#Written Logs {Drabble}
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The Return I
“Apollo?!”
He ambles past his sister, mind still fogged from the burning stench of poisoned ichor. He’s covered in it, that stained black-gold which stuck his fingers to the curve of his bow and weighed at his hair until it was nearly stuck slick to his neck and shoulders.
“Apollo, you’re not going to greet Mother like that.”
Artemis’ grip lacks the bite it usually has. Once she touches the sickly lifeblood, immediately it scalds her palm with a soft sizzle and she recoils, unused to the tooth of poison. Absently, Apollo tries to find her face, vision dull and blurred to uselessness from the fumes. Artemis touches him again, this time, more deliberately and she doesn’t so much as hiss when the poison begins to eat at her skin.
“You’re coming with me,” and sure as anything, she begins to lead him away from their camp, further down to the shore. She holds him by the shoulder as she guides him, never tries to hold his hand or take the bow from his death grip. He wonders if she can tell that his flesh has long since melted into the wood. Artemis is smart like that.
#ginger writes#greek mythology#greek myth writing#Yeah I might as well log writing in here too#All these years on tumblr and I still can't figure out what I want to use my blog for#Anyway Apollo's fresh from slaying Python -#I've never actually written him slaying Python just the aftermath of it#Apollo#Apollo greek god#Artemis#Python greek mythology#drabble
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The End of the World, Again: part 2
Yugi
The group emerges from the rift to find themselves in the crumbled remains of an ancient, tiered city, long forgotten. Before them stands a massive door to the uppermost level, from where that great pillar of teal light seems to be projected.
"that must be where dartz is..." Yugi speculates, craning his neck as he follows the light upwards.
Seto
"No time like the present, then."
Seto opens the door to fated destiny's destruction, nothing but confidence and irritation.
Yugi
Yugi nods in agreement and makes his way to the large door. It leads the Duelists to an open courtyard, stone pathways leading to a central domed structure over a shallow pool. The pillar of line eminates from the top of the dome, and a crystalline statue of a familiar foe sits below.
"Careful, Partner..." his Other Half warns as Yugi approaches the crystal statue.
He steps up onto the platform of the domed structure, glancing over his shoulder at the others, and around the courtyard. But as he reaches out to touch the statue, suddenly the crystal falls apart to nothing more than dust on the wind. Yugi's eyes widen, and Dartz's laugh echoes around them again
Seto
Upon hearing the laughter that grates on his nerves and his ears, Seto readies his Duel Disk to play monsters for the fight. He takes a defiant step forward, knees bent slightly for poise.
"Dartz! Where are you, snake food?! Show yourself!"
Yugi
"I'm with my god now. Don't worry, Seto. You'll join us soon enough," echoes Dartz's voice from the dome overhead. As his words finish, that bright pillar of light splits into four, each arcing in a different direction over the side of the island and plunging deep into the ocean far, far below.
Joey
It's a good thing he's focusing on the task at hand. The emptied soul squares were creepy, the portal was weird, this empty city is creepy as hell, and the life-sized glass Dartz that just disintegrated for no reason? You guessed it, creepy!! The disembodied voice is not helping, though at least Joey only jumps a little when all that light goes shooting outwards again. He heads to the edge of the domed area to try to look over, see where it went.
His jaw drops as a massive green serpent winds and twists its way out of the ocean, into the sky, flying towards them. It's big enough to coil around the entire floating city. "Holy-! That thing could pick its teeth with any of the Egyptian God monsters! That's the Great Leviathan!?" Well. He knew this wasn't going to be easy. But damn.
"...Is it just me or does he have a pimple?"
Yugi
At Joey's comment, the Other Yugi squints at the enormous snake that looms over the Duelists. He gasps when he realizes.
"That pimple is Dartz!"
The Leviathan roars in response.
The Pharaoh wastes no time, immediately drawing and summoning the first three monsters in his deck: Dark Magician, Summoned Skull, and... Kuriboh. As the monsters appear, as flesh and blood rather than projections of light, the Other Yugi pulls one more card, and the dragon Timaeus joins them.
Joey
"Eugh!?"
Joey follows Yugi's lead, summoning Flame Swordsman, Jinzo, and, of course, Red-Eyes Black Dragon. He's liking these battles that don't stick strictly to the rules. To top it off, he's got Hermos next in his deck, and he wastes no time bringing him out as well. "ALRIGHT!! We got this!"
Seto
Seto bares his teeth at the monstrous creature, pulling from his Extra Deck to summon Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon, Gadget Soldier, and Vorse Raider, who has been loyal to him through this entire ordeal- and, finally, Critias. Seto feels the monsters all share a smiliar dedication to their Duelists, and to the world those Duelists live in; they have to give this battle their all.
Dartz looks down at the humans and their Duel Monsters and gives his heartiest, cruelest laugh yet, mocking them. "HAHAHAHAHAHA! Is this all the Chosen Duelists have to muster?!"
"Shut it, hood ornament! Prepare to get blasted into next week!"
Yugi
Once all three legendary dragons are summoned, the Other Yugi feels a pull in his heart that tells him to draw another card. And so he does. He immediately slides Legend of Heart into place in his DuelDisk, and the three dragons regain their human, knight forms.
He stares that enormous snake down with all his rage as he calls on all of their monsters to attack as one. A bright, white light encompasses the battlefield, leaving the Duelists temporarily blinded by the united front.
But when the spots clear from his vision, the Other Yugi gasps.
The great Leviathan still stands, seemingly unaffected by the all powerful attack.
Dartz laughs again. Though his torso and head look so small protruding from the massive monster's face, his guffawing still echoes.
The Pharaoh grits his teeth, plants a foot in the ground below him. He draws another card and plays Multiply. Outside of the rules of Duel Monsters, he uses the spell card to amplify the knight Timaeus's attack. Once again, a great burst of light errupts.
And once again, the serpent stands as the lights fade. Completely unharmed by the mighty affront.
Seto
Seto shields his eyes from the massive onslaught's discharge of light, having no time to marvel at the Knights who came from the Dragons. He supposes it makes sense, in a way... but he did prefer their dragon forms to these humanoid Knights. Joey seems far more surprised, at least, until they're all blinded again by Timaeus's follow-up attack.
Which, still, does nothing.
"Oh, is that it? Your magnificent mosquito bite?" Dartz giggles, which somehow stings more than evil laughter. "Then I suppose it's my turn!"
The great snake rears up, gathering negative light into its huge maw...
Yugi
As the Leviathan draws energy for its attack, the Other Yugi thinks quickly. He pulls another card, and holds it into the air as he calls for Timaeus. The knight absorbs the powerful defense of Big Shield Gardna into his sword, projecting a barrier of light that shields the Duelists.
But the other monsters aren't so lucky.
When the Leviathan's attack fades and the Full Barrier Shield finally disappears into a cloud of glitter, the Duelists stand with only their Knights left to protect them.
As the snake stares them down, those iridescent auroras begin to glow overhead once more. The great beast raises its head, pausing to investigate the colorful lights.
Glowing bubbles seem to emerge from the aurora, and the Other Yugi gapss as he recognizes a voice coming from one. The Dark Magician Girl, who he had met the night he freed Timaeus, calls out to her fellow monsters to unite against the serpent. One after another, dozens of those bubbles of light crash into the snake.
"Help from the other side--!!" the Pharaoh gasps as he realizes.
Seto
Seto stares for a moment where the Duel Monsters are hitting the Leviathan, watching for any damage that may occur... but it's not enough. He turns back to the other two Duelists. "Hey- Yugi, Idiot, we should take this opportunity to regroup, while he's still surprised enough not to attack us again!"
Which leads to Seto summoning his XYZ Dragon Cannon, Blade Knight, and Kaiser Seahorse. They're less than his best monsters, but with Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon in the graveyard... it's what he has available.
Yugi
The Other Yugi nods in determined agreement with his rival. He tosses him a quick smirk, but in a fraction of a second, his focus is returned to the great beast.
The futility of the monsters' attack won't shake his confidence. He summons forth three new monsters, Black Luster Soldier, Buster Blader, and Valkyrion the Magna Warrior. A stark upgrade from his last pulls.
Joey
"Don't call me idiot, jackass." There's no heat to the little jab, though, as Joey summons a new lineup. Gearfried, Rocket Warrior, and Gilford the Lightning. "I got your back, Hermos! All you hit him at once! Ain't no way it can stand up to us plus the help of those monsters up there!"
Yugi
Once each Duelist has summoned their next wave of monsters, the Other Yugi orders them to attack. Their monsters leap at the Great Leviathan as one, giving their all as they slash, stab, and blast into the snake's throat.
The massive beast roars, throws its head back, but it shows no signs of damage still. Blade-like spines shoot from its hide, piercing the monsters that hack and slash hopelessly against its thick scales.
Enraged but unharmed, the divine serpent turns its venomous gaze to the legendary knights.
Seto
The Legendary Knights are fearless in the face of this immense God-creature, but, unfortunately for their Duelists, they are but Duel Monsters, nothing more.
Even with all the bolstering in their decks, these Knights cannot withstand a blow from such a monster. They, too, are destroyed.
Dartz then sends tendrils of darkness toward the Chosen Duelists, effortlessly entangling them and pulling them toward his God's obsidian skin. "Don't you see? Even your Legendary Knights have failed you, Chosen Duelists; resistance is futile. All will be consumed by the great Leviathan, and it will drown the world in the darkness of humanity's hearts! Take a moment, now, while you can: hear them inside its belly!"
Joey
Joey watches their monsters get skewered with a wince. "Okay... Maybe we need a plan B." Well they still have their Knights!
And. Now they don't.
"No!! Shit, nothin's workin' on this thing!" he cries out as they get snatched up. He still tries to fight, even aiming a punch at the tendril that grabs him. "Bring it on, you freaky mutant! Ain't no god has kept me down yet, you ain't about to break that streak!!" But then he freezes. Looks around. "...Mai? Valon? Rex??" He looks back up at the Leviathan. Where the voices are coming from. "...I hear you. I HEAR YOU!! I AIN'T GIVIN' UP ON YOU, WE'LL GET YOU OUTTA THERE!!!"
Somehow.
(( as always!!!!! thank you x10000 to @redeyesandchilifries and @blueeyesking !!!!! ))
#ooc#plot#arc: what the doma?!#another one that's just rp logs sorry#I had a breakdown while we were writing this one#bc I lost a post that I had written that was so long it pushed the character limit on discord lol#so I started trying to do it as a drabble but#honestly I think this os fine its not that long and again like#everybody did such a good job picking uo the momentum when I wanted to give up#WE'RE ALMOST THERE FORREAL I PROMMY
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Underneath the Moon (Grian POV)
Scar POV
Thinking about the AU of the snippet I sent before and wanted to go back and clean that up. This AU came from me thinking about an AU where Scar remembers 3rd Life, and I started thinking more logically about it. Like, what reason does Scar have for remembering? That lead to me thinking that he’s the second to last remaining person. And that brought me to having the final two remaining remember, aka this AU.
—————
Grian watches Scar cheerily talk to Impulse from his hidden perch on his roof. They’re talking like Scar didn’t instruct BDubs to kill Impulse. Like everything that happened didn’t happen.
He tightens his grip on one of the chimney’s, is he the only one cursed with this knowledge? Is he all alone in his suffering? He’s not sure if that’s a blessing or curse.
Grian stares longingly as Scar, swallowing nervously, before he turns around and takes flight, wanting to get far away from there. Why? Why did he have to beat Scar to death when he wanted nothing more then kiss him? He blushes heavily as he lands in a remote forest, well, he wanted to do a lot more then kiss him. Grian wants to do everything that they couldn’t do in that game.
But now none of that will ever happen again, Scar doesn’t remember, and even if he does, he’ll probably hate him. Grian wraps his wings around himself, why does everything hurt so much?
~
Grian circles around Boatem, high in the sky. He unfortunately has to return to his starter base and he really doesn’t want to see anyone. He can’t bring himself to face them, not after everything he did. They’re better off without him. He stifles a wince as that thought cuts deep.
He looks around the clearing, no one was around, probably all asleep or lost in projects. Despite this, he dives down to land directly in front of his house. He hurries to the door, but as he grabs the door handle someone calls out to him.
“Grian!” Scar cheerily says.
Grian flinches and takes a step back, turning to face Scar. Why is he here? Where was he even hiding? “Uh, hi Scar!” He responds, smiling an extremely fake smile, he hopes Scar doesn’t notice. His wings twitch, ready to take him out of here. Grian can return later, he just needs to leave.
Scar approaches him, a look in his eyes that Grian can’t decipher. “I haven’t seen you around lately, what have you been up to?”
“Uh, just working on some stuff,” he answers, not prepared for an excuse. He takes another step back, ready to run when he can. Grian can’t meet Scar’s eyes, not after what he’s done. Doing so lets him notice that Scar is holding on hand behind his back, hiding something. Normally he would prod and pester Scar until he gives in and reveals it, but he’s not himself. Not anymore. Not after what he’s done.
“Like your mega base?” Scar asks, clearly wanting more details.
“Y-yeah!” Grian agrees, having no other excuse available. “Just planning stuff and gathering materials.” It’s not entirely a lie, he has been doing that, but barely out of fear of getting noticed. Grian takes another small step back, hoping Scar doesn’t notice. He can’t meet his eyes, can’t see if he notices.
“Well, I have a gift for you, I’m glad I just caught you now.”
