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noctivague · 2 months

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PAC: What area of your life needs nurturing?

Hello! Felt like doing another Pick a Card/Pile reading.

The topic of the day is: "What area of your life needs nurturing?"

How it's going to unfold is that I'll first narrow down to an area of life, look at the challenges and then the advice on how to nurture this area. This is meant to be a supporting reading that will help you grow in that specific field.

Focus on the 4 pictures above, pick the one that resonates the most (it can also happen that you feel drawn to more than one) and then read more below the pile(s) you selected.

Take what resonates and leave out the rest as this is a general reading meant for multiple people and situations.

Feel free to tell me if that resonates as I wish to improve :)

PILE 1

Cards: 4 of Swords + Valiant Courage: Take Actions with Passion Rx; 4 of Cups Rx + The Chariot + 4 of Pentacles; The Creator + The Shadow + The Mystic

The area of your life that needs nurturing is your mental and perhaps physical health. As in, you are currently depleted and in need of a rest, with a sense that your energy levels are so low that you are unable to take actions towards what matters to you.

Right of the bat I notice you got 3 out of 4 Fours of the minor arcana (Swords, Cups and Pentacles), which indicates a need to go back to the foundation and restructure yourself. Your foundations are crumbling and it's stopping you in your track because you are not tasking good care of your basic needs.

You are not allowing yourself to be bored, to rest and contemplate what's happening within and outside of yourself. So focused that you are on pushing through and advancing your life. I'm getting strong ambition and goals from this pile. You are afraid that if you take time off, you're going to lose what you have so you hang onto it for dear life, but it is counter productive and keeping you stuck in place.

The advice on how to nurture this area of your life is to:

1) get in touch with your creativity in a free, childlike and non-judgemental way. Whether you are a creative person of not doesn't really matter as it is not about skills but about expression, and we all have things to express. Keep your creations for yourself so that you can truly feel free from expectations and results. So whether that is drawing, painting, collages, sculpture, pottery, cooking, music, dancing, acting, sewing, makeup, making floral arrangements of cutting bonsai, whatever it is, pick up something that calls you and start expressing yourself creatively. Doesn't matter if you're a beginner or have done it in the past, as long as it is fun to practice.

2) another important aspect of nurturing yourself is understanding your shadow. In non-esoteric speak, what it means is that there are things withing yourself that you are pushing away because you don't want to accept them. The problem is that by denying these important aspects of yourself, you are cutting your growth short. The most important messages we can receive come from the depth of our own mind, and the shadow, while it may be painful and scary, contains keys that can make you free through understanding, compassion and acceptance. I would suggest meditation and journalling, but something else that's quite cool that ties with the first advice is that you totally can look at your creations and see what themes, thoughts or emotions are naturally emerging. Nothing is ever random when it comes to creativity, there is always something from you that comes out!

3) Once you've started being in touch with those dark thoughts, feelings and patterns, you must learn to sit with them, integrate them and make them part of your full self so that they are not a shadowy treat lurking beneath the surface anymore, but something you are fully aware of and can live in peace with. I'm getting that you should not hesitate to reach out for help if you realize at any point that you need support in order to overcome that. Some traumas are better handled with the help of a professional to guide you through it. I would also highly suggest looking up and reading about the concept of integration in psychotherapy as it could help and empower you on your quest.

Hope that helps Pile 1 and I wish you good luck on your journey! 💚

PILE 2

Cards: Queen of Pentacles Rx + 8 of Swords; 2 of Cups + Page of Swords Rx + 10 of Wands Rx; The Underworld + The Shapeshifter + The Maiden

The area of your life that needs nurturing is your relationship with love.

I'm sensing that this pile is for people who are single, either since birth or for a long time, or people who got out of a relationship and have trouble finding their footing.

What I'm getting is that you feel powerless, stuck and can't seem to see an end to your situation. You are eagerly waiting for things to blossom again but loosing hope because it's taking too long in your mind. It's like you set yourself this goal that you would find love and you're frustrating yourself that it is not happening.

You have a very idealistic view of love and are looking for something perfect and transcending, which is not necessarily a bad thing, I truly believe that we're often better off alone than with the wrong person, but the problem here is that you are being overly defensive and it's stopping the flow of things.

You may have trouble communicating your desires, which again, implies that you found someone willing and able to listen, but there is something in the way you express yourself and come across that feels like a wall between you and potential lovers. You are guarding yourself up at all times and it's not a good strategy.

Also, you are carrying a lot of baggage that you have not faced yet and so long as you don't do it, you will either be stuck where you are or cave in for something that is not the beautiful relationship you're dreaming of. There is again a message to open up, free yourself to let enough space for someone to get in.

Here is the advice on how to nurture your relationship with love:

First, you need to dive within yourself and face those burdens and over-defensiveness regarding forming new connections. The Underworld implies that it is something you dread a lot. It might be scary and ugly at times, but it is so necessary. It's an internal process that may take some time depending on your dispositions and willingness to do the work, but going through your own personal hell will make you stronger when you come out of it.

I'm getting that some of you might have a lot of disgust and shame towards intimacy and sensuality.

Your self is composed of so many facets and it's time to explore those you have been neglecting for so long. Again, I'm getting that you are neglecting your romantic, emotional, and/or sensual side. You don't have to make it your whole personality but it seems that it's important for you and that you should integrate that in your whole self more.

I'm getting that some of you have also either been neglecting their appearance, or been stuck with the same look for a while, so it might be a good idea to switch things up a little! Get a haircut or find a few new outfits. The important thing is not to look like someone else but find something that makes you feel fresh and confident and that expresses a new part of yourself, one that has been hidden for a while. This might take so trial and error as you are lacking practice, so don't expect to find the right thing straight away, but trust in the process and have fun exploring!

The last card asks you to reconnect with your sensuality and candid openness to romance. Whatever gender you are, there is a lot of healing energy in the Maiden archetype you can embody. And you don't need anyone to do that *wink wink* use your imagination or whatever support you want (audio, visual, written, etc...) the goal is to explore your body, your sensations and your emotions, and, again, explore that neglected part of yourself.

As a result you will be more willing to open up to new connections, whether it be from people in your circle or outside of it.

