#either way it’s attached to his body yes it was painful but it was worth it (according to him)

[just-some-user-hunny]

Vampire hunter D

‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ . 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒊𝒎 𝒂 𝒅𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆. 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 ✧ vampire hunter D x reader

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚D is a lonesome creature. His existence a barren sand-timer. Nothing lost and nothing gained. He's not keen to capture the eyes of humans- his years of existence proving to him over and over again that attachments are sentimental and brief. It's not worth the ache. However he finds himself contemplating whenever his eyes find your figure.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚He's very quiet and contemplative. He seems to be in his head a lot, often caught in a spiral of overthinking. His company is often silent- always playing the part of the listener, and not the talker. It's a role he's always found himself slipping into with ease- and with you, it's more than natural. Hes guilty of admitting he likes the sound of your voice. He'd listen to it for eternity if he could. You never know though, often missing the softness in his eyes and how gently he treats you.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚D is a rather nonchalant and solemn individual. He keeps his head lowered and eyes ahead focused on his job, and has very strong opinions and ethics around vampires and humans (including himself). His loathe and distrust for the immortal creatures always keep him on edge- and trapped within himself when it comes to you. He couldn't turn you. That would be out of the question- he'd have you for eternity, yes, but at such a cost? There is no way he'd allow that. He'd never want you to bear the suffering of becoming a no-life creature. Always cold...always hungry. The least he can do is ensure you live a long happy life where you are loved and safe- even if it means the cost of becoming alone again, it's something he'd risk.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚Very very lonely. Keeps the world at an arms length, he seldom sticks around because he's not keen on making attachments to people. He keeps himself lonely to save himself from the inevitable pain of being left behind. So when he comes across something precious like you who manages to stir these troublesome emotions within him, it's an internal battle for him. The parasite is always the one to air out his dirty laundry- you can't stand being in love with her, can't you D? Oh this is tearing you up inside huh pretty boy? Can't look away, but can't bear to watch either. Tut tut.

.‧ ₊ ⊹˚Pushes and overworks himself a lot. (His odd parasite thingy is always scolding him to take care of his body better). You'll probably find yourself reminding him to take a break and rest now and then, just to save him from overexerting himself again and collapsing. The first time you saw him smile was when you stood upon your toes to shield him beneath your parasol during a walk together. It was faint- subtle and gentle, but it was there. He's secretly very thankful that you are so caring towards him. He doesn't feel so deserving.

. ‧ ₊ ⊹˚ He's very respectful and gentle with you. It's rather unbelievable to see such a mysterious and ethereal creature that seemed to teeter upon the blade's edge of beauty and horror be so careful with you. Opening doors, shielding you from the rain with his cape, holding your things for you if you were to ever ask, walking you home to ensure your safety- even carry you upon his back or lifting you upon his horse if you are ever injured are all friendly and helpful things he'd probably not bother to follow through with anyone else. He's not cruel or unkind- just distant. So him allowing himself to do such intimate things in his eyes is a big deal. His voice is so so soft and solemn when he speaks to you- sharing whispered secrets and oaths late at night amongst the crackle of fire and chirping of crickets. Things he's never uttered before, not that you know of course.

.‧ ₊ ⊹˚He's a gentle creature to you. Soft gazes that linger too long for his own comfort, and yet he cannot bear to look away. You're haunting him, day and night. Often every waking moment is occupied with your existence, the constant leering and scolding of the parasite hissing and whispering into his ear. Worming into his consciousness, seeing everything.

‧ ₊ ⊹˚You best believe him and the parasite are always bickering. Poor D is often the ongoing victim of teasing and berating. Hissing and muttering under his breath, casting his gaze away from yours.

."Here you go again D, wanting something you can't have- mpfth!"

. He'll clench his fist tight, till his knuckles ached and turned bone white. Troubled... And irked.

. "You are to be kept out of this". He'll warn, his tone soft yet final. Unwavering as the parasite utters a muffled croaky crackle. Oh he does enjoy getting under his skin like this- and it seems he's found a sensitive spot. You.

.‧ ₊ ⊹˚He's unfamiliar with the attachment taking him this strongly. So... Latching. Surely he's come and gone from the delicate mortal loves that he's come across throughout his existence, and although their faded memories still linger like mist- he can't seem to unlatch himself off you. He needs you he can't have you.

Whenever he looks at you, his eyes are always full of melancholy. Like you have already left his life, his heart guarding itself from the inevitable occurrence of your loss. He's trying to confront these feelings early on to numb the pain later on. Please don't bring up the times where he has ever so softly stroked your face whilst you were supposedly fast asleep, or how you do notice his constant stares. He hides his embarrassment well but please spare him. Let him have this little thing for himself whilst he can.

‧ ₊ ⊹˚Overall, you'll have a very broody yet gentle dhampir looking after you for a while yet. He cares for you deeply, so deeply you may not even be able to fathom it with your mortal soul- regardless of his cool sullen gazes and soft slow actions, but you are precious to him. Enjoy your mysterious bodyguard for life!

[pacificwaternymph]

angst ask angst ask angst ask

either 21 or 47 for witchcraft flower husbands? i know it's not going to be canon but i know you love them and i love agreeing (and wc scott is just perfect for any angst)

Figured I'd just combine these <3 Anyway you guys are making me vibrate in my seat so here we go.

-

"Scott?"

Scott barely dared to breathe.

He was there. He was right there, standing in the middle of the circle, the same as he had been the morning of the day he died.

There was no gaping hole in his chest, no blood or tear in his clothing, no burnt hair or broken bones. His hair, golden in a way Scott's hadn't been in a very long time, was decorated by a crown of poppies. He still wore his wedding ring around his ring finger.

"Jimmy" Scott breathed. He'd dreamed of this day for years, plotted over and over how it would go, what he would say. Yet in the face of his love, his husband, all his words left him. His vision started to blur.

"Scott- is that- is that really you?" Jimmy took a step forward, hesitant. "Where am I? What are we doing here?"

Scott opened his mouth, to say something, or do something, he was right there why couldn't he say anything-

"Jimmy." He repeated, forcing the name past the lump in his throat. He stared up at the other man with a reverence from his position on his knees, drained from everything the spell had taken from him.

He wasn't really there. Scott didn't have Jimmy's body, nor did he have a body suitable to attach his spirit to. He didn't have the resources, the time, or the power to bring him back fully, not yet anyway. He still needed more.

But he'd found a spell. A way to contact someone from the other side, to speak with them, if only for a short time. And it had worked.

Because Jimmy's apparition was standing right there, at the edge of the spell circle, still looking hopelessly lost and confused. Of course, he had no idea what was going on. One second he'd been in his afterlife, and the next he'd been dragged through the veil to the land of the living. It was bound to be disorienting.

He needed Scott to explain everything. But he still found himself speechless, watching the beloved form of his husband as he waited for a response.

"Scott- you're- you're starting to scare me." Jimmy brought one hand up to rub his forearm. And no, that was wrong. Jimmy shouldn't fear him. His husband should never fear anything from him. "What happened to you? Why do you look so..."

Scott blinked, and looked down at himself. Yes, he supposed that he did look different than he had when Jimmy was still alive. His hair for one thing. But that was likely the least startling change.

Scott felt shame flush his cheeks. He was a hollow mess, an empty shell of the person he once was. The bags under his eyes had grown so dark that he feared they wouldn't go away with a week's worth of sleep. Decay spread up his arms and in the ground beneath him. He was ragged and torn, little more than a husk.

"I..." Scott dragged his eyes up to meet Jimmy's. He forced himself to his feet, ignoring the way he swayed as he stood upright and pain burst between his eyes. "You're here. You're really here."

"Where is here?" Jimmy asked desperately. He tried to reach out, to help steady Scott, but his hand bounced off an invisible barrier, white light flaring up around the edges of the circle. Just another downside to the spell--the person inside could not leave, and the caster could not enter.

"You're-" Scott flinched at the scratchy sound of his own voice. "I've brought you back."

"Brought me... back?" Jimmy shook his head bewildered. Scott couldn't meet his eyes, but after a few moments, they widened. "You don't mean-"

"Not permanently." Scott hurried to clarify. "Not yet. I... I'm not strong enough yet." He stared at the palms of his hands, nearly overtaken by rot. Jimmy followed his gaze, and his expression turned horrified.

Scott couldn't help but curl in on himself at the way his husband looked at him. But he understood. It was horrifying, and he'd long since grown used to people looking at him like that. It never bothered him, in fact, he reveled in their disgust.

But... he never thought about what would happen if he looked at him like that. He couldn't handle it. The one that he'd done all this for, the reason he'd become a necromancer in the first place, was staring at him like the monster that he was.

Scott had to convince him. He had to show Jimmy that he was still his Scott, that nothing had changed. He was still just as devoted to him, he would never turn a hand to harm him. He would rather plunge a sword through his own neck then allow anything to happen to him ever again.

He clenched his fists and lowered them, returning his gaze to Jimmy's gorgeous brown eyes.

"But I will. I've been chosen, Jimmy. I'm competing to become the next Supreme Witch. And when I win, I will finally have everything I need to bring you back for good. Then everything will be as it once was."

He clasped his hands together in a pleading motion, practically begging Jimmy to understand. To not be scared. To not be disgusted by the wretched creature he had become.

But Jimmy didn't look scared or repulsed. He looked sad.

"Oh, my love..." His voice ached, in a way that Scott had never heard it before. He felt his breath catch in his throat as Jimmy put a hand up to the force field that kept them separate. "What have you done to yourself?"

Scott broke. A sob escaped his throat, and he reached up cover his eyes, cover his weakness. But then- why? Why was he hiding it? This was Jimmy. His husband. His beloved. He'd never judge Scott for such things as crying.

Scott placed his hand on the barrier, right over Jimmy's. His head thunked forward against it, the tears continuing to pour, dripping onto the soft dirt below him and disappearing.

"I love you," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

And he was. He was sorry that Jimmy had died. Sorry that Jimmy had to see him like this, in this worn state. Sorry for everything he'd sacrificed to get to this point, and for all the things he would have to sacrifice to continue. Sorry that he wasn't strong enough yet, sorry that he hadn't already won the trials.

"I love you too." Jimmy bent over slightly so that he could see Scott's eyes. "Can you look at me?"

Of course he could. He would do anything Jimmy asked of him, no matter the cost. Scott forced himself to look up, sniffled and swiped at his eyes to try to get himself to stop being such an embarrassment.

"I love you, Scott. More than words could ever express." Scott opened his mouth to say it back, say it a thousand times, anything to prove that he could still be the lover Jimmy deserved. But Jimmy held up a hand to silence him. "But I don't want you to bring me back."

Scott felt the floor drop out from underneath him.

"What...?" He felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Move on, Scott," Jimmy pleaded. "Find someone else. Don't stay hung up on me forever. Please."

"No." No, no no no. He couldn't. He'd spent so long trying to bring Jimmy back. He'd wasted away for years, searching for answers. He'd done too much, sacrificed too much. "I can't."

"Yes you can." Jimmy smiled sadly. "You don't need me. You can find meaning in your life elsewhere."

"I don't want to." Scott couldn't give up now. Not when he was so close to figuring it out. "Jimmy, I- I'm too far gone. I can't let go, I'm sorry. I- I have to do this. I have to prove that- that I'm still-"

Still what?

Still a good person? He'd passed that threshold a long time ago. Still worthy of Jimmy's love? No, of course he wasn't. He hadn't been even when they first met, and he certainly wasn't now.

But then what? What was he trying to prove? Who was he trying to prove it to?

"You deserve happiness, Scott. I don't want to be the reason you stay miserable forever."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew everything I've done."

And oh, there it was. This was a punishment. This was his self inflicted atonement for allowing Jimmy to die in the first place. An impossible task that had seemed so far out of reach when he first started. But now he was mere steps away from the finish line, and he'd actually begun to hope.

So perhaps it was fitting that this was where he would have it ripped away from him.

"I don't know. And I don't care. There is nothing you could do that would make me think any less of you, Scott. I do love you, and I always will. But my time has passed. I don't belong here anymore. Please, do yourself a favor and let me go."

Scott could barely hear him anymore over the ringing in his ears. Let go. He'd heard those words so many times, from so many different people. Cleo, Eloise, Delilah. Each and every one of them had told him what Jimmy was saying now. But he'd brushed them off, and now look where he was.

The light emanating from the runes on the ground started to fade, and Jimmy's solid form turned translucent. He was fading, and quickly, but Scott wasn't ready yet. There was still so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to do.

Jimmy noticed it too. "Petal?" Scott snapped back to attention. "Win that competition. Become supreme witch. And then forget I ever existed. Be happy. Live your life to its fullest. I'll see you in the afterlife."

Scott felt the tears anew. He didn't say anything, didn't do anything. He just stood there as his love vanished once more, leaving him alone.

As soon as the last of the light disappeared, and the chalk blew away in the wind, he fell to his knees, and sobbed until the sun came up.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Coming on their body? Decorating Dabi’s body in that aspect ;))

Like on the face, or stomach repeatedly?

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

Drabble under cut!

Dabi was definitely being a brat after they took over the PLF. They had a good place to live, unlimited plastic, and a big room with a huge bed and two sturdy locks on their door. He wanted to get fucked god damn it. But first Duster needed to get treated for his injuries, then get his new prosthetics, and they were in meetings all of the time, and the doc was constantly goading him into new treatments, and on top of the Gigantomachia thing, suddenly it had been two months since they fucked. So he was absolutely being a brat when he'd gone right into Duster's office between meetings, stripped down to nothing but his sexiest lingerie, and started to work himself over slowly.

The look on Shig's face when he came into the room is more than worth the punishment that he knew would be coming afterward. And he had finally gotten fucked the way he'd been wanting for weeks, so he was content enough.

Maybe he should have been more concerned when Duster told him that he would be taking the weekend off so they could spend time together, but at the time he had just hoped that would mean more mind-blowing orgasms in his near future. He should have known that he wouldn't be getting any of those until Tomura thought he had properly learned his place and how to be patient again.

"Come here, whore."

His face burns with his blush as he's forced to crawl along the floor, tugged closer by his leash. Duster makes him kneel in front of the mirror attached to their closet door and then moves over to the nightstand, reaching into the drawer and coming back with a thick black body marker.

"I was planning on surprising you and giving you a reward for being such a good boy while you waited for me to have time to play with you again. But you couldn't wait. You wanted something fast and dirty because you're a filthy little slut." He uncaps the marker as he speaks, voice as even and calm as it is when they're discussing their troops. He catches Dabi's chin between four fingers hard enough to strain his staples and make Dabi whimper, as he writes 'slut' across the unscarred skin of one cheek. "A desperate cockwhore." He tugs his leash and presses his foot to the back of Dabi's neck, forcing him to flatten his shoulders to the ground, his forehead against the carpet, and his cock, trapped in the cold metal cage, aching sharply with the need to fill. The word is scrawled across his lower back just above his ass, and he can't help moaning when he gets a hard slap against it before Shig pushes him over. He rolls onto his back, the cage just loose enough to show that he's already as humiliatingly hard as he can get like this. Sir's eyes linger between his legs coldly. "So pathetic that being treated like this makes your needy cock want more." 'Pathetic' and 'needy' go on the unscarred skin on the inside of either thigh and he's trembling against the ground, already close to begging. "If you could have just behaved then I would have been able to pretend for a little longer that you're more than just a hungry hole begging to be fucked."

"Tomura," He can't help it, the whine coming out of him as he spreads his legs a little wider, lifting his hips from the ground. Knows this is a punishment, but it's making him so hot that he thinks he's going to melt and they've barely started.

The slap that lands hard and high on his inner thigh makes him moan even as the pain stings across his skin. "Filthy little painslut.” That goes over one of his hips. He tries to bite his tongue and be patient and Tomura takes a slow, deep breath. "I activated a new quirk that I thought I would share with you. Regeneration. Not to its full potential yet, but," his hand moves across Dabi's stomach, to his pelvis, makes Dabi moan as he cups his hand over his cage and gives enough pressure to make it dig into his skin slightly. "It can speed up recovery time and increase stamina." Dabi goes absolutely breathless under him. Duster can already go for so long and usually doesn't stop until Dabi's gotten off at least two or three times, had made him sob and beg to stop, then promptly passed out when he had pushed that all the way to six one time when they had the whole day to themselves. "I thought that we would enjoy that together the first time. But you had to misbehave."

"I'm sorry, Sir," he tries desperately. He should be expecting the slap across his face, hard enough to leave black spots dancing across his vision and making him go limp against the carpet as he trembles with his need. Tomura shifts above him again and he hears a drawer open again. He's only able to blink back to focus as fingers catch hard at his cheeks, just under his staples, and start to apply pressure to his jaw, forcing him to open. The rubber ball of the gag slips behind his teeth in a solid, heavy weight that only sends him floating higher as he immediately tries to rub his tongue against it and suck on it like he wishes he was doing for his lover's cock.

"So instead, I'm going to enjoy my new quirk myself, and you--" he reaches down and flicks the cage, making vibrations go through it that have him moaning around the gag. "Are not going to cum until I can't read the words on your body anymore. Until then, you get to be my messy little cumdump." And that one goes across his chest in the bold black letters. "There. Now, if you can keep track of how many times it takes, then maybe when we're all done, I'll give you a reward."

///

Dabi tries to keep count, he really, really does. But it's so hard. Because the first one he has the other straddling his chest, pressing his tits together as Tomura fucks them slow and gentle, so he doesn't damage his seam too badly with a few of the staples out to keep from hurting him either. Fucks his chest as Dabi aches in his cage until he pushes in one more time and splatters his cum across his chest and face, some of it striping up to his hair. He sees Dabi's jaw trying to work around his gag, automatically wanting to open wider, to lick away his release, and that earns him a second across his face. He has him press close and jerk him until there's cum dripping down across his hand and stomach, and then smears it into their sheets when Tomura gets him facedown on their bed, his ass raised and Tomura standing, and he thinks as his fingers push into his hole and start to stretch him, that means he's going to get fucked. He's desperate for it, for relief, but he doesn't get it. Sir completely avoids touching his prostate and letting him creep towards that kind of orgasm. He just leaves him aching and drooling in his cage as he holds his thighs tight and fucks them hard. Three times? Four? Dabi doesn't know. He just knows that he's so wet with Tomura's cum by the time he's finished there that he's kneeling in a puddle of it on the bed and he's sobbing with how badly his own cock hurts and how sore his full balls are from being denied his release.

Sir still isn't finished with him. Rolls Dabi over so that he's getting even filthier in that wet spot and only then shoves into his hole and starts to fuck him. Dabi is certain that if anyone came past their room they would think he's being tortured from the sounds he's making behind his gag, and it feels like he is. He wants to cum so badly, but that's not for him. He's just Sir's slut. He only gets to be used because he misbehaved. Pathetic. Tomura fucking him so hard that it's putting bruises against the back of his thighs. Needy. His cum being fucked out of his gushing hole from how many times he's already been filled. Cockwhore. His body screaming because he never feels as good as he does when he's full and Tomura won't touch his prostate. Painslut. Every movement makes his cock hurt more and more, and that only keeps him on the knife's edge of arousal in a way that he's never experienced before. Cumdump. Just made to be filthy and dripping, smeared with Tomura's release, every inch of him used to make sure he feels good.

"Look at that, baby boy," Sir's voice rough as he runs a hand over his chest, smearing away the mixture of sweat and cum dripping all over his skin. "Finally made your makeup run." And his fingers stray, pinching his nipple at the same time his other hand grips his thigh and he changes his angle. The next thrust is so hard and it finally, finally, puts that solid, perfect pressure against his prostate.

Dabi didn't even know it was possible for him to cum inside of his cage, but he manages one hard twitch and then the explosiveness and radiating pleasure of a real orgasm rather than a milking. Cums as hard as he can in the confines and feels the rubber in his mouth warp a little around the heat of his quirk before he's going limp against the bed and blackness is rushing up over his eyes.

///

He comes to a little while later to Shigaraki carrying him to the bathroom to clean up. Dabi's jaw hurts and he's still in his cage which he whines over, reaching for it.

