfortable.

“I see somebody knows what he’s doing,” Ira poked at Diego’s elastic waistband.

With a smile, Diego reached for the next slice.

[pricegouge]

Fatted Rabbit Part Three on AO3

Contents

Bearshifter!Price x reader | explicit

It wasn't supposed to be like this, of course. You could blame poor planning, a shit build, worse luck, but the fact of the matter remains that you're just not supposed to be here yet. Hard to plan for a winter you weren't supposed to see.

If there's one thing you've come to firmly believe over the last few months, it's that if you frown too long at a forecast, the forecast eventually frowns back. Another fucking night below freezing. It's not the biggest deal - at this point you can even manage it without a heat source - but your joints already ache at the thought. Something about the high altitude, cold temps, and humidity that gets trapped in the Wrangler after a full night with the windows up is the perfect storm to have you hobbling around the next day like your dear departed Gran.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, of course. You could blame poor planning, a shit build, worse luck, but the fact of the matter remains that you're just not supposed to be here yet. Hard to plan for a winter you weren't supposed to see.

The plan had been to stay put until May, head north when you were well and truly sure the biting cold had been chased off. You should have known your fucking ex would ruin even the relative safety of that plan - had in fact resolved yourself to weather whatever storm he threw at you without complaint as you got your ducks in a row - but after the shit show he'd pulled on his birthday, you'd known staying with him another couple of months was more likely to land you in a grave than successfully escaping in the dead of night as per your perfectly laid plan.

So you'd run. And you'd run fucking hard. It was tempting to stop off somewhere in the Midwest, but ultimately you'd scared yourself off settling for longer than a night anywhere within a two state radius of Phil. And once you were north of the fortieth, the siren song of national forests and undisturbed parking kept drawing you up and up until you were finally at your original destination anyway.

Impatient, stupid. You know winter doesn't relent its stranglehold overnight.

You sigh, weighing your options, limited though they were. John had been kind enough to let you belly up to his bar for most of the evening (and that was… something you were going to have to address in the cold light of day) but the worst was yet to come and you needed a game plan. You could drive out to the closest twenty four hour superstore and wander around until they realized you weren't going to purchase anything more than peanut butter. You could save gas by going to the gym, which had the added benefit of a hot shower. The night clerk there had definitely figured out you were homeless by now. It was fine, she was chill, but you suspected she may have blabbed. Ideally, you'd sleep in the Jeep for the first leg of the night, spend the coldest hours on the treadmill, then return to the Jeep and sleep on through until mid-morning. However, the gym manager had been keeping watch lately to make sure you didn't loiter in the parking lot for too long. You never thought you'd miss the craziness of the city, but you can't deny the anonymity had its appeal. Back in Dallas, you could park for any number of hours and the only person whose business it was was the meter maid. Here, streets and parking lots were mostly deserted, and a Jeep with a privacy screen was pretty inconspicuous. It made it difficult on nights like this, when you wanted to be close to some sort of twenty four hour shop when the coldest hours of the night came around.

You decide on the superstore, given you'd gotten ready at the gym earlier. It was unlikely the same employees were there, but that owner could take a gander at your check in times if he wanted and you'd like to deny him the satisfaction of spotting you there twice in one day.

You head west along the main drag, sighing in longing at all the help wanted signs. Some seasonal work is exactly what you need, but jobs require background checks, and background checks set off pings around all your former domiciles, and Phil has his dirty little fingers in all sorts of dirty little pies. You just need time for it all to blow over. Eventually he'd get sick of the hunt - or find a new victim, more like - and then you'd be free. The thought made you a little sick. Not for the first time, you wished you'd found a charge that stuck to him, or maybe a bullet to lodge in his skull; but Phil made friends with cops like it was his job (it kind of was), and ultimately, you just weren't built right for murder. So instead, you'd scrimped and saved over the course of three years, slowly reorganizing your life to exclude him. You weren't well off by any means, and you'd intended to be able to save for a few months longer, but provided you don't blow your fuel budget in the first few months because you're the idiot who decided to test a Montana spring, you should be set 'til the end of the year. And that's with the move down south come fall.

If it comes to that. You're still hoping to try your luck in a few months, put feelers out to see if Phil is still actively searching for you. You'd rather stay up north if possible. You've had enough southern summers to last you a lifetime, and while you'd talked a big game to John, this nomad lifestyle you've found yourself stuck in isn't feasible.

Fuckin' John. You feel for the coaster surreptitiously as you pull into a parking space in a quiet far corner of the lot. All your planning and you hadn't accounted for John. Really, you hadn't accounted for any love interests. When you'd left Dallas, the possibility of what you'd do if someone had caught your fancy had been so fucking far from your mind it would have been laughable if it wasn't so fucking sad. After a man like Phil, there was no 'rebound' phase, no 'get back on the horse' phase, no 'someday, two and a half kids from now, this'll just be another shitty ex' phase. There was just run, survive, and heal; and then maybe someday, years and years down the road, some better version of you could maybe consider getting fitted for a proper saddle.

So why, then, did the massive, intimidatingly handsome (and generally slightly intimidating) man refuse to leave your mind?

When you'd first run into him on the trail he'd scared the piss out of you. You'd become rather timid over the years and didn't appreciate being snuck up on - not that he'd been trying, mind, but a deep gruff voice calling out to you in the woods was probably enough to set anyone on edge, let alone someone with your history. When you realized the stranger was some ridiculously attractive Englishman, you'd been even more wary. Men with pretty blue eyes and good, straight noses had never in your life bode well, a lesson you'd made an exception for exactly once and it had blown up in your face.

But when he came close, you saw nothing but warmth in his eyes and kindness in his smile. He was quick, funny in a slightly (but not annoyingly overt) self-deprecating way you didn't usually expect from people who looked like him.

He also smelled absurdly, disarmingly, distractingly good.

You couldn't even really pinpoint what it was. There was pine and loam, which shouldn't have been considering the sad, wet state of things; a dark, smokey scent like expensive tobacco; something toasty and rich which you've since realized is probably the smell of his distillery; and above all that, or perhaps the sum of all those parts, a homey scent you wanted to bury your face in - like a well-loved quilt.