That's it for today Pile 2! Hope that helped and I wish you good luck on your journey! 💗

PILE 3

Cards: 4 of Cups Rx + 8 of Wands Rx + Crossing Bridges Rx; Judgement + The Chariot Rx + 6 of Pentacles; The Creator + The Riddle + The Father

The area of your life that needs nurturing is your own stance towards life. More precisely, I'm getting isolation and refusing to be on the receiving end of things.

Basically, it seems you are shutting yourself off from the world and people around you. Refusing help and advice and shutting yourself off in your own familiar world of self-reliance. You are reluctant to leave this old way of doing things behind, metaphorically crossing the bridge and leaving the past behind.

Perhaps you hold unresolved grudges and resentment towards someone or a situation and you are unable to let it go and move forward. Perhaps you have been a carer for a long time and forgot that you al so need to receive sometimes to keep the balance of things.

It seems like you are stopping the flow of exchanges between you and other people, as in, you refuse to receive and you are giving too much of yourself, your time, your energy and/or resources, and are depleting yourself in a way.

You are getting stuck in your track and unable or unwilling to transcend to a new state of being and looking at the world. You are unable to see that life holds so many possibilities and potential for growth and you are stuck in stagnation.

The advice for Pile 3 is the following:

Like Pile 1 you got the Creator archetype, but I feel like it's way less literal in your case. For Pile 3, I'm getting that you need to focus on yourself and your own self expression more. Do things that make you happy and fulfilled and stop always trying to please everyone. The Creator archetypes creates for their own pleasure and enjoyment, and you need to embrace that stance on life, which might or might not include creative endeavors, but you've been neglecting your own enjoyment of life and it's time to stop.

I'm also getting that you are facing an impossible problem to resolve and you're getting stuck in mind games, trying to find the answer to the Riddle. The truth is, you need to step away from finding the answer to this problem because you are looking in the wrong direction. I'm getting savior complex. You are just one person, you cannot neglect yourself for the sake of your family, your friends, your community or the world. You need to help yourself first before you can help anyone else.

Finally, the Father here indicates me that you are over-focusing on the negative aspects of masculinity, and I'm saying that regardless of your gender, as everyone embodies these qualities in one way or another.

Basically, you need to learn to talk about your feelings and ask for help when you need it. Don't try to be a carer for everyone and find balance in the knowing that you can be taken care of to, and you need it!

If people around you don't accept that, I'm sorry but you're going to need a time out from them until they understand and change their way, or cut them off completely if that's not an change they are willing to make. You deserve so much more than what you are getting Pile 3!

That's it for this reading, I hope it was helpful and I wish you good luck on your journey! 💛

PILE 4

Cards: 2 of Wands + 4 of Swords; Knight of Wands + Page of Cups + X of Pentacles Rx; The Box + The Orphan + The Eternal Child Rx

The area of your life that needs nurturing is towards your career and your future goals regarding prosperity.

It seems, when it comes to your career, that you are stuck in a state of inaction and vague contemplation towards your future.

You feel quite dissatisfied with the state of things but you can't quite tell what it is you need in order to finally feel fulfilled. I'm getting that these thoughts are nailing you down.

You feel like you need to wait for something to happen, to show you the light, and that then you'll be able to find your path.

For the struggles regarding this situation, it seems you are balancing between two states. The first is some type of tense over-activity that pushes you to run towards the first potential opportunity that arises for you. You might jump from one idea of path to another, or one job or education to another, never truly digging deep enough or being committed enough to go anywhere. You're basically running in circles.

The other side is to get lost in your wishy washy stance and drowning in your feelings of indecision. Again, it's like you find a thing that seems cool, you go for it, get cold feet, and opt out. The result is that you are blocking your own prosperity, which by nature takes time and dedication.

The advice for Pile 4 and their career is the following:

First, it seems you are putting yourself into a box made of expectations learned from your upbringing and society. You feel like you need to find THE solution, find it fast, and earn success and/or fulfillment straight away. Reality is unfortunately rarely like that.

So you need to examine these expectations you are imposing on yourself and free yourself from them, because they are hindering you more than they are supporting you. They seem like a good idea to motivate yourself but really they are only making you more confused.

Because at the core, you are not asking yourself what you truly need. Perhaps the reason why you struggle so much to find your path is because you are rejecting what you need the most. Perhaps even it's related to the box because you've been told that this isn't possible or desirable.

This is not for everyone, but I'm getting that some of you have some undiagnosed disorder making it difficult for them to function. In that sense the box is literally you not fitting the mold of society and the best thing you could to is to seek help in order to navigate that because you've been trying for a while and you can't do this on your own.

Lastly, there is a need to grow up, and I'm not saying this to be mean, but rather, to encourage you to take accountability for your life and make decision for yourself. Not what other people wants from you, not what society tries to makes of you, but what YOU want to do. Stop waiting for an answer to fall from the sky, pick a path and work towards it. It doesn't mean that you will forever do that, but at some point you need to get out of your nest and pursue something with dedication.

Voilà I hope it was useful Pile 4! I wish you good luck on your journey! 💚

#pick a card #pick a pile #tarot reading #PAC #pac reading #free tarot reading #pick a picture #general tarot reading

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celtic-crossbow · 4 months

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Whumpuary Day 5-6

Prompt: “This is gonna hurt.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; description and treatment of injury; blood.

There weren’t a lot of things you could say were worse than trying to survive in a dystopian world with walking corpses that want nothing other than to eat you alive. Seeing Daryl in pain though? That ranks almost at the top of the list.

Currently, you were trapped in a warehouse, surrounded by the dead, and your partner had a piece of bone protruding from the lower part of his left leg. It would have to be set and soon. He would barely be able to walk after you handled it, but definitely not before.

Still, you were hidden in a small square of pallets. All it would take was one walker wandering off and rounding the end. You had no choice but to act fast.

“Daryl.” You whispered as loudly as you dared, patting the side of his face to rouse him. His face scrunched, eyes clenching shut before fluttering open. His expression remained pinched and heavily lined with pain. You already had your finger to your lips when his eyes focused and found your face. “Your leg’s broken.”

“No shit.” He whispered sharply, immediately muttering an apology. “Gotta set it. Can’ walk on it like this.”