"Don't worry, baby boy, you can still get clean with that on." Tomura murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss against his temple. "You misbehaved again while you were being punished. So we're going to clean up and have dinner, and then I'm going to put in your sound and we're going to try again. Doesn't that sound fair?" He really does wait for an answer. Waits for him to safeword out. But Dabi feels a bit of brattiness still trying to fight its way up through his exhaustion.

"Yes, Sir." He's not going to back down. He'll hold out until his lover breaks first.

It's a stubborn, stupid sentiment that he's certain he'll be regretting when the sound is in and he's in so much pain as the pressure builds all over again, but if Tomura has quantity covered with his orgasms now, Dabi will happily take quality until he earns back the former as well.

[putaindeplagieur]

Danganronpa: Killing Games, a Chain of Reactions.

Heyo. Its time for me to strike again with a reaction. This time, from good old @pyropsychiccollector who answered an ask:

https://at.tumblr.com/pyropsychiccollector/what-is-by-far-the-dumbest-plot-point-in-hopes/o2dnjussy0xn

So, as you can see in the article, pyro has three culprits to point his fingers at. Three points which makes me have three different reactions. And I thought 'why not pester everyone with my thoughts again ?'

Only my opinions, lets be civil, prepare the popcorn for some long ass rant... I think you know the jazz.

1: The Future Arc

Lets cut to the chase here. I ENTIRELY agree on this point. Why ?

Simply put, because this 'game' has no proper structure to maintain it. The only reason this exist is to push Ryouta to use his brainwashing video. Thats it.

Of course there is bound to have dead bodies dropping, but not only Kazuo sent all of the Heads of his organisation to the guillotine, but they werent even developped as opposed to the two others. Everything moved so fast we barely got to know them let alone feel attached to, when its even possible.

'It would be too painful to put Makoto in another killing game', the devs said... well whatever this was, it was painful for him AND us.

Honestly, it would have been much better to have the killing game either be scrapped entirely, or have it happen after we see them bound. Make us see how the outside world is recovering by this point. We already saw a glimpse of that happen in Killer Killer, now we wanted to see how things changed by then ! What about the population that struggles and needs help, what about the Despairs themselves ?

We could have had Makotos visions truly evolve, as we see him trying to adapt himself in the dangerous world outside as he get out of the school, trying to give back some humanity in this broken world as he tries to compromise with Kyousuke so they can finally work together in the Killing Game ! Not to mention, the Forbidden Actions were interesting as it put another limitation to avoid !

...

I feel like I could go on and on about what DR3 should have been... but it deserves its own post. I have two other points to go over.

2: Celestia Ludenberg

Aaaaand thats pretty much where I feel like I must say my piece, even if the reasonning

Yes, Celestia, as the Ultimate Gambler, should have known better than involving two victims was too big of a risk. Double murders are pretty notorious to be.... not great in general. And yes, her plan ended up having too much holes to be credible. Honestly, I get people when they say her talent was shamed because of her rash decisions which doesnt fit her persona.

To which I answer... is it really that surprising ?

In a classic gambling match, surely the outcome would have been her victory. Because in my mind, in any official tournament which opposes expert in the field of analysis, strategy and treachery, the result of winning might be worth the risks.

But this isnt a tournament. This is a torture porn game made a psychopath who uses a human emotion as an excuse to make people suffer. Because it made her feel alive.

And we all know the lenghts she took. Aside from brainwashing people, she took years of people who were close to her, making them strangers... and the motives. Their families, their secrets, their greed, their sense of security... she played with everything she had.

Because she knew how they worked. And she knew how to counter their quirks. And that included our best gothica manipulative girl.

Because lets face it guys, even with the most objective look on things, that doesnt excuse her actions. I do think that had she survived the game, some accountability would have been much needed, especially in an organisation as skin tighted as the Future Fundation. Not to mention the Captives.

BUT ! Notice that I wrote SOME accountability. Not ALL of it. Why ?

Simple : who is the one who was manipulating things to turn out this way ? Celestia played her cards, that is undeniable... but who gave her those cards ? Who awoke her greed with the motive ?

Because yes. Junko knew Celestia's dream. She knew how she got there and how far she would go, and she pushed her victim over the edge. I say victim because even though Celes was a bitch compared to the other culprits, and even though she killed for selfish reasons, at the end of the day, she was as manipulated as the rest of her class, a class full of people with weaknesses and insecurities that she took advantage of.

In Celestia's case ? It was her pride.

Celestia Ludenberg was born because Taeko Yasuhiro was, according to her, a boring girl with nothing special... when she thought she deserved better. All the while denying her past that she wants nothing to do with.

The moment Junko put a possibility for her to make her dream, her LIE, a REALITY ? The outcome was inevitable.

Personally, I do think its a shame Celes didnt survive. The death of the mask to let reality sink in. But realistically speaking ? Celestia would have NEVER allowed that to happen. The Queen of Lies can lie to all, even herself. But not to one who knows the truth. That was a match she could never win no matter what.

Because lets say that she got away with her plan... then what ? She can construct her castle in a destroyed France ? And for all we know, what tells me the cash Monokuma showed wasnt fake, rendering all of her machinations for NOTHING ? Uh ? Ever though of that ? She has hidden the Class Trial aspect and the Tragedy until the good time, this is something she would do !

This is something any good mastermind would do : tell their captives enough information to advance... but let the context out of their grasps. The reason is simple : to make them panic and let their emotions do the rest. And as Junko is not directly involved like the participants... she can deflect all the blame on those who cracks under the pressure.

Thats the strategy the bad guys in Squid Games used, thats the strategy Junko uses on those she wants to suffer for her enjoyment.

PLAYING DIRTY.

Thats the base of anyvkilling game. Using the quirks of the participants to make them go unrational. So Celes acting the way she did is upsetting... but surprisingly, I think not only it was intended, but in character. And to those who thinks it doesnt fit her talent...

Damon Maitsu from Eden's Garden.

Spoilers, the talent of debating about multiple subjects doesn’t mean you can communicate with others well. And your ego who belittles the talents of others, as well as using an (although optional) road involving feelings rather than logic ... doesn't help.

Emotions... can get the best of you in stressful situations.

Someone would attest to that.

3: Sayaka Maizono

Everything I said about Celes... also applies to Sayaka. Even more so, in fact, considering her status.

I’m not going to write much more, I’ll just say this.

Sayaka using Makoto in Chapter 1? Unfortunately, that’s... not as stupid as you guys would think.

Again, Junko hiding the Class Trial section of killing someone is on purpose, and the instructions were too vague for everyone to have a good grasp of the implications.

And Junko knows about what Sayaka had to do to get the title. That doesn’t excuse what Sayaka did and tried to pull, but that video? The way she panicked? It was intended to be as such.

Compare her video to Makoto’s. His home was destroyed, his family nowhere to be seen, and he freaks out for a moment, wanting to get out. Pretty intense all things considered.

Sayaka’s though? Seeing your friends on the ground, unconscious? Or are they even alive at all? There’s no way to tell at all, for all she knew... No wonder why she snapped, seeing her closest friend, and NOT KNOWING IF THEY’RE ALIVE... not knowing for sure is a torture.

So when she hears her friend telling her he would get her out of here no matter what... is it really surprising to have her think in dark places?

Bringing the worst in ourselves, all away from logic and rationality...

That is the power of the Killing Game.

Conclusion

Contrary to what Kyosuke says, having rules doesn’t make things safer. Not when they’re stacked against you. Hell in a broken world with attacks which can comes at every directions, and hell in a secluded place without any idea of what those around you might be thinking, with a mastermind that can pull any stunts it can to make people break. Stupid decisions are bound to happen in those settings.

...then again, when the game isn’t structured properly, and when the anime is rushed...

Anyways, thank you for bearing with me.

Now I gotta prepare my shield. See ya!

[shawnjacksonsbs]

Richest man in Walnut Grove?

It definitely helps put some perspective on it, that’s for sure.        1-21-23

 "All right, then. And as for the decent job, now, that is something else. Any job a man can do to make his way in this world is a decent job as long as he works hard at it and does his best. You know, God didn't put sweat in a man's body for no reason. He put it there so he could work hard, cleanse himself and feel proud. Don't you ever forget that." - Charles Ingalls

 And yes . . . still atheist, but man I do love this show.  

I don't know if it's because I'm getting older, or if this is what the onset of wisdom feels like, but I really do enjoy it. lol

I suppose it takes a certain kind of heart to make . . .all the goodness work in this world.

And as some of us now know, hope, gratitude, understanding, and love are not virtues altogether lost on me.

It's a good life.

Those deathbed regrets get more and more limited each and every day.

Ongoing theme from most people, real and/or fiction, that I find my truth in, are things like

 Plain and simple is best. Hard work and honesty are worth it.

 Deep and simple is far more essential than shallow and complex.

 Hope may sometimes hurt, but the hanging on that it provides is essential.

 Doing (something, even if it seems trivial) for others pays personal emotional dividends that are priceless.

Sometimes, only sometimes doing for others comes by way of justice served to others.

 And

 That fear, not hate, is loves greatest enemy. Just sayin'

 Finally,

 Love overcomes hate, eventually and always as a whole.

  Can you name the people whether, real, imagined, family, or fiction, who best taught you??

They are the real heroes, right?

I know I say it a lot, but . . .Damn it, youth really is wasted on the young. Lol

It doesn't mean anything negative, or disrespectful towards our current young people either.

From what I've seen they're trying, and doing their best. I promise you I believe that for the most part.

Granted there are exceptions, but my point . . .if given a touch of youth now, what would you do with it??? That’s my point exactly. lol

I was so broken, so hurt most of my life. I couldn't catch a life lesson if you threw it straight into my catcher’s mitt. Physical, mental, and definitely emotional hurts, caused by me, or others, could have been  . . . .

Shoulda, woulda, coulda right?

I most certainly am not that idiot boy trying all the wrong answers first anymore. Am I?

Psychology, in the form(?) of sociology is such a fickle thing. Wouldn't it be nice if it actually made sense to work together to help the young overcome the nightmares sooner rather than later.

I'm not lost on the fact that they need some of that . . .pain to find real understanding in their truths, but god damn.

Those going through it like some of us did, especially those worse off, for which there are plenty make me wanna cry. My heart weeps.

The one upside is that it makes me try harder to be . . .a positive example. It works for those wanting it like me. Like with actual thought-provoking real human emotion attached to it.

I am trying, I AM NOT arrived. Not completely. Not yet. Light years ahead of the old me though.

 I feel like I'm rambling now. I might pick this back up later. ~

 This one is not "no notes", it's actually almost "all notes". Lol

I didn't want this one to lose anything I felt while writing it, to be lost in the transition of editing. Not this time. This works too, sometimes, mostly copied and pasted.

The feeling of being in that “hug” as I first started writing to ending up almost feeling sorry for old me not feeling that “hug” when he longed for it, here towards the end is. . . .where I go, or where I get to. Its’ a “Hug” you can feel while you breathe.

I suppose I’ll close this up.

I still have family in the hospital dealing with very heavy things, and a few loved ones still in the streets and in addiction, please keep them in your hearts and in your thoughts for me. And yes, if you pray . . .pray for them.

Oldest grandchild, granddaughter actually turned 8 recently and her birthday party is today, so that’s going to be good. I’m still making it to my already set place mats!!

It’s a good life, mine. And it’s getting better all the time.

Now keep sharing your love and laughter with the world around you, even if it means a bit of struggle. I will, of course, try to do the same, struggle or not!!

It’s not always roses, sometimes its ashes, but man. . . sometimes it is roses!!! That’s real talk.

 Until next time;

"Ma says, "Do your best work and the time will take care of itself." - Mary Ingalls

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || every client is different, with different needs; but this client is, in every way, exceptional.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut (cnc), dom/sub relationship, ‘mistress’ title, pain kink, cockwarming, orgasm denial/control, use of a cockring, slapping, objectification/degradation, some angst and hurt/comfort, crying after sex, touchstarved!bucky

new parts posted on thursdays!  join the taglist here

"And you can promise complete and total discretion?” the deep and husky voice on the other end of the line repeated, low enough that it was almost a whisper.

You laughed a little. “Of course,” you answered. Most clients were serious about privacy, but this guy was next level. He must be famous, you thought to yourself, or married. Or both.

But just as much as your clients wanted to keep you separate from their personal life, you would rather they know nothing about who you are. Of course it was always a risk, since nobody could hide their face and you had to work out of your apartment, but you did what you could to keep your job just that— a job.

You told your friends you were a consultant, because people didn’t question that. Sure, it was hard to keep up the lie sometimes when you got last-minute bookings and had to cancel plans, but it was worth it for the money these men were willing to pay.

And this new guy? He was shelling out all kinds of cash, on a long set of conditions. Including an NDA. You wouldn’t have given him up either way, but if the contract made him feel better (and made him pay more) then you were happy to sign it.

“So it’s all anonymous, then? No ID, no credit card…?” he pressed.

“I mean, if cash is easier for you—”

“It is.”

You were starting to worry that this was a major red flag, as if he didn’t want to be traceable back to you at all. It was almost a dealbreaker, until you glanced down at the legal pad you’d written his offer on and remembered that you couldn’t afford to turn him down. “Then cash is fine,” you decided, making a note to yourself to have 911 already dialed when he came by in case his aversion to ID was really about a desire to get away with something.

“When can we start?”

“Um, well the soonest I can do is tomorrow at seven” you explained.

"Great, I'll be there," he answered firmly, apparently about to hand up.

“Hey, hey, slow down!” you chuckled. “Can I at least get a name?”

“I didn’t think we needed to do names.”

“We don’t… but if you’re willing, I’d like to know something to call you.”

“James,” he answered after a tense pause. “James is fine.”

“Alright, James, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Upon opening the door, you instantly noticed three things about him: he was tall, he was big, and he was sexy.

You had sort of been hoping that his appearance wouldn’t match his voice, but it did, and it was going to make this so much harder.  Maybe easier in a few ways, but overall worse.  It was important that you didn’t get too emotionally invested with your clients.

His eyes were dragging over you like he was just as taken aback.  Which was odd, because he must have seen your picture online before he called you.  

“James,” you greeted. “Glad you made it.”

You stepped aside to let him enter, guiding him to take a seat in your living room.  Before clients came by, you hid any signs of life and kept the space as neutral as possible, which was why the only furniture was the white couch he sat on, the black chair across from it, and a glass table in between.

You sat in the black chair and crossed your legs, noticing with pride the way his eyes studied your every move.

“It’s important that we have a discussion about boundaries and limits before this goes any further," you explained sternly, and he nodded slightly.  "Tell me what you do and don't want."

“Uh, well, I guess I was just looking for… somebody who can administer, um, discipline… you know, someone who sets rules and enforces them.  But could also be kind of, uh, sweet I guess, to.  Not too sweet, just… not too mean either."

You smiled a little; he sounded right up your alley.  "I can do that."

"You should know I… I have a… disability.  My left arm it's, um, it's a prosthetic."

"How would you like me to accommodate that?"

"Just don't say anything about it, please.  Treat it like a normal arm.  And, uh, if you could ignore my scars, too…" he added awkwardly.

"Of course,” you nodded, “I would never want to make you feel insecure."

"Well, I mean, I'm not against degradation," he admitted sheepishly, making you smile a little.

"Right: that's different.  Anything else you're distinctly not against?"

“I can take a lot of pain,” he explained matter-of-factly.  “However much you think I can handle, double it.  I wanna feel it.”

You could almost hear the words he wasn’t saying: I wanna feel something.

“Okay, we can do that.  You’ve probably heard of the color system," you posited.

“I haven’t.”

"Oh."  That threw you off slightly… how new was he to this scene?  “Well, it’s traditionally green, yellow, red; like a stoplight.  Red means stop.  Yellow means proceed with caution.  Green means continue.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

“Too simple for me, in fact.  I have my own version: ‘red’ will make me stop what I’m doing, but only ‘black’ ends the scene entirely.  And then there’s ‘blue.’  That means you want more.”

He smirked a little; a strong show of emotion compared to his stoicism so far.  “I think I’ll use that one most.”

“Just don’t be afraid to use anything else, alright?  I’d never be disappointed in you for safewording, or even just needing a break.”

He nodded.  “Can we get to it then?”

“You’re rushing as always,” you laughed.  “I’m not charging you for this part.  We have plenty of time— don’t we?”

“Yes, but—” he sighed.  “You look really… I walked in and, I guess I’m just really looking forward to this.”

You almost would’ve smiled at the compliment but you thankfully suppressed it.  “And what is it that you’re looking forward to?  What do you want me to do to you?”

His jaw tightened as he looked away from you.  “Um, there’s a lot.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Ropes.  Strongest you have.  I can buy you stronger ones if you need them, for next time…”

He’s already thinking about next time?  He’s already thinking about buying me things?

“Alright, I can do ropes: wrists and ankles?  Or more than that?”

He seemed a bit confused by that question.  “Is there anywhere else?”

“Torso,” you enumerated, “neck—” you stopped because you saw his reaction to that, and it made you smile a bit.  “Okay, so maybe the neck is something to try.  Do you like being choked?”

“I… I don’t know…” he sighed.

“Have you ever been choked before?”

“Not… sexually...”

You felt your eyebrows rise, but didn’t want to press; a story for another time, perhaps.

“We’ll have to discuss silent safewords and signals so you can tap out, but if you’d be willing to try it—”

“Yes.”

You laughed.  “Eager, are we?”

He swallowed, and you wondered if you shouldn’t have let your ‘dom voice’ slip out in that moment… but he looked so good flustered like that.  He adjusted himself slightly in his chair and you hoped he was already hard.  And with that thought in mind, you couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him further.

“Do you like being called certain things?” you asked, voice lower as you leaned forward.  “How do you feel about ‘pet’?” 

He almost kept up his poker face, but his gaze faltered at the same time he moved in his chair again.  “Um, ‘pet’ is okay.”

“Baby boy?”

“Not really my speed,” he shrugged.

You slipped out of your chair and stood up, approaching him slowly as the click of your heels echoed across the tile.  He watched you with wide eyes and quickening breaths.

“What do you like?  Tell me,” you demanded, though you kept your tone light.

“Uh,” he paused, watching your hand as it rested on his leg, “I like… I like being called a good boy.”

You grinned as you pulled your hand away, watching him tense up with disappointment.  “I can do that,” you agreed, lifting his chin with a finger until he looked at you with those beautiful, desperate eyes, “if you actually are being a good boy for me.” “I will,” he promised quickly, “I’ll be so good.”

“Mmm, I bet you will,” you purred.  “So willing to please…”

“Tell me how,” he sighed as your hand trailed from his chin down to his chest, slipping under the loose collar of his henley and rubbing his chest.  “Tell me how to please you.”

“Well, for starters, I have a name, too: Mistress.”

He sighed like the wind had been knocked out of him, but nodded.

“And if I ask you a question, I expect you to answer ‘Yes, Mistress’ or ‘No, Mistress’.  Is that clear?”

“Uh-huh,” he agreed before suddenly correcting himself, “um, yes, Mistress.”

“I’ll let you have that one,” you frowned, “but further infractions will be punished.”

“Yes, Mistress; I’m sorry, Mistress,” he moaned, melting under your touch as your hand moved down to rub his thigh through his jeans.

“Now, just for fun,” you smiled, leaning down until your lips were nearly brushing his ear, “tell me what you want.”

“Please touch me, Mistress,” he sighed.

“But I am touching you.”

“Touch my… touch my cock," he clarified, adorably embarrassed. "It’s so hard for you…”

“We’ll get to that eventually.  Let’s go to the bedroom first, okay?”

However good he looked standing in your doorway half an hour ago, it was nothing compared to how he looked naked and hard and tied to your bed.

Yes, the prosthetic and the scars that attached it to his body were hard to ignore.  He had failed to warn you that it was metal, so you couldn’t hide the slight shift of your face when it caught the light; you hoped he didn’t think it was a look of judgment or disgust, because you truly didn’t think it was anything upsetting.  Maybe the scars were a little worrying… but they didn’t seem to bother him now, at least physically.