In the days that followed your little run-in, you'd tried to convince yourself John had only been so charming because he was trying to drum up some business. You reminded yourself that you couldn't really afford a fancy stiff drink right now anyway. And more importantly, you scolded yourself to just leave it the hell alone. What was your end goal here? A quick romp? What are you gonna do, take him back to the Jeep? A spring fling? You could barely stand to touch yourself right now, how were you going to casually tell someone why you need a joint to loosen up and no sudden moves every time you fuck?

A real relationship? Christ.

Still, John was on your mind like an early aughts summer bop. You'd even tried hoofing it a little further north just to avoid the temptation but the area up there was less developed, which made your life far too difficult, needing access to amenities like 'roofs' and 'running water'. Besides, you didn't really want to leave Columbia Falls. After driving all over God's green earth, this was the first place you could see spending a good, happy summer. And you'd even seen a bear! You loved bears. It was kinda scary, sure, but it was also a hell of a motivator to secure your food properly and remember to carry your damn bear spray when you went hiking, damnit.

So, you'd made your way back, and you'd told yourself to just cool it already, and everything had been fine for a few days until you'd parked the Jeep in Columbia Falls, a hair downwind of some fancy whiskey bar and you'd smelled it like some sort of frickin' bloodhound and suddenly you remembered there was a charming man in there who made for decent company and also it was a bit cold out on the street.

John's overt flirting had been unexpected. You'd figured he was just angling for a good tip and had been willing to let him, but when he caught you stealing food off his plate like a fucking Disneyland squirrel and only responded by helping you take more, you'd started to doubt your initial assessment a bit.

The coaster itself is pale, a classic design with high contrast. John's blocky lettering follows the outer edge. You'd thought the woman next to you was going to clap and cheer when he'd handed it off. You shouldn't even be considering texting him. Part of you thinks this is some school girl's crush on the first exceedingly handsome man to ever look your way (not that Phil was unattractive, just not really your type) - that months from now you'll pull your head out of your ass and realize you were blind sided by handsome, masculine eyebrows and basic human decency and you'll be embarrassed to admit you'd fallen for it. Fresh off an abusive relationship, no less.

But a larger, perhaps much more desperate part of you was convinced this was a route worth exploring.

You sigh and tuck the coaster into your visor for now, start busying yourself with the privacy screens. However you decide to proceed, it would be buck-wild to do it right this moment anyway. You may be a notoriously impulsive person, but this could be one of them there baby steps to betterment you're always hearing about.

There's never much sleep to be had in parking lots. The privacy screens help to block out the bright lamps, sure, but they combine to create a perfect IMAX shadow theater where any movement outside projects onto the screens around you. You're in a quiet corner of the lot, but it's not exactly deserted. Occasionally people shuffle past and it always raises your hackles to see a perfectly human silhouette standing right next to you. As long as you keep your lights out, they can't see you - but you also can't really see them and it usually makes your breathing run shallow until they clear out. Still, you manage to catch a fitful few hours before the humidity and cold combine to make your chest hurt too much to stay put so you pack an inconspicuous purse with some dirty dishes and washing supplies and head inside.

The bathroom is cold, and the water is scalding as you try to maneuver a bowl around the tiny sink. It feels good on your joints but leaves your skin feeling too tight, so you make sure to sample some lotion as you wander around. Godbless underpaid retail workers, who do not seem to give a singular fuck what their frequent homeless shopper does while trying to dodge the cold. You stay respectful, stick to sampling designated tester bottles and dishes, and never leave a mess for them and they strike up friendly conversation if they're not otherwise occupied. No such luck tonight which is a bummer because you could use some incentive to stay on your feet, but that's okay. You spend some time tidying a particularly messy T-shirt display, grab your peanut butter, and go.

You charge your phone on the drive back to West Glacier. You don't really need to, as it's only been turned on maybe twice in the last week, but it's probably best to be safe. You refuse to acknowledge the coaster tucked neatly into the visor above your head.

***

There is a grunting noise coming from the passenger side of the Jeep. It's still a little early. Around nine AM if the light spilling through the privacy screen can be believed. You're not certain because you don't want to crawl around in search of your phone and alert whoever or whatever is outside to your presence in the process. It's been about ten minutes of this - small snuffling, grunting sounds moving back and forth on the wooded side of the car. As you've laid there, you've managed to convince yourself by turns that it was one, just a raccoon; two, your actual imagination; three, Phill in the flesh come to torment you; and four, just some other campers stretching their legs. You're debating the benefits of taking a small peek around the screen to soothe your mind when a deep, animalistic groan is the only warning you receive before the whole cab is rocked on its shocks in a way you've definitely experienced before.

"No fucking way!" You exclaim and tear your blind back only to be greeted by the massive, furry chest of a frankly unreasonably large grizzly.

You should be fucking terrified. You're definitely not.

"You again!?" You ask, a laugh bubbling in your chest.

The bear backs up enough that it can duck its head toward your window, its huge golden eye gleaming as it looks directly at you. It huffs, quiet now that it's been caught, and lowers itself back to the ground, head bobbing as it sways in place a bit.

"This your favorite parking lot or something, big guy?" It's the same spot where you first saw it. Maybe the bins aren't cleaned out often enough?

Of course, the bear does not respond. It sits on the ground with a low cow like sound and just looks at you for a moment. This is probably the right time for panic to set in, seeing as this very large predator with zero natural aversion to humans has approached your car twice now, but you suppose begging sweetly for scraps is better than outright attacking your car. Besides, it's so fucking cool.

You lower the screens, trying to get an unobstructed view. The bear watches you curiously but makes no move other than an idle scratch of its own belly. Not for the first time in your life, you find it massively unfair that evolution designed something so goddamn hug shaped and then gave it the approachability of Charles Manson.