Grian meets his eyes, caught off guard, quickly looking away seeing his deep, forest green eyes. They were once red. They were once dead. Why did Scar wait for him for void knows how long just to give him something. He hasn’t seen him in days, what is Scar planning? “A gift?” he asks hesitantly.
“Yup,” he says, finally revealing what was behind his back.
Grian’s breath hitches as he sees the bouquet of lilacs and poppies clutched in Scar’s hand. A memory resurfaces against his will.
Scar hurries up to Grian, gray skin and red eyes, flowers clutched tightly in his hands. He holds them out to Grian before he can say a word, “can we still be partners?” His voice is pleading, desperate almost.
Grian takes them, surprised by how that was Scar’s first thought, “I- yeah, I can’t just leave you, and technically I still owe you my first life.” Scar gives him a weak smile, looking grateful. Grian pulls him into a quick kiss. He gestures to the chest beside him, “I got your stuff.”
Grian shoves the memory away, he needs to leave, he needs to go now. Scar remembers, he remembers everything Grian did. He can’t handle Scar’s rejection of him, not right now. He spreads his wings out more, he can’t stay here.
Scar quickly closes the distance between them, grabbing his wrist, causing him to freeze, “wait!”
Grian stiffens, staring wide eyed at Scar. He can’t handle this, all of the emotions he’s blocked away, trying to keep himself stable. Everything crumbles away as he stares into Scars determined eyes, with a, dare he hope, loving look.
Tears that he’s been holding back finally come loose and he collapses into Scar’s arms. He buries his face into Scar’s chest, holding him tightly, as he sobs. “I’m sorry Scar… I’m so sorry.”
Scar returns the embrace just as tightly, “it’s okay,” he murmurs, “I don’t blame you, not for anything.”
Grian sobs increase, he doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve Scar.
#my writing#the drabble saga#last two standing#Scar’s POV was actually written first!#But Grian’s had the line I shared so I’m posting it first#I want to edit the end a bit#but I don’t know how#so it’s basically how it was originally#with minor tweaks#I changed the scene in 3rd Life because they’re dating then#so leaving the line at friend felt wrong#the logs
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Drabblecember 6: Wrapping Gifts
Wordcount: 150, alas. I just couldn't quite whittle this one down!!
Universe: Detective Pikachu (warning for another wip description page)
Emerson marked off two dots on the waxy paper with pinpoint accuracy. At his trainer’s signal, Blaziken took a careful claw and dragged it down the surface of the paper, connecting dots in a perfect line. When he lifted his talon, the pre-measured square curled away from the roll with ease.
He helped them hold the specially-chosen paper in place, too— Psyduck and Pikachu, how could they not splurge? But the irregular shape of this first gift, one Emerson had spent actual hours deliberating over, presented one problem Blaziken could not help his trainer overcome.
Emerson, elite trainer, capable of heroic feats only cast in shadow by the corners of their own mind, tossed the roll of tape down and sighed into the creased, uncreased, double-taped, crumpled mess of a wrapped present. “Arceus, I suck at this.”
Blaziken combed a talon through their hair. It was all he could do.
#drabblecember2023#writing#drabble#assflash newshole!#gumshoe goodman#despite my wordcount tragically not being a multiple of 100. this might be my favorite that ive written so far? close to it anyway <3#i love my big bird. also my si lived in sinnoh for a while so i get to have my silly sinnoh swears. you can take pokemon swears out of the#cold dead hands of my thirteen year old self (still logged in to fanfiction dot net)
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Surprised to go through my own archive and realize how little of my writing, especially the poetry, I posted here. It's not much, but it's what I joined this site for. And it's also personal and poetry and mine, so very, very hard for me to share.
#sometimes i wish ao3 was more like fanfiktion.de and allowed original works without a clear fannish nature#because i want to post my stuff but i am scared#trying hard to start living by 'i am cringe but i am free'#but it is. well. hard.#personal log#none of the recent stuff is here. only things from like 8+ years ago which is not how i write and think like anymore#except 'bird' from 2014 which i am still so proud of (it's a double drabble written on a train when i was 17)
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𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓'𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖!
cw: sub! denki kaminari, gn! reader, toy use: bullet vibrator, nipple clamps, fleshlight. kinda heavy bondage (he is tied to chair lol), sadistic reader!!, denki being the biggest dork at the end, unedited (for now?) and POORLY WRITTEN lolol
wc: 1.8k
a/n: well @sorrowfulrosebud this was supposed to be a drabble. oopsies. everyone dont yell at me for writing this instead of kinktober IM SORRY. ALSO denki is a little silly at the end, I hope it doesn't ruin the mood for you guys :/ he is just such a nerd to me.
“No. No. Nonononono!” The blonde squeals, squirming in his chair. His legs try to kick up, causing his thighs to pull at the restraints.
You frown at him but ignore his plea, snapping the nipple clams onto the first nipple. He jumps in his chair and he lets out a yelp, muffling the sounds of the vibrator. “Don’t “no” me, you were the one to beg for this.”
In an instant, Denki’s face shifts into a wicked grin, and you roll your eyes. “You know I like to put on a show,” he purrs, “makes it more kinky, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, yeah, you sick pervert.” You use the remote to turn up the vibrator logged inside him a setting higher, and the blonde gulps, letting about a small mewl. Then, you clamp the metal onto his other nipple, forcing another pained noise out from his mouth.
“Ow! Ow!” He screeches, twisting from left to right in his red rope bindings. “It still hurts! Y-You got to be gentle with me!”
You reach for his thigh, giving him a teasing slap. “Quit that. Gentle with you? You would throw a hissy fit if I was.”
He remains quiet at that, agreeing with you, and the action makes you grin. You grab the fleshlight and begin to pour a copious amount of lube onto it while Denki squirms in his chair, excited for what’s to come. The bullet vibrator placed meticulously on his prostate was sending his head spinning, but to add something around his cock too? He was already daydreaming about how hard he is about to orgasm.
In one quick motion, you slide the entire thing down his length. His reaction is immediate; his back arches and he let out a moan. “There ya go,” You hum, “You like that, don't you baby?”
You don’t ease into it, knowing he will complain if you do. So, instead you set a ruthless pace and Kamari already feels himself begin to drool. His eyes roll back and he begins to hump into the toy, not caring that his hips were basically strapped down into the chair. “Y-Yeah. Can you…Vibrator?”
You smile at the boy, nodding to him before reaching over and clicking the button onto the highest setting. He groans out, a lazy smile plastered on his face. “Fuck yeah. Fuck, this is heaven, ‘s got to be.”
You scoff at him, trying not to roll your eyes. He was always the dramatic type, trying to find the most creative ways to show his love for what you do to him. It was cute though, so you didn’t mind too much.
His hips continue to buck into the fleshlight, and his ass lifts slightly up the chair, going against the binds to try and reach it better. The vibrator in him makes a loud buzzing noise and every once in awhile he stops his desperate humping to try and push back into it.
The noises he let's out are loud, high in pitch, as if he was trying to tell everyone around him how good he was feeling. It makes you wonder if you want to put a gag on him, but be always gets so pouty after you do, and you didn't know if you want to deal with that. So, you let the neighbors hear his cries — it was better than the annoying sound of the vibrator, to you and Denki at least.
Eventually his hips start to thrust up too high, and the rope begins to rub against his thigh. He was going to hurt himself at this rate, and that's the last thing you guys needed. You rest your hands on his thigh, pushing him down against the chair. “Kaminari, relax, it's not going anywhere. You don't gotta chase the toy.”
He shakes his head, continuing to try and buck upward. His eyes are furrowed shut and his face is contorted in a frown. “Can't help it. Love it, s-so much!”
You yank the toy away and Denki lets out a noise akin to a puppy yelping in pain, which causes you to roll your eyes. “No. Please no! I'm sorry I'm sorry ill relax. Don't take it away, I can't cum without it! I'll be good, a good boy for you I promise!”
Your face heats up at his lewd words and you pause for a second. His cock twitches from the coolness of the air, and you watch as a glob of pre drops onto the chair. He whines, and squirms in his confinement.
Then, you gulp and sigh, rubbing your hands on his thighs that are trying their best to stay planted on the chair. “It's alright, I'm not stopping,” you murmur, sliding the fleshlight onto his cock with a satisfying squelch. He cries out, and the noise loudness of the sound startled you. Your eyes flicker to his now glassy ones. “Fuck, Kaminari, you sound straight up out of a bad porno, you know that?” You say, breathless, and fixed solely on his face.
Sweat beads at his temples, and his lip trembles. His cheeks flush red and he shakes his head back and forth. The pale legs tremble in his seat but he doesn't buck upward, instead waiting for you to cover his cock. It's agonizing to him, and he wants nothing more than to fuck it, but he remains seated, instead choosing to push himself back into the bullet vibrator.
Your hands reach up to play with the chain and Kaminari let’s out a hiss, but doesn’t oppose it. The nipples have become slightly swollen from the clamp, and it causes you to frown. “Poor thing, look how red they are.”
A meek grin pulls at his face. “Y-You like it though, yeah?”
“I do. They are so cute like this,” You nod, slightly pulling on the metal, and tearing another whimper from his mouth. Your hand continues their quick motions and his moans begin to get louder. His hips begin to buck up again.
“Kaminari,” You warn sharply and he immediately presses his ass back into the chair with a short apology. You place your hand onto his face, your own apology, but for the harshness of your tone. He nuzzles into it, rubbing his cheek into your palm. “Good boy.”
He nods his head, buzzing at the praise. Drool begins to bead at the corner of his lips, and his eyes begin to get cloudy. He finds himself chanting out curse words and melting into the chair. With every stroke of the toy, every sound of the liquid gliding across his dick, he feels himself inch toward his high. The blonde's hands clench and unclench, and he mewls. “I need to cum. P-Please?”
The vibrator continues to target his sweet spot and it sends him shivering, not knowing if he should focus on the buzzing sensation or the one wrapped around his cock. But, you pull on the chain again, answering his question for him. His back arches and he cries out from the pain of his nipples being tugged uncomfortably outward.
“Yeah? That was quick, little embarrassing, don’t you think babe?”
He pouts at you, and tears begin to tumble down his cheeks. “Shut up!”.
You ignore him, instead choosing to rest your cheek on his thigh, now kneeling in front of the chair, and blinking up at him.
“‘s nothing to be embarrassed bout. I think it’s cute that you last as long as a virgin,” You coo, eyes flickering to the flesh light that keeps hiding his dick from you.
Denki shakes his head from side to side, whining at you, and beginning to sniffle from the tears. “Y-You just don’t understand,” he warbles and you raise your eyebrows. “Don’t even know what to focus on. Gonna cum, I can’t. I-I—Please!”
You smile at him, standing up again and resting your arm on the back of his chair. It creates a shadow over his body, and it makes the boy feel strangely small compared to you. He doesn’t complain.
One hand continues to stroke him, and the other plays with the chain on his chest. You pause for a moment, creating an air of dramatics, and Denki let’s out a small whine in complaint. “Alright, you can cum. I guess I don’t mind.”
He nods his head eagerly, blinking up at you with wet eyes. Then, you watch his body go rigid and his face scrunch up. Denki curses out, and you wait a moment before you grab at the chain and rip it off of his nipples.
It sends a burning pain down his and entire back and the blondes eyes widen, shocked by your actions. He borderline screams and it sends a full shiver down your spine. “Ow! Ow! Fuck. Fuck. Ow!”
But it doesn’t ruin his orgasm, in fact, it may have made it stronger. The blonde cums into the fleshlight and you watch as it drips down his cock, staining it a milky shade of white. He moans are high in pitch, and they seem to echo off of the walls from how loud they are. But they were always like this when he orgasms, so you weren’t surprised by it.
It lasts about 20 seconds total, and eventually, he slumps against the chair. You turn off the vibrator quickly, not wanting to overstimulate him just yet and pull off the fleshlight. The remaining of his cum drips from the toy and onto the tip of Kaminari’s cock. He doesn’t even spare it a glance.
Instead, he looks toward you, tongue out and licking at the excess drool left behind on his lips and chin. He pulls at the restraints, but doesn’t really put any effort to get out; it was more of just a test of whether he could get out. When satisfied by the results, he nods to himself, before turning to you. He cocks his head to the side.
“Soooooooo,” He announces loud and proud, contrasting his earlier pathetic pleas. You sigh to yourself, already knowing something ridiculous is to come from the way he is grinning at you. When Denki sees you playing along, he dramatically clears his throat. “Who’s the next star on tonight’s game show?” The voice is loud, mimicking every classic game show host. “Will it be, contestant number one, the dildo? Contestant number two, the vibrating wand? Orrrrrr the fan favorite, all-time champion, most beloved—“
You hold up two items you grabbed from the box placed neck to you and cock your head to the side. “Ball gag and cock ring?”
Denki's eyes widen, and he smiles anxiously at you. He should have known that you were going to play along with his antics, and the results were never fun. His voice is higher in pitch, and his eyes never leave the items in your hand as if terrified by them.
“W-We will find out after this s-short break, folks.” You borderline pounce on him.