But truly, if anything was distracting about his body, it wasn’t the arm.  It was his muscles— no wait, it had to be his cock, right?  It’s tough to call: on one hand, his entire body was toned and hardened beyond the peak of human conditioning, his thick thighs making your mouth water already, his chiseled abs almost making you jealous; but on the other hand, between those lovely thighs and curving up against those perfect abs was a cock that rivalled anything you'd ever seen before, with a blue vein running up one side and a drip of precum rolling down the other.

You finally sauntered up to the bed and ran your fingers over the taught ropes, pretending to ignore him watching you impatiently.  It was almost hotter knowing that he could pull out of the ropes if he really wanted to.  More than most, he was choosing to submit to them and to you.

“How’s this knot feel?  Too tight?” you hummed, tugging the rope just beside his wrist and watching his hand move limply with it.

“No, it’s good.”

You stepped back to the foot of the bed and stripped slowly, peeling off your black dress to reveal a matching lace set underneath.  You left your heels on as you stepped out of the dress and kicked it aside.

Turning back to face him, James looked like he was all but drooling.  You could see in his eyes how much he wished the ropes weren’t holding him back so he could run his hands all over your body.

But you could tell he craved being denied what he wanted, by the way his cock flexed of its own volition.

You let yourself smile as you crawled your way up the bed and over his body, like a panther stalking its prey, and boy did he look ready to be devoured.

"Are you scared?" you asked quietly.  He shook his head.  "Are you ready?"

He nodded.  You sat up as you straddled him, positioned just right such that no part of you was really touching him, and watched with delight as he tugged against the ropes slightly to try to get closer.

"So needy," you grinned, somewhere between praising and scolding him.  Your fingers ghosted over his chest and he shivered; he asked you to treat his prosthetic like a normal arm, so you dragged your nails down the metal and watched his eyes flutter shut.  When you pulled your hand back and left him untouched again, he whined slightly.

“Aw, poor thing,” you pouted as you examined him, desperation emanating off of him in an invisible aura.  “Your cock is all red and leaking… it must hurt, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he groaned.

“What if I touch it a little?” you offered.

“Please…”

You traced your fingers lightly up and down his length, tickling the skin and giving him the least pressure that you could.  He whimpered and you chuckled mockingly.  “I said I’d touch it a little, sweet boy, are you not satisfied?”

He bucked up into your touch as best he could, causing you to pull your hand away.  “Baby, please—” 

You cut him off with a slap to the face, as hard as you could muster.

“Mistress!” he corrected with a whine.  “Mistress, please… please wrap your hand around it.”

“Around what?” 

“Around… my cock.  Stroke me, please…”

“All you had to do was ask,” you grinned, finally tightening your hand around him and moving slowly up and down the shaft.  His head fell back with a soft moan, just from that.  Your teasing had certainly helped get him this worked up, but you knew it wasn't just that… he was plenty sensitive all on his own, apparently.

It made your mouth water.

"Does this feel good, James?" you asked huskily.

"S-so good," he whimpered, "please can you… stroke it a little faster, please, Mistress…"

"Hmm, not yet," you decided, feeling him tense up beneath you.  "Relax," you instructed with a free hand rubbing his thigh gently.  

You continued to teasingly stroke his length, never quite giving him the pressure or speed he needed to get closer to his release, savoring every whimper and whine and sigh from him along with the satisfying weight of his cock against your palm.

It felt like you'd never get tired of wielding so much power in your hand.

"Please," he sighed, "I need more…"

"You want me to stroke you faster?" you pressed, already knowing that wasn't what he meant.  He shook his head and you grinned, leaning in closer but letting go of his cock. 

Slowly, you let the lace covering your core rub up against his shaft, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head.  "Ohhhhh," he moaned, "oh fuck, Mistress…"

You grinned and kept rocking against him, easily feeling the warmth of him through your panties— meaning he, in turn, could feel the warmth of you.  "How does it feel, baby?" 

"Good," he choked out, "really, really good… fuck, I want more, I need more, please…"

"Are you my good boy, James?" you asked in a low purr.  He nodded eagerly, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nothing.  "Do you want to be inside me?" you finally whispered against his ear, letting a finger run lazily up his spine and feeling him shiver so hard it was more like he was convulsing.

"Please, Mistress, I'll do anything…"

You didn't touch all of your clients sexually, due in part to the fact that they usually wanted a lot more pain than pleasure.  You'd only had sex with one or two of them, and it wasn't a routine thing.  Before today you never would've imagined doing this with a first-time client, but to be completely honest… he was fucking hot.  The kind of guy you'd be spreading your legs for instantly if you weren't at work and he wanted to buy you a drink or grab lunch.  And he was here, at your disposal, begging you for more.  How could you say no?  

You pulled your panties aside and gripped his cock tightly to guide it to your entrance, studying his face twisted in anticipation before sinking down and watching him gasp and sigh all at once, somehow.

It took a lot of effort to hide your own pleasure when he was stretching you out so perfectly, but you managed to suppress the desire to moan and just smile at his fucked-out expression instead.

Finally, your hips met with his and you got to sit there and enjoy the look of dawning agony as he realized you were staying completely still.

“Move, please,” he sobbed, “oh god, Mistress, please move…”

“But I thought you wanted to be inside me?  Isn’t this what you asked for?”

He whined and tried to wiggle his hips; all that got him was two hard slaps to the face.  

“No whining,” you instructed through your teeth.  “Good boys don’t whine.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “‘m your good boy, I promise.”

“I know you are,” you grinned, “or at least, I know you can be.  Show me how good and patient you are.”

Reaching to the side a bit without getting off of him, you pulled a vibrator from your drawer.  His eyes went a little wide when he saw it, and you laughed.

"Don't worry, this isn't for you.  It's for me," you explained as you turned it on, inserting it between your body and his to touch the toy against your clit.  He winced as you sighed contentedly.  "Fuck, it feels good.  Can you feel it on your cock?"

"A… a little…" he hissed.

"I bet it feels good for you too," you posited, "but not good enough to make you come."

After a little pause, he nodded breathlessly.

"Good," you smiled.  "I just wanna come with your cock inside me.  I wanna know how it feels to get off with my favorite toy while being full of my newest toy."

"Fuck," he groaned.

"Do you like that, pretty boy?  Do you like me using your cock, being your Mistress' dumb little fucktoy?"

"Yes," he sobbed, hips shifting ever so slightly beneath you as he sought more stimulation from your flexing walls.  Shifting the vibe to hit right on your clit, you cried out— and he did too, at the feeling of you tightening around him.

"God, you love being Mistress' dildo, don't you?"

He nodded, biting hard on his lip until you worried he'd hurt himself.  He moaned again as another jolt of pleasure forced your channel to clench on his cock.

"You're making too much noise for a fucktoy, you need to be quiet."

He opened his mouth for a second, but closed it again and nodded instead.  

"You can do it yourself right?" you pressed, seeing him nod.  "You don't need me to gag that pretty mouth?" 

He whined but shook his head, keeping his lips pressed together.

That went on for a few more moments as you teased yourself with the vibe, hoping to draw this out for the sake of his struggle.  Wanting to up the ante, you took the vibe off your clit and turned it off for a moment.  "I think this would feel better with a little lube… will you get it wet for me, James?"

You brought the toy to his lips and he eagerly wrapped them around it, sucking lightly on the silicone with those pretty lashes resting on his cheeks.

"There you go, that's a good boy," you praised, pulling the toy from his mouth, "that's my good boy…"

"Yours…" he repeated weakly, "wanna be good for you, just for you…"

This time when you turned it on and pressed it to your clit again, you instantly gasped and felt your walls bare down on him; turning up the vibration, you actually moaned aloud and saw him wince.  "Oh, can you feel it now?" you asked tauntingly.  He bit his lip and nodded.

It really wasn't even intentional but you felt your hips start to rock, making him gasp as his eyes shot open.  For a guy who had been begging you to move not too long ago, he looked pretty overwhelmed by it now.

"Fuck, I'm gonna make myself come on your cock… do you wanna feel me come, baby?"

He seemed conflicted, which was exactly what you were going for.  You wanted him to struggle, just enough, between his need to satisfy himself and his desire to please you.  "I… I want to make you come, Mistress," he finally choked out, notably answering a slightly different question than the one you'd asked.  

You smiled and leaned in to whisper in his ear: "Are you afraid that if you feel me come around you, you won't be able to hold back?  That you might accidentally come inside me?"

He made a needy little groan and nodded.

"Don't worry, baby, I'm gonna help you," you promised sweetly, but of course as soon as he saw you grab a cockring from your drawer he changed his tune.

"N-no, Mistress, please," he begged with wide eyes, "I'll be good, just not that— don't put that on me."

You smirked and sat up, pulling off of him and slowly slipping the ring on his throbbing length as he quietly pleaded for mercy.  He winced when you pushed it down to the base of him, his cheeks burning hot red now.

"Is it a little too tight, baby?" you cooed, grinning when he nodded.  "Good."

You sank back down into him and let your hips grind on his, working your clit with the vibe and even kicking it up to the next highest setting.  He jolted beneath you, clearly feeling the vibrations strongly now, and you let the view of his beautifully broken facial expression egg on your own climax.

"Mm, I'm close, baby," you whispered, "just stay still and let Mistress use you like a good little boy."

He made a small noise through his teeth but seemed to manage okay, even when your walls began to pulse rhythmically around him and your head fell back, your free hand palming at your breast through the lace bra just to add that last little edge of sensation.

"Oh fuck, fuck," you moaned, "that's my good boy…"

You shakily pulled the vibe away and turned it off, still a little numb on your clit but feeling your channel still rippling slightly with aftershocks; he seemed to feel them in spite of their subtlety, if the panting breaths that filled his muscular chest rapidly were any indication.

As slow as you could manage, you pulled your body off of him and sat back on his legs to stare at his cock.  The remnants of your orgasm left plenty of lubrication to stroke it, focusing on the head which had turned almost purple now.

"M-Mistress," he groaned, writhing under your touch.

Amazingly, his cock was already flexing in your hand, and a growl of pride and hunger echoed in your chest.

“Oh fuck, can you come for me, James?” you moaned, pumping him so fast your hand was a blur.  “Can you be my good boy and come right through the cockring?”

“Yes,” he sobbed, “gonna come, Mistress, please—”

“Come right now,” you demanded, watching his face instantly fall slack as he spurted out onto his own chest and stomach, cock flexing and pulsing in your hands as his legs quivered and his hips thrusted wildly.

And the tears were flowing soon after.  You weren’t sure if it was sub drop or just the power of his release, but between weak sobs he whispered broken apologies.

“You did so good,” you cooed as you slipped off the ring and wrapped your arms around him, subtly trying to reach over to untie the ropes.  But you didn’t need to; he flexed his arms and the restraints popped like floss.  He embraced you in return as you let his head fall onto your chest.  “You’re so good, it’s okay,” you continued, stroking his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated again, breathing quickly and wetting you with his tears.

This, you realized, is what he had made you sign the contract to protect.  It wasn’t that he was excessively embarrassed about his sexual proclivities, but that this was his space to be soft, and weak, and broken.  Apparently he wasn’t ready for anyone else to know that he wasn’t steel all the way down.

“Shh, it’s okay… you’re okay…” you breathed, indulging him in this moment even though it was more intimate than you preferred to get with customers.  Aftercare was an important part of your job, certainly, but so was enforcing boundaries.

He began to soothe as you kissed his forehead gently, whispering well-deserved affirmations and praise.  As his breathing slowed and moved back to normal, he pulled back and looked up at you.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated one more time, but not as wavering as before, “I didn’t think I would… that was unexpected.”

“No, it’s somewhat normal,” you exaggerated slightly, “this kind of thing… it’s taxing, I pushed you to your limits.  You were really tough, and it’s all very vulnerable.”

“Thanks,” he sighed, sniffling and wiping his eyes.  “And sorry about your ropes,” he smiled as he noticed the frayed ends coming off of where his wrists were still tied.

“Let me help you get those off,” you smiled, loosening the knots and sliding the binds off of him, quickly massaging the places that the rope had constricted.  “Blood flow’s okay?”

“Yep,” he nodded.

“You numb anywhere?” you pressed.

“Uh, just my dick.  And my brain is all fuzzy…” 

You smiled.  “Can’t help the first one.  Let me get you some water for the second.”

“No!” he yelped suddenly.  “Um, don’t go yet, please…”

“Of course,” you smiled.  “I’ll untie your ankles, then.”

He still seemed disappointed, as if he expected you to hug him for hours and never move.  He let you go this time, though, and loosened his grip so you could slide down to the foot of the bed.  

"Was that sort of what you were hoping for when you called me?" you asked as you untied the ropes slowly and took a moment to massage the skin underneath, hoping to restore any lost blood flow.

"So much better than what I was hoping for," he admitted with a breathless chuckle.  "You're… really good."

"Well, thank you," you shrugged, "it comes with practice and experience.  You held your own, too."

"I wish I could say that was from practice and experience.  I didn't want to say anything before but I've, uh, never actually… been to a domme before."

You smiled slightly, coming back up and being pulled into another embrace.  "Um, I'll admit I can kind of tell…" you mumbled.

"I'm not supposed to touch you like this," he realized quietly, relaxing his grip on you and pulling back.  "I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright, just don't get too comfortable because we only have—" you glanced at the clock— "eight more minutes until you need to leave."

"I'll get up and get dressed soon," he offered with a sigh as you got up and quickly slipped on a robe, grabbing him a damp washcloth for the drying come on his torso.

You tilted your head as you watched him clean up, and you wanted to offer some touch that was a bit less intimate than a hug, so you found yourself blurting out: "do you like having your hair played with?"

"Um, I don't… I don't know," he admitted as he reached up to card his fingers through the hair in question.  "No one else has ever really touched my hair before."

"Really?" you laughed, getting back on the bed to sit beside him.  "It looks pretty luscious.  I figured any girlfriend of yours would want to get her hands on it."

"Oh, well, the last time I had a girlfriend… it wasn't long then," he explained, and you kept on your best poker face.  His hair looked like he'd been growing it out for at least two years, unless it grew crazy fast or something.  How long had he been single?  With a body like that you could barely believe that he was single now.

"Do you mind if I touch it?" you offered quietly, and once he gave you a nod you reached forward and combed your fingers through it, reaching deeper to scratch at his scalp, occasionally pulling the strands lightly into loose braid-like patterns that fell away almost immediately afterwards.  He sank into your touch until you found yourself supporting his head against your chest, mindlessly playing with his hair until you noticed his eyes were shut, his breathing was slowed, and his body was limp on top of yours.

He fell asleep.

You laughed silently to yourself, realizing that you couldn't get him off of you without his cooperation since he was so heavy and you had no shot at lifting him.  And, of course, his cooperation required his consciousness… which required waking him up.

And, for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to do it.  He just looked too peaceful, for a guy who had never seemed truly relaxed around you.

Was there any other way he could relax?  Cause it kinda seemed like he really, really needed this.  And you were in the business of meeting needs, to say the least.

So, with an apologetic text to your last client of the night that you needed to reschedule, you let James sleep on you as you closed your eyes and drifted off as well.

[kyberphilosopher]

Amychesis

Word Count: 2898 Requested? No. Note: Should be read as the same reader from “Smile”. 

Warnings: Sexual overtones, one particularly blurry but smutty bit, disturbing themes. 

“Amychesis” (n.) (AM-i-KEE-sis) – The involuntary act of scratching or clawing your partner in the heat of passion.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

A hiss of pain slips from between your lips like a moan, but the way your body folds in on itself shows the true nature of the noise. 

Your moist palm hits the ground, knee soon to follow. As your back curves over into a hunch, the pain begins again- a burning, sharp, sting over and over again. It’s as if you’d been whipped. Lashed. Chained down as you twist up and down in such a way that leaves your back aching. At the time, you’d thought only of how the pain would be worth it. Even how nice that pain felt. Though now you weren’t so sure. 

Shit, your brain whispers. How are we supposed to bathe like this?

It doesn’t really matter, another part says. You have to. It’s been too long. 

If you start falling into the same habit as your lover, you’ll never know the scent of relative cleanliness again. It’s time to bathe. 

But your back. How could you have let him do this to you?

The water ahead of you hurtles from the faucet and down into the tub, splashing around like multiple waves slapping up and down. Churning over each other, making you think of how he’d described the ocean to you. Bouts of steam are emerging, almost so soft you can’t make it out. It’s rare that the water actually gets hot like this. It’s usually lukewarm, but almost never hot. But will this help, or worsen the wounds on your back?

Worsen. You can picture the soap seeping into your skin now. And then there was the way that you would have to twist around to reach those parts. 

“Shit,” you hiss again. 

Finally, you force your hand from the floor to clasp against the side of the tub. You’ve enough strength to pull yourself up somewhat, but not to a full standing position. There’s a few steps, pitter patters of your bare feet slapping on the wet floor, and then you’re rolling over the side and falling into the steam both with and without grace. 

You hadn’t been wrong about your wounds. The stinging sensations intensify like it’s boiling. And though you know it’s for the best and will surely help fight off any chance of infection, you grit your teeth to keep from yelling out a string of curses. 

As you reach the bottom of the tub, a soreness sparks through your body. It blooms through your skin from your ass, all the way up to your flaming spine, causing your lips to fall open briefly before being trapped under your teeth sharply. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

The pain subsides somewhat, the only after more than thirty seconds at least. Boiling, heated water laps against your skin, the sting of nails washing away slowly but surely. It still hurts but it’s not so bad now, and you wonder if this is something you should bring up to him. 

But then what would he say? Would he even say a thing at all? Or would he just stare at you with his still eyes, waiting on you to come around to the truth of it? 

“I’m sorry,” he probably wouldn’t say. “But you looked like you were enjoying it.”

A shiver runs over your back despite the steam rising up around you. Your knees come against your chest as the water sloshes, arms wrapping around for a sense of security. 

You were enjoying it. Regret now wouldn’t change the fact you knew it was worth it, and the memory on its own was enough to make your thighs vibrate and shake. 

God damn it, Eren. You were right. You bastard. 

As God’s impeccable timing proves true, the door to the washroom creaks open. You don’t move anything but your orbs, which flash momentarily with the orange glare from the light above. You see his shoes, hear them scuff against the floor a few times before you look back to the water. 

Eren’s feet stop in front of the chamber pot. His knees bend until they’re totally in the sitting position in line with a long, wooden bench attached to the wall. There’s a little huff from the wood under his weight, but then the only noise is that of water droplets peeling away from your skin and popping against the surface below. 

He’s looking at you- that you know for certain. Your profile, hair, the bend of your spine and the pink and red marks across it. Marks that remain his doing. He hadn’t said anything about it before, but now there seems to be nothing else on you to look at. 

You scratched me. He scratched you. You can’t tell if it was on purpose or not, if he even enjoyed it. No- did you even enjoy it? You couldn’t have if you’re feeling this way now. But the way the hot water slips over the raw, thin gashes- the burns, the piercing glow in your ‘lovers’ eyes... 

What’s wrong with you?

If you’re looking for comfort, Eren isn’t giving it to you. He’s silent. His eyes are silent, still. They glow in the warm candlelight that floods the room in a dull, emerald sheen. Strings of dark brown hair hang down in thin wisps- over his eyes and shoulders. It’s gotten so long compared to your cadet years. Eren’s changed. At one point, you found him a tad annoying. Now you wonder if you’d rather take annoyance over harmful sex. 

You turn your eyes back to the water. Old dirt is peeling from your skin like dust in it, but the shine in the water doesn’t stop for a second. 

One hand swishes around under the surface. Little tiny waves churn up and swim around on their own. For the splittest of seconds, you forget about the man in the room with the searing eyes. It doesn’t even feel like there’s anything wrong with your back, or your ass, or the fingerprints you’re just now registering on the soft insides of your thighs. And then you frown, because you remember. 

Has Jaeger always been this rough with you? If so, how could you have blocked it out? Is something wrong with you? Or is something wrong with him? What if it’s both? What are both of you capable of?

Isn’t it worse if you liked it?

His fingers were hard. They were nimble and strong, and at first they went for your throat. One hand pushing you down and away by your hip, the other squeezing on either side of your neck. Alright. Standard. So at what point did those sharp, dirty nails start raking your skin up and down?