It belatedly occurs to you that you may want to remember this and you scramble to the console to grab your phone. It takes a minute to power on, but the bear just continues to sit and watch you, almost expectantly. It cocks its head and huffs when you finally snap your pic, then stands and lumbers in a big circle when you snap a few more. It's huffing becomes slightly agitated and you can't help but tease it rhetorically:

"What? Prefer your solitude?" The bear moos. "Well don't worry, I don't have anyone to show anyway." A small huff, breath steaming in the morning air. It continues to move in a slow circle. You watch it for a little bit but your body is quickly catching up with the fact that you've slept in a cold, cramped space for a few hours and nature is calling. "Don't suppose you're gonna clear out so I can pee, eh?"

The bear takes a step back, cocks its head as if inviting you to try your luck.

You chuckle as you climb into the driver's seat, ferreting your keys out of the hideaway within the seat cushion. "No thanks, big guy. Not quite that stupid. Also, you should know I'm not gonna feed you. So, much as I enjoy your company, maybe find a new Jeep to frisk down?"

Of course, it only continues to stare at you. As you pull out and drive off, it stands to watch you leave and you're struck again by how fucking huge it is. You've never seen a grizzly in person so you guess it's like seeing a moose for the first time. One thing to hear about how massive they are, another to see it in the flesh and realize your imagination is quite limited.

After finding a good place to do your morning ablutions without the threat of mauling, you climb back into the Jeep and take a minute to flip through the photos you took. You want to share them with someone because it's so fucking cool that you shared a morning with a bear, but you hadn't been lying when you'd said you didn't have anyone to send it to, anyway. No social media for obvious reasons, no real friends because Phil had driven wedges between you and all your loved ones long ago. You kept meaning to reach out, but shame and fear of Phil having done so first keeps you away. Your mom, maybe, but you and her had never been close, and randomly sending her cool pictures in an effort to share your life with her would probably make her more concerned for your safety than finding out you'd been in an abusive relationship and were resorting to homelessness had seemed to.

In the visor above you, the coaster hangs like the least assuming sword of Damocles imaginable. And you've got a feelin' someone's gonna be cuttin' the thread.

Next>>

[the-and-sign-anon]

The Third Independent: 2

Word Count: 2,618

Series Masterlist

Five Years Post-Fall

Two years passed in a flash. You grew quite attached to Luida, shadowing her most days in your first year, to the confusion of many of the citizens of Ship Three. More often than not, you would visit the Plants after sunset, then drift off to sleep on the floor with Vash on your bed. You never thought to mention how he’d often flop over in the night, one hand falling to dangle off the bed and rest on your nest. 

Brad would teach you what he knew about mechanics, which took weeks of convincing from Luida and Vash. You picked it up fairly quickly though, and it didn’t take long before he was happy to teach you new techniques and even let you handle a few projects yourself. 

You found yourself happy to live on Ship Three. It got a bit lonely when Vash would go on trips with Brad, but you would take those opportunities to visit the Worms again. You’d run off towards the sands, barefoot and grinning like mad, before disappearing into the dunes and lifting up in a cloud of Worms. Luida would occasionally spare a moment to check on you, feeling her heart nearly bursting with joy at seeing you so happy. 

When she gifted Vash his red coat, she visited your room next to give you a gift of your own. It was a lovely coat as well, an almost mesmerizing shade of green that reminded you of your beloved Worm companions. You couldn’t begin to guess where she could have gotten something like this, but you gripped it tight and thanked her profusely regardless before sitting in your room to admire it for an hour.

You were just heading for Vash’s room to show him your coat when he burst out and ran past you. 

“Vash?”

“I have to go. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“You don’t intend to come back… do you?”

He spared you a deeply pained look that rooted you to the spot. You were as spirited as they came and no one could ever seem to keep you still for long. Vash was the exception.

“I’m leaving a note. It’ll explain things.”

“What am I supposed to do…?”

He lunged forward to give you a crushing hug. 

“You’ll be fine. Look after them for me?”

You nodded into his shoulder and watched him go, your new coat dangling from your hand. What could have gone so wrong?

You couldn’t just stand there, so you deferred to what you always did. You ran through the halls to the front doors and launched yourself into the sands. Your coat fell to the ground just past the doors as the Worms swept up around you and fluttered excitedly. They always seemed happy to see their old companion again. 

Luida felt a jolt of fear when she found Vash’s room empty, followed by yours. Brad tried to be the optimistic one for once, suggesting you might have gone for a walk together or visited the Plant room. That hope was quickly squashed by a more thorough check of the rooms, which turned up Vash’s letter. Brad promised to search the entirety of Home for you while Luida set off to bring Vash back. 

Luida stopped at the doors when she saw your coat, slowly picking it up and shaking off the sand. She looked around at the dunes, then darted towards a swarm of Worms. She knew this probably made her look crazy, and she felt a little crazy, but she had to try. 

“Worms! I need to find Y/N! Where did they go?!”

The Worms simply kept buzzing around. 

“Please! If you can understand me at all… I need to find them.”

A few more moments. Then one Worm broke off from the swarm and landed on her shoulder. 

“They’re with your kind, aren’t they?”

The Worm hovered in front of her, then flew towards another dune. She took off to follow it, scrambling through the loose sands until she heard your voice. Vash had mentioned a song you sang, but she’d never heard it herself. From what he could describe, it always seemed to come from within you. Brad just brushed it off as a Plant thing and figured the humans would never hear it. 

Now though…

Your voice was soft, barely rising over the winds. Luida had never heard a tune quite like it before. It felt like a privilege to hear it, as if humans weren’t worthy of such a deep, hallowed song. She took care in her approach, trudging through the sands and quietly making her presence known. 

Your song stopped when she sat down beside you. Your shoulders were shaking and more than a dozen little Worms were settled on your limbs as if to comfort you. 

“He… he left. He said we Independents need to stick together.”

Luida put a hand on your shoulder. 

“We’re going to get him back. Do you think you can help me find him? Then we’ll bring him home and figure this all out together.”

You nodded firmly, drying your tears and following Luida to the toma stable. You each saddled one and took off. Your pull to Vash led the way across the dunes. Worms seemed to follow as well, creating trails of light as you rode.

It was intimidating to find the city of JuLai. While you’d grown accustomed to the people of Home, this was humanity on a much larger scale. You wrapped yourself tight in your coat and kept your head low as you approached the Plant facility. There were screams. Like you’d never heard before. 