#mello.writes#dom reader#dom reader mha#sub denki#sub denki kaminari#denki kaminari smut#denki smut#denki x reader#kaminari x reader#kaminari smut#sub mha x reader#mha smut#bnha smut#mha x reader#sub mha#sub bnha
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❝ I’M THE 𝓑AR, ALIEN SUPERST𝓐R ❞ 𝒐ne
seven
headacons
keepsake from my loved one
dearest fantasy
homesick
romance on camera
nascent
vanilla scented
gentleman hyung line
tender in the morn hyung line
beloved’s digital logs hyung line
korean dramas, french love letters hyung line
i want it all hyung line
promise hyung line
lips on lips hyung line
reactions
doing kissing tricks on them non-idol au
when you pout because you want attention non-idol au
when you are being distant non-idol au
finding out you are insecure about your smile non-idol au
when they want a kiss non-idol au
putting a ribbon on their biceps trend non-idol au
them responding to the ‘what are we’ question non-idol au
forgetting their ‘good night’ kiss non-idol au
asking for cuddles after an argument non-idol au
accidentally saying “i love you” non-idol au
calling them by their government name non-idol au
calling them “husband” trend non-idol au
seeing you for the first time non-idol au
smiling at them weirdly until they notice trend non-idol au
coming home to you sleeping on the sofa non-idol au
when your song gets it’s first win idol au
meeting you at a fansign idol au
watching your ending fairy idol au
being on a variety show with you idol au
doing a tiktok challenge with you idol au
attending your group’s concert idol au
when you secretly join their live idol au
social media
homie hopping 02z
events
tip toe 해피 발렌타인 데이 랑 같이 엔하이픈! ♡
celestial ballet
lee heeseung
shorty thought
comfort of a bed thought
in the warmth of your embrace drabble
whatever you want drabble
kiss you not drabble
instagram stories smau
pretty u smau
park jeongseong
fighting thought
kiss of life drabble
teddy bear drabble
she won't go away drabble
lullaby drabble
dating a band member with jay headcanons
going shopping with jay headcanons
in a good way lyrics
sim jaeyun
pool thought
pochacco hairpin drabble
my kind of woman drabble
melting point drabble
dream drabble
forever lovers drabble
one more kiss drabble
jake as your boyfriend headcanons
timestamps ━━ 4:49PM
park sunghoon
glasses and prada cravat thought
look good for you thought
that feeling when drabble
a dream with a piano player
━━━ ♡ précis. there is a lot of things park sunghoon has dreamed about; traveling around the world, meeting his favorite celebrity, working hard enough to be able to work his dream job—but, most importantly, finding the courage to talk to you.
totally my type written series
boyfriend texts social media
timestamps ━━ 2:56AM
kim seonwoo
soft launch smau
yang jungwon
distraction thought
kiss thought
question drabble
soft launch smau
nishimura riki
hold onto me thought
you are in love drabble
no, don’t look my way! drabble
shade of red drabble
when ni-ki has a crush on you headcanons
boyfriend texts social media
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Bloom
Bangtan Christmas 2023 drabble 2 - read the rest here.
In a post-nuclear war world, all you have is your son Jiwon. You'd do anything to keep him safe, including putting your trust in your new neighbour Kim Namjoon. You hope you haven't made the biggest mistake of your life.
Pairing: Namjoon x f! reader
Rating: 18+
Genre: Dystopian future AU, smut, single mother reader
Warnings: Sex, swearing, violence
Word count: 7.5k
With thanks to @vyduan for helping me work out the kinks (heh) in this story. Love you, Vy.
Author note: Written in response to an ask I got early in the year - a story I've kept chipping away at and now it's finally finished. Anon, I think about you often and I hope you and your kids are doing well. I hope you've had time to heal and no longer think of yourself as a heartbroken single mom, because you are and have always been more than that.
Your breath comes out in puffs of white as you carry an armful of logs to the furnace powering your greenhouse.
Inside, the air is humid, warm, perfect for the vegetables you’re carefully cultivating. Outside, the cold of a perennial winter’s seeped into your bones.
Nothing grows outside, not since the Great War.
You wonder why they call it ‘great’ when everything is worse now than it was before the war.
You’re emerging from the greenhouse, wiping your hands on a soiled rag, when you hear your new neighbour singing softly.
He’s got a melodious voice with a gorgeous husky tone. You smile to yourself as he sings a tune you know.
Suddenly he stops. ‘Oh shit!’
There’s a clatter of metal against worksurface, the unmistakeable sound of breakage.
You walk up to the wire fence and call out. ‘Need a hand?’
There’s another clatter, then the door to the greenhouse opens and you meet your new neighbour face to face for the first time.
He’s tall, broad shouldered, with a face that makes you wish you’d bothered to comb your hair before you stepped outside this morning.
‘I — uh— heard the noises and just thought I’d check if you were ok,’ you explain.
He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. ‘Do you have a spare pot? I’ll get you a replacement today, but right now my chilli plant is all over my worktable.’
‘Oh,’ you say, quickly turning. You enter your own greenhouse and emerge with one of your own pots.
‘Here,’ you say, holding it out to him. Your fingertips brush as he takes the pot from you, and you hope you don’t look too flustered.
You say, waving a hand, ‘Don’t worry about a replacement.’
‘My chillies and I thank you,’ he says, so solemnly you laugh.
He smiles warmly at you, and dimples appear in his cheeks.
The juxtaposition of his large frame and his delicately pretty dimples is doing something odd to your fickle heart.
You clear your throat. ‘I’m Y/N,’ you say, suddenly feeling shy.
‘Namjoon,’ he replies.
You turn as your son Jiwon approaches, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
You pull off your coat and wrap it around him.
‘Come on, let’s go inside before you get too cold, ok?’
Jiwon, wrapped in your coat, looks curiously at Namjoon.
‘This is my son, Jiwon. Jiwon, this is our new neighbour Namjoon,’ you say.
You put your arm around Jiwon and lead him back to the house.
‘It was nice to meet you,’ you call over your shoulder.
When you look back, Namjoon’s still standing by the fence, looking at you.
He waves, once, then turns to go back inside.
***
Jiwon regards you over the porridge bowl you’ve made for his breakfast.
His eyes are serious, too serious considering he’s barely eight.
You wish there was a way to protect him from the world.
Instead you make sure he eats, and drinks, and wears his warm coat, because the world may be fucked up but your son isn’t going to go without, not on your watch anyway.
You wonder where Jiwon’s father is now but can’t muster up any emotion about it. The burning desire to watch him suffer faded long ago, leaving nothing in its place.
A blank where your perfect life used to be.
You clear away the plates and pull on your coat.
‘Ready?’
You walk Jiwon to the single room, little more than a shed, where the makeshift school now is, and as you kiss him goodbye and promise him you’ll pick him up later, you wonder whether things will ever change.
It’s been five years since nuclear warfare destroyed the world, four since Jiwon’s father left, and you’re still waiting for life to get better.
Lost in your thoughts, you nearly bump into a uniformed guard.
You bow and apologise profusely.
You can’t see any of the guards’ faces, but you know they make liberal use of their steel batons.
The pain of a physical beating, though, would pale in comparison to being detained by the intention readers.
You could recover from a beating, but not from being thoughtwiped.
You shiver and resolve to be more careful as you walk the rest of the way to the community gardenhouse to start your work.
***
You glance at your watch and pick up the pace. You’re late to pick up Jiwon. There had been a raid at the gardenhouse just before you were due to leave, and you and the other gardeners had been searched for contraband.
You arrive at the schoolhouse just in time to see Jiwon being questioned by a guard.
Your heart stops, and you hurry forward, already apologising to the three guards standing over your son.
He’s slight, small for his age, and he looks even smaller surrounded by guards.
You step in front of Jiwon, putting your arm out to keep him behind you.
‘I’m sorry,’ you say, bowing low.
The cold steel of a baton nudges under your chin, hard enough to lift your head.
Terror slices through you as the guard stares down at you, but you try your best to keep still.
The other guard says, ‘Hey, Jaebeom. The General wants us back. Let’s go.’
The baton stills, then the guard withdraws it and holsters it.
He turns away without another look at you.
You grasp Jiwon’s hand, and you don’t let go until you’re safely home.
***
The thin light of dawn’s cutting into the horizon when you emerge from your front door.
Snow’s been falling all night, is still falling now, piled up on your short garden path. You lift the shovel off the hook by your door and get to work clearing the path.
This early, the snow’s still icy and hard to shovel away.
You’re breathing hard by the time you get to the gate, arms aching, face damp with sweat.
Your neighbour Namjoon’s front gate swings open and he walks out, wrapped up warm.
He slows down when he sees you but doesn’t stop.
You give a small smile which he returns before walking off.
You watch him go and wonder what he does to be leaving so early.
You see Jiwon’s light come on and hurry inside to make breakfast.
***
There’s blood in the snow when you arrive back home with Jiwon at the end of the day, drops of red splattered in a trail to your neighbour’s door.
You herd Jiwon safely inside and your conscience gets the better of you.
You walk next door and knock.
It’s a while before Namjoon answers, but as soon as he does you know you’ve done the right thing coming over.
He looks terrible, pale and wincing in pain. There’s a wound in his shoulder, his chest is bare.
You say, ‘let me help,’ and then he’s stepping back, sitting heavily down on a chair.
He’s so tall you barely have to lean down to look at his shoulder.
‘Can you stitch?’ he asks, voice tight, body taut.
‘I’ll patch you up,’ you tell him.
You worked in a field hospital during the War.
Namjoon grits his teeth, pale and tense, whilst you patch his wound.
By the time you’ve dressed it, there’s a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead.
You don’t like how pale he is.
‘I have to get back to Jiwon,’ you tell him.
He nods.
Something about the way he slumps back in his seat, quiet and exhausted, makes you say, ‘I can stay overnight to watch you, if you have a spare bed for Jiwon to sleep in?’
Namjoon stares at you for so long you make the decision for him.
‘Come on, let me get you to bed,’ you say.
He staggers as he stands, and automatically you slip an arm around his waist.
He leans heavily on you as you take him to his bedroom and help him onto the bed.
He lays down, eyes already closed.
You wait until his breathing eases and then you go to get Jiwon.
By the time you get back, Jiwon in tow, Namjoon’s dead asleep.
You make Jiwon comfortable in the adjoining room, hoping Namjoon won’t mind, and set your alarm to check on him periodically.
He sleeps most of the night, waking up once to stumble to the bathroom.
You get up to check on him. ‘Are you all right, Namjoon?’
Thankfully your presence doesn’t seem to alarm him.
‘I’m fine,’ he says, but you can see the sheen of sweat across his forehead.
You fetch a glass of water and some pain meds from his kitchen. He’s still awake when you knock on his door.
He gulps the water and swallows down the medicine gratefully and lays back.
There’s something about the irregular rhythm of his breathing that makes you offer your hand.
‘The meds will kick in soon,’ you promise him. You squeeze his hand gently.
He murmurs a thank you. When his breathing evens out and the grip of his hand eases, you pull the blanket over his chest and make your way back to the other room where Jiwon is.
It’s sometime just before dawn when you wake. Namjoon’s extra bedroom has a pretty view of his backyard, his greenhouse. The rolling hills in the distance are bare in the winter cold, starkly beautiful.
For the first time in a long time, you wonder where Jiwon’s father is, how he’s doing. If he ever thinks of Jiwon, or you. Beside you, Jiwon stirs.
‘Mama?’
‘Yes, baby?’
‘I’m not a baby,’ Jiwon says indignantly.
‘Ssssh, you’ll wake Namjoon up. Are you hungry?’
Jiwon yawns a little. People have always said he doesn’t look like you or his dad, but in moments like this you can see yourself in him.
‘Come on. Let’s go home and I’ll make breakfast, ok?’
You check on Namjoon as you pass his room, only to find he’s already dressed.
He stands when he sees you, and you’re reminded of the height difference between you.
You step back. ‘Sorry, I just wanted to make sure —‘
As though he’s aware of how his height and size intimidate you, he stops where he is.
‘I want to thank you for looking after me last night,’ he says. ‘Will you have breakfast with me?’
Jiwon marvels so openly at the sugary cereal Namjoon produces from a cupboard you can’t help but smile.
Single parenthood in a post nuclear war world has been challenging, and you’re scared about how many E numbers it’s taken to produce a cereal this unnaturally bright, but Jiwon’s so excited it’s worth it.
Namjoon offers you some, and you accept with a smile. He smiles back at you so warmly that you drop your eyes.
Even injured and tired, your neighbour is the kind of handsome man you don’t think would look twice at you normally.
You cover your skittishness by staring down into your cereal as if fascinated.
By the time you gather the courage to look up, Jiwon’s finished his food.
You’re about to get up to take him home when Namjoon puts out a hand to stop you. ‘Finish your breakfast,’ he says quietly.
He gets up. ‘Come on, Jiwon, I hurt my shoulder yesterday, can you help me in the greenhouse until your mum finishes her food?’
Jiwon falls into step beside Namjoon so naturally you have no qualms about letting them go together. There’s a funny lump in your throat as you watch them walking together through the kitchen window.
You tell yourself sternly to keep it together and not to assign a romantic narrative to your handsome neighbour who’s clearly just repaying your kindness from yesterday.
By the time Namjoon and Jiwon get back, you’ve finished your breakfast and washed up. The kitchen looks like you and Jiwon were never there.
‘Thank you,’ Namjoon says. ‘For looking after me yesterday.’
‘It was no bother at all,’ you tell him, sincerely. ‘Thank you for breakfast.’
You nod to his chest. ‘You should get the wound checked out at the clinic today.’
‘I will,’ Namjoon promises. He waves goodbye to Jiwon and you, standing on his doorstep until you’ve rounded the fence to your side.
***
You’re walking with Jiwon back from school when you realise there’s someone waiting at your door. You can’t see clearly in the evening light, and you tuck Jiwon closer into your side as you approach.