It was when Eren flipped you around. You crane your neck over your shoulder best you could to get a glimpse of his face. It was handsome, with his dark hair pulled back and his eyes squinting somewhat. For whatever reason, you could’ve sworn you saw the hot breath exit his mouth as if it were the winter. 

There was so much going on in the next few seconds, there was no possible way you could’ve felt what he was doing. It wasn’t your fault. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

At first, it was not intentional. 

While his pelvis snapped forward and down steeply, his hands wandered down your back. They ghosted along your spine quite a few times- up and down, wondering about all the spinal fluid inside. The thought made Eren go soft for an instant, which sparked embarrassment. The embarrassment sparked anger. His hips snapped harder again to overcompensate- though you hadn’t even realized what for. The only thing your partner heard from you was the choked, sharp breath of a quick pain. 

His hand slips. A nail scrapes over your skin on the right of your back. 

“Hmph.” 

And then it starts. The blood rushes through your veins hotly. Your head feels full, hips feel full- everything feels full. Full, and hot, and angry. Everything inside you feels just like Eren Jaeger. 

Wetness slips from between your lips and onto the rough fabric below you. Your shoulder blades are rolling back and forth, right foot twitching with every movement. In your ears, your heartbeat starts to beat through like a drum. It pounds against your chest, every so often lining up exactly with the force pumping in and out of you. Pumping against you. 

His eyes widen. There could be more redness than this... this one, singular, narrow line. It’s beading slowly. Those tiny little... tiny little scarlet pearls. He’s seen them a million times before in titans and in people. But now, inside your tight form, he’s never wanted to see it more. 

Eren lets both hands grip at your waist, forcing it down even further. You seem satisfied. Your eyes are rolling back without realizing it. You’re pushing against him while losing strength at the same time. Your skin is getting patchy with marks and sweat, and all the little moist spots on the mattress from your spit. 

All ten nails drag down on your skin at the same time. Some deeper than others, quicker than others. He does it again with his left hand, higher on your back. Then with his right on the adjacent side. Eren can practically feel the burn from them himself, but you show no signs of pain whatsoever. Has he gone too hard and killed you? No, no. So long as spit is running out of your mouth, you’re alive. 

Yes, you realize, staring down into the water. I liked it. I liked him clawing at me. 

Your body tenses in realization. 

I liked it when Eren hurt me with his hands. 

“Does it hurt?”

Your eyes snap over to your partner. He hasn’t moved an inch- shoulders hunched over, thin hairs sprawled flowingly down his neck and collarbones. “The water?”

You turn back towards the murk. You liked it, yes. But something inside you tells you not to forgive him. And then you’re left wondering what there even is to forgive. 

“Yes,” you tell him. 

Silence. 

“I could get an infection.”

That’s a true statement. You can’t reach your hands all the way around your side enough to clean those wounds. 

“How would you get an infection from the hot water?”

Oh. 

Eren wasn’t talking about your injuries at all. He wasn’t talking about those raspy, pink, red markings up and down your back. Trailing close to your ribs, little purple bruises in the shape of fingers. Yellow and green patches from... something he can’t name. 

“I don’t know,” you decide to reply after a minute, so quiet and hoarse it strains your partner’s ear to try and hear. “It hurts.”

You love him, though. You’ve loved him for years. Even when he’d help you back in the kitchen fingering you to the point of choking, you loved him. When he sat with you, told you he’d seen how you’d come to die. But what he accomplished here wasn’t the same as giving you a hickey, or even an unintentional bruise. Eren meant to claw you. He knew how badly this water would sting at your skin after. And what about stretching your back to put on clothes? Sleeping in the position you like? Every little thing is going to make your nerves feel like they’re on fire now. 

And all you have to say for it is that you liked it?

You hear a shuffling movement from beside you. You don’t dare look over. Feeling the air shift is enough for you to understand what’s going on. 

Your lover leaves the room. The wooden door clicks closed behind him. He comes back in a few minutes. 

The floorboards, moist from little specklings of water jumping up when you’d slipped in the tub, creak underneath his weight. It gets louder and louder, heavier and heavier until it stops right beside you. 

If you look at him again... will you be sick?

You don’t get sick at all. You hold eye contact with your lover, and you’re relieved. Getting to see him, feel him, knowing he’s been coming all the way out here all for you. Looking into those muted emerald eyes now, in the yellow glow of the candles all around, you know whatever he’s feeling now is genuine, and when was the last time you were able to say that?

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The water stings again against the scratches, the clawings. The soap feels like acid. Again, Eren’s hands are both rough and gentle at the same time. They trail up and down along your spine, over the marks he’d given you, now covered in soap and antibiotics that he smears all over. Occasionally, his right palm presses against your shoulder to hold it in place, meticulously cleaning at the harm he’d given you. 

“Ow,” you mutter once, numbly. 

“I won’t do this again,” you hear Eren speak from behind you. A ridiculous thing to say, considering the both of you are smart enough to understand that’s not even close to true. 

Not only will Eren Jaeger do this- scratch at you during sex- again, he’ll do it faster. Deeper, more intensely. He knows you’ll not only get used to it, but soon you’ll need it. He could see it on your face right before he pushed it down into the dirty fabric on the bed. He could hear it when you’d let out that quiet little hiss of a moan getting into this very bath. Furthermore, he knows that you know. 

“Why?” you ask, looking at his distorted reflected through the tiles you face. You see one of his eyes twitch in- what? Anger? Frustration? Pure uninterrupted love?

Eren decides to lie. “I’m going away soon.”

“You’ll be back.”

A stinging sensation spreads along your spine. Nerves in shock, exploding vertically and all at once. It feels hot, and then cold. And finally, within only a few seconds, your mouth still hanging open in unpreparedness, you feel something slow begin to run down your back. 

Your lovers thumb creeps near the area. You feel it run over whatevers slipping down your skin like sweat would, then roll in messy circles. Five, six, seven laps so far. Then over to your left side, and all the way back to your right. 

“I’ll be back,” Eren says, lowly. 

He scratched you. He put his longest nail against your skin and pressed. It dragged right over your spine- not deep enough to do real damage, but enough to leave a scar. At once, blood surfaced like rose petals, racing down for the water. Now he stares at your back all covered in blood that he’s washed all over. 

Facing away from him is you, who’s too embarrassed to let him know the action has made you suck your bottom lip in between your teeth. It’s like Eren’s marking you. And then, once it’s completely healed, there’s going to be a scar. You’ll have new skin over an old wound, and it’ll be like you can finally have him as a part of you until you die. 

“Stay still.”

He watches the blood disappear in the water, making the red gash look pink and pale. “I love you,” he tells you. And even though it sounds as apathetic as everything else he’s said recently, you know it’s true. 

“Love you too,” you whisper hoarsely. 

When his fingers leave your skin completely, you twist around and put your hands over the side of the bath to watch him. Though he’s standing and fixing his shirt, Eren’s eyes are already on you, dancing with something you’ve seen before but never named. “You know I love you, don’t you?” you question. 

“Yes.”

He takes a roll of gauze medical wraps from his pocket. It unravels in his rough, scarred palms. You watch him watch you, all while beginning to wrap it over his left eye rather calmly. 

You look away, coming face to face with the now bloody water. “Do something to your leg too. You can use the crutch in the barn.”

“Thank you.”

When you look back to Eren, of course he’s beat you to it. Looking at you with only one eye which seems to glow dangerously, you’re satisfied to realize he’s gone back to not having a single clue what you’re thinking. Only in your moments of weakness is he able to be omniscient with you. 

“I’ll free you,” Eren promises. 

Of course you will, you think. All Eren’s ever talked about is freedom. Freeing you, freeing the world. Killing all his enemies over dinner and then sleeping right next to you like it was nothing. But as the dirty, now red water churns over the scratches- old and new- 

you realize Eren has no intention of giving you true freedom. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I don’t know why, but this is one of the most unsettling things I’ve ever written. But it’s also very sexual? I don’t understand what I’ve created here. 

I didn’t proofread anything. Maybe I’ll go back if enough people like it and tweak it. 

[dorotharry]

tiny dancer ; chapter three

Pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 4 (coming soon)

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: pain, angst, nightmares, metal limbs?

Summary: After being drafted for the war in 1942, Bucky goes to the ballet a week before having to leave with his best friend Steve. There he becomes infatuated you with the prima ballerina of the show, and he just has to meet you before his last week in Brooklyn is up. He hopes one day you would meet again; little does it know it will be 72 years later.

A/N: Well, hello again, honestly after yesterday I really wanted to write again soon so I could start giving more away. Eep so exciting, thank you again for all your support too!! Please feel free to like, repost and comment any feedback, it’s much appreciated :)) Also lets just ignore that infinity war is a thing for the moment lolz. 

MY MASTERLIST

*gif not mine

“Nice to finally meet you y/n, I’ve been looking for you under Fury’s instruction for a while, my name’s Natasha.”

Natasha. It rang in your ears, there was some familiarity to that name. You kept your face blank, but for some reason it felt like you’d known her in a past life, or perhaps a life you didn’t remember. Though her face gave no indication that she knew either. But a younger version of her face flashed in your mind, only she wasn’t blonde she had bright red hair. You shook yourself from your thoughts, Natasha was a common name, surely you couldn’t know her. Surely.

“Come in,” you responded moving to the side as the women eyed you as she entered. She had to be around a similar age to you. At least in looks, you were at least a century year old in reality. “Did you want something to drink?” You said as you shut the door and gestured to the couch nearby.

The blonde shook her head, taking a seat her gaze still wary. “You’re probably curious to know why I’m here and who I am?”

You nodded as you took a seat on the second couch, it wasn’t often you had visitors.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Avengers,” She started.

That’s where you knew her from! She’d swapped her red hair for blonde and suddenly you felt less confused.  

“I’m a part of it, and our director Fury has been sending me on mission after mission looking for you. It’s only now we got a tip that you were living in Madripoor.”

You almost wanted to interrupt and ask who had tipped them off, but you thought better of it. You rose an eyebrow at her comment, giving her an expression that told her to continue.

“Anyway, I’m here because we wanted to bring you back to the compound. You’ve been hidden away from us for a long time. In fact, the only reason we know you exist is because of the HYDRA files I shared in 2014. We hoped you could give us some intel; we think something big is going to happen again, but we aren’t sure if it’s HYDRA or something else.” She looked at you again, a serious expression on her face.

Yours matched hers. “You should know I don’t do that anymore, I don’t work as an assassin,” you began suddenly feeling more vulnerable as the terrible things you had done came back up in your memories.

Natasha cut you off sensing your distress. “We aren’t asking you to, we just need your knowledge. Whilst I know Fury wants you to join us in the long run and start fighting again, we also respect your decision not to if that’s what you want.”

You looked at her sceptically, had she not heard what you had just said? Plus, now your cover in Madripoor was blown, if the Avengers knew where you were then surely it wouldn’t be long until every other government in the world would too. You were sure there were many people who wanted you dead.

As if she had heard your thoughts Natasha spoke up again, “don’t worry, if you turn down helping us, no one but Fury and I know you’re here. Not even Steve.”

You silently gasped, you had forgotten about Steve in these brief moments, he was captain America back then, in fact he was still Captain America. Even if you would be throwing yourself back into the line of fire, maybe it would be worth it to see your old friend again. Would he want to see you though? After everything awful thing, you had done. Your eyes began to well again, but you didn’t want Natasha to see you vulnerable.

“Fine.” You spoke sternly looking at the woman in front of you, “I will help, but only if you promise that you avengers will protect me. There’s a lot of people who want me in chains.”

You could see the hint of a smile on her face as she listened, “Don’t worry y/n, we have ways around that,” she smirked. “I don’t exactly have the cleanest record either.”

You nodded, standing up. You knew now if you were leaving that you could never return to Madripoor. If you chose not to fight with the Avengers after helping them, then at least you were sure they could protect you and finally you could maybe be back home. “Where to then?”

Natasha told you to get anything valuable, some clothes and anything else you felt you needed. Luckily for her, you always kept a duffle bag with everything you needed if you had to leave under you bed, along with the shot gun that had been in your hand this entire time till.

You walked to your room, grabbed the duffle bad and your other favourite weapons in another bag and returned in under a minute. Natasha let out a chuckle, she should have known an assassin was always prepared to flee. Something they all knew, never get too comfortable.

Natasha led you out of your apartment, you close the door behind you both and follow her. It felt strange to be taking from directions from anyone else. Besides HYDRA you had always been the person in charge, choosing what you did without direction. But unless you miraculously knew how you’d be getting back to the Avengers compound this seemed like a time you would have to not be stubborn.

She led you to a jet, gesturing you to get on before she did herself. She walked to the front closing the door and sitting in the pilot’s seat. “Feel free to have a sleep.” She said casual pointing to the bed next to you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled going and lying down. After having no sleep, you wouldn’t complain, and it would save you having to make small talk with Natasha. Plus, usually you didn’t have nightmares in you ever occasionally napped.

Natasha answered a call and began telling someone (who you assumed was Fury) that you were coming back with her, just as your eyes were filled with the darkness of sleep.

1943

You woke up once again your entire body in pain. Although this time it was different, and though you remembered where you were much of your memories were feeling fuzzy. Like someone had attempted to begin removing them.

That couldn’t be possible though, could it?

There was an ache on your face, remembering your last memory before you had been engulfed in darkness again. You were sure there would be marks from whatever machine had done that to you, wincing at the thought of the pain again.

But besides there being the same pains you had felt before, there was something different. You were still restricted by your arms and legs in the same position but now you had a heart monitor attached, the faint beeping being the only noise you could hear in the silent and dark room. This wasn’t a room though, it was a lab you knew that now, and you were a lab rat to the red skull and his scientists. Why would they care if my heart is still beating? You pondered.

Once again you pushed against your restraints in an attempt to get out, the leather digging into your skin causing you to wince due to how in pain your body already was.  But again as you’d thought earlier, there was something different, yes your arms were wincing at the pain from the leather but your legs felt nothing. You moved your toes and felt no sensations. It was as if they were numb. What had HYDRA done?

As if on cue the laboratory door opened, the same scientist from before entering and two soldiers following behind him. The door slammed closed as the soldiers stayed there on each side of the door. Just in case you got out of your restraints again.

The scientist shuffled forward. “How are you feeling y/n? I realised I forgot the other day to introduce myself, I’m Arnim Zola but you can call me Doctor Zola.”

You sneered as his friendly attitude, causing him to frown. “I can’t feel my legs.” You responded in a harsh tone, “Why?”

“Well y/n, I told you that you would become a soldier for the red skull did I not? Now I understand you’re a ballerina but there’s something wrong with this. You see you always want to be perfect, and what makes you not is among many things your feet.” He looked down proudly at your legs.

The words rang in your ear. Your harsh glare to seem mean had softened as your eyes began to water. “Wh-- what have you done?” You began blubbering, your chest fell up and down panic striking your lungs.

“I’ve made you perfect.” He responded without remorse. Instantly he signalled for the men that had been stood by the door this entire time to come over. They did so, grabbing parts of your body so you were even more restricted that you already were as Doctor Zola walked to the foot of the table you were on. Slowly he undid one of the leather straps restricting your leg. You couldn’t even feel him doing it, your senses not working.

He lifted your right leg so that you could gaze down and what you saw only made your panic attack rise. You shrieked at the sight before you. Your eyes welling more and more with tears. You could hear the heart monitor beginning to pick up in noise, as you heart raced.

From halfway down your calf was what looked like a metal leg and foot. It looked exactly like what legs should be, but it wasn’t. It was silver and cold. Down the side of your calf nearing your ankle was a red star.

Tears rolled down your face as he placed your leg back down strapping it back up, then signalling the men holding you down to move away again.

You would have preferred to die then lose your feet. Your mind wandered as your chest rose and fell so quickly that the world around you began to spin. Would you ever be able to dance again?

Doctor Zola was now next to you again, his face held no remorse, in fact all you could see was pride. Even though the world was spinning, and you couldn’t focus on him you knew he didn’t care. “Don’t worry y/n, after today you won’t care about this. You won’t even remember who you are, only who we tell you are. From now on you aren’t y/n anymore. I’ll see you again when you’re ready to comply.”

The same machine from earlier then began to make noises lowering down to your head. Doctor Zola began rambling Russian words you couldn’t understand, the immense pain began again, and you screeched out in pain.

Present day; 2017

Gasping for air you shot up on the bed on the jet. Natasha looked back at you and instantly you dropped your fearful expression into one that was unreadable. No one would know your nightmares, no one could know you had weaknesses.

Luckily her gaze didn’t last long as she spoke up, “We’re here.” She was just glad she wouldn’t have to wake you up. She stood up, you following her lead out of the jet and towards a large white building with a big ‘A’ on the side.

“Jeez subtle.” You scoffed muttering under your breath.

She rolled her eyes at your comment but proceeded to walk into the building. “I’m sure you’ve heard about most of us. So, I feel there’s no need to explain to you, our names.”

She was right there, of course you knew their names, the whole world did. You hummed in response. She led you both to two big double doors pushing them open as you trailed behind. You may have been as assassin but that didn’t mean you were particularly keen on meeting new people, especially all at once. It took a while for people to come to your liking.

She stopped and you stood almost completely behind her looking down at your hands. You never looked at your feet anymore. The noise of all the voices talking amongst each other suddenly stopped and you could feel all of their eyes on you both.

“Everyone this is y/n, she’s going to help us with our current task we’ve been working on.” She spoke sternly but giving them all a small smile.

You raised your head reminding yourself to not be vulnerable and narrowed your eyes as you scanned them all. Of course, most of already knew who you were having read your files when she released them; each giving you sympathetic looks mixed with fear. But not Steve he never had the heart to look at yours and Bucky’s files. If he ever saw you both again, he knew in time you’d tell him.

Finally, you were met with a familiar set on blue eyes, not the ones you had fallen in love with but still ones who once meant so much to you. Now you weren’t so sure.

Steve looked like he was going to die of shock, as he stared at you with such intensity.

He took a step towards you, “y/n?”, his eyes searching for you to show some sort of emotion. But you didn’t, you couldn’t. You took another step back, away from him, the hurt instantly flashing across his face, but as soon as it was there it was gone.

“Hi Steve.”

- 

A/N: ooo we love the tension. how does reader know Natasha?? is it just cause she's an avenger or is it something else? I’ll guess you'll have to see *evil face*

P.S. we’ll see Bucky again soon I promiseeeee

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be tagged)

@maybe-a-marvel​ @thatredlipped-classic​ @flightsandfantasy​ @7minutes-tomidnight​ @rebelemilu​ @cataves​

[mianavs]

Savior Complex

He stripped you of your lifeline but refused to let you perish

Chrollo x f!reader

a/n: some chrollo content for your enjoyment

tw: dubcon, imprisonment

wc: 2.1k

Stealing Hatsu from others was akin to eating for Chrollo Lucilfer. He did it to strengthen his abilities and spared little thought on how it affected his victims. To him, people were equivalent to puppets in that they could be used and discarded without a second thought. The only time he spared a thought for his victims was when their Hatsu disappeared from Bandit’s Secret indicating their demise. Chrollo likened it to mourning his victims despite the depravity behind the sentiment.

You were different, however, in more ways than one.

There was no other way to put it—you were a genius nen user. Without any formal training, you developed your ability to manipulate the minds of others. While other geniuses profited off their Hatsu and used it to rise the ranks of society, you were trapped by yours and used it strictly for survival. Bought by a Mafia boss at a young age, you practiced your ‘gift’ on anyone your master sent.

Everything changed when a new esteemed client of your master’s walked into your workshop. Chrollo’s original target had been your master’s rare treasures but, after hearing about your gift, he altered his plan and included your Hatsu. It was a riskier plan, showing up in person for a session, but to Chrollo your ability was worth it.

The first thing that caught his attention was the cold emptiness of the room. Concrete walls, harsh fluorescent lighting, and the smell of disinfectant and death pervaded the small room. You sat on one of the chairs in the center with two armed men on either side. You were a frail young woman in a dirty white gown and with equally dirty hair that lie atop your head in a tangled mess. You were obviously malnourished judging from your sunken cheeks, bony wrists, and knobby knees. The most damning evidence of your mistreatment, however, had to be the leather shackle around your ankle that was connected to a large chain and attached to the wall.

