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webslinger-holland · 26 days

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All Grown Up | Hunter from The Bad Batch

Summary: Many years after Tantiss and after having settled down in Pabu, Hunter struggles to watch his eldest to go off and join the rebellion. He returns home to the comfort of family awaiting him.

Warning: SPOILERS FROM SEASON 3 FINALE BELOW THE CUT, Omega refers to the reader as her mum (though not biological), mentions of old age, other children are briefly mentioned, slightly suggestive, and just good old fashioned tears

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader

Type: Oneshot

Word Count: 1.8k

The gleam of the silvery moon pierced through the dark blue skyline. The cool summer breeze swept through the entirety of the island, caressing wooden chimes hanging outside homes. The crickets were out singing songs to each other. The warm yellow light twinkled in the homes of many who where still awake during the late hours of the night.

With one last look of the island, Omega began making her way across the sandy beaches. She listened to the sound of the waves crashing gently against the shoreline; her shoes leaving prints behind in the sand. A few light breezes swept the loose strands of hair out of her face. She made her way into the lower caves of the island.

Coming up over the rocks, Omega's gaze landed on the spot in which her ship was docked. She neared one of the many generators in the cave, kneeling down and flicking the switch on. The warm light that radiated from the generator brightened her face and signaled the other generators to illuminate the rest of the cave.

A low bark sounded near one of the other generators. She lifted her head and smiled to herself, knowing that it was Batcher calling out to her. She briefly spotted another figure looming and sitting beside the old lurca hound, causing her heart to clench slightly in her chest.

Slowly, Omega made her way over to the both of them. The gangplank of her ship opened to reveal Gonky waiting for her. She rounded the side of the rocks, coming up behind the two.

"Thought you could just sneak off?" Hunter questioned as he stared off towards the entrance of the cave. The corners of his lips tugged into a gentle smile. "Time hasn't dulled all my senses," Hunter reminded her.

She lowered herself to sit down right beside him, watching him carefully with a hint of nervousness behind her eyes. She didn't say anything at first, but she had a feeling he was about to give her one of his famous talks. Sure enough, Omega was right about that.

"Your mother would have woken up worried sick about you, wondering where you’d gone off to this time," Hunter stated. His eyes focused on his hands that where clasped together.

"This shouldn't be a surprise. I talked with mum about this a lot," Omega defended herself.

Her words pained him slightly. In the more recent years, Omega had found herself seeking the advice of her mother more often than him. It had a lot to do with her age; having questions about womanhood that her mother was more than willing to explain. If Omega had gone to Hunter, the conversation would have just turned more awkward than anything. And sometimes, she was afraid to ask him in fear that he'd shoot her down pointblank.

It wasn't a surprise because he had heard some of their conversations late at night when the others had gone to bed. He recalled one conversation that happened just last week. She'd said something along the lines of: "Mum? What were the Clone Wars like?" Her mother proceeded to tell her what it was like to be a field medic during the height of the war. That, despite all the bad things, Y/n had found her purpose in life and wanted to help the war cause by tending to soldiers on the field.

Hunter just really wished she hadn't said that because they wouldn't be here now if she had.

"The Rebellion needs pilots now more than ever," Omega told him. She always had that drive to help others; she was so much like her mother in that way. "I made my choice, Hunter. I want to do more."

"And we want to keep you safe," Hunter countered. He finally turned to look at her. The worry was so evident behind those beaming eyes.

His strong sense of overprotectiveness was starting to show. It almost reminded her of what he used to be like when she was much younger: how he never wanted her to go on missions and how he'd force her to stay behind on the ship. She appreciated his concern, but it wasn't needed now.

"You have, but I'm not a kid anymore." Omega weakly smiled at him. She placed her hand on her chest. "You don't have to worry about me."

He wasn't satisfied with this, slowly turning away once again. He lowered his gaze to stare down at the ground. She continued to watch his movements carefully, wondering what he was thinking about in that moment.

"You're our kid, Omega. You always will be," Hunter said plainly. She smiled at this.

"You’ve got your own kids to worry about now," Omega chuckled slightly. She thought about her three siblings, figuring that they'd be fast sleep in their beds right about now and dreaming about things far beyond this galaxy.

"And you all make me feel like an old man," Hunter huffed with a playful smile.

"Well, you kinda are." Omega teased him by bumping into his shoulder.

When he turned his head towards the light, Omega was able to see just how much time had changed his appearance. His beard had grown out and his hair was sprinkled with grey. She saw the crows feet that bunched around his eyes when he smiled.

He was frail too. He wasn't able to play with his kids as much since last summer when he injured his back. He just moved a little slower now and wasn't able to do any heavy work around the house. He couldn't even remember how long it had been since they settled on Pabu all those years ago.

Pabu was home. Omega had grown up here. His other kids were born on the island. His family and his life was here. He wanted nothing more than to keep it that way. But Omega was moving onto newer things.

"Hunter," Omega sighed. She scooted a little closer to him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You've all fought enough. This...is my fight. I'm ready."

Slowly, Omega rose to stand to her feet. He watched her move away from him with so much worry and concern in his eyes. He now realized that she wasn't his little girl anymore. She was all grown up and ready to have adventures of her own.

"Yeah. I know you are," Hunter sighed to himself. His lips curved into a soft smile. He shook his head slightly. "But I'm not."

Now, Hunter stood to his feet in a slow manner. His strength wasn't like it used to be. She didn't hesitate to step forward and embrace him in a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin against her shoulder. When they pulled away, Omega placed her hands on his shoulders. She sent him a warm encouraging smile.

"Say goodbye to the others for me," Omega requested. She didn't need to give names because he knew she was talking about her brothers, her siblings, and her mother. He gave a single nod of the head before gesturing towards her ship.

"Off you go," Hunter had finally let her go.

By the time Hunter had gotten home, he was little surprised to see one of the lights on from his view on the street. He climbed the steps of the porch, opening the door as quietly as possible so he didn't wake the kids. His gaze landed on the familiar figure sitting in one of the living room chairs. He closed the door behind him.

"Hey," Hunter called out softly. He took a few strides towards her, kneeling down beside the armchair. He gently grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it. "How come you're still awake?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Y/n scolded him slightly. There was a twinge of annoyance in the tone of her voice. "I wake up to an empty bed and a daughter missing."

"Ah, yes. About that..." Hunter's voice trailed off. He quickly avoided her gaze and wondered how he was going to break the news to his wife. But his silence gave it away.

"She's gone, isn't she?" Y/n said rather sorrowfully.

He nodded silently in response. He fought against the tears that gathered in the corners of his eyes, but the light from the lamp illuminated them perfectly. She went to cup his cheek and sent him a weak smile.

"It was bound to happen some day," Y/n tried to reason with him. She shook her head at the notion. "She couldn't stay your little girl forever."

"No," Hunter agreed. "She couldn't. She's all grown up now."

Ever so slowly, Hunter rose to his feet alongside her. He took her spot in the chair before gently guiding her down to sit in his lap. He went to drape her legs over his lap and have them hang over the side of the chair. She wrapped an arm around his neck and leaned down to rest her head against his shoulder. He cradled her gently in his grasp.

The two parent's gazes fell on the wall where each of their children's height had been marked over the years to show their growth. There were countless tallies and dates, including both of his brothers' and the lurca hound's. They studied each mark as a reminder of how much each of their kids had grown over the years.

But Hunter's sights were stuck on a rather faded mark on the wall. He remembered the day like it was only yesterday. He loved seeing how excited Omega was to have her height marked on the wall; how Omega tried to stand as tall as she could while he used a pencil to mark it. Then, seeing over the years, her tallies had grown until she was basically his height.

"They're all growing up so fast," Y/n said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

"Maybe it's our sign to have another one," Hunter joked. She sent him a warning glare so he pressed a little further. "Come on. The littlest ones about five years old now. We're due for another."

"I told you I am done having babies. We've had three; that's a good number," Y/n swiftly shut down the idea of having another little one. She could think of a million reasons why that wouldn't pan out great. "We're getting too old for this. And with your bad back..."

"I know. I know. You don't have to remind me," Hunter chuckled softly, just loving how flustered she had gotten while talking about having a kid again. He pressed a gentle kiss to her check to calm her nerves.

The two of them swayed slightly in the rocking chair, basking in each other's presence. Their eyes set on the wall. The house's memories over the years came flooding back to them. The children's laughter was an ever present sound that brought the purest form of joy.

Their eldest daughter was all grown up now and out of the house. They remembered every single memory they made with her over the course of the past couple years. She had drastically changed their lives, but all for the better. And they wouldn't change a single thing.

LITERALLY AM OBSESSED WITH THAT FINAL SCENE OF OMEGA AND HUNTER. HAD TO WRITE MY OWN VERSION AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

#the bad batch #star wars #the clone wars #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x you #tbb hunter fluff #tbb hunter angst #crosshair #echo #wrecker #tech #omega #tbb hunter x fem!reader #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch finale

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doctorbeth · 1 year

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A Romper Room Doll

Sometimes patients have had many and serious surgeries before they come to the hospital. Such was the case with this purple checked doll. She had been recovered at some point in the 80s, but now, as her person wrote "I think at this point, every area is a problem area." Here are her diagnosis photos:

And this is what she would have looked like originally (it isn't her, it's a twin):

Fortunately, I knew we could match her checks quite closely, but not her dress. Her person was fine with that though, she could have her own fashion sense. :-) We agreed that the doll would come to the hospital and I would remove her old layers, then add stuffing as needed, recover her, give her new hair, reembroider her smile, replace her button nose and eyes, and then give her a new dress. No spa for the doll.

Surgery proceeded and in due course, she was feeling much better and ready to make some fashion choices:

(her person's reaction was "Oh my gosh she is beautiful!!! She is exactly the same, just a much better version. Absolutely perfect! I am so glad I found you! ")

There were many fabrics to choose from (we were keeping the dress style the same). Velours and calicos and hearts:

White with pink dots (a flannel) was the chosen fabric. Soon, she was sporting her new dress and ready to fly home:

Her person wrote:

She is soooooo cute! Perfect, perfect, perfect! I love the dress. At first I wasn’t going to have you make it, but I’m sure glad I did. You’ve gone above and beyond the expectations I had!

But that wasn't the end of the story... the doll returned home just after Thanksgiving and her person wrote again:

I wanted you to know that I received my doll the day after thanksgiving. The pictures you sent were one thing, but when I saw her in person, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The details! The stitching! The extra little touches! When I had her recovered so many years ago, I could have cried. I think I actually did cry. She wasn’t my doll anymore and she looked like she would fall apart again. Not only have you restored to to what she originally was, you have also made her look indestructible. You are like a fairy godmother. The world needs more special people in it like you! I honestly can’t say thank you enough.

And one last note... when I started making dolls, I made lots of fairy godmothers, because I thought everyone should have a fairy godmother -- I even had it as the logo for the dolls I made! So for someone to say what I do is "like a fairy godmother"... well it's one of the nicest things anyone could ever say.

I hope all of you have your dreams come true... with or without fairy godmothers.

#doll repair #doll hospital #cloth doll #cloth doll repair #romper room doll #cloth doll hospital #doll clothes

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creamhoodie · 5 months

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Home To You

A/N: Drabble about dating Kento Nanami, he's away on a mission, phone sex, more fluff than anything, not really dialogue driven more narration driven

Protective.

That’s the adjective that always comes to your mind when thinking of how to describe your boyfriend, Kento Nanami.

The two of you had only been dating a year but boyfriend felt like too casual of a word to describe what he was to you, it was too juvenile of a word as well. Nanami was different from past boyfriends, he was grounded, more mature and serious about the relationship.

“You can call me your suitor or lover if you’d like,” he had told you once between placing kisses down the trail of your neck, as he was fond of doing. So a lover to you he was. In the beginning he had admitted to you that he had been hesitant to take on a relationship given his work as a jujutsu sorcerer was both laborious and dangerous. He had always wanted to settle down but the idea of leaving behind the woman he loved should he ever not return home made him feel immense guilt. Fear couldn’t stop love however, and like a moth to flame he had been drawn to your warmth and kindness.

You, who he had met through a chance encounter at a coffee shop. You had ordered before him, coincidentally ordering his usual coffee of choice before settling down with said drink to type away at your laptop. He had thought you were beautiful the first time he ever saw you and you had thought he was handsome as well. Though it took about six routine encounters of this nature before he had finally decided to speak with you. He had made some joke about the two of you frequenting the shop so often and ordering the same drink, light banter about who had copied who had played out. Before he knew it you had made your way into his heart and there was no getting you out.

On your first real date he had been transparent with you.