You call a greeting, and a moment later the person steps into the light and you realise it’s Namjoon.
‘Hi,’ you say, unable to hide your relief.
‘Hi,’ he replies, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just by the river and I passed a cart selling these and I thought Jiwon might like them.’
He holds out a paper wrapped bundle of bungeoppang, still warm despite the cold.
Jiwon’s reached out, already thanking him, and you look up at Namjoon.
‘Thank you, that’s very kind of you, they’re his favourite.’
‘There’s enough for both of you,’ Namjoon says.
He’s stepping away, halfway down your yard when he stops.
‘Your gate lock’s broken,’ he says. ‘I can help you fix it if you want.’
‘Don’t trouble yourself,’ you say hastily. The lock’s been broken for a while, you’d meant to fix it but it’s been a busy month at the communal greenhouse.
‘It’s not safe,’ he says gently. ‘Not with both of you in the house.’
His words, though gently spoken, send a flush of shame through you.
He must think you’re such a mess, incapable of even keeping yourself and your son safe.
He doesn’t give you time to answer. ‘I have tools. I’ll come over tomorrow and fix it, ok?’
‘Thank you,’ you say. There’s a quiver in your voice, you hope he doesn’t know you well enough to hear it.
You open your door and usher Jiwon in from the cold.
***
You’re clearing your garden path the next morning, shovelling snow, when Namjoon comes to fix the gate.
He nods politely at you, then gets to work. He doesn’t seem to want to chat, particularly, but that’s fine with you as you’re out of breath from clearing the path anyway.
Namjoon disappears briefly once the lock’s fixed, comes back with a bag of grit over his shoulder.
‘Let me grit your path,’ he offers, and you let him as he’s already brought the damn stuff over.
You invite him in as you prepare Jiwon’s breakfast.
He sits at your table, looking big in your small kitchen but not out of place.
There’s a picture on the wall of you and Jiwon’s father, from the Christmas that Jiwon turned two.
You can see him looking at it as you pass him a mug.
Namjoon asks, ‘Is that Jiwon’s father?’
You look at the photo. In it, you’re holding Jiwon up, and Hiro, Jiwon’s father, is laid on the floor, tickling his feet. There are the trappings of what Christmas was like before the war scattered all around you.
Luxuries that weren’t until everything else was taken away.
‘Yes,’ you say. You lean against the kitchen sink, hold up your own mug. ‘He left after the war.’
‘I’m sorry.’
He looks like he means it.
‘It’s ok,’ you tell him, honestly. ‘We’re doing ok, and Jiwon doesn’t remember much of him.’
There’s a moment of silence, then you hear Jiwon’s footsteps coming down the stairs.
He greets Namjoon with a total lack of surprise at seeing him at the breakfast table. You’re amused at the nonchalant way Jiwon greets Namjoon, and then you realise it might be because of Namjoon’s calm, gentle manner.
For all his size, you find it difficult to envision Namjoon ever hurting anyone or anything.
***
The guards come for you a few weeks later, late at night when Jiwon’s asleep. You’re putting away the washing up when there’s a knocking at the door.
Impatient, demanding.
You crack the door open only to have to step back quickly as the door is pushed inward, towards you.
The two guards who enter have epaulets on their shoulders signifying them as of a low rank.
Any rank can detain a civilian for thoughtwiping, though.
The chill in your spine is only partially environmental.
‘Are you the wife of Hiro Kwon?’
You keep your tone calm, steady. ‘We’re estranged. I haven’t seen him in years.’
‘We have reason to believe he stole a very important pre-war relic from General Dei.’
You know where this is going.
‘My son is sleeping upstairs, can I take him into the greenhouse whilst you search my house?’
The guard closest to you gives you a hard stare.
‘He has nightmares,’ you say, pleading.
You fetch Jiwon, get him dressed and take him outside whilst the guards search your house. He leans against you, quiet. You hate that events like this are a part of his life.
Next door, Namjoon’s light is on.
When the guards come out to tell you that you can re-enter your own house, you hear Namjoon’s door opening.
He walks up to the fence, and your heart stops.
He’s wearing full guard uniform, with epaulets that show he outranks the guards questioning you.
Sweet, gentle Namjoon from next door is a high-ranking official in the guard.
And you? You’re the biggest fool alive.
He’s looking at you and Jiwon, face impassive, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he takes you in.
Beside you, Jiwon’s shivering, and automatically, you slip your coat off to wrap around him.
You turn back to the guards. You’re still struggling with the weight of recent revelations but you need to get Jiwon back inside.
‘May we go?’
The guard stops you, drawing his baton, and you freeze.
‘He can go. We have more questions for you.’
You can’t look at Namjoon.
‘Of course. Let me take him up to bed and I’ll answer any questions you have.’
The walk back downstairs after you put Jiwon to bed feels like your feet are too heavy for your body.
You cast an eye at the mirror in your hallway. Your expression is a perfect blank, unreadable. You already know the lengths you’ll go to, to keep Jiwon safe.
The questions start innocently enough.
When did you last see your husband?
When did he last try to contact you?
You’re asked differently worded versions of the same questions repeatedly.
Your answers get shorter as the questioning goes on, and then the baton comes out even though you haven’t moved.
It raps on the table next to your hand, and you can’t help it, you startle badly at the sound.
There’s a knock at the door, then.
You look to the guards, and the younger one gets up to answer.
He returns with Namjoon.
Namjoon’s face is impassive. He gives you a once over, then nods to the two guards.
‘Leave us, I’ll handle this.’
The tension in the room ramps up as the guards leave, and by the time the door closes behind them, it’s taking all your strength to stay still.
Namjoon, as though sensing your turmoil, takes a step back, away from you.
His voice is low, quiet, but you have no difficulty hearing him.
‘Did they hurt you?’ he asks.
You look up at him, trying to read his expression. ‘No, they didn’t,’ you answer.
He lets out a breath that sounds relieved.
‘Have you heard from your husband?’ he asks.
‘I told you, we’re estranged,’ you reply.
You can hear Jiwon moving upstairs. You turn back to Namjoon.
‘Can I go to him? I’ll come back down, I just want to make sure he’s ok —-‘
Namjoon’s expression changes. He looks stunned.
‘Of course, I wouldn’t stop you.’
When you come back down Namjoon’s still standing where you left him.
‘It’s late, you should go to bed,’ he says. His eyes search yours.
You look back at him, at the epaulets adorning his broad shoulders.
He must have earned them somehow.
The thought makes you avert your eyes, set your chin.
‘I will,’ you say, neutral, cool.
Namjoon waits like he’s got more to say, but when you look up, he’s headed to your kitchen door, letting himself out.
You lock the door behind him and breathe out, fully, for the first time in hours.
***
You wake the next morning to sounds outside your window.
There’s a man in your garden, and you’d be alarmed if Jiwon didn’t have a similar profile.
It’s Hiro.
You open the back door and gesture him in.
He looks older, thinner, but he still has the spark in his eye that drew you to him. You’re surprised to find you don’t feel anything about his sudden appearance apart from the faintest pleasure of seeing someone who was once dear to you.
You moved on out of necessity, and there’s no going back.
‘The guards are looking for you,’ you say, once you’ve made him a drink.
‘I know,’ he says. ‘I need somewhere to stay. Do you have any money?’
‘Not much,’ you tell him. ‘I can spare some.’
Hiro touches your hand, on the table in between you, and you pull back, startled.
You get up, gather the banknotes you’ve saved, and give him what you can.
‘Can I see him?’ Hiro asks.
You don’t have it in your heart to say no. ‘Don’t wake him.’
You take him upstairs to Jiwon’s room, let him peer through the crack in the door.
When Hiro turns back to you, there are tears in his eyes.
You have nothing left to say.
***
The raid on the communal greenhouse today was unexpected, and you weren’t quite quick enough to get out of the way of a wayward baton strike.
Your wrist throbs dully, your fingers are swollen, and the painkillers you dry-swallowed are only just about taking the edge off.
You’ve sent Jiwon to bed and are trying to dislodge the sack of fertiliser from the top shelf of your greenhouse one-handed, panting at the effort, when Namjoon’s porch light comes on.
Startled, you lose your balance and fall off the crate you’re balancing on, just about managing to protect your wrist as you land.
The noise you’ve made draws Namjoon to the fence.
Thankfully, he’s not wearing his guard uniform.
When he sees you on the ground he disappears, appearing a moment later on your side of the fence, breathing hard from rushing over.
‘Are you ok?’ he asks, helping you up.
You’re about to answer when his face darkens. ‘What happened to your hand?’
Your hiss of pain when he reaches for you makes him flinch.
‘Here,’ he says.
He cups a hand under your elbow gently, helping you back into your kitchen.
He frowns even more when he sees how swollen your wrist is.
‘We need to get you to a clinic,’ he says.
‘I can’t leave Jiwon, I’ll go in the morning,’ you tell him.
‘You can’t leave this overnight,’ Namjoon insists.
He runs a hand over his face. ‘I’ll call my friend.’
‘I’m fine —‘
‘You aren’t,’ Namjoon says, the shortest he’s ever been with you. ‘I have a friend who’s a nurse, I’ll call him.’
You sit quietly in your kitchen as he makes the call.
‘Jimin will be here soon,’ he tells you when he returns.
You’re too on edge to ask about Jimin.
You want to tell him that you’re fine, but when you open your mouth, you say, ‘Hiro, my ex husband, came here yesterday asking for money.’
Namjoon considers this in silence.
‘If the guards find out —-‘
‘I’m sure as hell not going to tell them,’ Namjoon says, sharp. ‘And neither should you.’
‘You’re a guard,’ you point out.
‘And you told me because you know I’m not like them,’ Namjoon says. His voice is neutral, without inflection.
‘I told you because I don’t want you to get into trouble because of your association with me. Especially after they came looking for Hiro,’ you argue.
You get up. ‘And yes, because you aren’t like them.’
As soon as you say the words you realise they’re true.
On some level you know, from the sides of him he’s shown to you, that Namjoon isn’t like the guards you’ve seen.
Namjoon rubs his eyes. He looks tired.
‘My father was a commander in the first generation of guards,’ he tells you. There’s a note of bitterness in his voice. ‘That didn’t save me from being thoughtwiped.’
You stare at him in shock.
‘I have all the right decorations,’ Namjoon continues, gesturing to his shoulders.
He meets your gaze. ‘I can’t excuse the things I’ve done in the past to earn them. I was young, eager to please my father, eager to keep my mother safe, and there’s nothing safer than being a guard.’
There’s bitterness in his voice now.
‘I had my limit though, as warped as I was, and I protested against an order I was commanded to carry out.’ He pauses. ‘I couldn’t do it.’
‘Your past is a fog once you’ve been thoughtwiped, but it comes back slowly, in flashes. Like a puzzle that’s incomplete.’
You’re so caught up in Namjoon’s story you’ve forgotten about the pain in your wrist.
‘This isn’t about me but I told you this because I want you to trust me,’ Namjoon says. He touches your arm, gentle. ‘There’s no threat to you, from me.’
You believe him.
You’re about to say so when there’s a knock at your door.
Namjoon gets up and returns with a man with kind eyes who introduces himself as Jimin.
He tends to your wrist with a gentleness that almost brings you to tears, binding it and placing it in a brace that eases the pain a little.
‘It’s probably broken,’ Jimin tells you, ‘but this is the best I can do until you can get to the clinic.’
You thank him gratefully.
‘Namjoon says you have a son. If you bring him to my clinic I’ll do a health check for free,’ Jimin offers.
You can’t thank him enough for his kindness.
After he leaves, Namjoon says, ‘Do you have a spare room? Or I can sleep on the couch.’
You stare at him, overwhelmed. ‘I don’t have a spare room —-‘
‘The couch it is,’ Namjoon says.
‘You don’t have to —‘
‘You did it for me when I was injured,’ Namjoon points out. He dimples at you. ‘Don’t let me miss my chance to play nursemaid….’
You can’t imagine anyone who looks less like a nursemaid than your tall, broad, handsome neighbour.
‘You can take my bed,’ you offer.
There’s a beat of silence, and you realise how it must have sounded to him.
Oh no.
You splutter in your haste to explain. ‘Oh my god, I meant you can take my bed, for you, alone. I can take the couch.’
Namjoon looks like he’s holding back a smile.
‘I’ll take the couch,’ he says, very gently. ‘Now you should go to bed, you look very tired.’
You take yourself off to bed before your mouth betrays you again.
***
You wake to familiar scraping outside. You get up, hissing at the dull flare of pain in your injured wrist, and head for your bedroom window.
It’s Namjoon, clearing your garden path. He pauses to wipe a hand over his forehead, breath coming out in white puffs.
You pull on a robe and head down to the kitchen, open the back door.
‘Hey,’ you call.
He turns immediately, face creasing in concern. ‘How’s your wrist?’
‘Still broken,’ you say cheerfully.
A dimple flashes in his cheek.
‘Go sit down, I’ll finish this and make us breakfast.’
Despite Namjoon’s instructions, you start on breakfast anyway, you’re used to looking after you and Jiwon.
‘I’ll walk Jiwon to school so you can go straight to the clinic,’ Namjoon says.
You look at Jiwon.
Jiwon’s bright smile is all the answer you need.
***
You wake in the dead of night, heart thumping, blood rushing in your ears.
You’re up and out of bed before you’re fully awake, hand on Jiwon’s door, when you hear it again.