In spite of your dreadful conditions, you rose from your seat with the grace of a newborn deer and greeted Chrollo with a bright smile that caught him off-guard.

“Welcome Dearest Client and please take a seat.”

Chrollo was convinced your lilting voice could soothe a raging beast as he unconsciously lowered his guard and sat down in front of you. Warmth dripped from your eyes as they traversed Chrollo’s face while yours radiated a child-like innocence as you started to explain the process.

“I will look into your eyes for a minute to search your mind for emotions I can use to create your fantasy. Is that alright, Dear Client?”

“Of course, Miss—I’m sorry but I didn’t catch your name.”

Your eyes widened at the word ‘name’ while the men behind you shifted uncomfortably. “Um…name? I-I don’t know what—”

“What do other’s call you?” Chrollo interrupted.

“Oh! Then I guess I have multiple names. I’m called ‘You’, ‘Witch’, and ‘Woman’ so please pick whatever you prefer.” You stated and Chrollo started to assess your character and the situation you were in.

“I’ll stick with Miss for now,” he declared before initiating Skill Hunter. “Now, can you tell me a little bit about your gift?”

“Of course,” You were completely oblivious to the growing tension that radiated from your guards and started your explanation. “My creations all take place in the client’s mind but I am always present. They are crafted around positive emotions or memories that I find.”

“So these fantasies are all positive?” Chrollo’s voice successfully masked his disappointment.

“Yes,” you replied fondly. “I use my gift to make other’s happy even if it’s only temporary.”

“Oh…and how long do they usually last?”

“At first, I could only last a couple of minutes but after making a vow, I was able to create fantasies that lasted up to three hours.”

“And what vow is that?” Chrollo asked, genuinely curious.

“Loss of my sight if I ever stopped using my gift. My eyes have no purpose if I can’t use them to search people’s minds and create fantasies for them.” Your smile dimmed as you uttered those words while something akin to pity stirred inside Chrollo; however, it wasn’t enough to spare you.

“What a beautiful sentiment,” Chrollo’s honeyed compliment warmed your heart and your smile brightened once more. “Shall we begin?”

Unlike most of client’s you dealt with, Chrollo’s positive memories and emotions revolved around a group of people instead of jewelry, money, fame. Instead of the luxurious mansions, clear skies, and sandy beaches you normally created the setting of Chrollo’s fantasy was a junkyard city.

You distanced yourself from the client as you usually did and watched from afar. Chrollo greeted each and everyone of the group members but tears welled up in his eyes when a large muscular man approached him.

You panicked at the sight of tears until you felt a wave of happiness from Chrollo and your worries faded away. For you, these moments were priceless and made you forget the pain in your stomach or the weariness in your bones. Seeing your clients happy negated any unpleasant emotions you held against your master and gave your life meaning.

Other clients merely forgot about your existence or purposefully ignored you but Chrollo surprised you by seeking you out.

Where are you? I want you to meet my family.

A strange warmth settled in your stomach at Chrollo’s request and you emerged from your hiding spot. You approached him hesitantly until he reached his hand out causing you to freeze in shock.

“Is there something wrong?” Chrollo asked, confusion written all over his face.

“I-I don’t know. Client’s usually don’t want to see me…why do you?”

“I want to share some of my happiness with you. Is that wrong?” Chrollo’s smile dazzled you and before you realized it, hot tears prickled your eyes.

“T-thank you,” you cried. “N-no one has ever done s-something like this f-for me.”

You accepted Chrollo’s hand and interacted with his family as if the fantasy were real. After delving into Chrollo’s mind some more, you learned that the muscular man was actually deceased and focused on perfecting him for your client.

Like always, you wished your fantasies could last forever along with your client’s happiness but it was an impossible desire and your masterpiece started to crumble. The flaming red sky of the junkyard city turned to fuchsia, then pink, until it became a white void. One by one, the group members disappeared as well until Uvogin was the only one left. He bid Chrollo farewell with a toothy grin on his face before he too became one with the white void.

“I see it’s time to return.” Chrollo commented staring into the white void that was once his beloved city.

“Yes, I’m sorry it ended so soon.” You answered, lowering your head.

Suddenly, Chrollo’s hand grabbed your chin and you met his eyes full of emotions that went beyond your comprehension. “No, Miss, it is I who is sorry.”

You wanted to ask what he meant but your fantasy dissipated into nothing and you were kicked out of Chrollo’s mind.

Your eyes fluttered open to blood splattered walls and your hand lying on an old book held by Chrollo. Everything had gone according to plan and the spiders eliminated everyone in the building including your owner. As the Phantom Troupe hauled out the treasures located in the bunker, Chrollo regained consciousness and fulfilled the last condition of Skill Hunter.

“What…happened?” Your eyes widened in horror when they landed on your fallen guards lying in a pool of their own blood. “H-how?!”

Chrollo watched as you whipped your head around for help only to be met with silence. Your seemingly constant smile was long gone replaced with a horror-stricken face Chrollo was used to seeing on his victims—but you were no ordinary victim.

You trembled as you watched the old book in Chrollo’s hands disappear and darted to your feet in an attempt to run away only to collapse on the ground when your chain extended its entire length.

Teary-eyed, you looked up at Chrollo who decided he never wanted to see that terrified expression on your face ever again. He softened his own face as he crouched down next to you and dried your tears with his thumbs. Confusion replaced fear on your weary face and Chrollo sighed in relief knowing it would be easier to dispel confusion as opposed to fear.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this,” Chrollo apologized, before knocking you out in a fraction of a second. “But I’ll take care of you now.”

When you woke up to the black void that was your vision, a broken wail erupted from your chest that alarmed various voices in the room. You flailed your arms in front of you to see if you could at least make out their outline but it was to no avail. With your vision gone, the gravity of your situation pumped adrenaline to your limbs causing you to scramble to your knees and crawl on the bed only to fall out of it and onto the cold floor.

“Hey!”

“Are you okay?”

“Get the boss!”

The shoulder you landed on throbbed painfully but the ringing in your head from listening to disembodied voices you didn’t recognize was worse. Curling up into a ball, you clamped your hands onto your ears to cancel out the harsh noise but it was to no avail. A plethora of negative thoughts filled your mind only to be dispelled by a familiar soothing voice that overpowered all noise.

“Dearest Client?” You uncovered you ears and uncurled your body only to hit your shoulder on the ground once again causing you to hiss in pain. Warm hands gently lifted you up and you jerked from the sudden movement.

“Shhh it’s alright, Miss. My name is Chrollo Lucilfer and I’ll be making you happy from now on.”

“B-but my sight…my gift—” The soft bed surprised you as he sat you down on the edge. “W-what are you—”

His hands cupped both cheeks and turned your head forward. “I’m sorry about your gift but I promise I’ll use it well.”

“W-what…how did…I-I don’t—”

“Stay still for me…please.” You were captivated by the gentle firmness of his voice and did as he asked.

When the meaning behind his words hit, you wondered if your gift would even work in your current state. Before you could voice your doubts, however, the darkness that enveloped you turned lighter and lighter until it was a white void you would recognize anywhere. Splashes of color materialized until they formed your last creation—the junkyard city.

“This…made you happy?”

Seeing Chrollo again made your heart swell and you ran to him wanting nothing more than to see his features up close.  You took in his disheveled black hair, pale skin, and pools of grey and teared up from simply being able to see another person once again. Raising your hand, you touched his cheek and gasped from how real it felt being on the receiving end of the fantasy.

“Amazing…I-I can’t bel—”

Chrollo’s hand shot out and pulled you into his chest while his arms wrapped around your frail form possessively. His scent and warmth assaulted your senses making your head spin but Chrollo only tightened his hold pressing against your skin harshly. Overwhelmed by the sensations pulsating through your body, you clung to Chrollo not knowing what else to do.

“You’re mine now,” his voice rumbled against the sensitive skin of your neck. “I’ll be your eyes from now on.”

A chill ran up your spine as Chrollo’s mouth trailed kisses up your neck to your mouth. An uncomfortable knot started to build in your stomach as his tongue probed your mouth and pressed against yours. You gave Chrollo free reign over your body not because you reciprocated his desire but because you didn’t know any better.

Your entire existence revolved around pleasing others, so when your tainted fantasy ends and you return to your dark reality; you learn to accept your new role. Moving forward whenever Chrollo visits your room, you continue to let him do whatever he wants to your body by convincing yourself that it’s his happiness that is most important. So when he leaves you naked and trembling with a dull ache between your legs, your mind does what it has always done best—it makes things up to help you cope with your miserable life.

[spideyyroos]

are you kidding me - peter parker (soulmate!au) part 4

are you kidding me? - peter parker (soulmate!au) - part 4

pairing: peter parker x stark!female!reader summary: during your everlasting rivalry against peter parker, you’re unlucky enough to find out that not only is he spider-man (your dad’s new kid), but he is also your soulmate. god help us all. (soulmate au where you have a mark of where your soulmate first touches you) word count: 969 requested?: yes! warnings: pure teenage angst, a brief mention of smexy themes if u squint, y/n having major commitment issues, sad baby peter a/n: i apologize for the wait! this chapter is highkey garbage but i’m really trying to get back into writing :( shoutout to my girls for helping motivate me ;-; [part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

In the weeks following the patrolling incident, Y/N avoided Peter like the plague. To blame it on trust and abandonment issues, it would never be a fair fight when it comes to her justification. Although she would never admit it, witnessing Peter fall to pieces directly in front of her--half-expecting her to sew him back together--caused her to spiral. She figured, if she never allowed herself to show any vulnerability, Peter would never come to be disappointed with her. The last person she wanted any resentment from, aside from her own father, was Peter. Though this was to contradict their adversarial relationship, Y/N continuously held his opinions to a higher standard than anyone else. Although at this point of their complex relationship, there was truly nothing to hide. Whether it was against his, hers, or the universe’s will, either could hear each other’s thoughts, feel each other’s pain, and understand each other’s sentiments. Despite making it her life’s mission to prevent Peter from ever invading her mind palace, it was essentially impractical to avoid his presence at Midtown. As far as anyone knew, Y/N “Walters” and Peter Parker were “enemies attached at the hip.” Almost enrolled in every AP course possible, participating in the same extracurricular activities, even having the same lunch period made it damn near impossible. Making matters worse, Peter was constantly making an effort to make amends for their less-than-perfect past. Even if their insult guns were cocked and ready, neither party was ready for the cruel and empty words that were thrown at each other. As previously emphasized, the tension that the pair created in the atmosphere was almost overbearing at times. It came to a point in which their peers would create bets on when the “apparent sexual tension” would finally be released--the main perpetrator of such bets being Flash and (at her wit’s end) MJ. Desperately trying to push aside from their individual imperfections, Peter would corner her in the hallways, classrooms, and even her own bedroom to just simply apologize on his own behalf. But that goddamn Stark pride was a worldwide novelty. Y/N, keeping in mind that Peter had already torn into her massive ego, still held her head as high as she could. His criticism fell on deaf ears as she somehow wiggled her way out of every confrontation possible. In school, it was easy to play by the rules of their rivalry. She would always throw the same vicious cycle of signature Stark ™ remarks: “Oh, Pete-y baby, you wanna kiss?”; “Sorry Parker, I’m gonna have to give you blue balls--I have class right now!”; and other snarky comments of the same caliber. However, when it came to the complex--the visits that were few and far between--Peter genuinely had no clue as to exactly how Y/N could avoid him. Usually she would be more than prepared, calling out some sort of security protocol to FRIDAY that would usher him (rather aggressively) out of her room. Sometimes, out of the entire complex until Happy would unlock the door for him. Unfortunately for Peter, once was one too many times for Happy and soon Pepper became his doorwoman. Let it be noted that Peter is a fairly patient person, but when it came Y/N--she tested every nerve in his body. He was never sure why he always felt such animosity towards the Stark daughter, but he physically could not pull the reins on his competitive nature. Mind you, he purely disregarded looks and actual personality (which, trust, Y/N was overflowing in that department) to narrow in on her academic stance compared to his. Now, in the recent turn of events, Peter would take advantage of the rare moments where he could take in her beauty (natural or otherwise). Then, the sudden feeling of rejection would infiltrate any sort of daydream that could possibly gain traction when Y/N would rip herself from his mind. Demanding an obscene amount of space from him, Y/N locked herself away from him--deliberately eliminating any hopes of forgiveness and consolation in the near future. Peter currently sat in his small bedroom, spent from the day’s worth of school and patrolling. Thankful for the lack of crime within the day, he was sprawled on top of his twin-size mattress and still was attempting to catch his breath from the brief altercation he experienced before he finished patrolling for the afternoon. It was yet another attempted robbery, but it was somehow smaller than the encounter from a few weeks prior. Peter stared at his ceiling, trying to devise the best way to confront Y/N and otherwise figure out their soulmate connection.

Please don’t do this right now, Peter.

Wha--I wasn’t doing anything--

How do you repeatedly forget that I can hear you? Even if you think that you are dialing it down, it’s still loud and clear--constantly present in my mind.

Y/N continued as Peter did not respond.

Look, Peter, I want this to work out as much as the next person...but I honestly cannot find it in me to push aside everything that we’ve been through together. I don’t want to damage you, Peter. I don’t know how you are trying to go about this...I’ve always known you to be persistent with seeing the best in people, but I am, honest to God, the last person you should spare with optimism. So, if you really want to care about me, don’t try to talk to me, don’t look my way, and certainly don’t want to come to the compound. 

And, in one final sentence, Y/N shattered the last resort of their potential relationship.

I’m sorry, Peter, but I can’t do this.

Without a second to respond, Y/N cut herself out from Peter’s mind.

taglist: @mega-bi @lordofblamo @sadstrudel @ispiderdudei @everythingsship @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @annathesillyfriend @mybitchborky @randxmthxughts @dear-selena @holaamishamigos @reveluvspecial @andreasworlsboring101 @marvellover1819

[footballxposts]

The Rest Of Our Lives - Mason Mount Series 🦋 (Chapter Three) Departure

Warnings: none but next chapter is smutty ;)

Recommended Listening: Forever by Labrinth (Slowed).

Taglist: @storyofavengers

——————————————————————————

After releasing me from the hug I was immersed in, I quickly went to the bathroom whilst Mason waited patiently for me outside in the hallway. Once I had finished and came back out to meet him, the little smirk on his face made my heart so full. Maybe he really did miss me like he had said, but if so why didn’t he get in contact sooner? I guess he was afraid of the rejection but I really did wish he had still tried. At the end of the day, we only regret the chances we didn’t take. Of course I was still hurt by him, but I did want to give him his chance to explain everything, even if it meant we wouldn’t rekindle the friendship like it once was, and we would still go our separate ways again.

“You alright?,” he asked in a soft tone.

“Yeah..” I gave him a small smile before he nodded and took my hand leading me back upstairs to the nightclub’s centre-point. It was only at the top of the stairs that we were caught in our tracks by a stunning blonde-haired girl who had recognised my old best friend.

“Mase gorgeous, how are you? I haven’t heard from you or seen you in a while. I thought you might have fell of the face of the earth or something.” she piped up. His reaction was like a deer caught in headlights. Who the hell was this? I knew it wasn’t his girlfriend but she seemed to be someone who was at one stage more than just a friend like I was.

“Uh, hi Olivia, yeah..” he began to speak back to her. “I um, I’ve just been busy sorry, I’m good how are you?” he continued unconfidently, itching to get away from this current conversation.

“Too busy, huh?.” She raised her eyebrows and chuckled. I was standing there so awkwardly, not knowing what to do or where to look. She didn’t pay attention to me once, her eyes fixated on the brown-haired man beside me. “And here’s me thinking Mason Mount would never be too busy to reply or spend some time with me..” she gasped jokingly, but I knew she was being serious and I really didn’t like the vibe I was getting off her. My heart began shattering again out of jealousy. It’s amazing how you can go without seeing someone for years and even though they broke you, in an instant all the feelings and memories come rushing back. And that’s exactly what happened when I saw Mason on the street earlier this night. Even though it was /my/hand he was still holding, I still felt threatened.

“Awh no.. I mean.. I don’t know. I’m sorry as I said I’ve just been really busy,” was all he could come up with as a response, his palm becoming sweaty interlaced with my own. You know when you can feel your heart beating in another part of your body? I could feel his through his hand in my grasp.

“Hmm okay.” She said with barely any emotion behind it. “So who’s this little one then? Your new girl?” Her attention was now focused on me, now frozen with a tightness in my chest. I should have spoken up. I wanted to. But I was unable to. Thankfully, Mason covered for me.

“Uh, no she’s just a.. a friend..” he trailed off, so unsure of his answer and looking across at me, his eyes soliciting for an answer. Realistically, we were former friends. But within time, we both hoped we could drop the former. Slowly nodding as reassurance, I turned back to look at the the tall woman standing in front of me.

“Just friends?” her eyes widened with a smug look, pointing towards our intertwined fingers. I went to let go of Mason’s hand but his grip tightened, letting me know it was okay and he had the situation under control.

“Yeah this is my childhood best friend Sophie. I uh- I ran into her down outside the bathrooms and she wasn’t feeling the best so I said I’d bring her back upstairs and take her home. I just wanted to keep her close in case she fainted or anything.” he announced. Her eyes were now practically staring into my soul, but buying it, she just replied with an ‘oh’ and I signalled in agreement once again.

“Well, that was nice of you.” She smiled pompously. “Anyhoo, you have my number. Don’t be stranger.”

“Right.” Mason gulped and she winked walking away. Once gone, he turned to look at me again, apologising with his eyes. I bit my lip and shook my head to let him know that it was alright and that we didn’t have to talk about it. To be honest, I did want to talk about it. I wanted to know who she was. Was he sleeping with her? And if so was it going to progress any further? So many questions filled my mind but I tried to forget about them, telling myself that it was none of my business and it was before we had reconnected to night anyways.

Making our way over to Hollie, the look of disappointment across of her face said more than words ever could. She was relieved to see that I hadn’t gone missing, but she wasn’t too impressed that on my return I had brought back Mason with me. Giving me a moment to talk to her, Mason stepped away, resting his arm on the bar counter and facing the dance floor.

“What’s going on, are you okay? I went looking for you but I seen you talking to him from the top of the stairs and I didn’t want to interrupt.” She whispered sympathetically.

“Yeah I’m fine, thank you Hol. And I’m sorry I left you for so long.” I replied.

“No no, don’t be sorry. I was more than alright up here, I was talking to that bartender for ages anyways. I’m sorry Soph, I didn’t realise he would be here too. Is everything okay between you both?”

I wanted to say yes. But was everything okay between us both? I mean for now it was. I was giving him his opportunity to talk to me, but I hadn’t heard his side of the story yet nor had I forgiven him. Trying to find the right words to respond with, I took a deep breath.

“It’s not your fault Hollie, I was the one who said I wanted to come here in the first place. And I guess for now yeah. I’m giving him a chance to clear up everything and get some clarity on the whole thing. It doesn’t mean we’re going to go back to being how we were before but at least if we can be on civil terms.. I don’t know that’s got to be worth something right?” I asked, in hope of encouragement.

Hollie was the best friend a girl could ask for. She was more like a big sister despite me being older; a little dumb and clumsy at times, but no matter how many bad and possibly avoidable situations she put herself in, she would always make sure I didn’t do the same. She only wanted the best for me, as did I for her, so she basically made herself the crash test dummy and tried to advise me as much as possible. And she always made me laugh and smile without fail, after every heart break, every failure, basically anything terrible circumstance you can think of. She was always there.

“Well that’s your choice and I think it’s fair enough.” She gave me a fragile smile. “Just be smart and don’t let him hurt you again Soph. I seen how much pain and anguish you were in tonight and I never want to see you like that again. It’s alright that you want some light shed and some closure on the situation, but don’t let him blindside you and destroy your heart again, okay?” she raised her brows, placing both hands either side of my shoulders to make sure I was listening. Nodding to let her know I understood, she gave me a full warm smile back.

“Okay, so I think I’m going back to Dylan’s house once he’s finished his shift”. She added, referring to the bartender who was now waving at us. “But I don’t know what your plans are so I don’t have to if you don’t want me to and you need me.”