“You fascinate me. I want to get to know you more but I need to let you know that being involved with me runs its own risks that I can’t in good faith keep hidden from you,” he had said.

“Is that so?” you inquired. You knew a little of him already, about his previous employment as a stockbroker and based on this lavish restaurant with French cuisine he had brought to you, it was easy to estimate he was financially set.

He had leaned forward, deep brown eyes peering at you from above his interesting frames. That’s when he had laid it all on you, the truth about the jujutsu sorcerer world. He already knew you couldn’t see curses with you having ignored a pathetic low level one that had clung to your dress earlier that night (he had eliminated it when you weren’t looking). Moreover, he didn’t sense a hint of cursed energy from you. You were perfectly normal. You could afford to look away and turn your back to his world, the way he had tried to but his morality and conscience had pulled him back in.

“So you understand being with me has its risks. My enemies could try to use you as leverage against me. I want you to know I’d always do my utmost to protect you, but this is the situation you need to be aware of should you choose to continue to see me,” he had said fully expecting you to call him crazy, after all humans like you who couldn’t see curses didn’t know of them. The knowledge of the world of sorcery wasn’t common at all; only selected individuals were cursed with that burden, and now here he was pulling you, sweet innocent you into his world of peril and risk.

Rather than calling for him to be committed, you had simply leaned in the way he had done telling him: “I’m not afraid.”

Then he had made love to you that very night. It wasn’t his typical fashion to make love so soon as he didn’t want it to seem as he only wanted you for your body but the attraction between the two of you was so strong, a flickering candle that threatened to burst into a forest fire. In the end, he hadn’t been able to help himself.

You had been just an equal of a participant, your hand having rested on his lap throughout dinner and never breaking contact with his own intense eyes.

Those eyes that as he had made love to you, you were at last able to see full on without his peculiar lenses. In his dark room, lit only from the city lights shining in through the window of his penthouse apartment, fully undressed with his hair slicking down on his forehead he looked younger and more wild. He was chivalrous in bed, the focus on your pleasure yet he was still every bit as passionate as a man that had been craving this skin to skin contact for so long. His kisses were tongue filled and intoxicating, his strokes long and rhythmic each bringing you two closer to the climax of your symphony.

Afterwards, when the two of you were laying in bed together, your face nuzzled into his chest as he stroked your hair, a thought occurred to him: who would protect you when he was away?

“I need to teach you some things, so you can defend yourself,” he said.

From then on, he had given you a crash course of sorts about curses, their grade level and what to expect. Though you had no cursed energy of your own, he had insisted you keep at least two weapons imbued with cursed energy with you. One of the weapons was discreet enough to accompany you throughout the day in your purse. The other resided in his penthouse where you had moved in with him and it offered extra assurance for when he had to go away.

Times like now.

“Doors locked? Stove off?” He asked you over the phone.

“Yes, Kento,” you replied, settling down on the leather couch. These questions of his were routine check ups every night that he was gone and you were used to it.

“What about the cursed weapons?” He asked.

“I have them with me,” you replied, knowing they were underneath your shared bed as always.

“Good girl and you have Gojo on speed dial?” he asked this last question, voice tight. He wasn’t particularly fond of his fellow sorcerer and he was even less fond of soliciting another man’s help in your protection, but Satoru Gojo wasn’t any ordinary man and if it meant you were safe then that was all that mattered. So despite being notoriously private, he had opened up to his white haired peer about his relationship with you and entrusted you in his care should an emergency arise while he was away. Gojo had been eager to oblige and maybe entrusting you with him was the truest testament for how much faith he had in the blue eyed sorcerer because you were more precious to Nanami than the blood in his veins.

“Yes, Kento I do,” you replied.

“That’s my good girl,” he said, finally allowing himself to breathe.

Always the same questions every night he was away, and it was always the same answers but they were the medicine he needed to soothe his worries, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

“Kento I miss you. It’s so lonely here without you,” you said.

Your voice was like honey and he could just imagine you, so small in comparison to him, curled up in either the bed or couch.

“I miss you too. Every moment I’m away from you is excruciating,” he said truthfully. The hotel he was staying at was no substitute for his bed back home with you.

He heard the shift in your breathing. Prompting him to ask: “are you touching yourself my darling?”

“Yes,” you replied shyly at having been caught.

He chuckled.

“Keep going, you deserve to feel so good. You know I’d never deny you pleasure,” he said. He began to palm at himself through his pants, already sensing a hint of pre forming on the tip of his cock.

“Doesn’t feel as good as when you do it though, Kento,” you whined, though your panting let him know you were following his instruction to pleasure yourself all the same.

He unzipped his pants, slipping his cock out of his boxers until he held it in his hand. As suspected, a waning drop of precum coated his pink base.

“Believe me, angel I know. I miss your touch as well,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Should have taken me with ‘chu,” you said, words slurring into moans as you played with yourself.

You had pitched that idea to him before, but the risk of you getting harmed in a mission was not one he was willing to take. He’d never forgive himself if you got hurt.

All the same, with the way you were making him feel, he agreed that he wished you were here, lapping at the drop of pre that had dripped down his length. Oh how he’d love to have your mouth wrapped around him now like so many times before.

“Ah-careful darling you’re making me regret leaving you behind,” he teased as he stroked himself. He imagined it was your hand getting him off, though his large veiny hand ruined the illusion yours were much more small and soft.

His phone took the dial tone letting him know it was prompting him to accept a video call.

Little minx, he thought to himself.

He accepted the video chat.

And there you sat, on the leather couch. The camera was facing your spread legs so he had a full view of your exposed sex as you fingered yourself.

“Kento..” you moaned his name softly.

He cursed, biting his lip so hard it drew blood as he continued to stroke himself. He flipped the camera so you could watch as he pleasured himself as well.

“Look at what you do to me,” he said grunting at the sensitivity of the act.

He was usually so well put together, a man of dignity, but only you were his undoing.

“Want it inside me so bad,” you moaned. Trust, he wanted to be inside of you as well, he was addicted to the deep warmth only your cunt could provide. It was why despite working long hours and unpredictable overtime, he always made sure to sink himself into you.

“Soon. When I get home it will be. Rub your clit for me,” he commanded.

You did so, his name spilling from your lips in a completely desperate and frantic manner. He stroked himself faster now intent on finishing at the same time as you.

“Kento.. so fucking close,” you whimpered.

“I know- ah fuck- I am too,” he replied, sounding every bit as lustful as you.

It happened simultaneously, the two of you reaching your orgasm, and he let out a shaky grunt as his cum came in bursts.

“I miss you so much, Kento,” you whispered, your voice had a hint of melancholy to it.

“I miss you too,” he said. He didn’t mind the mess he had made because of you (even though before you he would have found it rather tedious) instead he found himself wishing you were here. That’s a bridge he could never cross though, your safety was everything and he couldn’t ever risk you being hurt. So instead the two of you would partake in this little dance: the routine questions and answers on the phone and the call of pleasuring each other.

“I love you. I know it’s hard right now but I’ll come home to you. I promise.”

And it’s a promise he intended to keep no matter what, because you made everything worth it. While his heart beats and as long as he has breath he’d find his way home to you.

#kento nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami fluff #kento nanami x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk fluff #jjk smut #kento nanami x you #nanami smut

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bakugosbratx · 1 year

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just discovered your blog and i’m in love~! since reqs are open, would you please consider doing a yandere kyoujuro x fem (or gn) reader scenario where kyo’s super possessive/jealous after being paranoid that his father is into them?! (or maybe he is?!? my twisted heart defers to your genius!) sank you!

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞 — Yandere Kyoujuro Rengoku x Fem! Reader

Warning: NSFW 18+ Content. Yandere, abduction, mind breaking, abuse, voyeurism, cursing, paranoia, cnc, some noncon, sexual relations in front of father, degrading, etc.

A/N: I’m sorry it took so long but I hope it was worth it. My mind went crazy writing this haha.

Words: 1.8k

Tags: @nymphoheretic @thisbicc @renhoeku @cherkujo @ovarysnake23 @uknyverse

Not beta read

“Oh, my beautiful flame.” Kyoujuro hums as he enters your shared bedroom, sending chills dancing down your spine as you await for him to approach from behind. You were applying your favorite color lipstick that would match well with his outfit of choice. Your desired taste was not on the menu when it came to your life now. You learned to accept it over time. His fashion taste was bearable, though, it reminded you of your place: beneath him.

Today was a special day; you get to meet his family. You have built up curiosity of Kyoujuro’s upbringing over the months you have been stuck with him. A man with a flame in his heart still manages to have ice in his veins. It was disturbing.

His large calloused palm found refuge on your shoulder, the heat sending a breeze upon your bones. You dared to meet his eyes in the mirror, attempting to mask the terror that lied within your pupils.

“Y-Yes, Kyoujuro?” You replied within a shaky breath, alerting Kyoujuro that you were still drowning in fear. He hated and loved it all at once.

“You look magnificent, my dear, but we must get going. My father and brother should not be kept waiting much longer.” Kyoujuro stated, keeping his gaze upon yours in the mirror. His words were calm and innocent, but his irises held dominance and control that dared you to try and make a fool out of him tonight in front of his family. You would never see the light of day again.

Nodding, you provide a false smile. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Your hand laces with your captor, his vigorous grip reminding you that even without chains upon your limbs, you are still within his shackles. You are always under his grasp and one thing Kyoujuro will refuse to do is ever let you go.

Approaching the Rengoku residence, Senjuro is quick to run out and greet his older brother. “Brother, you have finally arrived!” He beamed, a bright innocent smile glowing in the sunset. He looked just like his older brother. His locks were yellow with red tips, red eyes with yellow on the outside, and a smile that was soft yet sickening.

“‘Bout damn time.” A deep, drunken voice exited the home and into view. Kyoujuro is quick to push you behind him in a protective manner. Usually, that would annoy you, but this time, you appreciated it.

Shinjuro was a tall man, aggression swallowing him whole. You finally saw where Kyoujuro got his evil side from. His polite ways must come from his mother that is no longer here. You didn’t dare ask questions, but it was all starting to make sense now.

“My apologies, father. We were running a bit behind.” Kyoujuro apologized, his stance turning even more stiff when he noticed his father’s eyes lingered onto you.

Taking another sip of his sake, he gestured towards the inside of his home. “Dinner’s ready. Don’t let it get cold now.”

Kyoujuro led you up the stairs, Shinjuro’s pupils beaming upon you as you walked by. He mumbled something under his breath that wasn’t clear, but this sent Kyoujuro into high alert.

Sitting down around the dining area, Shinjuro sat at the head of the table. “Dinner smells lovely.” You compliment, earning a warning glare from Kyoujuro, but a less stiffened expression from Shinjuro. That was the only ‘thank you’ you were going to get out of him.

Starting off with the miso soup and white rice, you see where Kyoujuro got some of his cooking skills. Luckily, Kyoujuro has improved and made decent meals since you have been in his care.

Still, the meal was still somewhat edible and you were happy to be out of the house. Senjuro was the one to break the silence by flooding his brother’s ears about everything he wanted him to know. It was a very cute sight to witness.

“Maybe after dinner, I can show you some of my skills! I have gotten better with my sword, big brother!” Senjuro raved, not even noticing the way Shinjuro was staring you down, your spine stiff. Kyojuro is quick to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him to show ownership.

“I would love to see it!” Kyojuro smiled, his grip around your waist tightening due to his father. You were not fond of Shinjuro, but you did think that Kyojuro was overreacting. His father is just putting up a harsh front, right? And maybe the seductive eyes hidden behind all that fire gaze was just your imagination mixed with Kyojuro’s paranoia.

This is all a huge misunderstanding, right?

Dinner carried on, Senjuro chatted his older brother’s ear off about any and everything. While Kyojuro gave his brother his full attention, his arm remained snaked around your waist and he was sure to watch you out of the corner of his eyes. Even with the protection you had and the evilness of Kyojuro’s glare, Shinjuro’s eyes still lingered onto you. You could not help, but squirm under the intense pressure.

Kyojuro noticed your discomfort, but when he opened his mouth to speak, his little brother chimes in, “big brother! I’m finished with dinner, let’s go outside—“

Senjuro grabbed hold of Kyojuro’s hand and practically dragged him outside. He was quite amazed by how strong his brother has gotten over the years. Besides, a promise is a promise. Kyojuro always kept his word, especially to those he held close.

You have mixed emotions when it comes to Kyojuro. He was familiar to you now that you have been captured for so long. You also felt safe from the dangers the world poses. Kyojuro was sure to remind you daily that nowhere is safe. The only true safe place is with him and him only. Now, that your safety is gone, you feel vulnerable, the predator gazing right at you.