“I know.” Your expression radiated sympathy. “This is gonna hurt.” The moment he bit back a snarky retort did not go unnoticed. He decided to simply nod instead. You needed to be strategic but thorough. The leg was a mess, blood steadily oozing from around the bone.

“Get on with it, woman.” Daryl was panting, visibly steeling his resolve for the pain that was to come. You swallowed hard, knowing for certain that it would take little effort for him to buck you off in an automatic reflex. It was a risk you’d have to take.

Pressing a knee onto his thigh, you reached to grasp his ankle. When you forced the first move, your body lifted with the rigid tension of the muscles under your knee. To his credit, the archer didn’t make a sound, merely pulling deep breaths through clenched teeth. You couldn’t stop now. It needed to be like ripping off a bandaid. A large, shifting of bone, bloody bandaid.

Your free hand came to rest just above the protrusion. Biting your own lip, you shifted his ankle and placed gentle but firm pressure against the bone, feeling the grind beneath your palm. Daryl’s breaths were becoming harsher behind you but you persevered. Blood was spilling onto the concrete. It was only a matter of time before the walkers picked up the scent. With only the dim light of the moon through the windows far overhead, you made sure the bones were aligned and gave one last twist and push, the audible adjustment finally enough to draw a scream from your hunter.

You released his leg and twisted around to press both of your bloody palms against his mouth, your forehead against his. “I’m sorry. I know. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Ssh.” You soothed, looking over his shoulder and through the spaces between pallets. The dead had frozen, their heads moving robotically to try and pin down the origin of the sound.

Daryl’s eyes were wide, clouded, and frenzied. The pain being severe enough to overload the archer’s senses meant that it was bad.

“I know, ssh.” You kept one hand over his mouth and let the other pet over his hair, rising enough to press your lips to his damp forehead while you kept your eyes on the walkers. They were still on alert but beginning to shuffle along. You just needed to guide Daryl through the worst of the discomfort and get him on his feet.

Slowly and carefully, you maneuvered from the awkward position you had found yourself in while trying to silence him. Your hand still over his mouth, you now straddled his thighs, keeping your boots away from the injury on his shin. His breathing was beginning to return to normal, eyelids heavy over a dazed set of electric blue irises.

“Daryl, are you with me?”

A cool hand wrapped around your wrist and moved your palm away from his mouth. “M’here.” He whispered tiredly. Before you could rethink the urge, you pressed your mouth to his, hard and desperate, as well as apologetic. When you separated, your foreheads still touching, he thumbed away the blood on your mouth with a weak smirk. His mouth looked horrible though the blood had come from your hands. You tried and failed to smile, using your sleeve to wipe the mess from his face as best you could. “Le’s get outta here, sunshine.”

You stubbornly refused to cry, sniffing as you pulled away and rose to your feet as slowly as possible. There was a slim chance the movement could be noticed through the spaces between the pallets. “I’ll splint your leg once we get far enough away. They can handle the rest at the infirmary.” You offered your hand, the other gripping beneath his arm to help him to his feet. Daryl nodded once, leaning on you as you led the way.

The journey was slow, shifting and ducking to stay out of sight until you could reach the door. A few stragglers lingered there. Shit. The only option was to make a run for the bike.

“Daryl—”

“I know.” He knew what you were thinking. Of course he did. The two of you were a well oiled machine, becoming a force to be reckoned with over the years. You dipped your chin and mouthed a countdown. When you hit one, you moved together, his arm over your shoulders and yours around his back. His limp was pronounced but he didn’t slow down. Walker after walker reached for the two of you as you passed, signaling the others with their eager snarls and increased pace.

There was no time to argue once you reached the bike. One second would be enough for either of you to be in danger of being grabbed. Daryl knew he couldn’t drive, but that didn’t stop him from cursing a blue streak when he had to climb on behind you. Only a portion of the vulgarity was due to pain.

“Don’t worry!” You called over the rumbling engine. “I won’t tell anyone I finally got you to ride bitch for me.” Toeing up the kickstand, you urged the motorcycle into motion, decaying fingers only inches away from finding purchase.

His leg was a pulsing, painful disaster but Daryl couldn’t resist holding tighter around your waist and brushing his lips over the side of your neck to lean in close to your ear. “Guess it ain’t so bad if s’you m’ doin’ it fer.”

“Don’t distract me!” You laughed. He could just picture your beaming smile. “I’ll crash and fuck up your other leg!”

“Nah, wouldn’ wan’ all tha’.” He smirked, resting his chin on your shoulder as you handled the bike like a pro, eating up the miles toward home.

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clockwayswrites · 1 year

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Like Betta Fish Do - Part 13

Masterpost of ao3 link and all parts. WC: 1563 (Ch 10 when on ao3)

Jason settled in, legs draped over the edge of the building, and unwrapped sandwich enough to take a large bite. Next to him, Dick did the same.

They had gotten back into the habit slowly— in fits and starts and Jason turning down Dick’s gentle inquiry (plea, it was a plea) more often than not— but now, once a month at least, Red Hood and Nightwing could be found perched on a rooftop, sharing a meal. Chili dogs to burgers to sandwiches— anything that could be easily held, quickly eaten, and was open late to serve the night owls of Gotham.

Tonight it was bahn mi sandwiches from an amazing little Vietnamese place in Blüdhaven.

It was easier to take these moments in Blüdhaven.

Jason knew that tonight's ‘Big Brother Bonding Binge’ (Dick’s name for it), had been purposefully arranged. Nightwing would have had no issue handling that bust on his own. Jason wanted to resent it— Dick had been more a mother hen than usual since Jason had been ‘sick’— but Jason… Jason wanted someone to talk to.

Every since driving Danny out to the ocean, Jason had been thinking. His little revelation that he didn’t want to stop living… no, that he need to actively start living, had been rattling around in his brain. It was leading to all sorts of thoughts and plans that he didn’t know how to handle anymore.

It was still a struggle some days to think about the fact that he had a future to look forward to.

Jason could practically feel Dick vibrating with the need to ask next to him, so he threw his brother a bone. “I’ve… been thinking about going to college?”

He hadn’t meant it to come out like a question.