Or… perhaps you had.

“Luida…”

You stopped and clutched your head, the screams of dozens of Plants echoing in your mind.

Luida pulled to a stop beside you and leaned over to place her hands atop yours.

“Y/N, what’s happening?”

You whimpered and shut your eyes tight. 

“They’re dying… the Plants are dying…”

The moment it stopped, your head shot up and you glared straight ahead.

“They killed them.”

You pushed forward with Luida close behind. Your toma stuttered to a stop as you leapt off it and sprinted into the facility. Luida ran to join you as Vash came into view. 

“Vash!”

He whirled around to look at you and Luida. A boy nearly identical to him stood on the catwalk, along with a man you didn’t know. There were bodies strewn about and the walls had grown dark. The Plants had died here. 

“Luida?!”

You stepped closer as the man recognized your caretaker. Vash held a gun that the other boy was pushing into his hands. 

“Vash… what’s going on?”

“Who is this?”

The strange boy turned his glare on you, then his eyes softened. Your lines flashed for a second and his did the same. 

“A third Independent.”

You both drew back as you spoke in unison. You didn’t like this. This boy… the blood splattered across his skin and clothes…

“Vash, we need to go Home. I don’t like this place…”

“We’re here to get you back, Vash.”

Luida rested her hand on your shoulder again and the boy’s expression twisted into a disgusted glare. 

“Ah. A perfect opportunity.” Vash looked terrified as the boy came closer still. “Let her be the first casualty in our crusade, brother. Show me what you can do.”

Your eyes were fixed on Vash. Your inner song echoed in his head as he thought of all his brother had already done; what he had yet to do. All he wanted in that moment was to sink into your song and disappear.

“What’s wrong? Do it already, Vash.”

“Vash…”

You nudged Luida back, keeping her safely tucked behind you. Nai wouldn’t have recognized it, but a fire lit in your eyes as Vash stared in horror at the gun in his hands. 

Nai scoffed and grabbed the weapon. 

“All this time and you’re still useless without me.”

He raised the gun to aim it at Luida. Your family. Your home.

“Stop.”

It happened in the blink of an eye. With a horrifying symphony of cracking bones and popping joints, your figure grew. You stood in a new, monstrous form, nearly eight feet tall and covered in snowy white feathers. For the first time since she’d known you, Luida remembered how much further from human you were than Vash.

Your hands had extended, forming razor sharp claws that itched to tear into Vash’s brother. Your eyes were narrowed into a glare as you took a firm step forward. You wouldn’t let him hurt her. Not like he’d hurt those men behind him. 

“Incredible. Vash… you truly found another of our kin.”

“We are not like you. Step back.”

You dropped to stand on all fours, your feathers ruffling as two sets of wings tucked into your sides. 

“You’re exactly like me, Independent. We can cleanse this world together and free our fellow Plants from these disgusting humans. They can never hurt us again!”

You growled; a low, guttural sound that set off alarm bells in Luida’s head even knowing you were only protecting her. 

Nai’s hands grew into blades, prepared to fight even his own kind to get his brother on his side. Just before he could lunge at you, Vash tackled him from behind. The twins struggled on the catwalk, the gun sliding away, before Nai planted his foot on Vash’s chest and kicked him away. 

Vash hit the railing and slumped down. You wasted no time in leaping at Nai. He evaded you, but it wasn’t as easy as it usually was. He’d never had to fight another Independent before, let alone one in such a beastly state. You swiped at him left and right, your claws catching on his blades. 

“I won’t let you hurt them!”

“And I can’t let them hurt Plants! Look at what they’ve already done!”

You swung at him again and nearly caught him, but he dropped back and snatched up the gun again, pointing it straight at your head. 

With heaving breaths from your panic, you stopped. Brad had shown you before what a gun could do. 

“Nai… stop, please…”

Vash struggled to his feet. As terrifying as the Big Fall had been, his time as a prisoner on Ship Three, the bodies at the crash site; he’d never been more afraid than watching you stare down the barrel of a gun wielded by his brother. 

“Nai, please.”

He couldn’t describe the feeling that came over him. With a start, he looked down at his left arm. There was a swirling dark space forming. 

“-Is this me?!”

You dug your nails into the metal floor, trying to keep from being sucked in as the man with Nai grabbed hold of the railing to avoid the same fate. The bodies of the people Nai had killed were sucked off the floor and straight into the black hole as Vash’s eyes filled with fear.

“What is this?! A Gate?!”

You tried to call out to Vash, to calm him and help him stop whatever was happening, but Nai moved first. He let the vortex suck him in close to his brother before swinging with one blade and slicing his brother’s arm clean off. The black hole pulled the severed arm in on itself and disappeared, leaving the facility in eerie silence. You got back to your feet and moved toward Vash, quickly trying to pull him away and shield him from his brother. 

“Stay away from him!”

“He’s my brother, you can’t take him from me!!”

You growled again and wrapped your wings around the injured Plant. Luida came to his side and tried to stop the bleeding.

“I won’t let you hurt him any further. Stay away.”

Nai desperately moved his head to catch a glimpse of his brother between the feathers protecting him. Vash’s eyes were filled with pain and fear and tears. Nai pulled back and got to his feet as the man approached him. 

“Fine. I can be patient. In a century or so, I’ll have built a world of Plants. And when I do… then you’ll understand. Both of you.”

He swept out of the facility with the man following close behind as Luida ripped up Vash’s cloak and tied it around his injured arm. You felt your feathers shed, falling to the floor around you as you shrank back down to your natural height. 

None of you spoke more than necessary as you helped Vash out to the tomas. Luida settled on one and you held Vash in place on the other. Despite his grief, it occurred to him that you held him so much more easily than he’d ever held you. 

When your battered trio returned to Home, Brad was waiting for you. You cleaned up the tomas and settled them in their stables while the adults helped Vash to the medical bay. By the time you joined them, Vash was fast asleep. You slipped back to your room, grabbed the blankets and pillows available to you, and nested on the floor just beside his cot. 

In the morning, Luida pulled you aside to talk. 