The silence was thick and still as Shinjuro examined you, drinking his Sake. You were taught not to speak unless given permission to do so and in all honesty, you did not have much to say to this man.

“What are you doing with my boy?” Shinjuro finally muttered out, catching you off guard. “W-What?” You stammered, not believing your ears. “You deaf or somethin’? I said,” Shinjuro stood up, placing his hands on the table as he narrowed his gaze, “what are you doing with my boy,” he cupped your face, “when you should be with me?”

The calloused touch sent chills skipping down your spine. Kyojuro was right this whole time, his sick father did like you and now you are all alone with him. “I-I love Kyojuro.” You mumbled out, barely above a whisper. The fire that ignited in Shinjuro’s eyes worried you.

“Lies!” He exclaimed, slamming his hands on the table. A small gasp leaves you, fear written all over you. Though you were lying about having love for Kyojuro, you were obligated to be loyal to the man. You sure as hell was not going to cheat on him with his father.

Taking another sip of his sake, Shinjuro towered over you. Pulling you up, he bent you over the table. You attempted to remove yourself from the situation, but Shinjuro was obviously much stronger. There was no way to compete with this monster.

“Please don’t do this! Kyojuro! Help!” You cried, hoping the one person you despise would be your savior. Shinjuro pushed your face into the dark wooden table. “Shut it!” The older man growled as he began lifting up your dress.

Just when you thought it was about to be hell, a familiar voice is heard from behind you, “what do you think you’re doing with my girl?” Kyojuro asked, lowly. Shinjuro was not afraid of his son, but the sword that was pressed to his neck made him nervous.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Shinjuro retorts, his voice not sounding as gruff as usual. Kyojuro let out a condescending chuckle. You were still held down so you could not witness the scene behind you, but all you know is that you are safe.

“Unhand her.” Kyojuro demanded, pressing the blade more to his father’s windpipe. Shinjuro contemplated for a second but respected his son’s wishes. You are quick to get up and give Kyojuro thankful eyes.

“If you ever touch my girl again, I will not be afraid to decapitate you right where you stand.” Kyojuro warned, putting his sword down so you can run into his arms. “Oh, Kyojuro! Thank you for coming to save me!” You beamed, snuggling your face into his muscular chest. Kyojuro placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

“Big brother!” Senjuro called as he entered the house, oblivious to what just occurred. Kyojuro hid his anger and as always, had a bright smile. “Go to your room, Senjuro. I have something to discuss.” He stated.

“But, we were—“ Senjuro pouted, tugging at Kyojuro’s heart strings. He walked over to his little brother, ruffling his hair. “I promise once we are done we can do whatever you want, okay?”

Senjuro smiled, hugging Kyojuro tight before running to his room and closing the door. You were nervous about what was about to go down, but nothing could prepare you for Kyojuro bending you over the table like you just were moments before. “K-Kyojuro, what are you—“

Lifting up your dress, his hand rubbed your exposed ass since he always made you wear thongs. “Teaching my father a valuable lesson on who you belong to.”

You did not even have time to protest. All you felt was his large thick cock entering your tight pussy, your moans immediately falling from your lips as they always do. All Shinjuro could do was stare in disbelief, disgust, and horror as his son fucked you in front of him.

“See this?” Kyojuro lifted your face up by your hair so your blurry vision as well as mewl expressions could be seen, “this pussy belongs to me. I’m the only man that makes her feel this good.”

You could not recall what was said as Kyojuro put all his anger and stress into your pussy. The wet sounds as well as moans echoed in the kitchen. If Shinjuro even thought about leaving the area, Kyojuro would be quick to stop him. This is what he gets for trying to invade you the way he did. Only Kyojuro claims this cunt and with each demand, “tell him who you belong to.”

“You, Kyojuro. I belong to you.” You whimper, being too cockdrunk to even realize what you were saying, but you knew the words were true. As long as Kyojuro is alive, you shall not belong to anyone else.

And even Shinjuro knows that now.

©bakugosbratx

#yandere kyojuro rengoku #yandere rengoku #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro x y/n #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kny kyojuro #kny x reader #kny x y/n #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer rengoku #rengoku kyōjurō #kyoujurou rengoku smut #rengoku x y/n #rengoku x you #rengokukyoujorou

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enoe-of-noen · 4 months

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My opinions on the demon brothers

Lucifer

I can relate to his strictness as the eldest sibling, but oh my gosh he gets on my nerves. I hate him (lovingly.) Though you do get some of the best writing in fanfics-

Mammon

This idiot. Used to be my least favourite cause my friend absolutely hates him, but he’s such a cute tsundere I can’t- like, crow babies??? Hcs where he gives you cute little trinkets as a sign of love??? Although, I don’t really consider him being my top brother. Sure, he’s mc’s first man and he’s absolutely smitten, but someone else is my number one <3

Leviathan

This fricking otaku. I relate to you so goddamn much. But you’re also my friend’s favourite so I won’t steal you from them ;) Kinda like Mammon to me, but less…idk eccentric and open about love??? Or is just a way more bashful tsundere.

Satan

Nerd. Furry. The fact you’re so…poetic in your vocabulary kinda makes me ick but eh, to each their own. I know everybody hates your fashion sense, but I honestly just don’t care. Kinda cringe ngl. I still like love him though. Great character 👍 Side note: your song is relaxing oml. And the fact you and Belphie have a duo song is mm 👌

Asmodeus

MY PRETTY BOY!!! <33333 You’re gorgeous, the moment, my prettiest demon!!! You have a special place in my heart bbg <3 Screw everyone who thinks you’re shallow just cause you’re the avatar of lust, you’re amazing! And I love you greatly!!!

Beelzebub

You. I love you so goddamn much I am always so angry how there isn’t enough content about you out there.

MY HUNGRY BOY!!! MY MUSCLE MAN!!!! MY BIG MAN!!! MY SOFTIE!!! MY PUPPY!!! MY LOVE <33333 I have your hair memorized so I can basically draw it perfectly now >:) I would love to snack with you and give you your well deserved chest and head rubs!!! I will take care of you so much you’ll have no choice but to love me.

Belphegor

You annoying brat. You’re my Beel’s twin so you have mercy. You’re so goddamn irritating/irritated, and the fact you’re considered the youngest sibling kinda makes me hate you just a little more. Believe me, I know what it’s like having an annoying younger sibling :) The fact you got so grumpy at me when I had you on my homescreen cemented my opinion on you, but you’re so goddamn cute when sleepy and cuddly <3 I hatefully love you. Your blushing face whenever I tap your head on surprise guest tho <33333

———————

Ranked:

Beelzebub, my beloved

Belphegor

Asmodeus

Satan - Leviathan

Mammon

Lucifer

———————

@editoraj do this too >:(

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me ranking #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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coopigeoncoo · 1 month

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Meat Cute, Chapter 1

Chapter Links: Chapter 1 ->Next

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change

---

In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour! ---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–-- A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Arriving in Hell had been a difficult adjustment, but you figured that was likely by design and not some personal failing on your part. You'd stumbled out of the gates of Hell right into the aftermath of what you now know was an extermination; alone and terrified amidst the burning rubble and mutilated corpses that littered the ground.

You were lucky in a sense, even though it didn't feel like it at the time. Everyone is usually pretty busy in the days immediately following an invasion from Heaven, too occupied looting bodies for valuables and deleting the newly deceased from their phone's contact list to give much attention to a new arrival. The Gates of Hell were usually swarmed by traffickers looking for new merchandise and mid-level thugs looking to make an easy deal for a soul or two, so you were able to slip through the cracks and wander the outskirts of Pentagram city largely unnoticed while most of the sinners were either still in hiding or sleeping off their celebratory hangovers.

Initially, you stuck out like a sore thumb, clad in the baggy dress that you'd been buried in; a garment that had likely been looted from your Grandmother's closet based on the large shoulder pads and unflattering mauve color. You figured that your family had deemed all the dresses you actually owned and liked as too inappropriate for funeral garb, which aligned with how they usually regarded your fashion choices. The fabric was uncomfortable, starched stiff and itchy against your skin, so you didn't feel any guilt about using your newly discovered claws to shred a slit into the back of the skirt to make room for your long and incredibly poofy tail.

Upon further examination in the cracked glass of an abandoned store front, you discovered that you also now possessed a set of rounded black ears atop your head and large, dark smudges around your eyes that made it look like you'd slept with mascara on for a week straight.

The powers that be had, apparently, found it suitable for you to spend the rest of eternity living as a raccoon.

And while you greatly preferred your animal form to many of the other, more intimidating body shapes prowling the streets of Pentagram City, looking what most people would consider adorable wasn't necessarily a desired trait in Hell. Wide-eyed prey animals were quick to disappear, materializing weeks later on posters outside of strip clubs and porn theaters.

You'd darted from the predatory glances of other sinners, spending your first nights in Hell sleeping curled up behind back alley dumpsters; tearing through the freshest smelling trash bags for scraps of food with a voracity that surely made your Raccoon forefathers shed tears of pride.

Repeatedly choosing to wander down the least sinister looking streets had inevitably led you to the heart of Cannibal Town, an antiquated borough that looked like it had been lifted straight out of the background of a classic movie. Naively, you had assumed that the more polished appearance of buildings and fixtures meant that the area was safer than the dilapidated city center you had wandered in from. That notion had been quickly dispelled when you stumbled across a group of middle aged women sitting on a park bench, merrily chatting as they took turns ripping hunks of flesh from an obviously human leg with their sharpened teeth.

Thankfully, the abundance of readily available, post Extermination sinner flesh kept the cannibals well satiated and dissuaded them from making you the victim du jour. That, and the fact that more than one cannibal had gleefully admitted to you that they found raccoon meat too gamey for their liking.

You'd managed to secure a job fairly easily, with numerous businesses looking to fill vacancies from recent employee murders. In the end, you'd settled on working at a small butcher shop a couple blocks away from the main promenade. You'd been unwillingly charmed by the store's on the nose name, ‘Time to Kill’, and the fact that it supplemented your meager paycheck by providing you with a small room above the storefront to live in.

Hal, the owner of the store, was a heavy-set man with a bushy mustache that wouldn't look out of place attached to a broom handle. He'd been admittedly skeptical about your potential as a butcher when they had to tuck a bucket into the back room for you to throw up in after the first half-dozen times you'd hurled when breaking down your first carcass.

But you'd slowly grow accustomed to the grizzly task, focusing on the fact that you were cutting up meat and ignoring that it was likely human in origin. Hal was pleased by your hard-working nature, but mostly he was thrilled by the fact that you didn't help yourself to a five-finger discount like the rest of his employees did.

“Seriously,” Hal had said, his mustache twitching in displeasure . “They're eatin’ all the fingers!”

Day after day passed without much distinction, working from sunup ‘til sundown hacking up bodies for pennies on the dollar. It wasn't much of a living, but since technically you weren't even living at all, you did your best to be content with your lot in death.

After all, it was your discontent in life that had landed you here in the first place.

And if waking up in literal Hell wasn't a wake up call to turn over a new leaf you didn't know what was.

You were coming up on the first anniversary of your arrival in Hell and the citizens of the Pride Ring were all in a tizzy trying to stock up on supplies to last through the impending Extermination. Drug dealers were working double shifts to keep up with demand and the liquor stores had long since sold out of their top brands and had switched to selling bathtub gin to supply their customers with.

The line outside of Time to Kill was already wrapped around the block by the time you had flipped the deadbolts, barely managing to escape being crushed by the door as it crashed open; a densely packed group of cannibals rushing inside. You'd fled from the crowd into the back workroom, taking up your post at a carving station with a cleaver in hand, ready to do your part to supply the hungry masses.

The hours bled together as you skinned and chopped, filleted and ground; so focused on the tasks before you that you didn't realize your coworker had been calling your name until they slapped their hand firmly down onto your shoulder.

“You okay?” They asked, glancing at your dewy face with concern.

“Oh- yeah, I'm alright,” you assured them, placing your cleaver down across the cutting board and wiping your bloody hands on a nearby towel. “What's up?”

“It's your turn up front,” he said, gesturing towards the front of a store with his stubby thumb. “Ms. Rosie is here.”

“Ms. Rosie?”

“Yeah, she's the Overlord here in Cannibal Town,” your coworker explained, elbowing you out of the way to take your place at the cutting station. “Fresh Meat deals with the Overlords- shop rule.”

“Oh,” you murmured nervously, wandering over to the sink to wash your hands.

“Might want to hurry up, there!” one of the other workers called over her shoulder as she dropped a bunch of bone fragments into an awaiting bin. “Your chance of survival decreases every minute you keep an Overlord waiting!”