“Really?” Dick asked, perking up like a damn puppy. “That’s great Jay. Are you thinking Gotham U? What do you want to major in? Wait— do you’ll need a GED—”

“Got my GED as soon as I was officially back from the dead,” Jason said, cutting off Dick’s rambling. “I was… I mean, probably Gotham U eventually? I was thinking maybe just online classes first? There’s still days that…”

There were still days that Jason just couldn’t handle people very well or that the pain was too bad.

“Online classes sound like a great way to start,” Dick said. “Are you thinking about just doing gen eds then?”

“To start, yeah. But I was… I guess there are a few things I’m considering? Mostly thinking that I could maybe get something in social sciences that would be good for nonprofit work. I’ve been doing that stuff with the foundation, but I know I’m not really qualified to do a lot. And if I got a degree that could help out maybe.” Jason made himself take a breath. “Maybe I could do some real good as me and not just as Red Hood.”

“I know you could, little wing,” Dick said with one of his soft smiles; the type that always made Jason ache a little.

Jason elbowed him lightly, more to jostle him than to wound. Dick just laughed for Jason’s efforts.

“B is going to be ecstatic,” Dick said after polishing off the last bite of his sandwich.

“You mean insufferable,” Jason grumbled.

“Overenthusiastic,” Dick corrected. Jason gave in with a little shrug. “I’ll try to hold him back, but you know he just gets happy whenever he can do something for you.”

“You’re talking like I’m going to take his help.”

“You are— you’re smart enough not to wrack up that sort of debt when you can use B’s money instead.”

Jason sighed, exaggerating the sound so that the full effect would come through his respirator. There were still nights when he missed his helmet and the anonymity it provided, but the respirator, domino, and literal hood did make it easier to express himself when he wanted to. “Fine. But you getter try to make him tone it down.”

“Cross my heart,” Dick said, complete with the motion. “You’re best off telling him at a family dinner then.”

He had a point. “Next month then.”

“Or,” Dick said, drawing the word out as he leaned into Jason’s side. “You could come by sooner. You don’t have to only come once a month, Jay.”

“Wing,” Jason said, the name a sigh.

“Think about it. I promise to be there if you want to— and I’ll call in favors to get whoever else you want there too.”

Jason was a little touched despite himself. Favors were no small matter in the Wayne family. “Thanks—”

“Nightwing, Hood,” Oracle cut in across the comms.

Both vigilantes straightened up at her tone.

“Here,” Jason answered for both of. His voice roughened as he slipped back into being Red Hood. There was no room for Jason in a mission that had Oracle sounding that serious.

“Two-Face escaped from Arkham.”

Jason could sense Dick stop breathing next to him. Two-Face wasn’t Joker level, no one really was, but Two-Face was still Dick’s Joker. They had talked about it, one bad night— too cold and too haunted up on top of a bridge. Dick had spoken in hushed, short sentences— as it by saying the words quick enough and letting the frigid winter wind rip them away he could finally be free of it.

It didn’t work.

Nothing ever would.

Jason shifted just enough to press his knee against Dick’s. The forceful intake of breath the nudge caused was so sharp that it must have hurt.

---

Jason slammed the hidden door in the back of his closet closed as he shoved through it.

He had gotten through patrol.

Somehow, he had gotten through patrol while holding off the worst of the Pit Rage.

Now the green was crowding out most of his vision as he stalked into his apartment. He fisted a hand in his hair, yanking as he tried to ground himself. He should be able to get a handle on himself.

It shouldn’t be this bad.

Nothing happened.

Maybe it was worse that nothing had happened.

Every missed chance of catching up with Two-Face, every bust of his henchmen that went nowhere, every empty warehouse— Jason had been forced to watch Dick grow tenser and tenser. Jason had just wanted to take his big brother out of there— take him back to a safe house where Jason could protect him from everything.

But there was no protecting anyone from their own mind.

Jason knew that.

Jason knew that with every creeping flick of green on the edge of his vision.

He was helpless against it all: helpless to help Dick, helpless to stop this pain, helpless to stop his own—

No.

What he needed to stop was this… this spiraling. He was home.

No one knew he’d been fighting the Rage.

No one was in danger.

Da- Batman would be looking into Two-Face relentlessly.

Jason just had to look after himself, just for the moment.

Fuck he was such a failure.

No.

Stop that.

Stop stop stop.

Jason collapsed on his couch. He dragged the weighted blanket up over his shoulders. Fingers laced, shuddering, behind his neck Jason struggled to suck in a breath of air.

Another.

One more.

Just keep breathing.

---

Someone was knocking at his door.

The sound pulled Jason out of his haze and he blinked, listlessly. His world was sideways from where he had collapsed on the couch.

The knocking continued.

He ignored them.

“Jason?” Oh. It was Danny. He sounded panicked. “Come on Jason, if you don’t open up I’m coming in.”

No.

He couldn’t let Danny in.

If Danny got in, Jason could hurt him.

He couldn’t hurt Danny.

Jason surged to his feet, stumbling into his coffee table as the world spun around him. The mug he’d been drinking tea out of before patrol rocked off the edge and shattered.

The cold tea seeped under Jason’s bare feet.

“Jason.”

A drip of red bled into the liquid.

A shard of ceramic must have cut his foot.

“Jason.”

His head jerked up.

Danny was inside his apartment.

No no no—

“Get out.” The growled words tore themselves from Jason’s throat before he even was aware of speaking.

Danny took a hesitant step forward instead, reaching out like he wanted to get closer and touch. “Jason, no. Your whole haunt is— I can feel how scared you are right now, I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Get out.”

“Maybe an ectoshot?”

Danny wasn’t listening.

“I know we were going to wait at least one more week but it might help you stabilize—”

Why wasn’t Danny listening? “Get out.”

“I can always project with my core. You said you could sense me before?”

“I said get out!” Jason roared. He lost the rest of his vision to the burning green as he stalked forward.

“Jason, I can help—”

A fist slammed into the door Danny was backed up against. Wood cracked under the now bleeding knuckles that were inches from Danny’s head. Jason crowded in close, teeth bared with a growl— close enough for the toxic green glow of his eyes to reflect off of Danny’s tan skin. With a quiet viciousness he hissed, “Get out.”

And Danny did. He phased right out through the door.