“I know there’s a lot I don’t know about Plants, and especially Independents…”

You didn’t want to try to finish her sentence. You just kept your eyes down as you fiddled with the collar of your oversized coat. 

“Y/N, what was that? At that Plant facility… you changed. Can you… do that at any time?”

You shrugged. 

“I can’t remember… but I think I’ve done it before. Maybe. It didn’t feel like something new.”

“Did… did it hurt?”

You shook your head. 

“No, it felt… I don’t know. Like I was just acting without thinking. Like instinct I guess. I just didn’t want you or Vash to get hurt.” You sighed disappointedly and curled in on yourself. “Lot of good that did.”

Luida pulled you into her arms. Even after two years, you didn’t often touch anyone. Vash was the most common one, with occasional hugs and tugging each other by the hand to look at something. Luida had only hugged you once or twice before, otherwise limiting herself to short touches on your shoulder to avoid discomfort. 

This hug felt like home. Like safety and peace. 

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t.”

You buried your face in her shoulder and took deep breaths to stay focused. Vash would be okay. He was alive and back home. Luida was safe and unharmed. That was all you could hope for right now.��

You went to visit Vash together. He was healing quickly, as Independents tended to do. Brad reasoned he could get working on a prosthetic for him in a few weeks if he kept going at the same pace. That offered Vash some small comfort it seemed. 

For the following several months, you rarely left his side. Vash healed from his wounds. Brad (with some help from you) built him a prosthetic arm and helped him learn to use it. You took him out on small excursions to check on surrounding Plants and interact with the Worms. He never asked about the strange form you took that fateful day, but you knew he was curious. You knew Vash himself and even Nai had never taken a form like that. 

You wanted to offer him answers, and you would when you had some to give. But that would require understanding where you came from. What ship you’d been on, who must have raised you before the Fall. What exactly happened to them when everything came crashing down. 

That wasn’t a door you were ready to open just yet.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 17 - Gods

The rogue has a conversation.

On AO3.

So. They’ve a cult of their very own.

Astarion has been of the opinion that the only thing wrong with this Absolute nonsense is that they made him a victim. But were he (and the others, he supposes, as long as they minded their place) to come out on top, well. That would be quite the advantage. (He imagines setting an entire hoard of frothing cultists upon the crimson palace, dragging that bastard out and ripping him apart piece by screaming piece; ripping those giblets apart again so the bastard can’t even regenerate).

The fish—kuo-toa, they name themselves—are nowhere near as effective. But they’re a start.

Dearest leader already gave him a healing potion, which stitched his skin back into place. And she had the good graces to order her new followers to provide him with blood.

Alas, it’s entirely fish. It’s still blood, but within the ranks of thinking-creatures-to-not, the cold and slimy things fall most decidedly on not.

He’s become accustomed to finer sustenance in his time after the nautiloid. But his most divine leader has kept herself scarce for the last few hours. Probably some silly moral conundrum. Setting fish on fire and bashing their leader into pulp is fine. But becoming their benevolent god? How dreadful.

Gods. It’s so hard to get a read on her sometimes. Just when he thinks he’s found it…

Speaking of.

His ears catch her heartbeat a few hundred feet out. Over the gurgling of their hosts and the lapping of water and splashing as they dive about—all he has to do is lay here and wait for them to bring him his meager feast, how novel—her pulse is a beacon.

He’s been on the lookout for books discussing his condition, his own information being somewhat limited. Oh, he knew he was being kept from his full potential; they all did. Stories of vampires and their spawn were and are a popular subject for children’s stories and have been for centuries. But he hadn’t the slightest idea of how much he didn’t know until he landed on that beach.

He’d not a clue what feeding on a thinking creature could even be like. What it could do. He has no particular attachment to any of the others he’s fed upon (they’re mostly dead anyway). He doesn’t notice the others the way he does her, and he’s reasonably certain he’s supped from the Blade or the druid a time or two when their hunts came back far too light to fill up the goblet they bring him. Their blood doesn’t sing to him (delicious as it nevertheless is).

No. She was his first thinking creature. And it’s done something to him and he’d very much like to figure out what, exactly, that is.

Because she’s coming towards him, and his insides squirm. Not unlike having them pulled out while tied to a sacrificial alter while some kind of gore-soaked goblin cackles. Only without all the blinding (ha) agony.

She…saved him. (Disgusting.) (Though that surely means his plan is still working, does it not?) (So why in the sweet hells does he feel so…so…horrid about it?)

She came back and murdered a fish god. After she saw his memory of leaving her to drown.

His innards shiver again.

He shoves that down as she creeps around the outside of his makeshift hut. Their generous hosts have set him up in a sickbed, more or less, inside the hull of an upturned bow of a ship (according to his leader). She, in her most illustrious benevolence, had them clean out the bones and piles of viscera the former occupant left behind—even had them wash it.

Now she sneaks around, skirting the nearby shoreline as he assumes she tries to avoid the notice of the main group camped outside.

She’s certainly an odd one.

“Astarion, you awake?” she says, still hiding against the overturned hull, a murmur only his ears would detect.

“Oh yes,” he says in his most unbothered tone, even as the squirming reaches his limbs.

She runs warm, he’s noticed. When she enters what he assumes is a ramshackle room, the air warms with her.

“How’re you?” she says, “Aside from, y’know.”

“I’m doing swimmingly, darling. A steady supply of half frozen blood, and I’ll be back on my feet in a day or two.”

She hums in lieu of words, as she’s started to do.

Then she stands there. With him flat on his back at her feet, and the squirming takes on a different feeling entirely.

“Did you need something?” he says. “I’m afraid I’m in no shape for a cuddle at the moment.”

Another pause, and he’s beginning to think he might hate her for those. She never can just answer anything. Always has to think about it.

Then cloth rustles and her left knee pops as she lowers herself to her knees beside him. “Is the fresh blood helping? To heal you?”

“Yes, of course.”

Though not as well as—

He clears his throat.

“Would…” Another accursed pause. “Would my blood help?”

He’s certain his eyebrows try to crawl up into his hair. Tendays of nothing from her, and now two feeding in less than half of one?