You slammed the handle of the faucet to the off position and quickly took off to the front counter, your coworkers laughing raucously at your expense while you frantically wiped your hands dry on your blood-spattered apron.

The politics of Hell were still largely unfamiliar to you. But even though you did your best to keep your head down and nose in your own business, you'd gleaned a little knowledge from snippets of overheard conversation in the butcher shop. You weren't entirely sure what Overlords did exactly, but you knew that in order to become one you had to be powerful.

So it was with great trepidation that you stepped into the front of the store, doing your best to hide how absolutely terrified you were, but knowing your stiff legged gait and tight smile likely gave you away.

The tall, elegant form of Ms. Rosie wasn't what you'd been expecting. While dressing up was the norm in Cannibal Town, Rosie took it to a new level; looking as though she never let a fabric less expensive than silk grace her form. But despite the absolutely enchanting picture her elegance painted, the aura of raw power she exuded prickled your skin and caused your tail to poof up in an instinctual, and utterly useless, bid for intimidation.

“Well, look at you!” Rosie drawled, her dark eyes widening in delighted surprise as you approached the counter. “It's been a while since we've gotten someone new in town. Where've you been hiding, sweetheart?”

“Uh - my room, mostly,” you manage to stammer out, nervously smoothing down your ruffled tail fur.

“That's a real shame, keeping a cute face like yours all cooped up!” Rosie cooed. “How long ya’ been living in my part of the city?”

“Nearly a year now, Ma'am.”

“A whole year? ” Rosie gasped. “You weren't kidding ‘bout keeping to yourself, huh?”

Not really knowing what else to say, you opt to helplessly shrug before reaching for an order pad and pen.

“So, uh- what can I get for you today, Ms. Rosie?”

“What's still available?”

“I won't lie, it's pretty slim pickings right now. But I was just working on a pretty nice looking rack of ribs if you're interested.”

“Ribs it is then,” Rosie smiled, patiently waiting as you disappeared to the backroom and returned with multiple wrapped bundles of meat, all cinched together in a stack with fraying twine.

“Thank you, darling,” she said, passing the stack of meat to one of the well-dressed attendants waiting beside her. “Add it to my tab, will ya’?”

“Of course, Ma'am,” you agreed readily, sliding the sale record underneath the cash register tray for Hal to deal with later.

“Oh, and sweetheart?” Rosie called out, catching your attention, as you moved to assist the next customer in line. “If you make it through Extermination Day, make sure to swing by and visit me for tea sometime, will ya’? I'd really like the chance to get to know ya’ better.”

And despite every neuron of common sense and self-preservation screaming at you to decline the invitation, you gritted your teeth and quickly nodded your assent; swallowing thickly when Rosie bared her teeth in a delighted, feral smile.

You knew better to say ‘no’ to an Overlord.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x female reader #alastor x female reader #pigeoncoos🕊

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queen-of-hawkins-why-ler · 2 months

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Mike and Will's outfits/aesthetics (s4-s5) in relation to their character arcs

Now that I have semi-recovered from the initial shock and bliss (lmao) of seeing Mike and Will in their fantastic s5 looks, I've been trying to figure out what it is specifically about their styling for this season that pleases me so much as both a Mike stan and a Will stan. And I think it comes down to what these looks reveal about the directions that both of their characters will be taking in the final season, but more specifically, the fact that these looks both stand in stark contrast to Mike and Will's season 4 looks, signifying a huge turning point and leap in progress for both Mike and Will in terms of character development in season 5. Even more so, though, I think these s5 looks are meant to visually represent in their totality what Mike's character has been all about across the series as well as what Will's character has been all about across the entire series.

Mike's s4 looks all center around the ideas of self-discovery, self-acceptance, exploration, and his feelings for Will (with the exception of his airport look, which he wears to conceal and deny what he is actually experiencing and thinking). The hellfire shirt he proudly wears at school signifies that he is growing comfortable with the idea of being a social outcast and being rejected by society at large. He has grown his hair out longer, and he is generally dressing slightly edgier and more casual than he did in s3 (bless s3 Mike Wheeler's heart lmao what an awkward concoction of awkwardness and forced cisheteronormativity 😭💀). Not to mention the infamous arrow breast pocket that literally points to Will for like the entire season and is fashioned right over Mike's heart lmao. All of these outfit choices make sense in connection with where Mike's character is at in s4. It's the first season in which he is truly understanding his queer identity and coming to terms with it. He knows and fully realizes that he is in love with Will, and while he doesn't believe that anything will ultimately come of his queerness let alone his love for Will, I don't think either of these things are something he is necessarily ashamed of, as he uses his style and outfits as a vehicle through which to express his queerness, however limited he may feel in doing so. And I think that fact in and of itself is a great representation of the territory that Mike is venturing into in s4: quiet but bold experimentation and expression in the face of society's opposition. It's one reason why s4 Mike seems so different from other iterations of Mike. He may have had feelings for Will for quite some time now, but up until this point, it's been subconscious or repressed. In s4, it comes to the forefront, and Mike understands and is embracing his queerness as much as he is able to without being seen for who he truly is, because he is terrified of being seen for who he truly is. That's because unlike Will, he's never fully been seen for who he truly is (aka he has an invisible queer experience). He will dress just queer *enough* to feel queer without being seen as queer.

What's so kind of fascinating and maybe even tragic, then, about this look for s5 Mike is what it represents when contrasted to Mike's s4 look. If s4 was, for Mike, about coming to terms with his queerness as much as he feels he is able to, then this look signifies to me that s5 will see Mike being pushed back into a place of conformity, repression, and invisibility. The ironic thing is that this is where Mike feels most comfortable: in his conformity, pleasing his friends and family by being the straight boy they think he is and staying with El, with his queerness remaining swept under the rug and totally invisible to those around him. However sad it may be, he's comfortable with this set of circumstances because it's all he's ever known. Unlike Will, he has only ever experienced homophobia secondhand, in conjunction with his relationship with Will. He is used to being invisible and ignored, and his short hair and kind of preppy boyish look here is kind of meant to symbolize the overall tragedy of Mike Wheeler's character struggle, which is taking comfort and solace in one's own oppression in exchange for larger acceptance but at the expense of personal happiness.

Will's transition from his s4-s5 look signifies something entirely different and even opposite from what Mike is experiencing between the two seasons. Will doesn't exhibit a significant change in aesthetics between the first three seasons and s4. He is still rocking the infamous bowlcut lmao, he still dresses quite softly and boyishly, and the way in which he presents himself makes no obvious effort to deviate from what he's always been doing this whole time. That's because unlike Mike's journey, Will's journey isn't really about self-discovery or figuring out how he wants to present himself to the world. He has known that he is gay his entire life, and he has never had much of a choice regarding how he gets to present himself, since his very personality, mannerisms, and essence seem to betray the fact that he is queer to everyone around him. Season 4 is just him doing more of the same--being queer, being himself, and being in love with Mike--albeit with a bit more confidence than he may have had before, as he painted a picture for Mike and was even planning on giving it to him. Will knows who he is and accepts who he is. He just doesn't want to do that at the expense of others, since he's so selfless. He's willing to be queer and be in love with Mike as much as he is able to without coming between Mike and El or inconveniencing those around him.

But whereas Mike's s5 look indicates invisibility and being drawn back into conformity, Will's s5 look indicates the exact opposite. While Mike may be growing more and more invisible and less comfortable with his queerness come s5, Will is fully blossoming into it and accepting it and wearing it as a badge of honor. This is a true "coming-of-age" look for Will. He is not exchanging who he is for some more macho or masculine version of himself, but he is also refusing to carry around the "weak" and "childish" attributes that people have always ascribed to him just because of his queerness. He is quite literally shedding his childishness and figuring out not what it means to be a visibly queer man, because he's always understood that, but what it means to be HIMSELF as an ADULT. What it means to be a Will Byers who is no longer a frightened, traumatized child but a Will Byers who is fully grown, capable, and confident. And this makes perfect sense as a representation of what the character of Will Byers is all about, which is queer overcoming, queer triumph, and queer victory.

These looks for Mike and Will are so perfect because of what they represent both for what Mike and Will are going to experience in s5 as well as what themes their characters are exploring overall throughout the entire series. Mike Wheeler is an exploration of what it means to be a queer man whose experience gets overlooked and ignored; someone who is expected to perfectly uphold the status quo simply because of how they present themselves externally. Will Byers is an exploration of what it means to know yourself and embrace yourself as a queer person who has been ostracized since childhood; of what it means to grown into a proud queer adult.

#byler #byler is endgame #byler analysis #mike wheeler #will byers #mike wheeler is gay #gay mike wheeler #mike wheeler is a boykisser #mike wheeler is in love with will byers #byler is canon #byler angst #byler brainrot #byler headcanons #stranger things #st5 #st5 speculation #st5 analysis #mike wheeler analysis #will byers analysis

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dungeonpuppykai · 3 months

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hii i do know if youre taking requests or anything but i was wondering if you could write a dark!bucky x reader fic where the kidnapping is already established and all and she finds herself giving in to bucky and it sorta shocks bucky as well, mostly soft dark bucky and comfort/fluff but dark? does this make sense

I don't really do requests only because I've danced that dance many times and failed at it every single time. Though I do like to do an interesting scenario here and there since I am a pleaser hehe 🩷

Also, I am so, so, so sorry that this is so late. I enjoy this as a hobby and my university slams me hard so I only write when I have the time and energy. I really hope you see this 🩷

And hope you like it still <3

Warning(s): Dark!Bucky, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, fluff, comfort.

Bucky was past Hydra but the life was all the same.

He worked for a private company that paid top dollar for his expertise now.

You had been in his sight for a long time before he made a move on you.

You had caught his eye almost right after he had broken free.

Since you used to volunteer at the town library and he would come to find some semblance of his time there among the old books, getting lost for hours on end in the corner dedicated to his time.

That with the smell of your perfume whenever you would walk by was an almost euphoric experience for him.

Every day, every time.

And then Bucky knew, he had to have you.

It had been a very cliche bumping into each other.

Or at least on his part.

Maybe you had done it on purpose to try and make conversation with the handsome man who came by everyday.

Bucky had gone into a trance for a few moments when he had made eye contact with you for the first time.

The world had shut down.

And you were the only sound, the only light, the only life.

He had stopped coming after that day.

Unbeknownst to you, the man had decided he could not afford to mess this up.

You were too sweet, too kind, too nice, too pretty, too perfect and completely out of his league.

He devised a perfect plan.

And plucked you from society like a rose from a garden.

His rose.

Could you blame him?

You seemed to like him plenty so what other reaction could you possibly have than that of delight and gratitude after waking up in the humble house his mysterious company had built for him into the heart of a forest of his choice?

Anyways.

It had been a long time since all that bitter business.

You were past the tears, begging, running, denying and fighting.

The man had a literal metal arm, what were you compared to pure muscle and raw strength?

You bit your lip as you forced yourself to push the silly thoughts of escape away, dabbing the disinfectant one last time on Bucky's injured shoulder that you had patched up.

Was it right? Did you do something wrong?

You had no idea.

But every time you tried to suggest he see a doctor for his wounds every other time he was back from a job, all he ever responded to the proposition with was a sharp 'no doctors'.

"Y- You…" Sighing to yourself in defeat, you moved to the smaller scratches and cuts now.

The man only looked up at you from his position on the kitchen chair as you stood between his legs.

"You… should be careful out there, you know…" A grunt left you when you caught sight of a soft smile on his lips.

"I mean, I don't know what the fuck this place is and how to navigate it so I don't wanna die of starvation just because you weren't careful" though your words amused him, he grabbed your chin nevertheless, clicking his tongue.

"Language…" You rolled your eyes though only after you looked down because the habit had landed you in trouble with him one too many times.

Because good girls don't use vulgar language.

He was so old fashioned it was weird.

"Sorry… sir" you forced out through your teeth, very well aware of what would become of you if you didn't follow the rules and apologize straight away.

"Good girl" the condescending pat on the top of your head was heavy due to his strength as you went about the rest of his injuries.

The both of you lost track of time.

Bucky noticed it before you did.

The usual stiffness of your shoulders, the tension in your jaw, the tension in your hands was barely noticeable.

Genuine concern had overshadowed the usual disdain when he had stumbled in today.

Well, he had been gone for days before that.

You were also extra careful with making sure every little graze was addressed today unlike before where he had to practically threaten or manipulate you into doing it.

After you had put everything away and washed your hands, you walked slowly to him before stopping in front of him.

"You're not allowed to go MIA again" you spoke with your chin held high, as though you had any say in this house.