The same noise that woke you up.
The creak of your front gate.
You hear footsteps to your front door, then the knocking starts.
You wake Jiwon, wrap him in his coat, wishing you’d remembered your own.
‘Open the door, by the order of the guard,’ shouts a male voice, making you stumble in fear, making your adrenaline surge.
You glimpse the grandfather clock on your landing as you hurry through to the kitchen with Jiwon.
It’s 2am.
You doubt this is a routine interrogation.
It feels more like a raid.
You grab Jiwon’s face, make him look at you.
‘If we get separated, run through the gate and into Namjoon’s greenhouse. Don’t wait for me.’
Your voice is calm, your eyes serious, and Jiwon, with the wisdom of a much older child, nods.
You pull his coat closed, and take a breath, gathering your wits about you before you pull open the back door.
There’s no one there. The guards are still at the front of the house.
You hold Jiwon’s hand, tight, and step into the night.
***
You make it into Namjoon’s greenhouse just as your kitchen lights come on.
Your heart pounds like drums in your chest, insistent, so loud you’re worried anyone within a half mile could hear it.
You tuck Jiwon into a corner between sacks of fertiliser, stacked up, and listen intently.
There’s shouting, the sounds of doors slamming.
You hope it’s snowing hard enough to cover the tracks you and Jiwon made.
There’s nothing you can do about it now.
You wait, Jiwon tucked as far back as you could put him, hands gripping the shovel you grabbed from the back of the door.
Beams of light bounce over the glass wall, freezing you into position. You close your eyes.
The door creaks open, and you stop breathing.
Steps, then in your terror it takes you a while to recognise Namjoon’s face.
Your eyes meet.
Namjoon holds up a hand, the barest of movements, then he shouts, loud and clear, ‘They’re not in here.’
Your heart pumps, and you start to breathe again.
***
It’s hours before Namjoon returns to the greenhouse, face drawn and tired.
He says, ‘We need to go.’
‘Where?’ you ask, when you’re really thinking, ‘We?’
‘I’ll tell you on the way.’
Namjoon scoops Jiwon into his arms like he weighs nothing, and you follow.
Your limbs are stiff from the cold and the tension of waiting to be caught, but you make them bend to your will, keeping up with Namjoon’s longer strides.
‘I’ve got a car, a mile from here, can you walk?’ Namjoon asks, terse.
You notice the backpack he has slung onto his shoulders.
‘I can carry something,’ you say, ‘Give me the pack.’
Namjoon’s tense expression softens, just enough to be perceived, as he glances at you.
‘Keep pace with me,’ he says.
It takes you a quarter of an hour to reach the car, parked alongside a warehouse.
Namjoon places Jiwon in the backseat, tucks a blanket over him, unlocks the trunk to place the backpack inside.
You climb into the front passenger seat, watch as he starts the engine. His hand curls around the gear shaft, and you put your hand over his.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ you ask.
There’s no going back from this. It’s one thing to not report you to the Guard, it’s completely another to help you get away.
Namjoon looks at your hand on his for a moment.
‘I haven’t felt this strongly about anything in a while,’ he says.
He looks up at you. ‘This is the only right thing I’ve done in a long time.’
He puts his other hand on top of yours briefly, then pulls away to start the engine.
He drives.
***
Dawn’s breaking by the time you reach your destination, a cabin deep in the mountains that you access via a narrow road buffeted with snow drifts.
Namjoon cuts the engine, sits back, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks tired.
‘Are you ok?’ you ask, tentative.
‘Better now,’ he says, some of the tension leaving his expression. ‘Better now that we’re here.’
Jiwon’s stirring now that you’ve stopped, looking at you and Namjoon with a quiet resignation.
You hate that he’s grown to accept his world constantly being turned upside down as his due.
Namjoon turns back to look at him, a dimple popping in his cheek as he smiles.
‘Hey, are you hungry, Jiwon? I have some cereal in the cabin.’
Your heart teeters at Namjoon’s easy kindness towards your son, about to fall.
You’re about to fall for this man who you owe so much to, fool that you are.
You put your hand on Namjoon’s arm, eyes alight with gratitude. ‘Thank you,’ you tell him.
Namjoon glances at you, hesitates.
‘You don’t have to thank me,’ he tells you. ‘I — I wanted to help.’
You think about his words as you help Jiwon out of the car and you head for the cabin together.
***
Jiwon’s asleep, you make sure he’s tucked in warm before you go into the main part of the cabin.
Namjoon’s standing by the window, his large frame taking up almost all of it, face tilted up, like he’s looking at the sky.
He turns when he sees you.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I’ll get the generator working tomorrow.’
There’s a fire in the hearth, not quite enough to light up the whole cabin but it’s warm enough.
‘Don’t apologise,’ you tell him.
You can’t see all of his face in the shadows, so you step forward.
‘Jiwon and I wouldn’t be safe, here, if it weren’t for you.’
‘It was a woman and her son,’ he says, a change of subject so abrupt he’s lost you for a second before he continues.
‘They wanted me to thoughtwipe her because of something her son did. Something stupid, meaningless.’
He turns to look out the window again. ‘I refused.’
‘That’s when they thoughtwiped you,’ you say. It’s not a question.
He laughs, short, harsh. ‘And then they thoughtwiped her anyway. Last I heard she and her son were separated, sent to different sectors.’
You step forward again, wanting to see his face.
‘You’re a good man, Namjoon,’ you tell him. ‘You can’t be responsible for everything.’
‘I should have done more,’ he says, flat.
‘You’ve done a lot for us,’ you point out.
You still can’t see his face, but you can see the sadness in the line of his shoulders, poignant and beautiful.
You take another step forward, cup his cheek. His skin’s warm, and there’s the faintest pressure against your palm as he leans into your touch.
You shiver a little, more from the feel of him than from the cold, but he’s quick to react, slipping the fleece off his broad shoulders and placing it over yours.
For a moment his arms are around you, and you’re within a breath of turning away, would have turned away if you hadn’t felt the shift in his weight.
He’s leaning on you.
You curl your hand around his neck, and he leans down with the faintest pressure from your fingertips.
A thrill races through you as his lips brush yours, blooming into a pulse, heady and throbbing as you tilt your head to kiss him again.
He’s slow, so gentle it takes you a while to realise that his kisses are robbing you of your breath.
The tip of his tongue flicks at the seam of your lips, a question you answer by parting them.
Letting him in.
His hand travels down your side to land on your hip, tentative.
Another question.
This time you slide your arms around his waist, under his top. The warm skin of his back is smooth under your hands.
He grunts softly as you pull him closer, comes willingly.
He kisses you again, firmer this time, and you melt into him.
Gradually, in stages, closer and closer until you’re so close you don’t know where he ends and you begin.
He cups the back of your head, pulls away just enough to say, ‘The couch.’
You follow him to the couch, and he tilts his head for another kiss.
You put a hand flat on his chest to steady yourself, and he puts his own hand over yours, covering it completely, anchoring you to him.
‘I haven’t done this in a while,’ you tell him.
‘Me either,’ he says.
His dimple flashes. ‘We can remind each other.’
Namjoon’s a patient man, you knew this about him already.
You hadn’t expected him to be quite this patient though, not pushing you even though you can feel how hard he is under you.
‘Do you want to keep going?’ you ask.
‘So badly,’ he tells you, huffing out a breath, tilting his head back. His throat bobs as he swallows, hard.
You lick a stripe along his neck, and he shivers, gripping your shoulder.
‘Do it again,’ he says, voice dropped low. ‘Can I touch you?’
‘Please,’ you say, and to your delight, his hands drop to the front lapels of your (his) shirt.
‘You look good in my clothes,’ he murmurs. He kisses down your chest, slow, open-mouthed, and by the time he gets to your breasts you’re vibrating with need.
He takes the tip of your breast into his mouth, sucking delicately at first, then more strongly when you moan his name.
Every pull of his mouth makes you pulse and tighten, and you don’t realise you’re grinding against him until his big hand grips your hip.
‘Stop, or I’ll come,’ he warns, voice thick, gravelly now.
‘Take your clothes off,’ you say.
He undoes the fly of his jeans, and the damp patch you see where his cock’s tenting his boxer briefs makes your mouth water.
He stops you with your hands on your own sweatpants, says, ‘Let me.’
Before you realise quite what he’s doing, he’s slid onto his knees on the floor, has tugged your sweatpants down to reveal your thighs, the hot stickiness between your legs.
He hooks a finger in the waistband of your panties. Poises himself, open mouthed over your core.
Looks to you once, eyes hooded, and whatever he sees in your face makes him bend down and put his mouth to you.
You cry out, muffled behind your own hand, and he stops instantly.
‘Is this ok?’ he asks.
‘Yes, yes, please,’ you tell him.
He watches you as he slides his tongue over your slit, eyes hooded and hot.
He’s good with his tongue, you realise dimly in the back of your mind as he laps at you. He swallows audibly, and your hips dance under his mouth.
‘Joon,’ you moan, and he hums, deep voice vibrating against your skin.
‘Joon,’ you moan again. His hand splays on the curve of your hip, fingers tightening on your flesh.
This time, he moans in response, and you cry out, throaty and hoarse, as he sucks at your clit with renewed fervour, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
‘Joon!’
He pushes a finger into you, and you come with a gush of wet, walls tightening around him, your entire body tensing for a glorious instant before giving way to waves of pleasure.
Namjoon groans, deep in his chest, and you reach out and grip his hips, guiding him between your legs.
‘Wait,’ he says, touching your face, gentle though you can feel him hard as steel at your entrance, the blunt fullness of his cockhead nudging, seeking. ‘Are you sure you want this?’
‘Yes,’ you say, ‘yes.’
Namjoon groans again, pressing into you, filling you so well your body arches like a bow against his.
‘Feel so good,’ he utters, jaw tight, voice raspy.
He moves strongly within you, taking control with a confidence that thrills you to your toes.
He says your name as he moves, guttural and wanting, the slide of him into you making sparks bloom behind your eyelids.
He grasps your hand, fingers knitting with yours, as you writhe and moan underneath him.
‘Sound so pretty,’ Namjoon groans. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t —‘
You grip his shoulder. ‘I want you to come, Joon,’ you breathe, mouth by his ear.
He groans again then, circles his hips, and then thrusts deep, spilling his warmth inside you.
He’s still for a moment, breathing hard against your ear.
You turn your head to kiss him.
You’re still holding his hand, and it’s a while before either of you let go.
***
You pour out a mug of coffee from the pot Namjoon’s brewed, go out to where you can hear Namjoon chopping wood outside.
He’s concentrating, splitting chunks of wood with a careful precision.
He looks up as you approach, and his smile warms you.
‘Hey,’ he says.
You’d ended up sleeping tangled up with Namjoon. Some time during the night you’d woken to find him pushing your hair back from your face.
You’d pulled him down on top of you, taken him in again, slow, languid, bodies moving together until you’d gasped and come, muffled against his chest.
‘Hey,’ you reply.
‘Jiwon still asleep?’ he asks.
‘He’s exhausted,’ you say.
‘Glad we didn’t wake him,’ Namjoon says.
‘He’s a pretty good sleeper.’
Namjoon glances at you, and you flush.
‘I didn’t mean —’
He laughs at how flustered you are.
‘Good to know he sleeps well,’ Namjoon says. There’s a spark in his eyes now, dimples flashing in his cheeks.
For all his size and height and seriousness, your handsome neighbour looks like a little boy trying to get a rise out of you when he’s like this.
He watches, amusement in his face, as you sip the coffee to try to hide your discomfiture.
When you look back at him, he’s gathering up an armful of wood.
‘Come on,’ he says. ‘When Jiwon wakes up I need to talk to both of you.’
***
The sun’s high in the gloomy sky by the time Jiwon wakes, lured by the smells of breakfast and the warmth of the fire in the fireplace.
After breakfast, Namjoon clears the table, and then sits you all down.
‘We can’t stay here for long,’ he says, seriously. ‘The guards don’t know about this place, but it’s not safe, and they’ll still be looking for you.’
‘There’s a place close to the border where there’s a new community, away from the guarded sectors.’
You’re looking at Namjoon, carefully, and he’s looking right back at you.
‘We could go there. It’ll be hard, probably, at the beginning.’
You turn to Jiwon.
Hard?
Harder than the life you have now?
If there’s one thing you know, it’s that you need to find a better future, for Jiwon.
Stability.
You ask the question you asked in your head when you left home with Namjoon.
‘We?’
‘Yes,’ Namjoon says. ‘I’d like to go with you. If that’s ok.’
You’re looking at Jiwon again.
The hopeful expression on his face makes the decision for you.
***
Ten years later
You’re waiting at the train station for Jiwon.
There’s a chill in the air still, it’s cold for spring but warmer than it has been in recent years.
A lot’s changed in the last ten years.
You, Namjoon and Jiwon had moved to the new community at just the right time.
It had been hard at first, but nothing compared to the constant fear of being detained by the guards.
The world’s been rebuilding itself after the War.
With your experience as a communal gardener, you’d been able to set up your own hydroponic greenhouse, and demand built up for your produce, to the point where you’ve been able to hire your own crew of gardeners and expand.
Jiwon had thrived in the new community, and when universities re-opened, he’d been accepted as part of the first few cohorts of students.
His university was a few hours away, but the redevelopment of public transport meant there was a regular train linking his campus and your home.
The home you built with Namjoon.
In recent years, you’ve seen more and more of the light-hearted, humorous Namjoon and less of the troubled, serious Namjoon you first met.