“What’s the occasion?” he says. And he wants. Oh, how he wants. He can almost taste it, thrumming under her skin so very nearby. Then the next pause begins and he can’t take it again. “Because I rather recall you were injured recently as well. Seems ill timing when you need all your blood, hmm?”

She doesn’t answer. She sits there in her godsdamned silence and he’s going to—

“I got a cut and some bruises,” she says. “And I already took a potion. You…you were hurt real bad. Like…real…so I’m offering. If you want.”

She’s bloody doing something to him. Twisting him up inside and he doesn’t even understand how. He should refuse. Should chase her away so he can lick his wounds in safe solitude.

But…but he doesn’t want solitude (no, please, I’ll be good). Some pathetic, mewling piece of him wants to bask in the warmth she carries with her (godsdamned caves and their chill).

And he is a vampire spawn. Her blood calls to him. And he, greedy wretch, cannot resist.

“If you’re offering, darling, I’m hardly going to say no.”

She rolls her sleeve up (he knows that sound, now) and then she must lean over him, because he’s suddenly awash in her body heat and the scent of her. Rich blood, river water (she bathes every chance she gets), fresh sweat, and that clean scent that’s simply her.

It still hurts to lift his arms (shredded chest muscles and all), so she obliges him and lowers her wrist to his mouth. The moment that soft skin brushes his lips his hunger takes hold.

No chance to savor the moment, this time. Can’t take a few seconds to feel the strong beat of her heart, trace the tendons with his lips, follow her veins with his tongue. He needs it and he needs it now.

He bites. And it’s just like the first time. That hot spurt. The way is coats his mouth and the saltiness sweeps over his tongue. He thinks his eyes roll back and he makes a noise through his nose. Can’t help it. It’s so rich, so alive.

He gulps it down. His body is hollow and aching. It needs to be filled with her; her blood, her life. Because he’s a dead thing but she’s not and he needs. Oh, how he needs.

She bleeds more freely like this, with him below her. He wants to reach up and pull her down, feel her heat on him. Let him soak in all of her, everything he can get, everything he can take.

The mending ruin of his body soaks in her essence like drought-cracked soil. Flesh begins to knit back together. Ragged openings close. Something shifts and pops, and his skull crunches and yes, yes, it’s all good, but he needs more. More.

Time disappears. Everything is the taste of her. Filling his mouth. Coating his throat. Her pulse beating in his gullet and filling his own, withered veins.

Her hunger. Days without even a cracker and now surrounded by fish and old wood and she can finally make a fire.

The burning chill of her anger still threads through her.

And the sour burn of…fear. Terror. It’s been there this whole time. Had been building. Terror for herself, certainly. Lost and hungry and uncertain. He can taste her worry. But also her reluctance. Her shyness. She doesn’t want to be a god, wants nothing to do with gods. And a different note, buried under the others.

He swallows, and this time that flavor fills his mouth. She’s not afraid for herself. It’s directed elsewhere, outwards…

He pulls away. Sputters. She’s quick to withdraw and the sound of her wrapping her wrist fills the narrow space as he blows like a wounded beast.

She’s afraid of him. No. No, nothing so simple. It’s more…altruistic than that, isn’t it? Not of him. For him.

And the shivering, squirming of his insides becomes too much. He can’t bury it under his usual facade any longer. It’s too much. She’s too much.

“Why are you here?” he says. Tone sharp. A dangerous thing, letting that show when he’s so helpless, but he can’t modify it. Can’t smooth it out. All her blood churns queasily inside him and he doesn’t know why. Why…any of this. Why she’s even next to him.

He ought to take it back. Apologize. Thank her for the gift (and never mind the crushing weight of his debt piling up). But he’s not a smart man. He’s a weak, pathetic boy with no manners. “Why did you come back? You saw what I did at that river.”

“I knew from the first day,” she says, voice infuriatingly calm.

“Then why. I left you to die. You should’ve done the same.”

And gods help him, she goes quiet. He wants to shout. Wants to find her and shake her until her teeth break loose and rattle around in her mouth. If he could lift his arms, he might even try.

“Other people’ve made that decision,” she says. Cryptically. Because the woman is incapable of giving a coherent answer to anything, ever, in all her life. “Remember that story about the team eating their dead?”

Oh yes, that had been delightful. But it has nothing to do with why in the sweet hells she’s sitting here with him, the taste of her blood still on his tongue.

“People gotta make shit decisions, sometimes,” she says.

“It actually wasn’t hard at all.” He can’t stop. He needs to, but he can’t. “I barely thought of it. A little swipe and off you went.”

That’ll strike. She’ll see her error. Finally. He’s a vampire spawn and more, a bloody coward. Always has been. Bleeding out in the streets, he’d known the noble with the glowing, red eyes was a monster. But he was dying. And that terrified him. So when that bastard promised him eternal life, he hadn’t hesitated. Not for a moment.

He will always save his own skin. Always fold. Always grovel and always, always beg. She has to understand that. Has to know what she came back for and why it was a waste. Why she shouldn’t…shouldn’t…

“You were scared,” she says.

“And I left you to die.”

Gods, just let him get through that thick skull of hers. Fucking yokel. He’s not worth anything. Certainly not all of this. She seems so clever, but she’s being stupid. He’ll make her see. He will.

“But I didn’t,” she says.

“By chance, you infuriating halfwit.”

She shifts. He’s getting to her. Good.

But then she says, “Maybe” and he nearly chews off his own tongue.

“People deal with things by giving them a meaning. Gods or fate or whatever the hell. When you cut me loose, my bag got caught. I’d’a died if it hadn’t. And maybe, if you hadn’t cut that rope, maybe I wouldn’t’a been in the right position for that to happen. Maybe it was because of what you did that we both didn’t get fucking eaten by this goddamn cave.”

“That’s an awful lot of ‘maybe’ darling.” He packs as much sneer as he physically can into that.

And she continues, words steady, but voice shaking. “That would’a been a hard decision, Astarion. I don’t think I could’a made it. I wouldn’t want to. And I just…I’m mad at a thousand other things. I could be about this. I could let it make me scared and mad and never trust nobody ever again. Or I can not do that. I can live my fucking life. I don’t want to carry that around with me. So I ain’t gonna.”