The slight raise of Bucky's eyebrow almost made you falter but the small smile that soon tugged at his lips eased you back down.

Maybe this was the way.

Letting out a defiant exhale through your nose you crossed your arms over your chest, "I've heard hamburgers are best served hot…"

He had told you that.

You did not have to look over your shoulder to know that his smile deepened.

Maybe you had cooked them and waited for him by the door everyday these past few days.

But he didn't have to know that.

Bucky groaned to himself as he pushed his body up and slowly followed you.

Maybe this was the start of something good.

Or…

It didn't matter though. Bucky sighed as he circled his arms around your waist from behind while you served the food.

Perching his chin on your shoulder, he let his eyes flutter close as he inhaled your scent.

You smelled like home.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Whatever you will choose to do with this, Bucky decided, won't change anything.

Because the fact of the matter was, you were his and you didn't have a choice.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes comfort #dark bucky barnes #dark bucky x reader #dark bucky x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #falcon and the winter soldier #bucky fanfic

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buns0fst33l · 3 months

Note

big burly cod boys with strength kink reader?

COD Men Headcanons

—— 141 Boys with strength kink reader! ——

I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure who you wanted me to include, so I started with the basics! If you’d like me to add anyone, just let me know!!!

Not proofread bc I do not have time for that

- Ghost -

- 100% notices you trying to be subtle about your staring when he lifts heavy things. You can’t see it, but he’s smirking and watching you in his periphery.

- Won’t offer to help you pick up/move heavy things. he makes you ask for help or waits until you’ve tried to do it yourself just so he can watch you struggle. Maybe it’s mean, but you’re cute when you need his help. And you’ve gotta build up those muscles somehow, yeah?

- Finds excuses to show you how to get out of certain holds during sparring lessons. Like he will ask for your wrists and when you hold them out, he grasps your forearms with those huge warm callused hands. “What will you do now?” His tone is authoritative and professional, but his eyes are absolutely boring into yours. He’s teasing you.

-…….His grip is fucking iron and he doesn’t squeeze or hurt your arms, but you almost get nervous when you realize he is way stronger than you thought.

- All of your physical strength = Nothing to him.

— Soap —

- finds excuses to take his shirt off in front of you as soon as he notices you blushing at his stupid biceps. It’s kinda warm out. He needs to chop wood. Forgot his shirt when he went to the shower and for some reason took the long way to pass by you. You know, normal reasons people take their shirts off in front of other people.

- finds excuses to ask you for hugs while he is shirtless. he is also usually sweaty as fuck from whatever excuse he had to take the shirt off, whether you like it or not.

- all your arm strength pushing against his torso does nothing to stop the puppy like-enthusiasm with which the wall of sweaty, bulging muscle gathers you up.

— Gaz —

- Thinks it’s cute. Super cute. He smiles like it’s cute too, you can feel the adoration.

- Makes subtle remarks to tease you all the fucking time. “Do I have something on my shirt?” He knows he doesn’t. he just wants you to explain why you’re staring at his chest.

- won’t even ask if you want help when he notices you struggling to hold or lift something. He just walks over and takes it from you and when you look at him to protest, he flashes a charming grin and a little wink. That’s usually enough to shut you up.

- asks you for advice on what to wear even though his fashion sense is impeccable for a military man. “Yeah, that looks fit. Good choice,” he praises you and proudly flaunts what you’ve chosen like a peacock.

— Price —

- Stares right back when he catches you looking. Holds the stare until long after you’ve scurried away, his smug gaze burning holes into the back of your skull.

- “Like what you see, my dear?” With a little chuckle and raised brows.

- Crowds you more than necessary when speaking. almost cages you in with his body. Speaks more quietly and calmly when you’re being blushy. Makes more eye contact.

- “can I help you with that?” He asks. But he’s not asking. So if you say no, if you say you’ve got it, he’s clicking his tongue at you and gently prying it from your hands with a look that leaves zero room for argument. You just thank him and he hums because now he’s satisfied.

✨Please like or reblog if you enjoyed, I thrive off of approval✨

#cod headcanons #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #john price #headcanons #soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #gaz garrick #strength #cod x reader #task force 141 #141 headcanons #codmenheadcanons #johnny soap mactavish

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itstheghostofmypast · 2 months

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MOOT GAME: " make up a trope for your moots and their biases. doesn’t need to be romantic. can be crackfic/funny/anything you want ^ㅇ(๑>◡<๑)ㅇ^ "

Okay- so, first of all, thank you so much Anon, for this ask and I'm sorry I responded to late, but I had to take my time with this one.😭💖.

So here it goes, (i know i said i'd do two biases, im sorry guys, i love yall too much and i get too invested the word count was killing me)

1) @edenesth

Park Seonghwa- Rivals to Lovers

Here me out, he owns an old book shop across the street, he's been there longer than you too. This was his turf, his town, his people, people who loved to read in his cozy library, with its olden print books, worn out pages, read through by generations of the same family.

All was great until one spring she shows up, with her whole pastel plus minimalistic vibes, all with the cutesy trinkets and plants, with warm lights- he noticed some books too, but they were only for show- in conclusion it was a horrid place.

A horrid place where most teens would go to after school now, no longer going to his bookshop, where they'd gossip, read novels or mangas, or even look at pretty pictured magazines (the safe kind, mind you he kept nothing nasty). What's worse was that the older folk began to go there, too! Especially because of how nice she was to them, so polite and so pretty and - ANNOYING.

He even went to 'inspect' the place, with a sour mood and an ill intention, though he was greeted with a burst of sweet aroma, one that had his stomach growling and his inner foodie, begging him to pick at least one of the many pastries or have a cup of steaming, delicious coffee. What came next was worst, her, with her gentle smile and angelic features.

"Hello! Welcome to Spring Avenue, how may we help you today?"

"You're taking my traffic."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Of course you don't."

With that he had walked out, starting a cold war, between the two. Ironically, she was a pacifist, never a fighter, but boy, did he piss her off, he knew all those buttons that would have her steaming like a hot latte.

The war had begun;

It all began when he put a " 10% off sign on Mangas, Fashion Magazines and Manhwas" that took a god chunk of her traffic.

In retaliation, she launched a "Friendship campaign, any customer that brings a friend gets a cake slice free."

Spend 2 hours reading here and leave with a borrowed book/novel of your choice."

"Buy a coffee and get a cookie free."

This continued throughout the season, so did their rivalry, to an extent that led their divided customers sense the tension. And like usual, highschoolers are escapists and this little feud of Seonghwa and her's was a problem they'd like to avoid, from her cafe they could see their beloved bookshop owner Seonghwa scowl at them, and if they were leaving the bookshop, the kids could feel the uneasiness in her smile that she give them once they'd pass her by.

"Congratulations, you're in loss." She sighed, closing the file, earning a scowl from the cafe owner, "Hey, I'm just here to check your bills, loss, and profit stuff, don't shoot the messenger."

"Alexia, come on." She whined, this was her dream, she'd put in her life's savings for this, "What should I do, Lexi?"

"Gosh, maybe not give out stupid discounts four times in a month?" Alexia sighed, rubbing her face, leaning back to stare at the bookshop across the street, "San said he knows the owner, maybe you guys could do a collab, instead of trying to each other's traffic."

"Who's San?" She asked her best friend, slash account manager and Public Relations officer- wait, was she dating!?

"Oh- uh- hey would you look at the time?" Alexia got up, grabbing her disposable coffee cup and bag, "Tell you what, you ask the bookshop owner dude about this? Okay? I'll get back with the details on Monday!" She called out as she walked towards the door, ignoring the cafe owner's questions about this San, "BYE LOVE YOU!"

That's how she found herself standing Infront of his bookshop that evening, still debating if she should go in or not? Was this idea even worth it, the guy was rude, annoying, stupid, incredibly handsome and sweet with kids and- the hell.

"Can I help you?" His deep voice came out of no where

She almost jumped out of her skin, only to turn around and spot the man she had been hating for the past ten months, standing there in all his angleic glory, with that ugly sweater and that overly comfortable scarf, not to mention his hair, his undercut had grown, quiet well too, perhaps he really was blessed with good genes.

"I uh..." she trailed off, pouting to herself, thinking of how he'd react, maybe he would make fun of her, or insult her or even go as far as to tell the town about her poor business management skills.

"Are you still open?" his question had caught her off guard, staring at him quietly wanting to see if this was a trick, only it wasn't, for when she nodded, he had looked around and then asked if he could...get a cup of coffee from there.

Of course she had said yes, why on earth would she say no to a customer, she needed the business. Unfortunately, that one cup of coffee, turned into two, then three, well- not as unfortunate as she would like it to be.

The two, mind you, who still didnt like each other, began to learn a lot about each other. He learnt how she was genuinely a sweet, caring and gentle person, her persona was indeed not fake but very real, this is who she was. She on the other hand, learned that he had inherited this business from his family, and he was an avid reader- sort a geek, a cute geek, a cute geek that could eat a whole chocolate cake with three mugs off coffee like it was nothing.

It wasn't until the third week of him visiting her cafe, that when he had stepped out to go there, he had bumped into her. She had almost fallen, but he was quick, gripping her wrist and pulling her into his chest, only to laugh when she mumbled an excuse, though he was glad she couldn't hear how his heart was hammering against his chest, wanting to stuff itself in the breast pocket of her coat.

That day she had asked him if she could check out his book shop, because she had been looking for old English bakery recipes and she couldn't find it anywhere, not any store around or online. Of course he had taken her to the right isle, in the right section in no time, this bookshop was his life and collecting and sifting through books was his passion, that day he had seen her passion, she had sat there, on the floor the entire night, reading book after book, mumbling to herself as she noted down recipes. He had sat next to her, helping her jot down notes, bringing her coffee- well not as good as hers, but good enough. At one point he had even ordered them a late night snack, well snacks, because he's a growing boy. He had closed the shop with the two inside, even pulled out a blanket and some cushions from the lounging area so she could comfortably work- she was a passionate girl and ironically he had realised something that night, only it turned into a full blown epiphany in the morning.

Next morning she had woken up right next to him, her head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her as the blanket was draped over the two, they had fallen asleep while reading- oh my, he really was pretty up close.

Though the two pretended nothing had happened, nothing had changed, however, everyone around them had noticed, the highschoolers would giggle when he'd come to her cafe for a cup of coffee, or how the older folk would pat him on the back when she'd step into the bookshop calling him out for help, with her little, "Hwa?"

Neither really knew how it happened, but one night while closing up he had waited outside for her, telling her he'd drop her home, even though she lived close by. Slowly this had become part of their routine, he'd often talk about the latest manga or an issue to the Star Wars comics or whatever on earth he'd talk about, but she'd always listen. Always smile and laugh at his jokes, while he'd readily accept any test recipes she'd try, telling her that his stomach was like a blackhole.

But when do the two get together? Simple, on New Years Eve, when he had to close his shop but she had decided to leave her cafe open, wanting to cater to all those who were celebrating the arrival of the new year with their loved ones, she knew Seonghwa had to go home anyway and she didn't want to spend the night alone since her family was out of town. What she did not expect was a few minutes before the strike of midnight, the cafe door chimed open as she turned to greet the customer, only to freeze at the sight before her- Seonghwa entering with a bouqet of origami flowers, smiling at her as he slowly walked to her;

"I- I know you don't like plucking flowers or bouqets, so I made you these."

"You...made these?"

"Ofcourse."

"W-why?"

"I...because I..." but before he could finish his sentence his ears picked up the count down, causing him to quickly place the flowers on the counter and as soon as the fireworks rang in her ears, it was as if she could feel the burning warmth in her body, taking a second to process how his lips were on hers, his hands cupping her face as her hands instinctively went up to grip his coat, pulling him even closer. Who knew that one day she'll end up opening a cafe that also served as a bookstore, who knew that one day, her little, evil, handsome rival bookseller, would be the New Year's kiss she never knew she needed, the man she never knew she needed, the lover that she was blessed to have.

2) @yessa-vie

Jeong Yunho- Neighbors to Lovers

No, she was not the new tenant, he was, and for some ungodly reason he was also extremely ill-prepared to live alone. Like any other weekend, she was leaving her apartment to go to the cafe to sit in peace and finish her novel, but God had other plans. She had opened the door to come face to face with a tall, good-looking man, though the smile he wore scared her- he was one of those extroverts.

No, he was not mean at all, nor was he the manipulative kind, Jeong Yunho really didn't know how the pre-installed dishwasher worked, that's why he had come to her that fateful weekend, about to knock on the door but she had beat him to it, opening the door before he could, earning a sheepish smile in return- who knew his neighbour would be so gorgeous, who knew purple could look so good on someone?