“No no, you go. I’ll find out what Mase and I are doing and once I’m back home and safe I’ll give you a text and let you know. If I need you at any stage I’ll call you.” I said before giving her a hug and getting ready to leave.

“Okay, I’ll do the same!” She mumbled, and with that I rejoined Mason who had finished informing his teammates and friends what was happening. Putting an arm around my waist, we had left the nightclub once again with crisp and fresh night air.

——————————————————————————-

Quick A/N: AHH I’m so excited for the next chapter you guys are gonna love it I hope! Also, the reason I put listening recommendations is to help you all imagine what I’m visualising when I right my stories and ideas! Music basically helps me set the scene. When you’re listening to the song attached to this post, I want y’all to try visualise yourself walking in slow-mo through a crowded nightclub holding hands with THE Mason Mount. Everyone looking at you both leaving, but he’s looking back every so often just to make sure you’re okay. Just imagine. That’s all :)

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Not All Treasure is Silver and Gold (Part One)

Pairing: Pirate!Bakugou x mermaid!reader

Warnings: Ehh, this portion is gender neutral but from here on out the reader is referred to as female. This does work as a stand alone story, though. Otherwise no warnings from this one.

{Pt. 1} {Pt. 2} {Pt. 3} {Pt. 4}

Author's Note:

Sooo, I know I said I probably wouldn't have this out for another while, buuuttt, I didn't have anything for today and this one was just staring at me 🥺. I don't quite have a concrete plan for the full thing, and there's no guarantees for when part two is going to come out. Also I might draw something like last time to use as a banner. The one that's down there is a placeholder.

Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy this! I've been wanting to write this story for almost a year now, and I finally have the chance! If you'd like to be part of the taglist for this story, please message me!

I think that's it. Love you!!

-Sugar

⊱ ──── 《∘🕱∘》 ──── ⊰

⊱ ──── 《∘🕱∘》 ──── ⊰

A shadow slid across the ocean floor.

Basking in the warmth of the sun, it truly made for an unwelcome interruption. You'd been partaking in a nap only moments prior, mind slowly shifting through half-baked thoughts as the sun shone down onto the sand beneath you. Prompted by the change of brightness and temperature, you blinked your eyes open, rolling over to your back with a lethargic stretch of your arms. Squinting, you frowned up at the surface rippling a considerable distance above you.

There you saw it, some strange shape making its way over the water above. It seemed to be some kind of brownish color, wide and tapered to a point at each end.

Your annoyance faded as curiosity struck you. You didn’t think you’d ever seen anything like it before. You studied it from your vantage point on the ocean floor even as the sunlight reappeared on your relaxed body. It wasn’t as though you were doing anything important right now, you figured. Maybe it was something worth investigating, at least for a short time.

Rousing yourself from the sand, you flicked your tail to propel yourself up in the direction of the object.

You poked your head out of the water, body bobbing up and down with the motions of the waves. You blinked, bringing a hand out of the water in an attempt to shield your vision from the blinding sun. How did anything live up here? It felt as though your eyes were going to dry up and incinerate to nothing.

There it was, the strange object that had cast such a shadow. It was even bigger above water. Mahogany planks shaped it into that odd form, making it float on the ocean, cutting through waves as though they were nothing. Large masts seemed to sprout up from the center like kelp in a forest, sporting billowing white cloths rippling in the air currents.

Ah, yes, it was a boat, and an impressive one at that. You suddenly remembered seeing the ones just like this that couldn’t float anymore, having swum past the ruined, swollen wood during your time in this part of the sea. They were ominous, sitting still on the ocean floor, carrying a dark, somber aura about them as they laid dead where they’d never move again.

But this ship was every meaning of the word alive, shining in the midday sun and skimming dutifully over the bright blue water. Its size might have looked intimidating, but the thing itself was also very intriguing.

Naturally, you swam closer.

The thing was fast, but luckily, so were you. You dived back down, your powerful tail bringing you a few body lengths up to the submerged bottom of the ship. Popping out of the water again, you looked all the way up its side.

Now that you were closer, you thought you heard something. The sounds were new to you, similar to whalesong. But this was deeper, choppier, and somehow harsher. You frowned in the direction of the noises. What was on this boat?

You circled it underwater—careful not to get too close—coming back up a few times to get another look from a different angle.

You had to admit, it carried an odd beauty about it. Something like this must have been built, but the craftsmanship was so intricate, and it was massive . . . .

You sprung up above water again some ways away from it. Perhaps this thing wasn’t as exciting as you’d initially thought. It was a pain to keep up with and the noises coming from it kept hurting your ears.

Just as you turned to leave, a movement caught your eye. There it was, a flash of gold just at the side of the ship. It looked vaguely . . . familiar.

You went closer again to get a better look, and it was then that you met a pair of golden eyes, looking much like those of your people of the sea.

The figure startled as soon as he saw you, blinking and squinting in your direction. He made more of those strange chattering sounds you’d kept hearing, looking behind him and frantically pointing at you with his outstretched hand.

Rude, you thought, but what was a merman doing all the way up there?

A second head appeared next to the first, this one with vibrant, spiky red hair. You experimentally waved at them in greeting, wondering why you couldn’t understand them. Maybe they were from a different ocean you'd never seen.

They both leaned over the side. It looked like they were trying to communicate something to you, but whatever it was, you didn’t get it.

The red haired one turned and left, but was quick to come back with a weird circular object. It was attached to a rope and had an open circle in the middle, just big enough to put the top third of your body through.

To your mild surprise, he tossed it over the side at you, and it landed with surprising accuracy only a tail length away. You swam over to it, picking it up out of the water. It was oddly light—which probably explained why it floated so easily on the waves—and was made out of some strange material.

You glanced dubiously back up at the faces on the side of the ship. They were looking at you with . . . distress? What was this thing? Was it some kind of gift? What were you supposed to do with it? You couldn’t hold it down under the waves, so how were you supposed to bring it back underwater with you?

Either way, you thought it would be rude to decline. You grabbed the rope that was tied to it. It looked as though they were still holding on to the other end. You really wouldn’t be able to take it anywhere if it was still attached to the ship.

You grabbed the rope and tugged. They held onto it. Frustrated, you tugged again. Looking up at their faces, you matched their expressions of confusion. What were you missing here?

Perhaps they were only trying to show it to you. You decided to follow through with your initial idea of putting it around the upper portion of your body. You lifted it over your head—you fit through it okay, at least—and soon it reached the submerged base of your tail.

You floated there for a second. Was this all it was good for? Kind of useless if you asked yourself. Again, you made up your mind to leave. You had better things to do than play silly games with the weirdos in the sky.

Before you could slip back out under the object, you felt yourself being pulled closer to the boat. Now what were they doing?

You frowned up the side again, but this time you couldn’t really see them. They must have stepped back further onto the boat. Intrigued, you let them pull you along with them. You got closer and closer to the side, and finally the rope connecting you to the other end slanted completely vertical. You adjusted yourself so you wouldn’t slide out. Perhaps they were trying to bring you up so they could meet you. You weren’t sure what they’d gain by that, seeing as you couldn’t understand them. Heck, they probably wouldn’t be able to understand you either. But you were still curious. What did the boat look like from up there? It wasn’t all that interesting from the underside, but maybe if you were able to see it from the top . . . .

The two strangers began to haul you out of the water. It was a little scary, you had to admit. Slowly, your body was extracted from the water. Waves slapped against your tail ever lower, and eventually you were fully suspended in midair. You clung tightly to the rope. Glancing back at the sea below, you realized it was a long way down, and the higher you went, the less you were comfortable with the idea of falling.

You'd never been all the way out of the water like this, and it almost felt as though you were flying like those seabirds you'd see living on islands. Except this wasn't as fun. You were meant to swim in the water, not get dragged through the air.

Finally you saw the rim of the ship, and you picked up on the grunting and labored breaths from the two weirdlings you’d seen earlier. You reached up and grabbed onto the side, hoisting your body up. Then you saw them.

These weren’t quite the mermen you were used to. The things that were pulling you up had legs.

You stared at them for a moment, watching fascinated as they walked towards you. Tearing your eyes away from their tailless, split bodies, you glanced back at their faces. Why did they look so concerned? Did they always look like that?

The blond one was the first to reach you. He was quick to grab your hand to help you over the railing, chattering something at you. You let him pull your body up a little higher, and then he froze. To your surprise, he let go of your hand, dropping your bodyweight and causing you to pitch forward. You slid gracelessly to the dry floor of the ship like some kind of overgrown eel, fins and tail meeting the floor of the boat with a wet thud.

You spluttered, annoyed, curling your scaled appendage closer into yourself. “What is this?!” you finally asked.

The blond one had run back to the redhead, pointing frantically and clearly panicked. The red haired one also looked shaken, but otherwise seemed somewhat more collected as he studied you.

“Whatever,” you mumbled, sliding the flotation object off of yourself. “I don’t want this thing anyway.”

You glanced around, taking in the ship up close. It was pretty cool, but in hindsight, it probably wasn’t worth the whole fiasco you’d gone through to get here. The floor was mostly bare, give or take a few stacked boxes here and there. You recognized a net hanging from a pole, one of which you’d seen countless before. Was this where they came from?

“Those things are dangerous,” you said, pointing at it. “I’ve had to cut a lot of animals out of them.”

It was then that the red haired one stepped closer to you. You drew back just a bit, suspicious.

Examining him, you took in the mismatched rings that adorned his ears, and the billowy off-white covering he wore over his chest. The front was open, exposing the tanned skin of his torso. Darker brown fabric covered his lower half, tucked into clunky coverings at the very bottom. Another strip of cloth was tied around his head, making his vibrant hair stick up in odd directions.

He crouched down so you wouldn’t have to crane your neck up to look at him. He tried to say something to you again, but this time his voice wasn’t so loud. It was still foreign to your ears, but it was low and smooth.

You gave him an apologetic expression. “Listen,” you said. “This was fun and all, but I should probably get going.”

You turned and tried to slide yourself closer to the side you’d come from. Much to your annoyance, your tail hindered your movements. You were used to the grace of the water, but now you felt heavy and clunky. Scowling, you tried to pull yourself to the railing with your arms, but nothing was cooperating with you. The boat swayed with the motion of the waves down below, and as soon as you figured you’d made progress, you’d have to fight even harder against the force pulling you back.

You felt something touch your tail, and you whipped around with a threatening hiss, baring your teeth. It was the redhead again, and apparently he’d been the first to notice the rope that had gotten tangled around the fins and scales of your tail. Maybe he was trying to help, but he was touching your tail. You could do it yourself.

Jerking the lower portion of your appendage, you were able to smack him away with your fins. Feelings hurt, he stepped back.

You grabbed at the rope, cursing the fact that you’d ever gotten up from your nap in the first place as you struggled to untangle yourself from the device that had brought you up here. You wondered how you had gotten stuck so bad as you tugged at the coarse material. Seriously, you were so done with this today. You vowed to never go up to another boat again in your life if you could only get off this one—

And then you saw him.

The blond must have left a while ago but now you saw who he’d come back with. It was another being like the other two. He was blond like the first one, but his hair was shorter, spikier, and reminded you of the pale yellow of the sun. He was bigger than the other blond, but smaller than the redhead. You didn’t think you’d ever seen a face so handsome, even among the mermen back where you lived. He bore a scowl on his face, similar to the one you’d been sporting seconds earlier. Strength and authority rolled off him in waves, not only in the way he carried himself but also in the respect he garnered from the others around him.

He was tall, he was hot, and now you were just staring.

The sexy weirdling grumbled something, and you honestly weren’t sure to whom it was intended for until he stepped forward. You were slower to pull away as he approached, almost drawn to him in a strange way.

He knelt in front of you, pulling out a sharp object from a hidden pouch on his hip. Your heart fluttered in momentary fear as he brought it closer to your tail, but soon you saw the way he reached for the rope. Without scarcely touching your scales, he pulled on the material and sliced through it, cutting you free in a few fluid motions. You were caught up in watching him work, silently in awe as his rough hands delicately moved over your body.

Soon, you were able to move again, but before you could, he straightened and lifted your body from the floor. You gasped, clutching at his broad shoulders as you were once again suspended in midair. But this time you felt secure; his arms supporting the weight of your body. He met your eyes for a split second, and you became lost in the pools of orangey-red. They were deep, and bright, and you felt as though you could gaze into them forever.

Then you were hauled above the railing and tossed over the side.

Weightless, you fell back to the sea from which you came. It was surreal, watching his pale face grow smaller and smaller as wind rushed around you and gravity pulled you further away.

No, you thought, still in a daze. You wanted to stay with him, to keep looking at him, to know his name—

But all too quick, your back hit the cold water of the sea, skin stinging from the impact. With an impressive splash, you sank down again to the place you called home.

You didn’t know how to feel now, watching from below as the ship surged on without you. You were astonished and confused, lost and frozen in the deep blue world that surrounded you.

It was then that you vowed to see him again, no matter what.

You were warm—a little giddy—and you were determined.

You were in love.

…

To be continued . . . .

[Part Two]

⊱ ──── 《∘🕱∘》 ──── ⊰

Taglist: @aahilovetheatre @basicalyrandom @bumbyslair @f0leysgurl @hyunmin-1404 @kqtsukii @nabo39 @pyrofanatic​ @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars @sendhelpimstupid @ure-a-sunflower @xoxopam4 @deltajay @sillygoof @whipped-cream-writings

[whatifxwereyou]

Firestorm Part 2: Determination

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021 Liu Kang x Reader

A/N: That plot getting real again tho. It's funny to me how different the plots for both sides have become just from one little decision. Thank you guys for the support.

If you would like to be tagged for Firestorm when I post, let me know. I'll start a tag list.

The Oncoming Storm Part 1 Part 3 Chapter Index

“What else can you remember?” Feng tapped his fingers against the charcoal. He’d done several sketches of the demon-looking creature that you’d seen in your visions but none of them had come out quite right. It was like the image that had once been clear had become jumbled up when you tried to describe it. It was deeply upsetting honestly. To think that someone’s power over you could be so strong that they could literally twist images in your brain. You felt betrayed by your brain.

Feng had the patience of a saint for dealing with your confusion. You were no artist either, so describing the creature had been exceptionally difficult. You had five portraits to work from and each of them was startlingly different. You hoped that at least one of them was accurate enough for Raiden to recognize.

“The horns were different.” You struggled to remember and rotated your pained shoulder. It had been heavier that day for whatever reason.

“Are you okay, Y/N? Do we need to stop for today?” Feng set the sketchpad down in his lap with concerned eyes.

“What?” You hadn’t realized that you’d been cradling your arm to your chest. Oops. You let it go but it ached in objection. “No, I’m fine. We can keep going.”

“Okay…” He drifted off nervously and began to alter the horns on the sketch. Then he stopped again with a heavy sigh. “Maybe you should go get that looked at,” he whispered as though others could overhear even though you were very much alone. You stole a glance at the mark that spread from your shoulder to your chest. It was red, enflamed, and swollen.

“It’s probably just all this rain.”

“I’d feel more comfortable if you got it looked at.” Feng bowed his head politely. You sighed heavily again. He was worried about you, yes, but you knew your limits. You were tired of being treated like you didn’t, but you also understood his concern. It wasn’t just that he was worried about you, either. The latest ‘tea’ was that you were dangerous and unpredictable. “You seem distracted. We can pick it back up after you’re less pained.”

“If that’s what would make you comfortable, then fine.” You wouldn’t argue with him anymore. It wasn’t worth it. Feng went about gathering his art supplies and you focused on your shoulder. The crack ached deeply, like someone had run a hot knife through it while you’d been sleeping. “Thank you for the help, Feng.” You yelled after him when he practically ran from the room.

People had taken to treating you like a ticking timebomb. You’d played into it a few times because it had been ridiculous. You tried not to let it bother you but on and off it had. Your shoulder was bad today so maybe Feng was right. You should stop by the infirmary. Plus, you hadn’t seen Chen yet today and it would be nice to chat with someone who wasn’t afraid of you. As much as you wanted to sit around and enjoy the storm, when left alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t stop thinking about your conversation with Liu Kang from the night before.

The infirmary it was.

“Oh, good!” Chen stomped angrily toward you as you approached the infirmary. You looked behind you to make sure that there wasn’t someone there that deserved this much of Chen’s wrath. You’d never seen Chen that aggressive before. In fact, you had been certain that nothing bothered Chen enough to make you stomp around. Oh, how wrong you were. “I need to talk to you about those boys.”

“Could you be any louder about it?” You didn’t turn red this time. You’d grown tougher skin since the last time Chen had teased you. “And can you look at my shoulder first? Or during? I don’t care when as long as you look at it.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Uh… it’s swollen and it hurts.” You couldn’t believe Chen’s attitude. Chen grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the infirmary. With a twist of your wrist, you were forced to sit down. You held your hand then protectively away from Chen who wasn’t being at all gentle. “If you aren’t going to be nice to me then I will ask one of the other monks to help.” Your shoulder was now throbbing after Chen’s pulling. Your stomach churned like you’d eaten something bad.

Chen seemed to consider then and then sighed. “You are kind of gray, I suppose. What did you do to upset it? Did you overwork it like I told you not to?”

“Why do you assume that I did something wrong?”

“You have a track record, Y/N.”

“I think it’s the weather. Feng practically fled from me because of it.” You held your arm protectively against your chest as Chen reached for it. “Are you going to be nice? It hurts. I don’t need you tugging on it unnecessarily.”

“Yes, I promise. I’m sorry.” Chen took a breath and finally smiled. “After we took a look, we are discussing those boys though.”

“Quieter, please.”

“Oh hush, Y/N, everyone here knows what’s going on and I have a lot to say. I can’t be blamed for my tone right now.” Chen tugged your arm free, and you yelped and saw stars. You fanned your face with your other hand when it became way too hot very suddenly. Your lips were tingling.

“Chen, you’ve got to…”

“I overheard those two sneaks talking and…”

“Chen?” You scooted to the edge of the bench and spoke with urgency. Your head was spinning. You might vomit. Oh no. It was too hot in there. Had it been that hot in there when you’d arrived? Were you just now noticing?

“Don’t avoid the topic, Y/N.”

“Chen, I think she’s being serious.” One of the other monks came over to you and clasped Chen’s shoulder. Your ears were ringing. You saw the two of them arguing. The monk was pointing at you while he argued with Chen. Then you fell forward, and everything went black before you hit the floor.

***

Stone was hot beneath your body. Burning. You sat up, rubbing the sore spot on your head from hitting the ground but every movement was like you were stuck in molasses. The wind was whipping at you, and your hair flew wildly around you. The air was red hot and instead of rain fell embers.

You were atop a mountain. How had you gotten outside? Lightning struck all around you and the stone beneath you began to crumble. You could see it falling on top of the buildings below. People were screaming. A thousand voices overlapped, crying in pain, and calling for help. You managed to crawl to the edge of the crumbling mountain but was thrown back as lightning struck too close to you. Flames raged from below.

The temple was on fire. You tried to make your way over the edge, but your shoulder felt as though hooks had been driven into it, hooks that were attached to weights.

The storm! You realized, deafened by the roar of fire and the grumble of thunder what this was.

It was going to damage the temple.

People were going to die.

You had to do something, but the weight was too much. It dragged you down. You could barely move. People were screaming over the thunder, over the fire. You could smell burnt flesh. There was no escape from it, and you sat in agony, helpless amongst the fire and the death.

***

You sat up with a start and a gasp. The infirmary spun. You were on the floor and spotted Chen about ten times as the world spun. You were coated in a thin sheen of sweat and your body was trembling.

“Oh, oh no… no lay down, Y/N. Lay down.” Chen carefully urged you to lay back, but you fought her. Then you stopped and gulped, feeling the burning of nausea in the back of your throat. “Please! Lay down, Y/N.” The other monks were gathered nearby but had left a wide berth around you just in case. There was no ink that you could see, so there was that.

“I need to talk to Raiden, it’s urgent.” You muttered, pushing Chen’s hand away from you. Chen grasped your pained shoulder and you hissed in objection. “Chen!”

“You had a fit, Y/N. You need to lay down. Take it easy. Did you have a vision? There wasn’t any ink, you just collapsed and smacked your head on the floor.” Chen was checking your pupils and you were trying very much to escape the death grip Chen had on your shoulder.