He has…nothing to say to that. It robs him of his faculties. It’s so mind-boggling ridiculous. She can’t just…that doesn’t even…

“You’ll just…let me get away with it?” he finally manages. “Who’s to say I won’t do it again?”

Crime needs to be punished. Mistakes must be corrected. That’s how the world works.

“I guess you would,” she says.

“You can’t do that. You can’t decide that and then just…choose whatever nonsense you’re spouting. You almost died.”

“I know.”

Nothing. She gives him absolutely nothing. He can’t block that, can’t strike at it, or…or…

“That’s stupid,” he says.

And she goes as quiet as a living person can get. Then, “Yeah, it probably is. I…I don’t know what the right thing is. In general, but especially over this. I ain’t your mama and I ain’t the pope, and I can’t make decisions for you. But I can make decisions for me. And you do what you gotta, but I’m doing what I can live with. You’re just gonna have to deal with it. Or don’t. That shit’s up to you.”

Her knee cracks again as she rises to her feet. Hard to lord over him all self-righteously from his level.

“If you think you’ll be good to go in a couple days, I don’t mind staying put for now,” she says. “I’ll make sure they keep bringing you what they can.”

And she leaves him. Finally. Gaping and gasping as everything in him screams and flails about.

[blueper-saiyan]

I’m overanalyzing something that’s canonically not meant to be thought about, for fun, so here’s a speculative Saiyan biology question: how often do they actually need to eat? I’ve sort of joked about the possibility that it’s like large predators irl where they gorge themselves occasionally and then wait until the next big kill. This would balance out the amount they’re eating to closer to a normal human, just a surprising amount in one sitting, and dodge the thing I’m about to go off the deep end about. But I think they’re probably supposed to need that amount frequently? Which is like, rodent levels of frequency and portions, but unlike a small mammal, a huge amount of actual food consumed. It’s fine if there’s only a handful of Saiyans on a whole planet but how did that work when there was a lot of them? That’s a massive amount of food, where is it coming from? Are they mostly feeding their army by taking food from conquered planets? They’d still need to be producing enough for their homeworld. Is it being farmed automatically and that’s how they can have the majority of their whole species be soldiers? But like, Gine has a job processing meat, so it’s clearly not entirely automated. Stuck thinking about Saiyan agricultural production and supply logistics help.

Unfortunately, I can also say that almost immediately after finding out the amount that Saiyans eat, the back of my mind did jump to “how fast do they starve?” Like, is that a much bigger threat for them than a human or do they have about the same amount of reserves, even if they’re eating more? If it is way faster, how does that affect how they view food/hunger? As a fun irl example, hummingbirds have such an insane metabolism that they would potentially starve to death if they slept at night. So they don’t sleep like normal, they enter a state that’s more like hibernation to slow their metabolism down enough to survive. Many hummingbird species are fiercely territorial because they need access to their food source or they starve. I imagine a theoretical hummingbird society would be thinking about food differently. And because this is my indulgent post where I get to talk about animals, I’m also going to bring up vampire bats, which could also potentially starve if they can’t feed within two days or so (I did not go deep into scientific literature to find original numbers and sources for this estimate I’m sorry true bat fans. Actually same goes for the hummingbird estimate but I know more about birds.). Unlike the more territorial hummingbirds though, vampire bats roost together during the day in colonies, with the same other bats repeatedly. And their food source can’t be guarded like a flower patch can, so there’s less purpose to territoriality. So they can form long term friendships with each other by interacting in ways like grooming each other. Within these friendships, when one bat gets a meal during their few-hour-a-night feeding window, but the other one doesn’t, the one who got enough food will often share with their friend to keep them from going hungry. Then their friend returns the favor when their roles are reversed, keeping them both alive, along with the rest of their friend network.

So those are some very different responses to needing food nearly constantly. If I were deeper in ecology mode I could probably try and come up with explanations based on the types of food source and territory and other factors for why, but I’m here to apply this to Saiyans lol. Honestly, a cooperative strategy would make more sense given that they’re pretty human-like, but that’s certainly not the sense we get given of their society. Were they always super individualistic or is that a recent development? Are they even actually individualistic or is that fully a societal role thing (elites are different from lower class warriors)? Or is the idea that they don’t cooperate partly a lie made up after their deaths anyway? Speculative biology for intelligent species get the extra layer of culture just to make things more messy and fun. We also know pretty much nothing about their original home planet and the actual context that shaped them, so I don’t get to apply other factors, like how easy it is to defend food sources or how important it is to stick together. We probably won’t ever get to know anything more about their original homeworld/Sadala, which is disappointing given that we got hints about it, but it does leave more room for speculation.

[of-many-aus]

The Deal

Summary: jj is approached with a challenge that he couldn’t refuse, even if he tried

Warnings: underage drinking, stealing, mentions of killing and violence

A/N: i don’t really know what to think of this series so far- i hope you like it though :)

Hate Myself for Loving You Masterlist

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

JJ Maybank could do anything. That was just common knowledge. The boy could pickpocket without a second thought. Surf the biggest wave in the middle of a hurricane. Run from the cops for hours without breaking a sweat. The list goes on.

But the one thing that JJ Maybank couldn’t do- something that was also common knowledge to the whole island- was back out of a challenge.

If someone so much as uttered that they thought JJ couldn’t- or better yet, wouldn’t- do something, the boy would set himself on a war zone that only ended with him completing the task. Which is why it was best to never even think the words ‘I dare you’ within a five mile radius of the boy.

He supposed that was how he found himself in his current predicament, about to do what could perhaps be considered the stupidest thing he had ever done in his life. And that list was as long as the island.

Of course, JJ would like to say that he had been minding his own business when it happened, but nobody would believe that- not even if they were meeting him for the first time and had only known him for a few seconds.

He had been chatting to some snooty touron that wore a watch that was almost the size of his head and sparkled brightly in the light of the bonfire. Said watch was what JJ was currently trying to discreetly swipe off of the boy's wrist.

“-and then I told her that of course, it was no problem that I paid the ten thousand dollar fine.” He spoke boisterously, clearly trying to attract the attention of others nearby as he flexed his fathers vast fortune.