"Hey, I- I moved in across the hall, apartment 19, lol, I guess we're neighbours, huh?"

She had only nodded meekly at his question, pulling her satchel closer to her person, not because she didn't like him, no, but because she wasn't much of a talker anymore, not so confident either and also- because regardless of how good looking this stranger was, he was still a stranger.

"I'm Yunho- Sorry to bother you, I know you must be going somewhere, but I- I uh- I wanted to know if you know how to operate the dishwasher?"

That's how she found herself in his apartment, leaving the maindoor wide open, so she could escape if something were to happen, but to her surprise he was just a regular idiot, one who thought the dishwasher was a rack used to dry the dishes- men.

That night Yunho met an angel, one who seemingly had her life planned out, held together well, while he was still trying to build something out of his- data analyst or not, living alone was not the easiest thing to do, yet, she seemed so nonchalant about it.

Overtime however, she noticed how he would come over to ask her for help often, sometimes it was the 'fridge isn't working right' other times it was the 'how much water do you add to rice while boiling it?' Honestly, she would've told him to piss off if it were anyone else, but it was her polite neighbour, her sweet polite, new neighbour who would pass her by in the corridor every morning, smiling at her and wishing her a good morning- even if she wasn't a morning person.

Ironically, he continued to ensure they cross paths, only because he wanted to get to know her, to talk to her, he really needed a friend, and since moving here meant Mingi and him could no longer hang out 24/7, he really needed another person to talk to, someone who was not Hongjoong from the finance department.

Ironically, she did not protest or tell him to get lost, instead she's quietly help him whenever he'd approach her, giving him a shy smile then going back to her apartment. That purple door tempting him to go back and knock on the old wood, wanting to know what Narnia like secrets she hid behind.

She let it be, truthfully, she wanted fo befriended him, but during these little adventures, she realised she had begun to neglect her book, the same book she had a deadline for, the same book she had been working on day and night, and now this puppy pops up and takes all her attention?

So what does she do? Simple, she starts to create some form of distance, leave before he'd be awake, come back home later too, also even if he did come to knock on her purple door, she wouldn't be there to answer it, so technically she wouldn't feel guilty right?

Wrong, instead God had punished her with a severe writer's block, one so bad that she had missed two of her deadlines, and according to her publisher, she was on her last chance. That's how she found herself at the very cafe where she would find solace, now on the verge of tears, staring at the laptop in pure agony, maybe this was payback for leaving him unattended and ignoring him or maybe she was never meant to be a writer.

A fresh cup of coffee was placed next to her hand, causing her to quickly pull back and look at the stranger, only her panicked eyes met a softer, more timid gaze, a gentle smile gracing her presence.

"Hey... you looked like you needed the juice." He smiled, gesturing towards the chair, as if asking for permission to sit down next to her, to which she nodded.

"I uh..." she paused. Should she even be asking him how he's been? Does she have the right to do so, or are they just neighbours- well, at this point, two strangers living across each other.

"I read your books by the way," he began, giving her a gentle smile, as he felt the way she had tensed up, honestly, initially he thought she was like that because his presence made her uncomfortable, but he soon realised it wasn't him, but she usually was this tensed all the time, this nervous and unsure, which made no sense to him because she was one of the most well functioning person he had met in the city, and he was glad to have moved in next to her, "It's great, the plotline is amazing and the details- you really captured the essence, I particularly liked the world you created, honestly, when I moved here I thought everyone wore those 'blockers' too. To not...feel stuff you know," he turned to look at her, only to catch her staring at him, a small chuckle escaping him when she cleared her throat, averting her gaze, "You were the only one who was nice enough to help me, even for the stupidest of tasks...it means a lot."

She stared at him in awe and disbelief. She had been trying to avoid him for almost a month now, couldn't he tell? Or was he just playing dumb- I mean he totally could be dumb, he didn't know a toaster comes with settings, just thought the numbers were there for the appeal.

After that the two began to "spend time together", it was strictly casual mind you, nothing personal, though he would drop by more often than usual, sometimes after work, sometimes on the weekends- to have dinner with her, he'd bring dessert, or to watch a movie with her, he'd bring the snacks- no, nothing domestic at all.

Or so they thought, because a few months in, he had come over by swinging the door open, yes he had the keys and she had his keys, only to find her standing there all dressed up.

"Where are you off to? What about movie night?"

"Oh no..." she gasped, "Yuyu, I forgot to tell you I had a date tonight." A date? Why? With whom?

"Wait, why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"Why would you go on a date when we- I mean...isn't it weird? Shouldn't you be more focused on your book, instead of this temporary romance?"

"Temporary romance?!"

"W-wait, I didn't mean it like that. It came out wrong-"

"Out."

"W-what?"

"I said get out!"

That happened a week ago, she had been avoiding him for a whole week, she had been ignoring his calls, his texts, his knocks- no he didn't barge into her apartment, it took him a great amount of time to get her to open up to him and he idiotically clowned himself. So he decided to go to the next thing, go to the official reading of her book launch.

He waited there at the back, listening to her intently, taking in each word, who knew he would ever fall in love with, her neighbour, the same girl who had helped with the dishwasher, brought him dinner at night, spent time teaching him the usual ropes of living alone- who knew the very same girl had changed the plot of the book, basing it on her life, expressing how the shy, depressed protagonist, who thought dying her hair purple would make her feel better, realised that the only thing that would make her feel better would be a companion, a tall, handsome man, with a heart of gold- it was not that she needed a man, no, she just needed a friend, and she had finally found one, the inspiration to her writer's block, the Chandler to her Monica, the- HE DIES!?

He gasped, appalled at the way she had ended the story, where at the end, on his deathbed the man tells his beloved how she never needed him, but he needed her to function, to live through each day- bloody hell.

He waited for them to leave when he finally approached her, somewhat upset-no, he was very upset, as she stopped cleaning up to look at him, raising a questioning brow, "What?"

"I can't believe you!"

"Funny, Jeong, I should be the one saying that."

"What!? You killed me!?"

"What?"

"I come here to declare my undying love- no I come here to tell you how much you mean to me and apologise for never asking you out but getting upset when someone actually asked you out and you KILL ME IN YOUR NOVE?"

"First of all, I accept your apology, secondly, the protagonist was DEFINITELY NOT YOU, I made him up WAY BEFORE I met you."

"Oh..." he stared at her then looked around the almost empty bookshop, maybe he should just leave-

"So...Will you ask me out properly now or...'l"

"Move in with me."

"Too fast."

"Was worth a shot." He smiled when she let out a small laugh shaking her head at his antics, "Take me to dinner, Yunho." She smiled watching him lean closer then pause, as if asking for her permission, "Can I...?" His question was answered when she gripped him by the lapels of his coat, pulling him closer to crash her lips against his, smiling when he wrapped his arms around her, pulling back only to press his forehead against hers,

"We move into my apartment..."

"What? Mine's great-"

"Yunho, have you seen the window and the balcony on mine?"

"Your apartment it is boss."

3) @jaehunnyy

Choi San- Bestfriends to Lovers

Idiots, these two were complete idiots who were utterly in love with each other but were also too blind to realise that - why? Simple, because both feared that confessing to the other may ruin the long-held, deep bond.

A bond that had developed at the ripe age of childhood, middle school, to be more accurate. The day he had come to school, bored out of his mind, staring outside the window, wondering if he could jump on the closest tree to escape this prison. What he had not expected was an angel to come and sit beside him, well technically, the teacher had made her sit next to him, and he hadn't noticed her until she poked his shoulder lighter, causing him to jerk back and gasp, earning a few chuckles from the glass as the teacher just sighed in defeat.

"Wh-Hello."

"Do you need help with that?" She asked, pointing at the math equation in front of him. He looked at his notebook and remembered that's what they were supposed to me doing- damn that was a lot of daydreaming.

"Yeah, I guess...do you... know how to solve it?" He asked the new girl, too afraid to make eyecontact.

"Here, I'll show you." Turning to face him, she pulled his scribbled notebook closer.

"I'm San by the way."

That day onwards, a nice and quiet introvert at the back of the class finally began to crack open. From time to time, you'd hear him whispering to her, talking about some anime or a film. Often, he'd be telling her about his cat, Byeol, and how pretty she was. During break you wouldn't see San next to her for the first five minutes, no, he'd be sprinting across the campus,jumping down the stairs to go to the canteen to get her something to drink with her lunch, or a sweet snack, regardless of how many times she'd say 'it's fine.' During self study hours, she wouldn't be studying, no, she'd be busy tutoring her athletically gifted friend, he was...a little dumb, but that's okay, he was hardworking and she'd tell him she'd help him where he'd get stuck, explain and tutor where needed- especially in math.

As they grew older, he grew into his body, his self-esteem issues slowly subsiding, his feelings for her deepening, yet, never enough to tip the scale, at the bring of an edge but never enough to flow out he had to keep it all under control, because that's just how San was, patient and calm, he would never take a step if there was an ounce of the doubt when it came to how she felt about him. Though watching her spread her wings into the beauty she was, well, was somewhat problematic for him. Especially when she'd come to him, smiling like that, greeting him with the gentle voice of hers, asking him if he liked her haircut.

"What do you think?"

"It's...very nice."

"Just very nice?"

"You'd look pretty to me even if you were bald."

Conversations like these would have her heart hammering against her ribcage, and she'd pray to God that he couldn't hear it. She'd pray for it when he'd be walking home side by side, his shoulder bumping into hers, or his hand brushing against hers, when he'd take her bag from her, clicking his tongue at how heavy it would be,

"You trynna' build muscles like me?" He'd ask, though he was still very fragile, he'd only started going to the gym when he noticed how the 'basketball team captain', had decided to ask her to 'help tutor him too', though she had politely declined.

"Hmm? Of course not, Advanced Math books are just big like that..."

"Why do you do this to yourself, dove?" A nickname she had gained over the time, one used only by him.

"Because I wanna teach one day, I love teaching, I want to make sure people realise subjects aren't difficult or they aren't dumb, it's just that they're not taught properly."

Yup, he was smitten, on his knees, begging for her please ( he was also an idiot).

Ended up in college with her, though in a different major, like hell the now 'mountain of a man', no longer the kitten-like fragile boy, was going to major in math- business was a way better option.

This wasn't a bad situation, though they rarely had a few classes together, she'd still make time to see him, to text him as soon as class would end, but he'd already be standing at the exit, waiting for her with a coffee in hand and a dimpled smile, reserved just for her.

In no means was Choi San an extrovert, but somehow along the line he had met one, who later claimed that his MBTI had changed to an introvert too, though he doubted that notion- Jung Wooyoung.

Boistorous, noisy, obnoxious but a genuinely nice person at heart, Wooyoung was his companion in his major's classes, he was also the first person to know about San's little secret, since San trusted him enough to know, though Wooyoung assured him he had figured it out as soon as San introduced him to her as his "bestfriend".

"You're an idiot." Wooyoung snorted, taking off his shoes as he walked into the 4th years tiny apartment.

"What? Why?"

"You really think I didn't know?"

"How did you kno-'

"You can be bestfriends with a girl since childhood, unless a) one of you confessed to the other and got friendzoned but still chose friendship or b) neither of you confessed but are secretly crushing over the other."

"Wow, should've been a psychologist instead of a business major."

"What can I say, Sannie? I am a man of many talents."

Things progressed like this for a long time, Wooyoung watched from the sidelines how the two would basically act like a couple that was not a couple- almost everyone at campus thought they were a couple and Wooyoung was basically the third wheel. Not that he minded, and San appreciated him for that, he was glad Wooyoung's relationship with his dove was platonic- borderline sibling-like.

But Choi San was a fool, one that Choi San, at the fresh age of 25 wished that perhaps he'd be able to take the next steps, but something at the back of his mind held him back, were his personal desires as important as this friendship?

Which is why he stood there watching his best friend get ready for her date, her date with Wooyoung. After a conversation he did not like, but what could he say? He was too afraid to even confess, and well, Wooyoung wasn't a bad guy, and technically, he was his friend.

"I'm gonna ask her out, Sannie." The brunnet sighed, before taking a sip of his coffee, humming at the bitterness, perhaps this bitterness was sweeter than the bitter taste that had developed in San's mouth at the statement.

"W-why?" The bigger man with the fragile heart whispered.

"Because...I like her...I'm sorry but...I gave you time, so much of it and...I just wanted you to be the first one to know...if she says no, we'll all still be friends, but if she says yes...San, I won't hold back."

That had led to her first anniversary with Wooyoung, then the second and finally a day before their third anniversary San had texted the couple how he wouldn't be able to make it to their anniversary party because he had work that day and he wished them the best.