Your love for him has only grown.
He approaches you now, a little older, but still as heartbreakingly handsome as the day you met him.
You think the best decision you ever made for you and Jiwon was to let him in.
And now Jiwon’s on his way back for Christmas, and your heart is full.
Namjoon hands you the coffee he bought you from the cafe, and when you tilt your face up to his he leans down.
It’s a learned response from years of adjusting his height so you can reach to kiss him.
You press a kiss onto his cheek, over his dimple, and his arm slides around you to hold you tight to him.
The train pulls into the station, and Namjoon grasps your hand as it stops.
The carriage doors open, and your beautiful son steps out.
Physically, he looks like you, but the confidence in his bearing, the kindness in his face, the roguish twinkle in his eyes?
That’s you, and Namjoon.
©hamsterclaw 2023
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4th of July
Dean Winchester x Reader
Warning: drinking, lap dances, implied smut
Summary: 4th of july campfire gets a get a little steamy after everyone goes to bed
A/N: This is the first drabble I've written and posted, so I'm sorry for the writing and Dean's terrible joke. Not proofread.
_____________
You had proposed the idea earlier of having a campfire this 4th of July, just be able to sit back and relax in the brief time between hunts. The boys immediately went along with your idea, Sam going to build a fire near the door to the bunker while Dean cooked up his famously delicious burgers.
Sam had invited Eileen and Cas had even popped in for a bit. It turned out to be a great night of drinking, talking, good food, and setting off sparklers that you had found in a drawer.
After a few hours (and a few drinks) Sam and Eileen decided to call it a night and said their 'goodnights' to you and Dean before going into the bunker.
"Last ones standing," Dean said, tipping his beer bottle towards you.
"Barely standing," you giggled, clinking your bottle against his.
Ever since you and Dean started dating you usually ended up being the last ones awake. You were more late night kind of people than Sam, it was one of the things that brought you and Dean closer.
Sometimes those late nights turned into talking and drinking, and sometimes talking and drinking turned into more X-rated fun. Judging by how tipsy you were and how good he looked in the fire light sipping his beer, you knew that was probably how tonight was going to end up.
After talking a while you got up to tend to the now dying fire and throw some more logs on it. When you bent over to stoke the fire, Dean smacked your ass, igniting the fire inside you. You honestly weren't trying to tease him when you bent over. You chuckled and looked over your shoulder, he had a very relaxed smirk on his face. "Enjoying the show?", you asked bending over further and pressing closer to him. Now you were trying to tease him. He nodded, biting his lip in appreciation.
He never failed to make you feel sexy and loved, you had more confidence with him than you had ever had in you life. And right now that confidence, the alcohol, and his gaze on your tank top and short-shorts clad body, was making you want to do sinful things.
You dropped the stick you were using to poke the fire and reached over to grap you phone to turn up the music that had been playing quietly in the background. You set down your phone and started swaying your hips to the beat of the music. You're going to put on a show for him alright.
Your back was still turned to him, but you could hear the slight moan that reverberated in his chest at your actions. He gently ran his palms up the back of your thighs, not being able to resist touching you. At this point you were almost grinding down onto his lap, pulling out every trick you knew in the 'lap-dance handbook'.
After you felt you had teased him, and yourself, enough you turned around and moved to straddle his lap. You could see, even in the dim light from the fire, that his pupils were clouded with lust. His hands moved to your hips, holding your slightly intoxicated body steady on his lap. You smiled, leaning down to kiss him. He hummed into your mouth and kissed you back with the same passion and desire you felt within you.
His hands smoothed up and down your arms, palms warm against your skin that had cooled in the night air. "You're so gorgeous," he said, fingers moving from your arms to tangle in your hair and gently pull your head back, trailing kisses down your neck.
"And you're frustratingly handsome" you said, lost in the feel of his lips. You felt him release a breathy chuckle against your neck. When you ground your hips onto his crotch, you had to bury your face in his neck to conceal your moans. Not that anyone could hear you, the bunker was miles away from any people.
He turned his head to whisper in your ear. "How 'bout I take you inside and see how long before I can get you seeing fireworks".
#dean x reader#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fanfic#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fanfic#dean winchester#supernatural#spn#spn fic#supernatural fic#spn fanfiction#spn fanfic#dean winchester smut
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Prompt 4 with Alucard. 🥺🥺🥺 i want him to relax in my arms
A/N: Sweet boy deserves everything good in this world cries ;; I hope you like this drabble, mwuaahhh
"I just want you to relax in my arms" x Alucard
“Sweetheart? What are you doing out here?” Alucard turned to fully face you, standing there with furrowed brows and concern written all on your face. “I’m here to get you. You’ve been at this for hours, Adrian.” The task in question was simply chopping wood in preparation for the winter. You’re right, he has been doing this for a few hours. But it’s so easy for him! He’s practically ripping through the logs (after he’s cut down the trees, stripped them of their branches, cut them into shorter lengths...) It wasn’t a big deal, he was simply doing his part for the village. The dhampir smoothed his hair away from his face and laid down the last (for now) log before heading over to you. “Has it already been that long? Hm...guess I’ve lost track of time.” Your hand reached over to cup his cheek, which he happily nuzzled into. He turned, to kiss your palm as you continued to huff over him. “You’ve done more than enough for today, pretty boy.” You teased, hand dropping to his and tugging lightly. “Now come inside, you’re covered in moss and dirt.”
-
After his much needed bath, and a delicious dinner, Alucard laid between your legs on the sofa, reading some book or other about physiology to continue in his mother’s footsteps of modern science and medicine. You, on the other hand, only ran your fingers through his hair, tenderly scratching at his scalp. The night was young, and yet this is all you wanted to do for the rest of it. Just have the love of your life in your arms, thinking of nothing and no one else, like nothing else mattered. Well, in your eyes, nothing else did matter. Adrian was your everything, and you poured your love into everything you did for him, in hopes he never forgot.
Loving him was easy, and so worth it. The beginning was difficult for him, he couldn’t fathom having someone truly loving him like you do, not asking anything in return. You just poured your all into him, helping him grow, helping him heal. "Why are you with me?” He used to ask you. And you’d smile, cock your head to the side, and always reply with the same: “Because I love you more than life itself. And loving you is easy. This is exactly where I want to be.” You’d normally stun him so much for Adrian to even rebuttal. Other nights, when he’d wake you out of your sleep from his night terrors, hyperventilating and breaking into cold sweats, he’d push again. Almost as if wanting to self sabotage, because he couldn’t have someone as sweet as you in his life. “Why are you with me?” He’d start, panicked. “Because--” “No, why are you with me? Why do you love me? How could you love a monster like me?”
Those nights...they were difficult. Not because it was difficult loving him on those nights. But because you couldn’t possibly convey into words why you loved him so much. Loving him felt like fire, crackling in the hearth. It felt like a much needed rainstorm, dousing the lands and finally ending a drought. Loving him felt like electricity buzzing through your bones, sparks flying from your fingertips every time you touched him.
Loving him felt like everything good you could ever think of.
So you used to tell him so. “You feel like home.”
And that was enough for him.
Alucard started to get up from his comfortable position before you held him back. “Where are you going, love?” you whispered, kissing the crown of his head. He sighed, nuzzling back into your chest, “I need to do my rounds in the village, sweetheart.”
“Why don’t you just stay tonight?”
He paused.
“You’re not the only one going on rounds. You don’t need to do it tonight. Please? Just once.”
He chuckled, looking up at you. “What’s gotten into you today?”
You smiled, kissing his forehead.
“I just want you to relax in my arms.”
Because he deserved it. Because he deserved all the love in the world.
Because he was your home.
#milk writes#alucard#adrian tepes#alucard x reader#castlevania#adrian tepes x reader#alucard tepes x reader#castlevania (2017)#milk flufftober
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Hi! I've taken a gander at your writing and I LOVE it! If possible, I'd like to make a request of some hcs (or a short drabble, either is fine) of Astarion x a gender neutral, autistic!Tav? Perhaps they've spent a long time masking and have been terrified of telling him about their neurodivergence, but eventually (very nervously) tell him after some time into their relationship? I'm curious to know how he might react. I've fallen head over heels for this man and it would mean a lot to me as someone who's still working to fully embrace their autism. Thank you for your time 💜 ♾🌈
Hidden Truth
This is very short so I apologize! It’s also kinda shitty because I’ve never done much about this before
Astarion x Autistic!Reader HC’s
I do not have autism, and don’t know much about it. But how ever I have seen a lot about it because I have a lot of symptoms so I looked it up to be more in depth with this. I’m so sorry if I get things wrong💓
Warnings: Poorly written autistic people, mention of people leaving for this, short explanation, over all kinds fluffy and a bit sad. Idk.
Astarion noticed that you weren’t like the others, there was just something about you. It wasn’t anything bad you just…Are very unique. And he loved it that.
The way you looked around each cave or place you visited and found something cool. Your little face lights up and starts to squeal and shake your hands around.
He loved how you got so excited over things.
Then when you looked around for a clue of what to say, you tensed up when people cried around you. Or, saying the wrong thing at the wrong time because you didn’t read the room. But, he loved to laugh about it.
Fighting was hard when there was loud sounds and he could see you flinch each time even though you had done this many times before.
At camp he noticed how you played with your hands or things in your hands. But he hated when he’d find you in a panic and never told him what was going on.
These are some of the things he noticed even if you tried so hard to hide it.
You had visited him outside of his tent with a plan to come clean, or to tell him. You loved him and wanted him to know about you, but it was so hard. You often dreamed about him calling you a “freak” and leaving you. It always made you sick to your stomach.
“Why the look? You’d think my presence would make you smile.” He’s tease and inch closer, swaying his body.
“I um- I have something I’d like to talk to you about.” The tone in your voice made him slightly worried but he didn’t show it. Only smirking and showing you to the log in front of the fire. “Anything you’d like, darling.”
You sat down next to him and began to pour your hear out to him. Explaining that you had autism and what the entailed, his confused face made it almost laughable. But he listened to your words like you have always done with him.
Each detail he could see exactly what you were taking about having witnessed you doing so.
“And, pray tell. Have you decided to tell me now?” He saw how you panicked and his eyes went slightly wide at the wrong tone he used. “I only mean..What took you so long?”
You looked away from him and avoided eye contact as it became hard. “I was afraid you’d hate me.” Hugging yourself at the memories of many doing so. “I didn’t want you to leave me.”
His heart broke and his chest felt heavy at the thought you- His darling. Were scared to tell him. So he laughed a bit.
“Oh, how cute. There isn’t much you could do for me to leave you and especially over something you can’t control.” His hand rested onto of your thigh and he scooted closer to you. “I find your traits endearing.”
His other hands reached to cup your cheek and turn your head, he was so soft. Softer then he’d ever been before. “I- I appreciate you telling me. You’d never have to worry about telling me anything,” he leaned forward and leaned his head on yours. “It’s clear to see that you have me wrapped around your finger, and my amazing self has you around mine.” His lips turned to kiss your cheek. 
Astarion doesn’t really care about it much. He learns how to make you feel better and help when you get overstimulated easy.
But he’s very protective when you get stares for a tic or anything. Pulls out his weapon and threats them, glares or just straight up yells at them.
He’s with you when you need him. Over all astarion is supportive over it.
But he was confused for a period of time and acts differently until you tell him not to. He just wants to make his baby feel safe and understood.
#Astarion Ancunin x reader#Astarion Ancunin#baldur’s gate 3 astarion#yandere astarion x reader#astarion x reader#baldur’s gate 3 x reader#x autistic reader#baldur’s gate 3
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Thank you for coming back
Notes: So once again, @zaana's incredible art lived rent free in my head until I put it down on paper. So here's a delightful AU where Crosshair doesn't get sent to Tantiss because guess who gets to him first? Chose to do a rescue from Barton IV because Cross is in his imperial armor in the art, and I thought "Hey, let's maybe give him a break and not make him go through torture before he's rescued?" Neat idea, right? Let's tell Jen and Brad
WC: 3K (lol this was going to be a drabble)
Characters: The Bad Batch (all of them!)
Tags: Wrecker POV (he deserves all the Crosshair reunion energy), angst at the end (Crosshair is going through it ok), hurt/comfort, giant family group hug, Crosshair and Wrecker cry, Hunter is emotional, canon typical violence, implied mistreatment by the Empire (did I mention Crosshair is going through it?), family reunion, all the family fluff I could fit into 3k words
Tay's Masterlist
Read on AO3
The sound of blaster fire was becoming permanent in Wrecker’s ears. Hunkered down behind a duracrete barrier, he kept his DC-17 trained on the Imps attempting to advance on his position, blaster bolts streaming past his head.
“Seriously, who trained these guys to shoot,” he thought to himself, needing to only dodge a few bolts from the barrage while his targets fell with each pull of his trigger.
The landing platform at the depot on Barton IV was looking more like a true battlefield and less like a remote outpost with every passing minute. Two T-4 shuttles lay in smoking ruins - the first thanks to Hunter’s skill on the Marauder’s rear gun and the second thanks to an excellent detonator throw by Wrecker - and stormtrooper bodies lay scattered across the duracrete ground. So far, Wrecker and Hunter were executing their part of the plan perfectly, but when it came to creating distractions, there wasn’t much guess work as to Wrecker’s success rate.