“I had a vision, I need to…”

“Lord Raiden?” One of the monks spoke in surprise. Then they were all bowing as the god entered the room. Chen relaxed her grip on your shoulder in surprise and then stepped back and bowed low to the floor. Raiden had known that you needed to speak with him.

“What is it, Y/N?” He crouched low by your side. His presence was more imposing than ever, but you felt so afraid by what you’d seen that you weren’t intimidated.

“I saw something. There’s going to be… an accident.” You held your head in frustration as you struggled with words. There was a knot right on the side of your head above your ear from where you’d fallen. Why couldn’t you just say it? There was going to be a collapse! A fire! Lightning would strike the mountain and there would be devastation. The words were there but by the time they reached your mouth they were gone. You couldn’t seem to translate the images into words, and you had never been more frustrated. “Ugh.” You held your head in your hands and grasped your hair in annoyance. “It’s important but I… I can’t…”

“Can you show me?”

“I…” You hesitated. The infirmary was filled with people, and you were terrified of putting them in danger. Nothing good had ever happened while you were sharing visions with Raiden. What if they got hurt? It was one thing to hurt Liu Kang, a trained warrior who had put himself in harm’s way. This was another thing entirely. You suddenly realized just how dangerous you truly were.

“I will take you somewhere isolated.” Raiden seemed to read your mind. Either that or your expression had said is quite plainly. Before you could add that it was urgent, Raiden grasped your arm. Lightning crackled and you had returned to the chamber you’d referred to mentally as his. Raiden helped you get to your feet and then urged you to take a seat on a bench near the wall. “You’re pale.”

“I don’t… that’s not important. What I saw, Raiden. It’s urgent.” You didn’t care that you were sick or dizzy or pale. Whatever. If what you saw was going to happen during the storm, then it would be happening soon. You needed Raiden to see what you saw and interpret it for you. It occurred to you that not all visions would be accurate. Some of them could have been that creature screwing with you, taunting you.

“Yes, of course.” Raiden looked hesitant though you couldn’t say why. This was urgent.

“Please.”

Raiden placed his hand atop your head. Then with a crushing pressure you were gone. Like a light had been turned off inside of you. There was nothing. No pain. No struggling. No visions.

Just darkness.

Then you woke up.

The room that spun around you was one you didn’t recognize. Location didn’t matter anymore. At least you were awake. Your heart was racing like it was going to take flight, as though you had spent hours running beyond exhaustion. You sat up with a grunt but then Chen was pushing you to lay back down again.

Ugh.

“Relax, Y/N. You’re safe.” Chen reassured you but her expression betrayed her. She looked exhausted and worried. She was stuck on Y/N-duty again. Poor Chen. You bet that she regretted getting close to you now with all the extra work she had to do. “Please listen to me for once. I need you to lay and relax. You have a fever but you’re okay.”

“My heart.” You patted your chest nervously to mimic the beating of your heart.

“It’s stress but you’re okay. It’ll calm down.” Chen assured you but picked up your wrist and took your pulse anyway.

“What happened? Is everything okay? Did…” You drifted off as you forced yourself up on your elbows. Your whole left side was tingling and numb. Chen frowned at you disapprovingly.

“Raiden saw. It’s okay, Y/N. Lightning struck the mountain on the other side of the ravine but…” Chen then held her finger up to silence you so she could count. You held your breath, hoping that Chen would tell you more. Then Chen swatted you for holding your breath and you pouted.

Raiden’s presence made you both turn your heads toward the doorway. “Leave us.” He ordered in a stern tone but then bowed his head as if realizing he’d spoken too harshly. Chen sighed, frustrated, and then gently squeezed your hand.

“I’ll find you later.”

“Thank you, Chen.” You carefully pushed yourself so that you were sitting upright. Your shoulder throbbed and your left arm felt numb and useless. You cradled it to your body with your other hand. Raiden sat down on the edge of the bed, hands on his knees.

“You saved a great many people today.”

“I didn’t do anything, I don’t…”

“You did.” Raiden looked to you from the corner of his eye. “I was able to see your vision and minimize the damage. Lives were saved.” He then bowed his head. “The devastation you foresaw was tremendous. Because you were able to communicate your vision to me, we caught it before it happened.”

“I didn’t do anything. I don’t- I don’t want that credit.” You frowned. You really hadn’t done anything worthy of praise.

“You saw.” Raiden’s expression was serious. You felt again like a little girl who had disobeyed her father, so you didn’t object. “That creature told you that you would not see, and you saw anyway. You were meant to see, Y/N.”

You hadn’t thought of it that way.

You hadn’t thought about the fact that you were terrible at this was because of that creature. He stifled your ability to see. Duh. But you’d seen anyway. Raiden had said it with such pride that you felt a little proud. Even though seeing had kicked your ass, it had been worth it.

“We will find a way to separate you from this curse. You will see clearly. You will see and you will fight.”

You teared up.

You stuttered, wanting to thank him for his help, for his belief in you but no words came out. You wiped your eyes. Much to your surprise, Raiden hugged you. It was a fatherly hug, something that you hadn’t felt in so long that you weren’t sure how to emotionally respond to it. You had never been close with your father. In fact, he’d frightened you. He’d never hurt you but he’d been imposing.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you.” He let you go and you pulled back, adjusting to sit against the wall behind you. You were exhausted but at least the feeling was returning to your arm.

“Oh no, no Raiden. I’m not. You had to. I was… out of control.” You hadn’t blamed him. You had hurt Liu and the ink had been filling the room. You’d needed to be stopped and he’d done what he thought was right.

“I hurt you more than I intended. I’m still sorry.”

“It’s okay. I have more than forgiven you.”

“I’ve moved the artifacts somewhere safe. I’m hoping that the distance will offer you some relief.” Raiden got up and was back to his usual composed and intimidating self. You tried not to smile. It had been exceedingly kind of him to reassure you. Sweet, even. “If we can get control of your visions and your arcana so that they are at least less destructive then it is a step in the right direction. I want you to work on that when you’re feeling a little better. You must survive long enough to discover who has done this and why. Why you? What motives could they have other than to stifle your visions? And why is it that you have these visions? They are unrelated to your arcana.”

“I’ve thought about that more than you know. I’ll do my best to get some control over it. I’m going to fight, Lord Raiden.” His belief in you had given you strength. You’d been teetering on having faith in yourself for so long that it was nice to feel determined. You had needed that push. Even though you felt like absolute garbage after having your vision and sharing it with Raiden only moments after, you still felt better than you’d felt in a long time.

“Good.” He turned to face you again. “Thank you, Y/N. You saved many lives today and I am grateful. Get some rest.” He bowed to you and then left the room. Chen returned through the same doorway only seconds later in a huff. She seemed overwhelmed and you couldn’t blame her.

“What did he say to you? I tried to listen in but I think he knew I was listening. I couldn’t hear a single word!” She pouted in frustration, as if she had failed at being a gossip.

“Good. It wasn’t your business, Chen.” You teased but then rested your head on Chen’s shoulder with a sigh. Chen slipped her arm around you in a hug.

“You doing okay, sweet pea?”

“I don’t like that.” You laughed, sitting upright, and holding your sore shoulder. “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”

“When you stop collapsing all over the temple then I’ll stop worrying.” Chen scolded. “I can’t keep reassuring you when you keep doing things to worry me.”

“I know, I really do. I’m working on it. I’m sorry to have worried you.”

“Don’t be sorry. I just want you to be okay.” Chen furrowed her brow. You felt lucky to have her. “Why don’t I help you back to your room so that you can get some rest?”

“That’s probably for the best.” You tried to roll your shoulder but your body wasn’t having it. “Wait, you were up in arms about something earlier. Weren’t you? Or was I imagining you being mean to me?”

“For another day, Y/N. Right now I want you to rest.”

“Are you worried about stressing me out because of the heart thing?”

“I absolutely am.” Chen giggled and then helped you to your feet. Your legs were wobbly but once you were on them, you were fine. Chen insisted upon helping you back to your room regardless. You didn’t want to sit and listen to the storm for the rest of the afternoon. Earlier you would have been happy to but after talking to Raiden, you were motivated.

For the first time in your life your visions had been more than a burden that deteriorated your health and made people call you names. You’d seen the potential destruction of parts of the temple and it had saved lives. Raiden had been the one to save those lives but without you he never would have known it was coming.

You didn’t want credit for it but it did feel good to have done something other than destroy and maim.

[creoterative]

The Lambda Core #3

Actually, it’s chapter 5, I dunno why I didn’t keep up with the numbers, but anyway, I finally posted the biggest chapter yet, consisting of over 20.000 words! Yeah, took me long enough. I’ll take a little break now before I start writing on this again, I’m really motivated since we’re finally getting somewhere with this and the actual story can begin. I didn’t want to hold this from you, so here is a snippet of my newest addition to my fanfiction crossover between Pokémon and Half Life 2. Enjoy!

And feel free to visit my AO3 site, there you can read the whole chapter in all its glory! *cough*

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38083513/chapters/103323738

Letting the sun dry him had not been such a good idea after all, because now Paul's hair was hard and knotted. That disgusting head crab had really tried to make babies with his skull.... He shuddered when he thought about it and quickly tried to push the thought of the horny creature away. He really didn't need that right now.

Anyway, now it was stuck in some desert and Doctor Kleiner would have to find another specimen. Hopefully, he would decide that it wasn't worth the effort, then Paul could save himself further such incidents. He preferred not to have little head crab babies jumping all over him, however they might have been created.

With the crowbar in his right hand, which admittedly still hurt quite a bit, but the left really wasn't any better, he pushed past the lattice fence, the lower right corner of which protruded slightly. Good thing he didn't have any protective plates on his knees, so he could at least move his legs a little. The suit was good, no question about it, it fit, even if it was a bit big, besides it was comfortable and... it was good to have a voice with him. Not that the suit could tell him anything other than what the state of his own body was at the moment, but... he knew exactly that he wouldn't be able to stand the eternal silence.

Silence had always been something he liked, after all, it gave peace and also some space to think sometimes, but he couldn't handle having it around him in stressful situations. Silence was never good when things got dangerous, it just meant that you were either being watched, or had to take advantage of that silence now to avoid the possible approaching chaos. He preferred the latter.

Paul set about walking along a narrow path that was to the left of the remaining buildings. On one side it went down to a railroad graveyard, it seemed, at least there were some railroad cars standing around idle. A fence separated him from down there again, but Paul could already see a small hole in it as he approached the end of the path. The wall in front of him formed a dead end, but Paul squeezed through the small hole in the fence, only to almost fall down into the abandoned station. He just barely managed to grab onto the fence and pull himself upright.

Not that he was afraid of heights, he just doubted that a jump from such a height could be cushioned even by the HEV suit. And no, it wasn't worth trying. But somehow he had to keep going, so he decided to jump onto the next train. The jump would probably require a bit of a run-up, but the teenager couldn't muster it, so he tried from a standing start. He made the jump and just barely clung to the ladder attached to the back of the train car.

His hands immediately reported and it took its toll that he had not cooled or immobilized them properly. "Ngh... Can't you do anything for the pain?" "Using morphine on such minor injuries would lead to addiction, as the procedure would have to be repeated steadily . Minor injuries should never be treated with painkillers. However, cooling can make you feel better, if desired." "Yes... cool it. I just don't want frostbite. And I wasn't planning on getting addicted." "The temperature in the gloves is brought to the tolerable cold limit to maintain maximum limb function." "Good, thank you."

Yes, he was talking to a robot here, but in a strange way it was good. After all, Paul didn't have any human friends, and he never wanted any. He had always been content with robots, which he could control and adjust as he wished. This robot was no different. After all, he was called one himself often enough, so it only made sense for him to hang out with them as well. In Black Mesa, Paul had built a few little robots that had made life easier for him and others. Well, preferably himself. Cracker, for example, had been able to bring him candy. His tube-like arms could extend, so he could reach every cupboard. Useful little thing, even if he wasn't good for anything but fetching candy.

He'd named him Cracker because Reggie insisted he gave his creations names instead of numbers or.... just called them robots. Reggie had always thought these robots were great, even if Paul had taken it more as pity; after all, he hadn't really been useful for anything else in Black Mesa. One of his robots, Bubbles, he had let Reggie name. Bubbles had been a small robot dog that Paul had built when he had turned eleven. His father hadn't allowed him to have a real dog; it would have been too dangerous in a lab that was virtually unknown even to the American government. Until now.

Even the argument that Paul himself had sneaked into one of the test chambers and had suffered quite a bit of damage had not been able to satisfy the boy at the time. Honestly, the fact that he would never have any offspring of his own had really not interested him much as an eleven-year-old. And the scar on his arm... yes, that had hurt quite a bit and he had almost lost this arm... but even that hadn't mattered at the time. So he had just built himself a dog.

Why Reggie had named the little guy Bubbles, Paul didn't really know. Maybe because Paul had built in a bubble machine. When he snapped his fingers, little bubbles came out of the robot's mouth. He had originally built that in for when he wanted to think about something else, the ocean, for example. Not that he had ever been in the sea, he had only been able to observe it once from a distance. And even that he didn't really remember anymore. But he liked the calmness of the scene, standing in front of the water, watching the sun set... It made him feel relaxed and those bubbles reminded him of that moment.

Yes, these robots had been something like an emotional support, which Paul only really noticed now that they were missing. He had never really realized how much time they had taken up in his life and how much he had to do with them. Small repairs, maybe some bigger ones (when Bubbles had been in the microwave again, for example...), doing homework with Cracker, who was constantly stealing new candy to keep Paul's brain going....

Where could they be now? Hard to imagine that the man from the shadows had also saved the robots. They were probably of little use to him. But whom he had definitely saved was Brandon. And Paul would look for him now.

The disused station was not necessarily large. Paul jumped from wagon to wagon without much trouble. But he didn't like this unbearable silence. It was never good when it was too quiet where there was supposed to be chaos. The citadel that could be seen from the station, the huge building that looked like an angular advertising pillar, seemed to be in turmoil. Alarms sounded from the loudspeakers and Paul could imagine that Dr. Breen was now searching for him. Shit... If the Combine found him now, he would surely not be sent to the Citadel first. No, it was straight to Valhalla. Or wherever he would go after being riddled with hundreds of lead bullets.

The last wagon ended in front of a small building that resembled an old barn, only made of concrete. Paul descended the wagon's ladder and crept over to the door, careful to be as inconspicuous as possible. Seriously, he was conspicuous enough as it was. Purple hair and that black suit, the foam of which was orange at the neck and shoulders, while some of the protective plates shone in bright yellow. No, colors really couldn't clash any more. But it didn't matter. It was about the utility of the clothing, not the color scheme, even if Paul would have preferred to walk around in an all-black suit.

Paul slowly approached the building, but he was constantly on guard, looking around to make sure no one was following him. He really didn't want to meet Combine soldiers now, they would cut him to pieces. He was a target, they wouldn't hesitate for a second.

Carefully he opened the light blue door, which squeaked quite a bit, causing him to screw up his face and hope that no one was around now. He just had to get through here quickly and try not to be spotted, that's all it was... the canals were just around the corner, he had long since passed the old houses....

Just as Paul was about to sneak around the door in a crouched position, crowbar drawn, it was kicked full force against his face. He fell back with a groan and landed on his rear end, adrenaline already beginning to shoot through his veins. For a moment, the world around him was speckled with bright stars and his orientation was completely lost. "Target locked.",he heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like Combine, which made fear shoot through his muscles. He had seen that these guys were not to be trifled with.

Paul held his forehead with one hand, which would definitely have a bump on it once he was out of here. With the other hand he held the crowbar protectively in front of him and tried to straighten up. "The fuck you did...", he growled and as the two Combine came around the corner, Paul hit the first soldier with the crowbar, as far as his fogged vision would allow.

Not that he suddenly had superhuman strength, but Paul wasn't weak to begin with, and the suit further aided his movements. He struck the Combine in the face with the tip of the crowbar, where it also got stuck in it without further ado. Blood splattered towards him, causing Paul to go into a frenzy. No, he wasn't one to enjoy the sight of blood, quite the opposite. But he was in full defense mode right now, and blood meant he had caught a good spot. The Combine fell to the ground after three more blows, then Paul yanked the crowbar out of his skull as well.

The second Combine, however, had no intention of being killed so easily. He aimed a silver pistol at Paul's unprotected head, and he had no choice but to hold his arms protectively in front of his face in fear. Three shots were fired and ... Paul was still standing. He had felt the pressure on his right arm, but the pain was within limits that he could endure without completely slumping to the ground. The other two shots... Paul hesitated, but then lowered his arms a little to be able to look at the soldier. He was lying dead on the ground. His own arms were covered with a few bloodstains, probably haptsly from the first Combine, which only put Paul more in a state of shock.

Who had killed him? Two bloody holes were emblazoned on the Combine's temple and Paul cautiously looked around the hallway. A middle-aged woman, breathing heavily, held another pistol in her hands, with a little smoke coming from it. Paul wasn't sure if this woman was stable or if she was about to shoot him too, but either way he had to get through this and had no choice. "Don't shoot. I'm one of the good guys." "...That... I know that..." "Then...thanks for the rescue. Do you know how I get to the... the sewers?" The woman was silent for a moment before slowly lowering the pistol and taking a deep breath. Next to her, Paul noticed a body. A young man with blood running from a large wound on his left temple. This must be what those Combine had done here. Bastards.

Paul himself was surprised that the fear left him quite quickly by his standards. When he thought about how much panic he had in Black Mesa.... Heck, he had never really experienced anything like that in his life, he wasn't used to such chaos, and then half the world collapsed on him. But Black Mesa seemed to have hardened him in a way. At least concerning the blood... And the reaction time. If this had happened back then, he would have died instantly, died from complete heart failure and nervous breakdown. But wasn't it also understandable somehow? Yes, he had been taught some self-defense, but he was a 16-year-old student, not a trained black belt fighter. It was still strange to him that he had been chosen to save the world, but he didn't have time to think about it any longer right now.

Right now... calm would be too much, no, he was still very tense, but... he had himself under control. Slowly he walked towards the woman. She too was in those ugly blue clothes like everyone else. "Um..." "You have to... You have to go up this way... then across the tracks.... But you... you're wanted...?" "Yeah, that's why I'm asking. Thank you. Now get yourself to safety."

That was all he had to say to her, he had his own mission. Actually, that's why he just wanted to get past her. Still his adrenaline level was very high, he almost died, and that just five minutes after leaving the lab. That was a new record. Still, he didn't want to push his luck any further. Where there was one Combine, more were very likely to come.

The woman grabbed him by the arm, however, causing Paul to wince sharply. He immediately yanked his arm free and wheeled around to face the woman. She looked at him out of big, bright green eyes, and Paul could see something pleading in them. His own eyes, however, formed into suspicious slits. "What?" "...You're from Black Mesa, right?"

Yes, that was correct. And yet... It felt like ages had passed since Black Mesa had gone down. And the world right along with it. Paul felt like there was nothing left but fighting, surviving, and hoping. Hoping that by some miracle things would get better. The fact that this woman was asking this made Paul nervous, but he answered truthfully, "Yes." She slowly clasped her hands together and contemplated them for a moment. Paul was almost overcome with impatience - if she was going to pray now, she was going to do it without him, he had no business doing that - but she looked back up at the same moment he was about to turn around. "He won't let you go."

[a-sour-nectarine]

Summary:

The memories froze him. He didn't realize that Obi-Wan was calling his name, increasingly urgent, or that the water had reached his hips. It was cold, not as cold as it had been back on Kamino, but still just above freezing. He could almost imagine the crimson light of the clock, the sneering face of the trainer. The trainer hadn't been inherently cruel, but years of torturing little boys did something to the psyche.

So Cody suspected, at least.

Finally, a cry of "Cody!" woke him from his reverie. Obi-Wan was sobbing on the other side of the chamber, in a way Cody have never seen him cry, hand gripping his hair tightly enough to stretch the skin above his ear.

The water was up to his chest now, and rising fast, and the panic was still tight in his chest, but he made himself look Obi-Wan in the eyes. Before he did though, he caught his own gaze. His face was smooth in the crystal, no scar marring his temple. He absently wondered how anyone would be able to tell who he was, stuck in a child's body with no scar.