Alone in his apartment Jason sagged against the bloody door with a half screamed sob.

-----

AN: We are back~ sorry for the longer than normal delay- health and work have both conspired against me. I’m sure this is still full of issues but that’s why we do a rewrite and beta before it goes on ao3~

It’s a small chapter, but it’s what it needed to be I think.

Hope you enjoyed and stay delightful, darlings!

The endless tag list that maybe will work, maybe won’t. Who know! I sure don’t! @fisticuffsatapplebees @thegatorsgoose @wolfeyedwitch @lazy-bouqet @confusedandghostly @glomsk @kailithiel @bahfev @d4ydr34min9 @claudiashq @someonebored0100 @pastalavistamf @samgirl98 @angelheartgamer @lehana37 @spiteismymiddlename @rosecinnamonbun @demon-cat-goes-woof @violet-catsarelife @avelnfear @undead-essence @basilf1res @amillionandonefandoms @stealingyourbones @sarcastic-yami @bun-fish @aconitewolfsbane @dontfightmecauseillcry @omgnectarina @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff @the-blind-one-speaks @mimilikey @wolfe-marvin @learning-to-fly-on-my-own @multplelifes @yurijay @bae-graphomaniac @fan4rt1st @weirdestarrow @wolfjackle @allulily @onyxlightdragon @zotinha456 @wwwwyamd @river9noble @starscreamlover @michealawithana @robinmedea @spideypoolalways @jesus-camp-the-sequel @persephoneblackrose @f4nd0m-fun @mady-is-ace-trash @ascetic-orange @renwilson @ace-aro-as-shit @rangerhorsetug @thatrandomsarahchick @holygoldfish @mlpizza @chrysanthemum9484 @justwannaseesomebrozawa @newgraywolf @crazylittlemunchkin @fire-glass @autumnrosnor @the-nerdy-fangirl @faithblob-says-things @a-star-with-a-human-name @winged-scaly-attic-dweller @mistermetalmaker @apersond @mustachebatschaos @joaniejustwokeup @that-dumbass-on-a-horse @plainly-colorful @blackcatsandhaunteddolls @booklover223 @alice-hazelwood @answrs @enbydemirainbowbigfoot @felicityroth @wanderingrutabaga @seraphinedemort @write-it-right-2 @my-mom-calls-me-rat @01101010-01100001-01111001 @arc-777 @crystalice067 @phoenixdemonqueen @icedbluesoul @itsparadoxlacuna @wisp-wishes @spikedlynx @redhoneysugarorange @russetfur1128 @mutable-manifestation @stargirl1331 @chaoticchange @living-on-borrowed-time @orshie @britcision @littlefeather345 @sunflowershine03 @aro-acedumbass @thefanficcup @shibanoh @icefirecrystal @thatonejumbledmess @cy-ella @kobol1 @metal-sporks @tired-yet-awaken @currant-owo @firegirl108 @stupidlovepurplepeace @drowningroane @imagineshazamlokimight @immakittybear @justalittletotheleftofnormal @chrysanthemum9484 @kawaiikenna @imaginationmademanifest @a-salty-sal @mentalcarebear @mj-arts-n-stuff @xysidhe @cottonscrambles @manapeer @yjfk @ryisc @666deaddash999 @nutcase8691 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @dr-syko-pharm-4 @i-have-opinions @ballzfrog-blog @mysoulspiralbound @istillhavenosociallife-blog @gin2212 @annabethchase0 @basementloser @plotwholls @minnowmarsh @neverlandingbird @rootsmudge @fandom-reblog-central @serasvictoria02 @mnemovoid @taniaundertaleau @kirineo-kiki @ironicvixen @violetfox2 @redhoneysugarorange @jaxinkh @naluforever3 @horribly-lost-and-gay @nutcase8691 @babblingbat @frostedthroughghost @kyrianclawraith @caspertheloudassghost @the-forgotten-dragon-anankos @lyra689 @v-inari @idfk-man10 Magic-pincushion @terzatheunderscorerima @mysticalcomputerdetective @fallenangle67

#dp x dc #dead on main #dead on main ship #jason/danny #jason x danny #jason todd #danny fenton #like betta fish do

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fujii-draws · 4 months

Text

Regrets

Summary: As golden orbs of light brought an end to Dusknoir’s existence; he’s confronted with a thought. One he’d long been avoiding since the day he arrived in the world of the past, and came in contact with two young, small Pokémon. The same two he’d eventually come to grow fond of, only to betray as part of his mission. As he’s forced to finally confront it in his isolation, Dusknoir finds himself coming to an epiphany. One he’d been denying for a very, very long time.

[Word count: 2130]

–––––––––––––––––––––

‘Aimilios... Ribbons...’ The ghost type melancholically lamented to himself. ‘They… did it….’

The black, paralyzed skies had begun to shift as the morning came. Rays of light hit the ghost type’s body; although numb, even he’d felt the warmth of the sun course through him. Time was finally moving again… and all Dusknoir could do was helplessly watch as his body faded; the light bringing an end to his existence.

Dusknoir cannot describe the emotions he’s feeling. Proud…? Accomplished…? Fearful….?

Damn it all. Arceus… if only he’d realized the mistake he was making. If only he’d defied Primal Dialga and had his change of heart sooner… perhaps those two would’ve still…. The three of them could’ve been-

No.

It’s over.

He ruined it.

…Dusknoir turns his head slowly, his gaze falling on to Grovyle; the reason he decided to go against Primal Dialga’s wishes in the first place. The reason he lived; for what would perhaps be the first time in ages… Had it not been for his speech back at the icicle pillars…Dusknoir doesn’t even want to think of the calamity that would’ve ensued. He continues to stare at the slowly disappearing grass-type, almost thoughtful.

“Grovyle…”

The grass-type’s eyes meet the black specter’s pained expression.

“My M-my life… Did it shine….?”

Dusknoir wanted to hear it from Grovyle. He wouldn’t feel satisfied, or even happy hearing it from himself. The ghost’s self-hatred was deep rooted enough as it was. Especially after all of what he had done. He needed a second opinion.

“…Yes.” The lizard Pokémon smiles, softly reassuring Dusknoir in what would be his final moments. “…Extraordinarily.”