The Batch’s intel told them that the depot, located on a desolate, frozen planet that rivaled Hoth’s icy temperatures, normally operated as a blip on the Empire’s priority list. In fact, blip might have been giving it too much credit. The small clone trooper squad that was assigned to protection detail put in requests for equipment, supplies, and reinforcements throughout their year of service, and every request fell on deaf imperial ears. Gathered from the information Tech found during his hacking, Commander Mayday of the squad put in a request for reinforcements 40 rotations ago, citing that only five members of his squad remained alive at the time the request went in, but Tech couldn’t find any log of a response anywhere in the records. Complete silence from the Empire.
Until 4 rotations ago. The call went out for a platoon of stormtroopers to ready for deployment to Barton IV with orders to transport cargo of high importance to the Empire from the depot to the military base on Coruscant. Prior to the platoon’s arrival, a small squad of clone troopers was sent to scout and ready the depot for the cargo transfer. The squad consisted of two standard troopers and one specialized. One prickly, stubborn, unyielding specialized trooper who Wrecker couldn’t wait to see again.
When Tech caught chatter that a clone trooper shot a commanding imperial officer in broad daylight in front of an imperial depot, he initially intended to send the intel directly to Captain Rex, informing him of another defecting clone who would be in need of assistance, but after he scanned the information log, he didn’t register his datapad falling from his hands, thudding on the floor, only able to to focus on activating the comm on his vambrace, urging Hunter to get to the Marauder as quickly as possible. Because there in front of him, written across the Marauder’s main computer, was CT-9904: Defector. Charged with the murder of Lieutenant Nolan. In custody on Barton IV. Scheduled for armed transfer in two rotations.
The discussion was short - Hunter the only one remaining cautious until Tech confirmed the lack of security at the depot, even with the stormtrooper platoon coming in - and the Batch set their course to Barton IV less than two hours after the message was intercepted. The plan was easy, one the Batch could nearly execute in their sleep, even with their newer blonde addition. Create a distraction to draw the majority of security out into the open which Hunter and Wrecker would engage while Omega provided cover from the Marauder. Meanwhile, Tech and Echo skirt along the edge of the chaos, slip into the depot undetected, locate Crosshair’s location, and extract him while neutralizing any remaining threats if necessary.
Plans 5, 4, and 21. The Batch specialty.
“Wrecker, incoming! Northwest!” Hunter’s smokey voice called over the commotion.
The far gate of the depot opened, ten stormtroopers running out to join the fight. “Yeah, I see ‘em, Sarge,” Wrecker confirmed. “They look excited to see us.”
Hunter took cover behind his barrier, and turned his head in Wrecker’s direction.
“How about you give our hosts a warm greeting?” Hunter suggested, cocking his head to the side. Wrecker could feel the smug smirk under that helmet.
“Gladly,” Wrecker responded gleefully.
Reaching into the pack on his back, he grabbed two thermal detonators, clicked them live, and chucked. They arced into the air, curving in opposite directions, landing right in the middle of the oncoming troopers, and Wrecker watched as all ten stormtroopers disappeared into a beautiful burst of orange, red, and black.
“Direct hit,” Wrecker yelled, pumping his DC-17 in triumph.
Across the way, Hunter gave a quick thumbs up and popped his head above his barrier. Wrecker did the same, confirming that the landing platform was clear of imps for the moment, but they knew more troopers would arrive soon. They’d only taken out about 30 of them so far.
“Agh, where are they,” Hunter wondered, helmet trained on the door they expected to see their brothers emerge from.
“Give ‘em a few more minutes, Sarge. I doubt the Empire just left Crosshair in a set of binders on a crate.”
“They’re dumb enough to,” Hunter said. A soft chuckle came through his modulator, “Wonder how long he’d humor them until he took them all out with his hands still bound.”
“Knowing Crosshair? They wouldn’t even get the binders on him,” Wrecker laughed.
Hunter went quiet, helmet still pointed at the door. Then his shoulders fell like he was bowing to a weight Wrecker couldn’t see. “We’ll have to be patient. He’s…” Hunter paused. “He’s probably not the Crosshair we remember. There are going to be some … invisible wounds.”
Wrecker released his own shuttered breath. He looked down at the ground for a moment, and then looked back up to find Hunter looking back at him. “Doesn’t matter how long it takes. We’ll help patch those up too.”
Hunter remained still for a breath and then nodded.
The silence was interrupted by a chime on Hunter’s comm. “What’ve you got, Omega?” he asked as he activated the connection.
“I’m picking up multiple heat signatures heading our way. Looks like our little break is over,” Omega’s voice chirped over the comm.
“Copy that,” Hunter responded.
Wrecker brought his own comm up to his mouth. “What’s your count, kid?” he asked playfully.
“I’m at 4,” Omega answered, a smug tone floating through.
“Only 4? You’re falling behind. I’m at 18,” Wrecker said.
“I don’t think the thermal detonators should count,” Hunter interjected.
“What?! Did you see how perfectly those landed? Probably my best yet! Not even Tech could pull that off.”
“It’s hardly fair when I’m all the way back here on the Marauder!” Omega argued.
“Excuses excuses, kid,” Wrecker teased. Their debate came to a quick halt when the remaining hangar doors of the depot opened, revealing the last wave of the platoon. “Alright, break time’s over. Shoot good, kid.”
The platform became engulfed in battle once again. Blaster bolts peppered the air. Thermal detonators flew. Line after line of stormtroopers tried to take the advantage on the two ground soldiers and their coverage, but Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega held them back with ease. Wrecker heard General Skywalker speaking to Hunter about something called meditation once - a staple Jedi practice of centering one’s mind and connecting with the force through quiet sitting - and while Wrecker wasn’t sure this would meet the Jedi standard, he imagined this was the closest to meditation he would ever come. Surrounded by the sounds of battle. Adrenaline pumping in his veins. He’d hit a point of focus that drowned everything else out, his mission the only thought in his mind. And he was dam good at it, too.
His DC-17 sang, and he let out a jovial laugh as he took down another line of troopers. As he focused on the enemies in front of him, the squad’s comm channel chimed in his helmet, and the only thing in the galaxy that could divert his attention from the battle in front of him called through the speakers.
“Hunter. Wrecker. We’ve got him. We’re approaching the exit. What’s the status of the platform?” Echo’s voice came through.
For a second, Wrecker and Hunter turned towards each other, both chests rising rapidly with fast breaths not caused by the battle in front of them, and Wrecker knew if he could see Hunter’s eyes, they’d reflect the same bottomless relief he was feeling.
Wrecker forced himself back to the present and provided cover fire while Hunter responded.
“You’re clear to exit. A few imps left but nothing we can’t handle. Wrecker and I will provide cover fire while you cross the platform. Go directly to the Marauder,” Hunter ordered.
Wrecker’s breath caught in his throat when a low, raspy voice could be heard in the background. “No, we thought we’d take a hike in the mountains.”
A hitched breath came through, and in his peripheral, Wrecker noticed Hunter lean his helmet back against the duracrete barrier, shoulders shaking.
“I never thought I’d miss his attitude,” Omega piped in.
That broke the tension building in Wrecker’s head, and a laugh barreled out from his chest. Brain clear and ready to act again, he focused on the remaining stormtroopers trying to hold their ground.
“Omega, get the engines running. We’re getting off this hunk of ice as soon as we’re all onboard,” Hunter finished relaying the orders.
“One more thing,” Tech’s voice came through this time. “I did the scan. The inhibitor chip has indeed been removed, but only after the encounter on Bracca. Crosshair did remove it voluntarily unbeknownst to the Empire.”
“Tech kind of refused to leave the holding cells until he was able to confirm it all. Hacked records and everything here on the depot. That’s what took us so long,” Echo supplied.
“Thank the Maker for Tech, and his stubborn need for knowledge,” Hunter mumbled. He went back on the comm, “Glad to hear it. Now get out here.”
Hunter turned to Wrecker. “Let’s take out as many as we can before they get here. Once they emerge, you lay down cover fire, and I’ll take overwatch.”
“Copy that,” Wrecker replied, and they went to work.
Time that had been passing at light speed slowed to the flow of Mustafar lava. Only ten stormtroopers remained posted across the platform, and Wrecker was determined to clear as many as he could before his brothers emerged.
Another minute passed. Another. Then another. Time was taunting him.
A whoosh floated over the blasterfire. The blasted door to the depot finally opened, and there in the doorway were three bent over figures - two supporting the weight of the third in between them - hobbling onto the landing deck. Wrecker allowed himself one glance hoping it would calm his running mind. Echo took most of the middle figure’s weight, flesh arm wrapped around their waist and scomp arm securing the arm wrapped across Echo’s back dangling over his shoulder, while Tech kept one arm around the figure’s waist and kept his blaster at the ready in the other.
As Wrecker glanced at them, it wasn’t the figure’s distinct all black armor - the armor of the imperial special forces - that identified him to Wrecker. No, it was the tattoo around their right eye. The tattoo Wrecker sat and watched as Tech gave it to them when they were still just cadets. The tattoo that represented their pride in their skill. The tattoo that told everyone exactly which batch he belonged to, front and center for all to see. The crosshair.
Flanking from behind, Tech easily took down three stormtroopers before they made their way down the stairs. The remaining seven stormtroopers barked out orders to fall back, trying to regroup due to the new arrivals, and Wrecker used their confusion to his advantage, taking out another three in one go. Realizing they were outnumbered and outmatched, the remaining four stormtroopers fell back to the hangar, shooting wildly at any target they could see.
Slower than Wrecker would like, his three brothers made their way to his and Hunter’s position across the platform. As soon as they crossed the threshold of their barriers, Hunter stood from his coverage, falling in step to provide cover directly at their backs.
“Alright, Wrecker. Let’s keep these guys pinned as we head to the ship,” Hunter said.
Jumping into position, Wrecker kept a steady pace back to the Marauder without breaking his fire on the remaining stormtroopers. Hunter hit one more as they walked, and Wrecker had his finger on the trigger to take down another when a streak of pink flew over his head and directly into the helmet of his target.
He glanced over his shoulder.
“Final count: 12,” Omega beamed down at him from the top of the ramp into the Marauder.
“Aha! Nice shot, kid! Now let’s get out of here,” Wrecker said, barreling up the ramp into the ship.
The ramp closed up as the ship made its way into the air, and the energy within immediately went still. Tech sat in the cockpit, taking over the controls from Omega once on board, but Hunter, Wrecker, Echo, Omega, and Crosshair remained in the hold.
Crosshair sat in the chair in front of the computer, slumped over, one hand on the armrest propping him while an elbow rested on a knee like that was all the energy he could muster. He was breathing heavy, chest rising and falling as if he’d just finished a training sprint back on Kamino. Wrecker quickly gave his body a once over. Crosshair had always been lithe, by far the smallest body mass of the Bad Batch, but there had been muscle underneath those long limbs that gave any regular clone trooper a run for his money. Now, Wrecker clocked only bones showing underneath the exposed areas his armor didn’t cover, and his cheekbones were sharp above the hollowness of his cheeks. Purple blotched under his eyes, and it was impossible not to notice the deep scar that covered the right side on the back of his head. The scar he received when he took the full heat of a Venator ion engine.
The same engine he tried to trap his brothers in.
“Thank you…for coming for me. I…I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t,” Crosshair drawled, head bent down. Whether he was unable to lift it from lack of strength or not being able to face the current scene, Wrecker wasn’t sure. His own heart was thudding in his chest, threatening to burst out. He called on every ounce of discipline and self-restraint he learned in his years as a soldier and remained rooted in place, holding his breath. The rest of the Batch stood as still as statues, four sets of eyes on their silver-haired brother.
“You can drop me off at the closest port. You can pick. Doesn’t matter to me,” Crosshair said to the floor. Still, no one else spoke. He raised his head, glancing at each of them. His gaze settled on Hunter. “I…I’d understand if that’s what you want to do. It’s what you should do.”
The five of them felt the Marauder lurch into hyperspace, but still, Echo, Omega, Hunter, and Wrecker didn’t budge. Footsteps approached from the cockpit, and soon, Tech joined them, choosing to sit in the chair across from Crosshair. The silence grew, and Wrecked noticed the crease between the sniper’s eyebrows deepen while his eyes darted around the group.
“Well, aren’t any of you going to say something?” Crosshair asked, frustration creeping into his voice. He glanced around one more time, and finally stood up from the chair, a growl coming from his throat, back hunched like he was ready to pounce, and his gaze locked on Hunter, a finger pointed at the sergeant. “Listen, I didn’t ask you to come get me. I was ready to die on that platform after I shot the lieutenant, and I was ready to die in whatever maker-forsaken place they were going to send me. You hear me? I didn’t ask for this.” He gestured around the room, around the Batch.
“So don’t make me a burden you don’t want. Drop me anywhere. Leave me. It’s what I deserve - oof!”
Wrecker couldn’t take it anymore, and as he watched Crosshair teeter on the precipice of self-destruction, he took two strides towards his brother, and engulfed him in his arms.
Crosshair stiffened, his arms frozen mid-gesture to the side. Wrecker stood there, arms firmly wrapped around Crosshair’s back and shoulders, head dipping to rest on top of Crosshair’s head, and he waited. Eventually, Crosshair’s arms fell to his sides, but his body remained stiff like he wasn’t actually registering what was happening. Then, after a few breaths, his arms slowly rose, one wrapping under Wrecker’s arm and the other circling over his shoulder.
“Why did you come for me?” Wrecker heard muffled into his chestplate.
“We don’t leave our own behind,” Wrecker answered simply.