Notes:

Everyone shut up, I was supposed to post this last night, but I fell asleep. I am aware that it's Monday. Don't want to hear it.

This is my fourth and final submission for Codywan Week 2021! I really tried to do all seven days, but for my first ever event like this, I don't think I did too bad.

Prompt is an alt, Sith/Jedi Artifact Shenanigans.

"Um, commander?"

"What, Waxer?" Cody said irritably, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Day three in the remains of this stupid temple, and Cody, General Kenobi, Waxer, Boil, and six shinies, all yet to be named, had been grating on each other's nerves nonstop.

"You might want to... um... check in a mirror."

"Lieutenant, unless you have a mirror with you, that's not gonna happen."

"I just, um. Hold on. I'll take a picture, send it to your HUD."

Seconds later, said picture showed up in front of Cody's eyes. "Oh, Force."

A sleepy voice from the back of the room piped up. "Force what?"

Cody removed his helmet and shared a look with Waxer. That was not a brother, but it didn't quite sound like the General either, meaning....

"Hey, General, you might wanna come over here." Waxer shrugged at Cody as he called out. Sure enough, the figure making it's way over to them was not the General, or, at least, not the General they were used to. He looked like a cadet.

Well, so did Cody, so who was he to judge?

"Oh, Cody!" Obi-Wan exclaimed once he noticed the commander's state. He didn't seem to be able to stop the smile pulling at his mouth.

"Ah-ah, speak for yourself, General."

Obi-wan squinted down at his robes, which were the same as the ones he went to sleep in. He was drowning in them, looking only slightly less ridiculous than Cody did in his oversized armor. "Well, this is unfortunate."

Boil snorted. "Maybe one of you is small enough to fit through that hole now.

The General lit up. "Brilliant, Boil. Someone boost me up."

Boil snorted again, but followed him to the far wall. It had been pretty destroyed in the explosion, though still pretty effective in keeping the ten of them trapped. But maybe, now that Cody and Obi-Wan were smaller...

"Wait, wait, we aren't going to address the fact that we are– small? What caused it?"

Obi-Wan's lips quirked up in a smile, and Cody noticed how much more expressive he was when clean-shaven. "Well, I suspect it was caused by the artifact that also triggered the explosion that trapped us here. So, personally, I'd rather worry about it later." He held up the small slate of rock, carved with languages none of them could read.

Cody gaped for a second. That was pretty good thing to say if Obi-Wan wanted all the men to immediately lose faith in either himself or Cody. They had never disagreed in front of the troops, no matter how minor the issue. Equally unusual, he felt the urge to snap back. It was like he was four all over again— Oh. He was, wasn't he?

"Alright, but if you make it through, expect me to follow."

"I was hoping you'd say that." Obi-Wan chirped, grinning like he had just won some huge award.

Turned out that they both did fit, though Cody had to get shoved through and his shoulders got a little scraped up. But it was worth it for the first breath of fresh air outside.

Obi-Wan turned to him, eyes wide, and laughed. "I was honestly not positive that would work."

Cody couldn't help but join him in his laughter, breathless and a little manic, before a voice called out from inside the rubble.

"Will you two grow up and go find a damn signal?"

That was definitely Boil, no one else would speak like that to their COs, even if their COs were children. Cody couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, yeah, old man. We're going." Cody really was just content with losing all respect, wasn't he. Eh, he was four, he was allowed to be petulant. Besides, he doubted that the eight people still trapped under the debris would be telling anyone else. Not because he trusts them, hells no, but because the situation was almost as embarrassing for them as it was for him and Obi-Wan. After all, they were the ones whose shebs would be saved by children.

Obi-Wan held out his hand, and Cody took it without a second thought, not that he had time to. The Jedi took off the second he had a hold on Cody's fingers. They ran up to the closest hill they could find and surveyed the landscape. Nothing but red grass and blue flowers and crumbling old ruins as far as the eye could see. It was almost beautiful.

Until it started raining.

A couple of light drops of water was all the warning they got before the sky opened, absolutely soaking them immediately. Cody groaned and took off again–-still attached to Obi-Wan–-towards the nearest gray, stone building that looked like it still had a ceiling. As soon as they made it inside, they heaved out twin sighs of relief. The building wasn't completely waterproof, but it was good enough. They made their way into the middle of the floor, where there was the least amount of leakage, and Cody shook himself savagely. The rain outside was not slowing, in fact, it seemed to only get heavier as time went on. Lightning flashed every few seconds. The thunder was constant, but could barely be heard over the sound of the rain.

And then the walls came down.

Not "came down," as in they fell. "Came down," as in a separate set of walls dropped in from the soggy ceiling, completely (and separately) entombing Cody and the General. The walls were some kind of clear glass or crystal, faceted and almost completely transparent. The wall between them had gaps in it, sort of decoratively symmetrical.

"Uhh, Commander?"

"Yeah, sir, I noticed." Cody pounded on the wall, and it didn't even crack. Not glass, then. His enhanced strength would have taken care of glass that thick, child body or no.

In spite of the situation, Obi-Wan giggled, his voice echoing oddly from the other side of the crystal. "Cody, please don't call me "sir," it feels strange. I'm eleven."

"How can you possibly know how old you are?"

"No scar on my thumb. I rub it when I'm nervous, but right now there's nothing to rub."

"How do you know you aren't– I dunno, nine?"

"Just a guess, I suppose. I feel too tall to be nine. You, on the other hand, look younger than that."

Cody quickly crunched the numbers in his head. "S'pose that would make sense, if it's relative. I'm developmentally about 10 years younger than you. Twenty-four to thirty-five, eight to eleven."

"You're ignoring the fact that we are trapped."

"Yes, I am."

"That doesn't change the situation."

"I'm aware. But, as previously stated, I am eight years old. Four, actually. I'm trying not to panic. How are you calm?"

"Oh, I'm not. I'm actually fighting off a panic attack, if I am to be frank. This is almost exactly how Qui-Gon died, with me trapped on the other side of a ray shield. I just keep talking because it seems to distract me."

Cody cursed himself. He knew that, and it should have occurred to him that this was probably Obi-Wan's worst nightmare. He kicked his feet along the bottom of the wall, and noticed a particularly concerning fact. The crystal was growing. Not just randomly growing, it seemed to be specifically growing to cover the holes in the wall, creeping up and up. And, as if that wasn't worrisome enough, Cody's feet were wet. Not from the rain, but from the water seeping up from the floor. It was rapidly climbing higher, just a little below the level of growing crystal. The sound was rather pleasant, Cody noted, but he also noted that Obi-Wan's side of the little prison was completely dry.

The irony was not lost on him. And the irony was pretty kriffed up.

And it got worse once Obi-Wan noticed. The Jedi just let out a hysterical little laugh, and started pacing. "Wow, how wonderful."

"Hey, Ge–Obi-Wan, it's okay. It's okay. It's really slow."

Obi-Wan stopped pacing and stretched his hand through a hole at shoulder height, yet to be covered. Cody didn't even think before he grabbed the boy's (man's?) hand.

"It'll be okay," He repeated. "I'm fine."

The water was about knee high now, and the row of crystals at shoulder height were starting to close off. Cody pushed Obi-Wan's hand back just before the crystal could trap it there, and Obi-Wan let out a pained sound, pressing up against the wall. It hurt Cody. Hurt him more that being trapped, than the memories he had at this age, the memories that this water chamber was starting to dredge up.

Watching his brothers take their turns in the tank, none coming out conscious. "It's for your training," the longnecks had said. It felt like torture to Cody. Though, he supposed, maybe that was the point. It's hard for torture to frighten you if you have already experienced worse.

His turn now, he pulled on the breathing mask and stepped into the tank. It started filling up from the tubes in the sides, and the cold water shocked him a little. He watched the blinking, red light outside on the wall, until it counted up to three minutes. As soon as it hit three, he took a deep breath and shoved the mask off his face, and the clock started counting down again. Could he make it?

No. He woke up later in the medbay.

Like he always did.

The memories froze him. He didn't realize that Obi-Wan was calling his name, increasingly urgent, or that the water had reached his hips. It was cold, not as cold as it had been back on Kamino, but still just above freezing. He could almost imagine the crimson light of the clock, the sneering face of the trainer. The trainer hadn't been inherently cruel, but years of torturing little boys did something to the psyche.

So Cody suspected, at least.

Finally, a cry of "Cody!" woke him from his reverie. Obi-Wan was sobbing on the other side of the chamber, in a way Cody have never seen him cry, hand gripping his hair tightly enough to stretch the skin above his ear.

The water was up to his chest now, and rising fast, and the panic was still tight in his chest, but he made himself look Obi-Wan in the eyes. Before he did though, he caught his own gaze. His face was smooth in the crystal, no scar marring his temple. He absently wondered how anyone would be able to tell who he was, stuck in a child's body with no scar.

"It's alright," he said as the water carried him up, up, toward the top of the chamber. It wasn't nearly far enough away.

"I'll be fine," he called as he felt his head press against the ceiling. Too soon.

"I'm okay," he lied, then took a deep breath, right before the water covered his mouth and nose.

The clock ticked down, 2.59, 2.58, 2.57...

He sank back down, keeping his eyes open and on the crying boy leaning on the wall. Cody smiled and pressed his hand against the crystal.

1.46, 1.45, 1.44, 1.43...

Obi-Wan frantically pushed his own hand against Cody's through the wall. His other fist pounded at the crystal, to no avail. Cody's lungs were starting to burn.

1.03, 1.02, 1.01...

Cody's vision got darker, but he kept his gaze on Obi-Wan. Through the water, he looked distorted, but his eyes were unmistakable. Blue, bright with tears, creased with grief. Cody thought that it had been a while since he had seen those eyes smile. He hoped they would again, maybe after the Wars. Long after Cody was gone. He hoped this wouldn't break Obi-Wan beyond repair. His gaze really did go black now, and the clock in his memory blinked just twice more.

0.01, 0.00.

He felt a satisfied smile pull on his lips. He made it.

~~~~~~~~

Obi-Wan saw Cody's eyes close, and he cried out. "Cody! Stay with me!"

He couldn't ask that of him. It was selfish and impossible. But Obi-Wan felt so small, so helpless. It was just like when Qui-Gon had died, and he could do nothing. Nothing.

"Not nothing," a voice chided. "You can change it, this time."

A different voice swirled around him. "He must learn."

The first voice pressed in. "This will only break him. You are strong, child. Use it."

The soft voice was right. If he lost Cody right now, he would shatter. There would be no Obi-Wan Kenobi to put together, not like there had been last time. He would never come back. Maybe that was what the Code aimed to prevent when it forbade attachments. He had never been good at staying away from those he loved.

But there was no way to get to Cody.

"The power. It is yours to use, young one. Focus it."

"What power?!" He yelled, sounding like a child, even to his own ears. He was a child, actually. No response. Obi-Wan took a deep breath and placed his hands on the crystal wall, tears slipping down his cheeks as he closed his eyes. And he focused. It was like meditating, but more. He felt it. Power. Flowing through his very being. That was what the voice meant. It felt like an ocean, pushing and pulling at him, flowing through him. He waited, waited....

And pushed.

The crystal around him shattered. Shattered like Obi-Wan, because he surged forward and Cody was in his arms and he was him again, filling out his armor, scar across his temple but he was still and cold. Obi-Wan lowered Cody to the ground, brushing the shards of crystal away with his mind, and cried again. "Cody, Cody please. Wake up." He gulped in a breath of air. "Commander, wake up! That's and order!" And he used the power and he pushed the water out of Cody's lungs, but he still didn't stir. He heart had all but stopped, and he wasn't breathing. Obi-Wan used the power again and gathered the Force around Cody's lungs, breathing for him, in--out--in--out--in--

That's when Obi-Wan noticed the crystal in his hand. He would have dismissed it, thrown it with the rest of the shards of crystal littering the floor around him, if not for the glow.

"It is for him. This was as much his trial as it was yours."

The sense of desperation flooded him again, and he fought back tears. What use would Cody have for the crystal if he was dead? But he pressed it to the commander's chest anyway.

"Cody, don't leave. Please wake up. You have to wake up."

And then it was like Cody had heard him, because he coughed and shivered. Obi-Wan released his grip on the Force, because he didn't need it anymore, because Cody was breathing on his own. He squeezed his eyes shut and the scar on his temple stretched. Obi-Wan sobbed in relief and pressed a kiss to Cody's forehead, because he was alive, and they had passed whatever test they had been given, and they were alive.

And that would do for now. That would be enough until they had to go find help, until they had to get the squad out, until they found someone who could help.

Because Obi-Wan was not going to lose anyone today.

[yanderecandystore]

How ye are having a good day v3v, I feel like imma you a bunch of oc ideas but ummm you got any siren/shark mermen ocs with a s/o who is a deep sea diver?😳 - Cold Anon

Boo, I'm so sorry for taking this long ;-; shit has been going down at the speed of light, so I haven't been able to focus all that well.

I have written your request a couple of times, but it always felt so… Awful? Like- It didn't read as proper oneshot so I kept re doing it over and over again.

I have two posts about mermaids, yet not exactly an official character. I'm going to make this one without an official one for now as well because I can't really think straight- Sorry Cold.

Shout out to @aka-thethirstyone for giving me ideas and helping me build this up-

TW/Tags: depressed/suicidal reader // failed suicide attempt (drowning/hydrogen poisoning although not very accurate) // victim blaming mentality (coming from the reader) // angst sad boi hours with some softness in the end //

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Deep blue sea [Yandere!Shark Merman x Reader - Short Fanfiction]:

You've put yourself in this situation, and even if the consequences may seem unfair, you should know better than to whine about it, you should know about now you don't have the right to complain about something you brought to yourself.

That's what you kept telling yourself, everyday, every hour of each day, and it seems to be a prominent thought even in a moment like this.

Every time you go underwater, you can't help but feel a deep connection with the submerged world around you. So much color and wild beauty that if makes you feel like you might as well not be on Earth anymore, it makes you feel like you're on a different planet.

Like you're in a different realm with wild creatures that hold both beauty and death in them, as marine creatures can be often quite unforgiving to each other, or unwanted visitors.

The alien-like ambience you feel while diving it's probably the most comforting thing in your job, if not the only comforting thing about your whole life.

Just like an old sailor, at sea you feel at home, and at home, you don't feel the same. But in your case, you feel like nothing whenever you come back to your house, and a "home" it's a place you have never really been in, so how can you describe the feeling you get when you're diving deep underwater, as something you never understood?

Who knows, maybe it was just a feeling you got, after all, all your team thinks you're too emotional over the ocean. Some would call you an insane person to be so attached to a body of water.

Yet it doesn't matter what the truth to your case may be, because it's whenever the embrace of said body of water fills your senses it's when you truly feel alive again.

That comforting embrace, as if the immense ocean was truly hugging you and relaxing your muscles.

That comforting, deadly embrace was what felt like home to you. And despite everyone else's warnings, you felt like it was your time to be one with the ocean.

It has been a long, unfortunate ride for you. And as I said before, it's not like you were planning on going back home today.

No, you refused to keep feeling empty at your empty house, going by every single day in your empty life-

It was time for a change. It was time for something different. Some peace for once, something that you wouldn't regret.

Or well, wouldn't be capable of regretting anyway.

Your plan was almost perfect, right? I mean, you were certain your diving team wouldn't notice you suddenly going numb, or even caring enough to help you out. So it was essentially perfect, right?

Yeah, it was unfortunate yet perfect. It brought you despair to think of how perfect your plan was.

But since when was your life easy, [Y/N]? Since when did your plans went your way, you don't really remember having luck-

Even at your final moments, you aren't giving peace that you waited for.

When you dived deep without the proper preparation and your oxygen tank having barely enough to half an hour, you let your body get numb by the water pressure and the narcosis that happened as soon as you dived too deep for your fragile body to handle.

Funny how something that can bring life can also take it away, water surely is probably the most powerful element on Earth. Yet, even if it was sentient, you couldn't be able to beg for the ocean water to fully take you away from this pain, from this emptiness you feel.

The ocean it's as beautiful as it is merciless, so it shouldn't have been a surprise that it would take back your hopes away from you.

While you were unconscious and awaiting your own end, you couldn't possibly be aware of the creature picking your numb floating body.

You couldn't possibly have seen the rest of your diving group looking for you, or the predator carefully observing them, making sure they couldn't see you or him.

When you wake up, you'll feel not only confused after finding out your plan has gone wrong but also finding the immense creature laying on top of you like a pillow.

You didn't feel like fighting, or understanding what the hell was going on, you just noticed that the man on top of you clearly wasn't human and really, really heavy.

Yet you weren't completely awake, you weren't completely fine passing through that whole event, hell, you didn't even realize you weren't inside the ocean anymore, or that you are laying on a completely unfamiliar beach with a creature who is essentially a myth on top of you.

He was sleeping. Dreaming.

Growling. Someone was having a bad dream.

Or maybe a good dream? Throughout your expeditions, you have never really interacted with sharks, only looked at them from afar, so you don't know how to read their behavior.

In a moment of high due to your sudden awakening, you pet his head, getting through his white and grey hair despite the fact that he shouldn't have any hair in his body.

But again, you didn't care, you didn't care for anything, you just wanted to look at the sky and drift once again into your dreamland.

Yet this gentle yet heavy and firm hold he got you on was starting to bother you, but not because you were not enjoying it, no, it was totally the opposite.

You... Missed this. You missed this now that you remember the last time you received any form of comfort from another living being. Even if this terrifying thing could possibly eat you, you felt somehow comfortable being hugged and used as a comfort pillow to someone so big and muscular.

You felt odd, like you were worth something for once.

As if this big predator of the vast seas needed some sort of comfort, and for some reason it chose you to help with his little self-conscious problem.

It felt great knowing that even the someone that is so menacing feels scared or sad from time to time. It makes you feel… Strong, in a sense.

If he can feel vulnerable and openly show it, then I can too, right?

Sigh…. Maybe you were overthinking it, like everything else you ever did. Maybe you should just sleep and see what happens when you wake up-

If. You wake up.

And while you were thinking the worst of yourself and of your captor, the man himself was trying his best to hold the joy, the sorrow, and the pain he felt when seeing you losing your strength while diving.

It doesn't matter if he says anything, what can he say? Nothing he could possibly think about telling you, you'll be able to understand back. The language barrier was just like that. Massive, towering, unbreakable.

It would take a long time to understand one another, considering how you both spoke in different ways. Generally speaking, even your minds seem to be in different places.

You thought about things that he would never be able to comprehend, your self hatred is something he'll never agree with.

Your pain, your sorrow, it doesn't make sense to him, cause up until this day, he only saw the [Y/N] that had fun swimming with the fish and playing with them. Not the one that lives unhappy up on the surface.

How can someone that brings him so much joy can think so little of themselves, is something he'll never understand.

He doesn't know exactly what your true plans are, since in his head, you do these things by accident.

You've been trying this for a couple of times now, and he has either not understood the meaning of it or tried to hide the fact from his own worrying heart.

You did something that would have been pretty stupid especially considering that you were all alone, what if he wasn't there observing you? Would you just- Stop moving completely?

The thought of seeing the cute diver he grown attached to going away from this plan of existence is cruel if not straight up torture.

He just found the one who is bound to be with him for all his life, how else would he feel after discovering something so terrible? The only thing that anyone would feel in his place is fear, is rage, is agony-

Clearly something was going wrong up there, something that made you just-

Decide to float through the ocean forever.

But- But this is oddly the perfect solution to his own problems, now he has a reason and a way to get you to be with him forever now, right?

You seemed to have given up on the human world you live in, and he really wants to be with you so you two can easily be together now. It's an unfortunate event yet also the only opportunity that he has seen as useful to his cause.

Of course, he doesn't understand you, and you surely don't understand him yet, but that is fine because as soon as he wakes up, he'll make sure to do everything in his power to make you feel like the happiest mate of all.

He only hopes you didn't see him sleeping on top of you as a lazy thing for a husband to do, don't worry about him being a bad dad though, he'll make sure to show off everything he has in store for you.

Even if it takes a while to get you accustomed to his mannerism and your now little private island, he knows you're going to love it here with him as your company.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