…Dusknoir, despite not believing Grovyle, chooses to do so. Offering a small smile back at his old friend. “Grovyle… Thanks to you…..”

He pauses.

“…I have no regrets.”

…Dusknoir starts to feel himself slipping away completely; his physical form fading into illuminated lights in the sky as he draws his final breath… His death is almost comforting... At least- it would’ve been, had he made peace with his unspoken feelings… towards them. Even when he’s disappearing. Even when he’s dying…

He still couldn’t tell the truth.

One regret.

He had all but one.

…And now, he’ll never see them again. Never be able to tell them how sorry he was. Never be able to tell those two how much they meant to him… what they actually meant to him.

How foolish was he…? To get attached like this…? To care so much about their futures as well as his…? ..He couldn’t even admit how much they mattered to him in his final moments… Dusknoir grunts. really is just a liar, isn’t he? And that’s all the two will remember him for. Their scornful expressions when he’d laughed at their misery during their confrontation in the future. Their looks of betrayal. Tears rolled down the eevee and riolu’s faces as they unhinged their claws and teeth at Dusknoir. To think at the time, he found their reactions simply hysterical…

——————

“YOU LIAR..!”

“W-WE TRUSTED YOU..!”

“Pray tell… who’s fault is that?” Dusknoir sneered. “Not once had I asked for your background, or your names.”

Dusknoir began to float menacingly towards Aimilios. “Last I recall, you were responsible for your own partner’s downfall.”

“I-I….”

“LEAVE HIM ALONE…!!”

——————

…Now all he feels is a sharp pain stabbing through his chest recalling that horrible memory.

If there was a heaven or hell; the latter would be awaiting him right about now.

Speaking of…

Dusknoir opens his eye, attempting to browse his uncanny surroundings. What meets the ghost-type is… emptiness?

“…What on earth..?” His eye wanders down to his body.

…He appears in what looks like a pitch-black void. Dusknoir himself would’ve blended right in with the endless abyss had it not been for the yellow outlines distinguishing the features of his silhouette-like shadow… the same exact hue of yellow lights that’d been responsible for his disappearance moments ago… it’s almost as if he’d become a ghost all over again... He’d find the circumstances slightly amusing had it not been for his current dilemma. Dusknoir stares at his golden-laced hand, before contemplating something.

‘…Perhaps..’ Dusknoir thinks to himself. ‘Perhaps… it’s better this way…’ He knows it’s selfish. He knows he’s being a coward. But… now he doesn’t have to face Ribbons and Aimilios. He doesn’t have to look at those same faces that once revered him with such adoration; now fear, in the eyes… And yet… The thought of never seeing those two again… why does the thought bring him so much unnecessary pain? They were only means to an end to begin with- so why does he even CARE?!

“…GWOOH.. GWOOOOH..!!!” The ghost-type’s head begins to throb uncontrollably; Dusknoir clutches his head; nearly identical to how he did when breaking down in the midst of Grovyle’s speech. He clutches his temple harder in a feeble attempt to satiate the pain. Why couldn’t he just stop…? He’d tried so hard to detach himself from Ribbons and Aimilios once he realized who they were... Yet like a complete and utter fool; he stayed close. So close to an eevee and riolu he was ordered to execute. Why couldn’t he just forget about those two…? It would hurt so much less. They were means to an end to begin with- so WHY?!

“B-BLAST IT..!”

He slams both of his fists on the onyx colored ground beneath him in frustration. The yellow outlines of his body begin to glow violently as he draws heavy, shallow breaths.

…Dusknoir is suddenly plagued with a memory- of those two. He… remembers the eevee and riolu smiling widely; at him no less. It was… around the time when he’d referred to them as his ‘friends’. A mere front to gain their trust. Dusknoir recounts just how overjoyed they looked… and how that happiness made something in his chest hurt for a split second. He didn’t have to give them false hope. He didn’t have to play this ruse as far as he did… and yet. There was a small, foolish part of him that genuinely enjoyed it; and an even smaller part of him that knew he’d regret it.

————————

“You mean it?!” The riolu beamed. “You’ll really help us?!”

“But of course!” Dusknoir smiled, placing a hand on his chest. “I offer you two, my full cooperation!”

Dusknoir watched as the two Pokémon whip their heads towards eachother; almost trying to confirm the other’s disbelief. They look back at him; tails wagging rapidly in unison— before Ribbons excitedly jumps onto the ghost-type. Dusknoir nearly stumbles from just how sudden it was. Despite this, he catches her with his quick reflexes.

“Thank you thank you thank you!!!” Ribbons cheered. “You have no idea how much this means to us!”

Dusknoir recollected himself; before putting a hand on each of the overjoyous Pokémon’s heads.

“I’m… glad to hear. Truly.” A lie, obviously…but even he couldn’t help but smile a little at their shared enthusiasm.

“By golly..! Huff… huff…”

All three of the Pokémon had turned their heads to the out-of-breath Bidoof. Dusknoir immediately put Ribbons and Aimilios down; a slightly embarrassed blush crossing the ghost’s face as he brushed himself off coughing, returning to his more professional, stoic-like persona.

———————————

…He didn’t have to play with their emotions. He could’ve just as easily stayed acquaintances- kept his distance- but no. He just had to enjoy spending time with them. He had to get closer to them. He had to remember their favorite foods. To enjoy laughing with them until his stomach became sore, protecting them, watching over them, loving them as if they were…

Were…

…Dusknoir can’t help but hold his hand under his eye. He… he really did care those two... As if they were his own… his own…

“….Hoh…”

His train of thought comes to a complete halt. The idea of those two? Seeing him that way? After what he had done? After the horrible things he’s said…?

“Ho..Hohohaha..! HOHOHOHA-HA-HA-HA!”

His laughter becomes more and more erratic; holding one hand under his eye as the other grips his head- his cackles echoing into the never ending void.

“HAH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhahaa…!“

Dusknoir’s broken laughter echoes throughout the void; until there’s nothing left but silence. Both of Dusknoir’s hands now cover his face as he crumbles to the ground. A shell of what was once the ‘Great Dusknoir’… was nothing more but the husk of a broken ghost. Too selfish and weak to do the right thing; and stand by the only two Pokémon who were willing to trust him with their lives… He wishes the endless abyss he was in would just swallow him already.