Wrecker felt the shaking first, then he heard the soft sobs. Tightening his arms, he held his once-lost brother as if challenging the galaxy to try and separate them again. When he felt Crosshair crumble into his chest, he released the grip he’d been holding on his own emotions, and the tears flowed freely. Tears of sorrow for what Crosshair endured. Tears of rage at the Empire. Tears of sweet relief at his family being whole again.
Wrecker felt a pair of arms sneak between his waist and Crosshair’s chest, and when he looked up, he saw Hunter wrapped around Crosshair’s back, arms crushing the sniper into the sergeant’s chest. “We’ve got you, Cross,” Hunter murmured.
One-by-one, Tech, Echo, and Omega joined in, the last squeezing herself into the middle, wrapping her arms around Crosshair’s leg, and even when the sobs quieted, they remained that way. There was a lot to talk about. A long road of trust to regain. They were about to navigate rough terrain. And the past will resurface, in old wounds, physical and not. But none of that mattered right now. In the middle of their home, a family reunited. Unsure what the future would bring them, but ready to face it all together.
#tay writes the bad batch#tay writes#divider by samspenandsword#the bad batch#star wars#hunter#wrecker#crosshair#tech#omega#echo#tbb wrecker#tbb hunter#tbb omega#tbb echo#tbb tech#tbb crosshair
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Masterpost (wow finally) for my fics
(some of the following fics were written out of order but i'm ordering them properly here)
Also including fanart other people have done for my fics, as well as my designs for these guys
The Bad Sanses Fics:
Say Goodbye to Your Name
i just wanted some fucking clothes why is there a parasite manning the cash register
Our Landlord that we Pay in Fear (collect my pages)
Nightmare('s) Blunt Rotation [unnamed drabble related to it]
I'll Catch You When You Hit Rock Bottom
Don't Bring a Papyrus to the Castle are you Insane
Direct Hit Through the Soul
One Year of This So-Called Hell [Star Sanses Interlude: Tipping the Balance]
Where Fate Leads Us
Getting Lost in Yourself
Blue's (totally not diary) log:
Error (Page 1)
ENTRY HELP [technically fresh's entry]
Blue
Nightmare
Dream
Ink
Cross and XChara
Hearts
entry number ???
Misc Fics:
Unnamed Ficlet where Error finds out about Ink's soullessness
Fridge (fanart drawn by other people for my fics. my own art can be found in the #utmv tag):
https://www.tumblr.com/gaylordscooter/744215905551220737?source=share
https://www.tumblr.com/gaylordscooter/745315444096892928?source=share
https://www.tumblr.com/gaylordscooter/747692369150967808?source=share
https://www.tumblr.com/gaylordscooter/748239802511572992/yayyyy-thank-youu?source=share
Additional thang (refs for my designs that I write in mind of):
Blue: 1 2 3 (don't mind the mettaton i haven't gotten to writing him yet whoopsie)
Ink: 1
Cross: 1
Fresh: 1
Nightmare and Dream: 1 2 3
Murder Time Trio: 1 2 3 Post-Where Fate Leads Us outfits
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two month story wrap up and shout out part 1: x Reader stories
I haven't read many stories in the past months, but I managed to catch up with some. so here we go, a little shout out to amazing creators and my absolute favourite stories I have read lately.
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Son of the Darkness - by @moonlightazriel; Azriel x Reader; do I even need to say how much I love this story? and that it all came form a dream...god, do I love the storyline and how well-developed and varied the characters are. the story has so so much potential and is so different from other Azriel stories, check it out if you have time, it is so worth it.
Song Week- by @moonlightazriel; Azriel x Reader; this was a full week (so 7 stories) inspired by songs; not only was the idea amazing also the stories were incredibly and so beautifully varied.
Buried Underneath - by @bubbles-for-all-of-us; Azriel x Reader; you want angst? then let the queen of angst serve it to you. yeah, she likes to break hearts with her stories, but it is so worth reading them, you will not regret it.
Safe Haven - by @bubbles-for-all-of-us; Azriel x Reader; even though there is a sparkle of angst in it, she also writes amazing fluff, so check out this piece as well, it was sooo so good.
Pretty Princess - by @euphoricpixiee; Ruhn x Reader; there is a severe lack of Ruhn story and this incredibly author does everything to fill this lack. loved the story so much, definitely blushed because it is hooooot.
Ice Cold Kiss - by @azrielscrown; Azriel x Reader, I mean I doubt there is a single not good story on her blog, but this was phenomenal; Jesus I am still feral for it and definitely reread it one or two times; also I am still grateful she chose this picture because that inspired me to post my drawings.
Moonlight Rising - by @azsazz, Azriel x Reader; I mean I can only repeat myself but does this author have one story that is not good? I doubt it. but this piece had me in tears, sooooo cute and fluffy, gaaaah.
Building Bonds - by @cosmic-whispers, Azriel x Reader; I remember reading this when I took a little break from tumblr and just read on the web and not logged in. but I loved it sooo much and will definitely read it again soon. it is sooo cute and I love the idea soo so much, soooo well written, such an incredibly talented author
Overwritten - by @illyrian-dreamer; Azriel x Reader; this author is definitely the second queen of angst, this piece had me in tears and I cannot describe how much I love your writing and stories. this story was perfection.
Stay With Me - by @illyrian-dreamer; Azriel x Reader; yeah, definitely second queen of angst because this was heartbreak and perfection all at once.
Always - by @redbleedingrose; Azriel x Reader; I still cannot believe that this author asked me for writing advice all this time ago; the story is so incredibly and I love that you decided to post it; best decision ever because look what gift you brought for all Azriel x Reader story readers.
Wingspan - by @viradeity; Azriel x Reader; this was such a cute and funny little drabble and I ADORED it. so well-written
general shout out to
@azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @brekkershadowsinger @brekkershadowsinger @kennedy-brooke @acourtofwhatthefuck @acourtofmenandthirst @writingsbychlo @azrielhours @swansworth this is a little shout out for you who don’t posts fics or where I haven’t read that many fics yet or where I couldn't decide for one as I haven't read that many of yours lately. but I wanted to make this shout out for your other contributions to the fandom (or your stories obviously) thank you for all your works and adding so much positivity and love to this fandom.
💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛
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Wanshi's Report Log
Warning: yandere themes
A/N: another drabble, trying to work out how I want these fuckwads to be written
I got assigned to a scout mission in City 006 to investigate an old research lab. Everything went according to the plan Captain planned out, though he put some emphasis on finishing this quickly... Guess Captain's busy. Hopefully that means I can catch up on my sleep.
Anyway, Me and Camu went on either side of parameters of the lab while Captain and Kamui started investigating inside. Nothing too unusual, other than catching a glimpse of someone scurrying out into the city...they looked pretty similar to that ascendant Roland, the one with the newer frame.
I told Capt about it and he told us to continue investigating the outer areas and keep an eye out for anything else before meeting up in the center of the lab.
We continued investigating and didn't find anything of note, other than some dusty puppets and a makeshift stage in an abandoned apartment. One of the puppets looked like Roland, and the others looked like Alpha, Luna, Lamia and... Uh, I forgot the last one.
I told Captain about the puppets when we met up, though he was acting a little weird. He was smiling to himself and had his hand on his in-ear piece...he's been doing that a lot lately, Kamui even made a joke that Captain must have a partner, but then Capt scolded him about staying focused. Even though it was a joke, he seemed unusually upset about it...
Sorry, this doesn't belong in a mission report. Anyway, we searched through the rest of the lab with only an occasional corrupted impeding our path. We successfully found all of the mission targets and are currently en-route to Babylonia.
-
A soft click of my terminal announces the end of my report log. All things considered, this was relatively easy, especially for something that called the entire Strike Hawk squad. A displeased sigh left my lips as I stared idly at the ceiling of the transport craft. I could've been sleeping in the Gray Raven lounge instead of doing this.
I steal a glance at my teammates. Kamui is playing a game he somehow got on his terminal, Camu is sitting farthest from us seemingly thinking about something, and Captain... He's doing it again. Chrome's sitting across from me and staring at something in his private terminal while listening to something on his in-ear piece, whatever he's watching...it's certainly making him happy in a way I've never seen before.
I look at him for a moment longer in apprehension. In the recent past, I wouldn't hesitate to ask him what's going on... but now, there's something drifting between us. Between all of us that no one seems willing to talk about.
I have my suspicions of course. Like how Kamui and Camu seem excessively clingy to the Commandant, excessively so, and how Chrome always seems to be watching the Commandant like a hawk whenever they're in his vision.
I'm in no place to judge though. I can't say with confidence my weekly visits to their room are entirely pure in nature anymore, I'm also finding it harder to be without them. I look down at my hands for a moment and close my eyes, it's not my fault their room is so much more comfortable than anywhere else and how their scent is so relaxing.
I sigh again and cast a glance over my three teammates again, carefully observing their facial expressions and body language. If it wasn't for them keeping me grounded, I don't know where I'd be. Probably killed by some self-righteous Purifying Force member by now. That's why I can't stand that this is happening. Even if the Commandant finally gives themselves to me tomorrow, if I can't live with Strike Hawk by my side, then what's the point? I'd be dead if it wasn't for them, no way am I letting something come between us.
Maybe I'm too greedy, but I can't help it. I want what's mine to stay mine. I can't let go of either of them.
I inhale deeply as a multitude of ideas and potential outcomes race through my M.I.N.D.. "How troublesome." I mutter to myself close my eyes and ready myself for a nap. I'll need the energy for what I have to do later.
#unhappy drabbles#yandere strike hawk#yandere pgr#yandere wanshi#yandere drabble#yandere writing#yandere punishing gray raven#punishing gray raven#punishing: gray raven#pgr commandant#wanshi pgr#pgr wanshi#pgr chrome#pgr kamui#pgr camu#pgr fanfic#yandere android#yandere male
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November recs
Yuletide is coming - but this should tide you over until then!
IRIS Log #1548 by deadchannelradio (Batman, gen)
(01:25) Red Hood: (Mild static) (Out of breath, slurred) You motherfuckers. Put some fuckin-
(01:25) Batman: (Shaking) Red Hood-
(01:25) Red Hood: Shut up. Put some fucking respect. On my name. Start fucking copying me. I just got thrown fucking. Um. 40 feet. Into a fucking uh. What's it. Ditch. I'm still fucking conscious.
(01:25) Batman: Red Hood, do not move, we're en route-
(01:25) Red Hood: What'll I win if I stand up.
(01:25) Batman: (Loud) Do not stand up.
Absolutely hilarious slice-of-patrol-life story, featuring a VERY concussed Jason.
Easy as Pie by Ptelea (Batman, gen)
Five times Jason baked something for or with his siblings, and one time they baked for him. A drabble sequence of triple drabbles written for the Seasons of Drabbles Summer 2023 challenge exchange.
Soft Batsiblings story, with a lot of feels packed into a small space.
Cinema Verite by BoldlyNo (Murderbot, gen)
"Someday, Ratthi hopes, he’s going to run out of things to learn about Secunit that break his heart."
Making a documentary in five hours flat is an experience in and of itself, but making a documentary with some of your friend's worst memories as footage is something else altogether.
Will I ever be over them making a documentary FOR GREAT JUSTICE? Definitely not. This is a great Ratthi POV on it.
Reformation by LocalCryptid7 (BNHA, Midoriya/Todoroki/Shinsou)
After a failed suicide attempt, years of bullying, and his mother's death, Izuku Midoriya doesn't think he has any option besides joining the League of Villains. After all, foster care is no place for a quirkless kid like him. Plus, working as a hacker and analyst for the League doesn't sound like it would be too bad. But, after meeting a hurt little girl in Overhaul's headquarters, Toga and Izuku can't just sit back and take orders from Shigaraki anymore. With some careful consideration, Izuku figures a villain reformation program at UA doesn't sound horrible, even if it means having to put up with Bakugou.
Villain!Izuku is usually a hard sell for me, but this works! Mostly because it shows both how Izuku ended up isolated and needing, AND he immediately turns tail once a kid is in danger. And then good followup on the consequences.
The Warlock's Cat by Marchling (Shadowhunters, Magnus/Alec)
Pain raced up his arm. It was a sharp throb that radiated out. More than a broken bone. When Alec went to flex his hand to see how bad it was he couldn’t. His eyes snapped to his own hand and there was no hand.
A mission gone wrong leads to Alec being turned into a cat. Alone. Hurt. No one aware of what's happened to him.
If only there was a cat-loving warlock nearby to save him.
Hello, I am a sucker for turned-into-a-cat-&-taken-in-by-my-enemy-who-turns-out-to-be-loveable stories - which is a very specific trope, but thankfully people keep writing it! This is a fun exemplar and an interesting AU.
Burgeoning by Owlship (Mad Max, Max/Furiosa)
He smiles a little, an uptick of his mouth, plush lips exposed where he's shaved the mangy beard off in the process of cleaning off the wasteland. "Here," Max says, and nudges into her space, arranges the plant carefully so the roots are properly covered, the leaves brushed free of dirt.
Furiosa doesn't realize she's going to move until she does, leaning across the slight distance between them and pressing her lips to his.
Max-returns-to-the-Citadel PWP, featuring poor gardening etiquette and a lovely vulnerable Furiosa.
#monthly recs#fic rec#batman#batfam#dcu#murderbot#bnha#midoriya/todoroki/shinsou#shadowhunters#magnus/alec#malec#mad max#mad max fury road#max/furiosa
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