What he did not expect was someone knocking on his door at 2 am, opening the door to find a tear stained Wooyoung, only for him to punch the taller man in the face, watching him stumble backwards then wipe his eyes and sigh, "I swear- if you weren't such a great guy, I would've stabbed you."

"What the F*CK WOOYOUNG?"

That night was the first time he had seen Wooyoung cry, cry about how when she read the message she had become a mess, one that even Wooyoung couldn't fix, begging him for forgiveness how she made a mistake, how even though she was happy with Wooyoung, her heart belonged to someone else, someone who she thought she could move on from since he never confessed, since he never liked her back the way she did, and though the text was a confirmation of that, she couldn't bear lying to Wooyoung, to give him only half the love of what he deserved, knowing he deserved someone who would teach him the true meaning of love, because she was a teacher with only one student in mind, the idiot of a man- Choi San.

That night San couldn't sleep, not a wink, he processed the words over and over again, so did she like him? Should he confess to her? Now? Wouldn't that make it awkward? Or should he wait? Would that be a mistake?

Though his questions were answered in the morning when the doorbell rang at 7 am, making the sleepy man sigh as he stumbled to the door with blurry eyes, opening it still half asleep, only the slap he received woke sobered him up quickly,

"OW- WH- WHY ARE YOU JUST LIKE WOOYOUNG!?"

"SHUT UP! DONT TAKE HIS NAME! I HURT HIM BECAUSE OF YOU!" Never in the many years of knowing her, had she raised her voice like that.

"I-"

"NO! LISTEN TO ME!" She yelled before shoving him inside so she could continue yelling inside, "I like you- and you- you d*ck you could tell him you liked me but you couldn't tell me!? All those horrible dates you watched me go to, but you couldn't stop me?! You knew you liked me yet you let Woo ask me out!?"

"I- I didn't wanna ruin what we had..."

"San, I- what if I had married Woo? Huh? Then what? When you already had half my heart, I-"

She couldn't finish her sentence though, because the next thing she knew, he was smothering her with all that pent up love, his lips pressing against hers with a ferocity she had ever seen in her gentle Sannie, wanting to claim what he was too scared to touch before.

He only pulled back when she lightly pushed him back, gasping for air, looking up at him all flushed and pink, her swollen lips just enticing him even more,

"W-what was that?" She breathed out.

"Never say you're marrying anyone but me, I would've ruined the wedding even if it meant being thrown out."

"You're an idiot Sannie."

"No, I just had a teacher who could teach me math, but couldn't teach me how to love properly - guess she was learning too."

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odessa-castle · 1 year

Text

I'm bouncing around a larger post about Nishiki and the mortifying ordeal of being known, but in the meantime I'm thinking about Nishiki and Kiryu and how the clothes make (or don't make) the man. Like, beyond my visceral horror that Kiryu begged Nishiki to pick out a safe and boring suit for him in Y0 and then said he was envisioning something purple with gold stripes.

I'm thinking about Nishiki's incredible sensitivity to image and his need to control how he's perceived. I'm thinking about Kiryu's inability to let go of the past. I'm thinking about how KIryu dresses like who he thinks he is, and Nishiki dresses like who he thinks he wants to be.

There's some interesting incidental dialogue between Nishiki and Kiryu in Y0 while they're en route to the men's suit store. I wish it wasn't so easy to miss, because there's a lot to unpack here. (I'm just transcribing the English in-game subtitles here; I don't speak Japanese so I have no idea how loose vs. direct the localization is in this part.)

NISHIKI: …now that I think about it, you've been dressing like an old man since we were kids. KIRYU: Have I? NISHIKI: Yeah. The few times we got to pick our clothes, it was always like, "you're choosing THAT?" NISHIKI: I wouldn't say you're a plain guy…You'd pick shirts with weird prints though. KIRYU: Guess I forgot all that. It's weirder to me that you haven't. NISHIKI: Well, confession time. You're why I started caring about fashion. I swore I'd never go out dressed like you. KIRYU: Come on, I'm not THAT bad. [we have already discussed why kiryu is, in fact, that bad.] NISHIKI: [laughing] Aww, did I hurt your feelings? NISHIKI: Well, this time you've got me with you. I'll see my bro gets taken care of. KIRYU: Heh. What an honor. NISHIKI: Leave it to me.

Nishiki doesn't bring up Sunflower Orphanage much; when he does share memories of his childhood, those memories are kind of painful (see: "do orphans not get to dream?"). Kiryu's surprised that Nishiki remembers how they dressed as kids, but it makes sense that wearing a limited selection of hand-me-downs stuck with Nishiki so strongly. His clothes announced his poverty, and they weren't even his -- he had to share them with the other orphans, so what he wore showed he belonged to yet another stigmatized group. And I'm sure people picked up on those visual signals, especially other kids. Kids can be vicious, and appearance is an easy and immediate target! We don't know for sure how young Nishiki interacted with his peers and teachers, but given what the Morning Glory kids go through in Y3 (and given, like, everything about Nishiki), he probably didn't have a great time.

Kiryu frames his childhood as poor but loving, and places much more emphasis on the latter. There might be some rose-colored glasses at work there -- let's look at the flashback where Kazama tries (and fails) to violently dissuade Kiryu and Nishiki from joining the yakuza.

KIRYU: I owe you everything, but this isn’t about that. [...] We’ve looked up to you for all this time. Your car. Your confidence… The way everybody bows to you. We idolized you. I want that life, too. Is that so wrong!?

Nishiki doesn't really speak in this flashback, but like, Kiryu uses "we" enough for us to draw some obvious conclusions about Nishiki's own motivations. That being said, I don't think Kiryu's being dishonest or disingenuous when he describes his childhood as happy, and himself as well-loved. He's not ashamed of his upbringing, and he doesn't hide where he came from. Nishiki seems to have the inverse view. It's not that he doesn't love (at least some of) the people he grew up with, but what comes up first for him is what he didn't have. He didn't have money. He didn't have respect. He didn't have a cure for his little sister. He didn't have a lot of choice, right down to the clothes he wore.

(There's a whole other essay here about why Kiryu's and Nishiki's perspectives diverge on this, but I'm trying to limit the scope of this post. Suffice to say that, while I don't think game canon gives a timeline, I do think Nishiki was a little older when his parents were killed -- old enough that he actually remembers them, at least.)

The same mindset fuels Nishiki's interest in fashion. Yeah, part of it is that he's ribbing Kiryu, but I think it goes deeper than Kiryu wearing ugly shirts. Nishiki doesn't want people to look at him and see what's missing. Fashion isn't a means of personal expression for him, really. It's a message. It's the interplay of knowledge and resources and presentation: knowing what clothes read as successful and trendy and expensive, being able to afford those things, and convincing people that your successful important outfit makes you a successful important person. And he's not wrong about the social dimensions of fashion.

NISHIKI: Try sporting a suit that runs 500 grand for once. Trust me, you’ll see the world in a whole new light. KIRYU: Fashion’s not my thing. Besides, Kazama-san never wore flashy clothes. NISHIKI: You do realize he’s the family captain, right? Number two in the whole Dojima operation? You get to that level, you can wear whatever you damn well please. But for the rest of us, “flashy” is part of the business. KIRYU: So that fancy new car you bought was just “business”. NISHIKI: Yeah, and that fancy lighter of mine, too. Which you still haven’t given back. KIRYU: You want to play the rich guy, quit being so stingy. NISHIKI: But you get what I’m saying, right? People see the expensive car, the designer jacket, and the gleam of that little Dojima pin, they pay attention. A yakuza’s only as good as his image. [...] Take your buddy today. These squeaky-clean idiots, borrowing money just to blow on tits and booze… Nobody in this town gives a crap about substance. What you see is what you get.

That's our first take on one of the major themes of the game: what does it mean to be yakuza? Again, there is truth to what Nishiki's saying here, particularly in terms of the ethos of the eighties. I'm not an expert on the bubble era, but the worldbuilding in the game speaks for itself. People hail taxis with 10,000-yen bills. You punch money out of punks during random street battles. Nishiki keeps a personal bottle of high-end booze at a bar he's visited twice, mostly because he "can’t stand being taken for a bum." The act of spending is important, not what you're spending it on.

Nishiki's outfit in Y0 is perfectly suited (heh) to that outlook. And look, I might be inviting controversy here, but in context, I think it's a werq. Yes, it's loud. But the silhouette -- squared shoulders, single breasted, thinner peaked lapel -- is right on trend for the time period, and it fits him well. The colors look good on him. The bold pattern (no, it's not animal print) under the solid maroon is a risk, but he pulls it off. And excess aside, he knows when to pull back on the accessories. It's bright and confident and memorable, and boy would Nishiki like to be all of those things.

Also -- and importantly -- Kiryu would never go out dressed like that. Because we can't talk about Nishiki and Kiryu without talking about Nishiki's Mt. Fuji-sized inferiority complex. Mastering image doesn't just make Nishiki stand out; it makes him stand out from Kiryu. Let's go back to the beginning of the game.

NISHIKI: I’ll admit, though, you’re finally starting to look the part. You make a pretty convincing yakuza. You’re done with collections today, right? KIRYU: Yeah. NISHIKI: Good. That should put Kazama-san’s mind at ease a bit. KIRYU: Heh, dunno about that. But he always knew all I could do is fight. You’re the one who’s good at the dance.

Nishiki then calls attention to the "rags" that Kiryu's wearing, which...is not an unfair assessment. (TUCK IN YOUR SHIRT, KIRYU. HEM YOUR PANTS.) As the two of them walk around Kamurocho, Nishiki offers Kiryu plenty of hot tips, from meeting girls to making big bucks to cozying up to the brass. But even when Nishiki's opining on his area of expertise, there's a competitive edge to it. "You asking me to pick out clothes for you means you admit you have terrible taste," he tells Kiryu on the way to the suit shop. Kiryu tells him to shut up, but there's no actual hurt behind it. Kiryu doesn't really care that his taste in clothes sucks. Fashion isn't important to him. Most of the things Nishiki knows so much about don't really matter to Kiryu. And that makes Nishiki feel more insecure! Because if Kiryu rolls out of bed looking like a yakuza, if Nishiki's image counseling sessions aren't helpful or meaningful, if Kiryu can skip the dance and get to the top on the strength of his fists and convictions, then who cares about Nishiki's 500 grand suit or his hourlong hair care routine? If image isn't what makes a yakuza, what does that make Nishiki?

At the end of Chapter 6, Nishiki tries to look out for Kiryu again -- this time, by granting him a merciful death before the Dojima Family drags him to the Hole. It's one of my favorite scenes in the game. Nishiki's crying too hard to aim the gun properly; Kiryu tells him to man up and shoot. Finally, Nishiki collapses.

NISHIKI: Can’t do it… How could I shoot you!? Without you, I’ll always be nothing. Can’t make it as a yakuza… No. I wouldn’t even still be alive now if I didn’t have you beside me! I’m just… If you’re not with me, I’m useless! Nothing means anything!

Mastering image hasn't granted Nishiki anything of substance. At the end of the day, Nishiki's playing dress-up, and he knows it.

And I'm almost certainly getting into overthinking-this territory now (if I haven't gotten there already), but I kind of like the spin this puts on Nishiki ripping his expensive suit off in Chapter 14 when he decides to fight the Dojima Family at Kiryu's side. Like yes, ripping off your outer layers to get at the naked (so to speak) truth -- your irezumi, and what it represents -- is just Yakuza Storytelling 101. It's decisive, it's kind of dumb, it's great, it gets me hyped every time. But I like that Nishiki's honest answer to "what does it mean to be a yakuza?" isn't about looking the part. I am genuinely trying not to end this paragraph by saying that Nishiki must become like a dragon, but like...you get where I'm going with this.

Of course, Nishiki's back to playing dress-up in Y1/Kiwami. I'm not the first to call the Patriarch Nishikiyama look a glow-down (though I like the patterned white tie). Like, fashion-conscious Nishiki would look good in a Hedi Slimane/Tom Ford-esque skinny black suit. But he picks a silhouette you'd expect to see on a much older man, torso-swallowing pants and all. The slicked-back hair doesn't help. He's just so transparently trying to look bigger and broader and older, and he doesn't pull it off. Big Bad Patriarch isn't a good look for him, in any sense of the phrase.