“Aimilios…Ribbons…” Dusknoir’s voice cracks; calling out for the ones he’d hurt.

…They deserved so much better than him. He didn’t deserve them. And to think in the beginning, they’d been the ones who were trying to prove themselves to be worthy of him... When it’d been the other way around this entire time. How ironic.

How absolutely ironic.

…Which reminds him-

“Ribbons…!” His head shoots up in a panic; his eye filled with worry.

She had already disappeared at this point, didn’t she..? In front of Aimilios no less..? He can’t even begin to fathom how horrible it must’ve been for both of them… at such young ages… maybe if he’d assisted them on their perilous journey to Temporal Tower…. he could’ve been there to remedy the weight of their situation… but of course instead, he used it in a pathetic attempt to beg for his life. Dumping everything onto Ribbons in a last ditch effort to save his own ghostly skin… in the small desperate hope she’d finally understand why he…

…Selfish.

So selfish.

Of course his train of thought immediately went straight back to him. He can’t think about anyone’s wellbeing except for his own. His ‘self preservation’. His ‘life’. Nevermind all of the Pokémon he was going to deny the futures of. He was at risk. So they all had to pay for it. Because of his cowardice.

This was his atonement.

He deserved this.

Dusknoir closes his eye. Maybe in his next life he’ll be a decent Pokémon. One worthy of respect. Of adoration.

Of love.

“Gah...”

Dusknoir groans. Why does it feel so cold all of a sudden..?

Wait.. cold?

He sees… ice… and feels… wind?

‘…What..?’

He slowly gets up; using his hands to suspend himself in the air. He looks around- only to see himself back.

Back on the mountain.

He stares at his hands for an indeterminate amount of time before they begin to tremble. His expression contorted into one of self-loathing and confusion.

“W-we’re still here…” His fingers curl into fists.

“I didn’t disappear…! Wh-Why?!”

Dusknoir shouts; almost disgusted by the fact he was revived- rather than questioning how it was even possible in the first place. No. He doesn’t- He shouldn’t be here. It must’ve been some kind of mistake… That’s it. There’s no other logical explanation for why he should be still here. Perhaps the higher being that brought him back into this world will immediately realize their error, and make swift work of him.

“We… we truly are still here…” Grovyle lamented, breathing a sigh of what would be an overwhelming rush relief. Celebi begins to flutter her wings happily around the grass-type.

“Wonderful!! I don’t know why we were fading and didn’t disappear…” She twirls, overjoyous now having gained all her strength back. “…But everyone is safe!! Oh my beloved..! Isn’t this just an amazing wonderful thing?!”

Grovyle chuckles heartedly. “It is.”

Unfortunately among the three; the ghost type was not experiencing the same joy as the grass type pokemon. Dusknoir had been drowning out half of their words of cheer and relief with thoughts of contempt. Self-depricational thoughts clouded the ghost-type’s mind as he kept searching for logical answers for his revival… Everyone else made sense. But why him of all Pokémon..?!

“Why..? Wh-Why me..?” Dusknoir whispered to himself dejectedly; mirroring his words from when his Sableye ‘betrayed’ him.

The only difference being how genuine it was.

Pr- Dialga had appeared to explain the whole situation to the trio. Once that had been done, Grovyle, and Celebi walked and flew individually near the edge of the mountain to feel the sun on their skins; their accomplishments finally having been paid off, soaking in the sun…

……Dusknoir, however; had stayed in the exact spot he’d been revived. His thoughts plagued him. This was not his victory. This was not for him to enjoy. What was he to do now..? Live his life as if nothing happened..? As if he didn’t hurt countless Pokémon..? Guilt had almost immediately begun to eat away at the ghost-type. He looks down at his hands one last time... Perhaps death would’ve been too good for a despicable Pokémon such as himself. The torment of being alive, and living with what he had done seemed like a fitting and ironic enough punishment… but that wasn’t what truly scared him.

Far from it, in fact.

Without a doubt in Dusknoir’s mind; Grovyle and Celebi would want to return back to the past… perhaps not this very instant; but at a given point. And when that time finally arrives…

Dusknoir stares at the Passage of Time facing him. Almost mocking him.

…He’d have to face them.

“…” Dusknoir clenches his fists tightly; his brow furrowing.

…The mere thought of confronting those two again- No no no no no. He- he should have disappeared. Death would’ve been a mercy. He can’t face them- not again. Looking at the same two children he tried to slaughter with his bare hands mere hours ago face-to-face..? Dusknoir’s fists tremble as his terror consumes him. What would they say..? Let alone think..? They’d run at the mere sight of him. He…

He doesn’t want to scare them.

He doesn’t want to hurt them.

He..

…Now he has something else to be afraid of.

#pmd eos #pmd writing tag #Another Dusknoir-centric fic I worked on!!! :D I hope you like it!!#this took me like a week on and off #also second time writing!! YIPPEE!!!#I’m still not as good but I’m still having lots of fun and learning !!#anyways. I need to see that old man on the floor writhing in agony.#/j BUT YKNOW #dadnoir

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years

Note

How about some dating headcanons for Weather Report?

A/n: ugh this was kinda shit but whatever, I tried to be as in character as possible but probs gotten more occ as I went along.

Being forcefully dragged into the ghost room by the likes of Emporio or Joylene where you met Weather Report was the catalyst of your relationship believe it or not.

Intimidated by him at first you soon learnt that Weather was in fact a sweetheart for a man of few words. For starters his habit of standing on his tippy toes was absolutely adorable to you yet you sometimes wondered how he could stand on them for so long without straining a muscle or otherwise. His piercing blue eyes whilst seemingly all knowing were also as unbearably lost due to his amnesia. So whenever he rested he head against your shoulder or within you lap as your laying down, peering up at you like a cat awaiting long overdue affection, you found yourself caving quite quickly to his silent demands of your love.