It took everything the blond boy had not to wrinkle his nose at the realization that people like the kooks lived off the obx as well, that some people weren’t any better off the island.

The tourons words were slurred and he was stumbling while trying to stand in place, watch wearing hand holding onto a red solo cup that had a bit of liquid left sloshing around in it.

JJ figured that the dude was so drunk that he no doubt could have just asked for the watch and he would have given it to him, but stealing it was much more fun.

“Maybank!”

The boy froze for half a second, thoughts of how he was caught slamming into his mind, but he roughly pushed them away. Instead, he finished slipping the watch into his back pocket and put on a neutral face, turning around to face the three advancing figures, the one in the front of the group being the one that had called his name.

“Fellas!” JJ greeted with mock happiness, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Beat it,” Rafe snapped at the touron who’s eyebrows had furrowed at being interrupted, but the drunk guy stumbled away nonetheless, muttering under his breath as he went.

So this wasn’t about the watch, they would have called him out in front of the touron if it was.

Topper was leading the pack with Kelce and Rafe right on his heels, which was slightly strange, considering the fact that Rafe was always the one taking charge.

Right now though, it was clear why Topper was in the front. He had a look that could kill on his face and JJ was on the receiving end of it. Whatever the boy did must have been bad. Too bad he couldn’t for the life of him remember what it was.

“You,” Topper seethed, surging forward and seizing the boy by the collar, shaking him for good measure, “You need to keep your little friend away from her.”

Now JJ was confused, “Who?” He asked dumbly.

“Routledge.” The blond angrily turned him around to face the direction of where John B was happily chatting to Sarah Cameron by the fire, “You need to keep him the hell away from Sarah.”

Realization dawned on Maybank before the confusion kicked back in, “I don’t have anything to do with that.”

Topper smiled suddenly, a chilling smile that even made JJ uneasy, and he released his hold on the boy, making a show of smoothing out his shirt for him.

“Of course not, but you could always steer his attention away.” Topper spoke smoothly, “There’s some ways to do that, like, oh, I don’t know… dating his sister.”

JJ’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, “What?”

Kelce shrugged nonchalantly, “Everyone knows he hates the idea of his little sister dating, so what better way to distract him than his own best friend taking her out?”

His face turned up in disgust at the thought that these boys assumed they could just tell him to take you out. As if they had any say over your life, “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Oh, we’re intending to pay you, of course.” Topper was now speaking as if it was just a normal conversation, “For every date that you take her out on, we’re willing to pay two hundred dollars.”

That was more than he made in two weeks when he worked at that fancy country club.

“And don’t worry,” Rafe jumped in with a menacing smile, “We’re not expecting you to do this forever. Just until the midsummers dance, that way it distracts John B long enough for Topper to get back with Sarah.”

Two hundred dollars.

“And what if I say no?” JJ challenged with a raised eyebrow, trying to keep his composure.

Topper shrugged, “We could always have someone else go out with her. Someone who would do it for far less of a price. Come on, Maybank. What’re you, scared?”

Uh oh. That was a challenge. Something that he couldn’t back out of, even if he tried. It was a pointless battle against himself, and he knew it.

JJ’s stomach churned with worry and disgust. Of course, he knew how awful their offer was- being paid to take you out. But what if he didn’t? What if someone else was taking you out, someone with far worse intentions.

You and JJ might not always get along, but he couldn’t do that to you. That wouldn’t be right. Not to mention John B would kill him. Well, he would anyway if he took you out.

There was a hard look in his eyes when he spoke next, a sort of serious determination that was exceedingly rare to see from the boy.

“Fine.” Was all he said, doing everything in his power not to cringe.

“Wonderful. It’s a deal.” Topper smiled widely, turning on his heel, “Pleasure doing business with you, Maybank!” He called over his shoulder as he and the others strutted away.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You must have first started hating JJ Maybank in the third grade, because that’s when all the firsts happened. First tests, first friendships, first crushes, first hatred’s.

He was in the fourth grade along with your older brother at the time, and you couldn’t stand him- not a single thing about him.

It was probably due to the fact that at the mere age of nine, he had been chasing after your brother in your yard when you had been innocently walking across it, probably to go fishing off the dock. He hadn’t seen you in the way and body slammed right into you when his head was turned, sending you tumbling to the ground with a face full of grass and dirt.

JJ had been frozen in place, horrified as you started crying, but before he could even open his mouth to try and apologize, you had started screaming at him. Telling him that he was a dumb boy who had too big of shoes if he was tripping into you while running.

Immediately, he turned furious, snapping back at you about how you should have been watching where you were going instead of being in ‘la la land’.

The two of you proceeded to launch into shouts of the best insults that your young minds could muster, and were mere seconds away from lunging at each other when Big John had wandered out at the commotion and physically had to hold each of you back.

But even with your restraints, it did nothing to stop the venomous looks you sent at one other. Glares that declared from that moment forward to be rivals. To hate each other with every bone in your body. Even now, at the ages of fifteen and sixteen, neither of you had stopped.

“Bambi,”

Speak of the devil.

You and a couple friends were hanging out at a kegger that your brother and his own friends started a couple of hours ago, nursing some red solo cups near a bonfire when you heard JJ Maybank call out to you with that stupid nickname he gave you a couple years back.

A scowl appeared on your face as your friends silenced around you and you turned around to glare at him, “What do you want, JJ?” The annoyance was clear as day in your tone.

He spread his arms out with a large grin, “What? I can’t stop by to say a friendly little ‘hi’ to you?”

“No.” You deadpanned with an eye roll, “So beat it, Maybank.”

“Relax, Bambi, relax,” The blond held his hands up in mock surrender, “I come in peace.”

“Since when?” You shot back, taking a long sip from your cup.

“Since now.” He smiled at you. He never smiled at you, “I just wanted to talk-“

“Not interested.” You cut him off and turned back towards your friends, “Come on, guys,” You muttered, “I need another drink.”

Your friends hurriedly trailed after you as you stormed away, always getting worked up whenever JJ was around.

The boy was left behind, watching your retreating figure.

This was going to be harder than he thought.