A final thought: Kiryu's clothes, and Nishiki's commentary on them, are the subject of their first conversation in Y0 -- and of their last. Kiryu's costume progression in Y0 is a pretty obvious commentary on his journey, to the point where Kiryu and Nishiki explicitly call attention to the color connotations in their final exchange. As a Dojima grunt, he wears black, and it doesn't look good on him because "brutish thug who keeps his head down and does what he's told" isn't a role he's comfortable with. He wears white when he works in real estate, but the change in color isn't enough to sell anyone on his transformation into a civilian. Although it's a little rich for Oda "Red Clown Shoes" Jun to chide someone for not wearing a proper suit. At the end of the game, Kiryu's in his classic grey suit, and well, the game spells it out:

KIRYU: I’m not feeling black or white these days. This is where I’m at right now. I chose it myself. I’m making it a fresh start. NISHIKI: Fine, fine. See if I care! Wear it the rest of your life!

Nishiki, dismayed, tells Kiryu that the grey suit already looks dated, but for Kiryu, "fresh start" doesn't mean "on trend". His image might be out of step with how other yakuza view themselves, or want to be seen, but if he's always going to look like a yakuza, he might as well stake his claim on what being a yakuza means. Still, it's telling that, even as a young man, Kiryu looks like a throwback to an earlier era. As the series progresses, the games hammer this home more and more. How many antagonists tell Kiryu that he's out of touch with the modern world, that he represents a version of the yakuza that no longer exists, that it's time for him to make way for the next generation?

"Wear it the rest of your life!" is a funny little in-joke, yeah, but...it's a little sad when you think about it, isn't it? Kiryu gets new outfits from Y3 on -- and in every game, he ultimately puts the suit back on and heads to Kamurocho. It's exactly of a piece with how Kiryu views being yakuza. We, and he, can debate the exact extent of his retirement from the Tojo Clan's affairs, but the yakuza isn't a career for Kiryu, it's a set of beliefs he carries with him. He wears the suit the same way he wears the dragon on his back: as an indelible part of his self-image.

#yakuza #ryu ga gotoku #yakuza meta #kiryu kazuma #nishikiyama akira #kazuma kiryu #akira nishikiyama #i've been poking at this thing intermittently for months but a certain tournament really got my mental gears going again #yakuza's just really fun to put under a microscope #i'm interested in the way the games do things even when i don't like what they do #(although to be clear i *do* generally like how rgg dresses its cast)#(even the outfits i make fun of are usually like...coherently delivering a statement about the character wearing them)#genuinely did not think i'd spend so much time writing this but hey #maybe i'll do these kinds of posts more than like...biannually...if they're sufficiently interesting #meta

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its-vannah · 1 year

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Being in a relationship with Warren Rojas | Headcannons/Timeline

A/N: Sorry the GIF is so small lmao. Bit of angst in this one but it's got a happy ending, mentions death

Daisy Jones and The Six Masterlist

- You and Warren met while he was working on boats to bring in some income to stay afloat while the band was on hiatus

- You had the whole privileged rich girl going for you, never daring to break the rules and wanting to protect your image. Warren, on the other hand, strolled into his first day working high as a kite.

- He did his job well, and when you got him lunch that day, as you did everyone who was working as a treat, he jokingly asked you to marry him as he scarfed down a sandwich.

- Your mother, a famous actress, and your father, a filmmaker, owned a boat that was in need of repairs and a cleaning.

- While your parents were at work, you sat on the edge of the dock with Warren, effectively dragging out how long it took him to do his work. But he enjoyed your company.

- The two of you made out in the captains quarters a few days after meeting. If it hadn't been for you seeing your dad pull up in his car, it probably would've gone further.

- You and Warren continued to sneak sround though, whether it was in his van, at his place, on the boat, on the beach. He had to keep a somewhat low profile as the band's popularity grew, so official dates weren't really in the cards.

- Once your father found out about your relationship with the drummer, he flipped out, immediately telling your mother. The two of them sat you down and told you that you were wasting your life on a nobody.

- You told them he's not a nobody, he means everything to you.

- Giving you an ultimatum, he said it was either them or him.

- You called Warren, waking him up at around midnight asking him to pick you up at the pub by your house.

- He came to get you, no questions asked

- When you got in the car, you started crying. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his lap as you let out your frustrations.

- You told him you didn't have a family to go back to. He said "bullshit" and asked if you wanted to elope.

- Figuring it couldn't get any worse, you agreed. You walked into your parents house, who thought you had come to your senses. But you walked right past them and went to your room, fitting anything and everything you could into bags and another suitcase, loading them into Warren's van. You left without another word.

- Warren drove you to Vegas and the two of you stopped by a dingy wedding chapel. You got changed into one of your white, lace sundresses and let your hair down. Warren wore a button up, actually snapping a few of the bottom buttons to "make it more formal" and jeans.

- The two of you exchanged vows and filed for a marriage license. While you weren't technically legally married yet, you had the ceremony out of the way.

- You moved into Warren's place, separate from the band, who didn't learn about your wedding until they broke up. There were many questionable things Warren did, but he wasn't going to make the mistake of letting the press get in the way of your relationship.

- The band asked what he was going to do now that The Six was finished, and he said he was going to go home to his wife. They laughed, thinking he was joking, but he was dead serious. He didn't wear a ring on his finger. Instead, he wore it on a chain around his neck. They thought it was a fashion choice.

- Graham was the first to meet you, introducing himself to you. He was surprised to find you seven months pregnant.

- Warren was thrilled at the idea of being a dad, and later asked Graham if he'd be the godfather.

- When you gave birth to your baby girl, you decided on the name Aurora James after the band's album and James because, well, you were running out of ideas.

- Your parents reached out and tried to bribe you to come back home and raise the baby, as Warren wouldn't be "a fit husband". You refused and told them never to contact you again.

- They went to the press and revealed that you were a disappointment to the family name. Warren carried you through it, saying you had his family name now. None of that mattered anymore.

- Warren got a job renting boats out to people and made a decent living on it, on top of the money he had from his days in the band and the royalties he still earned from the albums.

- When your second daughter, Daphne, was born, you and Warren took turns taking care of the girls. When you needed extra sleep, he'd balance them each on a hip and do his zoomba workouts.

- Your third child, a boy who you named Reggie because Warren liked the way Reggie Rojas sounded, kept the two of you on your toes. He was his father made over.

- Warren eventually sold his business, not before buying one of his own, and made millions off of it. The two of you sailed around the world after your kids left for college. Or, in Reggie's case, to pursue music.

- Warren passed before you did, which broke your heart. You continued sailing, staying closer to home and not going too far out in his memory, letting the breeze take you in the right direction.

- You attended his posthumous induction into the Rock Hall of Fame with your children and grandchildren. You also witnessed your son being inducted before your ultimate death a few years later.

#daisy jones #daisy jones and the six fanfic #daisy jones fanfic #daisy jones & the six #daisy jones and the six #dj&ts #djats #warrenrojas #warrenrhodes #warren rojas #warren rhodes #warren rhodes x reader #warren rojas x reader

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specialagentartemis · 7 months

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Fics about SecUnit 3 to Read Before We Get All Our Headcanons Jossed

Three! SecUnit 3! System Collapse comes out in one week and it seems like Three will feature prominently!

Three has been the subject of so much speculation and fascination for the fandom. We have a lot of different ideas about who it may become and who it might want to be.

Before all of that gets debunked by the new book, here's a rec list and roundup of some of the excellent fics that center Three!

Ficlets About Three and Murderbot Figuring Out How To Interact With Each Other

"Feedlog" by OnlyAll0Saw. 599 words. NR, Multi.

ART is a bit of a bully on the feed. MB is having none of it.

A well-done codefic that imagines the rocky early days of Murderbot, Three, and ART all figuring out how to get along with each other.

"Murder Mode Modules" by FlipSpring. 948 words. G, Gen.

3 what the fuck is ‘Murder Mode Modules, Do Not Touch Except For Situations That Necessitate Lots Of Murder?'

Hilarious, great voice, and surprisingly emotional for such a short space and silly tone :') Two excellent podfics!

"Real Things" by ArtemisTheHuntress. 715 words. G, Gen.

Three admits that it doesn't understand the appeal of fictional media.

This one's mine :) Murderbot and Three discuss media. There's a podfic!

Meatier One-Shots about Three Contemplating Its Identity, Who It Is, And What It Wants Now

"pink and green" by CompletelyDifferent. 5,100 words. G, Gen.

During a diplomatic trip to the university's home system to better establish the newly-formed treaty with the Preservation Alliance, Three tries to figure out who it is. Between exploring new hobbies and its sense of fashion, it attempts to figure out what its relationship with Murderbot 1.0 is, precisely. (Murderbot 1.0 ignores this, until it doesn't).

Hot Springs Episode! CompletelyDifferent @elexuscal writes character interactions SO well.

"Uncatalogued and Uncategorized" by lick. 3,033 words. G, Gen.

SecUnit 3 discovers that a hot shower is a good place to work out tangled thoughts.

I loooove this one and return to it regularly. The introspectio makes it a fantastic balance of character study, past trauma, and total confusion of what to do now with itself and its life. Includes a podfic by the author!

"Unacceptable Topics of Conversation" by lick. 4,500 words. Teen & Up, Gen.

Murderbot gives SecUnit 3 a haircut. They discuss the governor module.

lick does it again! The feelings are so fraught, the conversation held so gingerly.

Long, Plot-Heavy Stories About Three Finding Itself In The Universe

"Heuristic Analysis" by thefourthvine. 11,000 words. G, Gen.

Three makes some choices.

Three travels to Mihira with ART and its crew, gets involved in an AI Rights related mystery, and, as advertised, makes some choices. Well-written with some interesting worldbuilding concepts about the Pansystem University of Mihira and New Tideland!

"Seeking Safety" by petwheel. 57,000 words. Teen & Up, Gen.

Three assumes a new identity on Preservation, only to discover someone wants to kill it. To figure out who and why, Three has to delve into secrets from Preservation's past.

A plotty mystery, suspenseful and extremely creative, with some bold and unique takes on Preservation's history - and how Three can fit in.

"Function" by FigOwl. 65,000 words. Teen & Up, Gen.

"I have worked assignments solo before, and I have gotten used to the absences of SecUnit 01 and SecUnit 02. But I have not reconciled myself to the absence of Murderbot 2.0, though I know it is not logical. 2.0 made its choices, and fulfilled its purpose perfectly, and it seemed satisfied with that. I wish that I had any amount of such certainty and resolve." The continuing adventures of SecUnit03. How does a newly freed SecUnit make sense of everything without having consumed 35,000 hours of media for context?

Three goes off on its own self-actualization adventure after Network Effect.

Three On Preservation

"words left behind" by torpidgilliver. 4,400 words. G, Gen.

"How do you stand it?" Dr. Gurathin's tone is slow and even when he asks, "Stand what?" - SecUnit 3 shares its feelings with someone who might understand.

Three meets Gurathin. Also, a cat. Delightfully soft and gently sad.

"Social Competition" by scheidswrites. 2,100 words. G. Gen.

It's been a while since the last attempted murder/kidnapping, and life is good. Everyone is gathered for a celebration on the Mensah Family Farm. The rogue SecUnits invent a new sport. Drs Mensah, Gurathin, and Overse talk about work on their day off.

SecUnit sports! Murderbot and Three bonding without being too awkward about it! I love this.

"The Tree That Owns Itself" by BoldlyNo. 865 words. G, Gen.

There is a tree in the FirstLanding University Botanical Gardens that Murderbot is not thrilled about.

Murderbot and Three have conflicting feelings about a tree.

Miscellaneous But Also Worth Highlighting

"As Your Legal Counsel" by i_have_loved_the_stars_too_fondly. 1,000 words. G, Gen.

Pin-Lee informs Three of its options and legal status, should it choose to come to Preservation.

This one is so fun and sweet! Directly after Network Effect, Pin-Lee talks to Three about its options. Three is a little overwhelmed. Two podfics of this one, one by me :) Also @ilovedthestars your AO3 name is hard to type

"Past the Breakers" by Thylacine_Wishes. 5,300 words. G, Gen.

When Three is badly injured protecting ART's crew on a mission, Murderbot finds itself disagreeing with the safety protocols that it had written. It was supposed to be the SecUnit meat shield, not Three. It doesn't have time to figure out how it feels about that before it's diving in (literally) to rescue Three and maybe coming to terms with some things along the way.

Action! Adventure! Edge-of-your-seat drama written SO well! Almost drowning! Murderbot caring about Three!!!!

"Team of Three" by Lillow. 5,500 words. G, no category.

How Three of three became Three of many.

The tags say it best: the real team was the friends we made along the way. Or is it the real friends are the teammates we make?

Either way, Three finds a team, and people it belongs with.

#The Murderbot Diaries #Murderbot #SecUnit 3 #fanfiction #fanfic recs #fanfic rec list #ALL THREE ALL THE TIME #long post

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