His love languages would be quality time and slight physical touch, though the second one was more or less behind closed doors rather then explicitly in public. Such as snuggling up against one another in the Ghost Room where’d you listen intently as he read novels with his deep, baritone voice, sending you adrift in sleep in a matter of seconds. Not that he’s ashamed or anything but more so out of his concern that it would disrupt your comfortability; he has a tendency to put your well being and safety before his own which you feared would become his Achilles heel

Weather reassured those worries with hushed sweet words and reassuring squeezes all the while remaining firm eye contact with you as if trying to convey his every emotion into them so you’d understand that if he were to die knowing he had succeeded in protecting you from harm, he’d be happy to subsume to his wounds.

Obviously not getting the point of your concerns, you’d lightly smack his bicep telling him that wasn’t what you meant before going into a tangent on who was gonna read TV guides with you and such. All the while not noticing how his stormy blue eyes seemed to lighten in colour and a smile spread across his lips the longer you went on, touched at the impact his presence had on you during a short amount of time into dating him.

He’s protective, insanely so when it comes to you that anyone he believes poses a threat to your safety is being glared down as he walks besides you, placing a arm by your side, drawing you into his side all without letting his eyes leave the person for a single second. It may or may not also be an excuse for him to hold you so closely under the eyes of other inmates, will he admit to it? Yeah just solely for the fact that he’d watch your expression change into a flustered one within a blink of an eye.

Touch starved to hell and back so at first when you laid a hand against his shoulder or brush up against his side, he stiffens like stone before relaxing into it until sooner or later he craves it like a drug and would find and matriculate ways where he’d be able to feel your touch once more. He’s slick with it but you’d always tell him that he doesn’t have to put such effort for something he could’ve just asked for but Weather likes the reaction they get.

During times of stress you always knew you could count on Weather to bring you back to reality. It pains him to see you so lost in hard times, feeling as though you were being pushed closer to the edge by your own two hands and in times like these weather would take you to a less populated room and just hold you against his chest, allowing you to hear his heart as he held your hand against his chest to remind you that he was there to brave this with you before pressing kisses into your skin.

He has a way with words i believe that I wouldn’t put it past him to write cute little well written letters and get them to you somehow. They would consist of things that reminded the man of you, right down to the littlest detail, and how he longed to hold you in his arms as you both drift off to sleep within each other’s presence after particularly rough moments, that left you a little more loved with each and every re-read.

Don’t contradict me but I firmly believe that he smells like how grass would smell after rain with some hints of natural musk. It’s relaxing that when in a sleepy mood you would cling to him, head buried deep into his neck as you breathed him in slowly to linger on this feeling for as long as you could before you were forced to separate.

#jjba fic #jjba x reader #jjba imagine #jjba imagines #weather report x reader #weather report imagines #weather report imagine #weather report fic #weather report fanfic #jjba headcanons #stone ocean x reader #stone ocean x you #jjba x you #weather report x you #stone ocean imagines #stone ocean imagine #stone ocean fic #stone ocean fanfic

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 11 months

Text

A Mouse in a Lion’s Den Pt.18 Finale

Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader

Warnings: mentions of a dead body

Words:2509

Summary: A mouse no longer.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Book One of Heir of Ash and Fire

Book Two of Heir of Ash and Fire

It still hurt.

You place your hands over your abdomen. Remembering the immense pain you had gone through.

The poison had failed to kill you but it took your baby. Someone so innocent that they hadn’t even been able to take their first breath.

As if to remind you every once in a while you would feel a sharp stab from where your baby had once been growing. Many times it kept you up at night. Especially through nightmares where your child had gone on to live. He would look exactly like Rhaegar. You had named him Jaehaerys even though Rhaegar wanted to name him Aegon. Out of all the Valyrian names you liked Jaehaerys the best. It sounded regal, as a Targaryen should be. Such sweet moments that could have been. You couldn’t take that it would never become real. That’s why when the maester had visited you you had requested them to prescribe you milk of the poppy to dilute it while you slept. It was a godsend but Thalina warned you that it could become addictive if you were not careful with how you took it. You knew. All you wanted it to do was make you forget about the scar from losing your baby. You missed the baby bump. Missed the feeling of your unborn child kick against your hand or even against Rhaegar’s lips when he would kiss your stomach lovingly. He would laugh and claim that the dragon was strong.

“Alright my lady. Here’s your milk for the night.” Thalina smiles warmly, the fire behind her cast an orange light on her figure as she hands you a chalice. She was already in her nightgown, ready to join you in sleep.

You thank your, taking it from her grasp and slowly sipping on it. Immediately you feel the numbing effects that dull everything in your body. Back resting against your pillow, you slump into bed with a sigh. In moments you would be fast asleep.

A gentle touch to your cheek draws you to Thalina. Her fingers caress your face, an expression of worry glowing on her features. “Sleep well my lady.”

With slurred speech you ask her “Why do you look so sad?”

Her smile is solemn as she kisses your forehead. “This might very well be the last time we see each other. You have given me such joy (y/n). I pray for nothing but the best for you and your beloved prince.”

You struggled to grasp words but you were slipping from reality.

“FIRE!!”

“Fire in the east tower!!”

It had been such a tranquil night. Stars bright as mini suns, the air cool against Jaime’s face. It was a perfect night. The shouting of the guards was piercing and had a jolt running up Jaime’s spine.

The east tower. . . That’s where (y/n)’s rooms was.

Jaime immediately abandoned his post and made a run for it even if his other Gold Cloaks were calling after him. To hell with them. There was a fire blazing near his sister. He had to go see if she was okay.

Glass was raining down on everyone as they watched from outside the tower. They cowered from the shower, flames bursting from the broken window.

Was. . . was that the window from (y/n)’s room? His heart sank. No. Gods no it couldn’t be coming from her room. Green eyes flick over the crowd that was gathered. No one possessed the sweet face of (y/n). That meant she was still in her room if he didn’t see her there.

Grabbing someone nearby he asks “Where’s my sister? Where is Princess (y/n)?!!”

The older man flinched, fear in his eyes as they dart from the tower to the knight in gold. “S-She must still be in there Ser. . .”

Agitated he shakes the man and grits through his teeth “Why did no one get her out?”

He starts to tremble. “I. . . I don’t know. Please Ser Jaime, have mercy.”

Jaime throws him aside and marches to the door of the east tower. There was no time to waste in asking questions.

Just stepping foot inside, Jaime immediately felt like he was being boiled alive in his armor. It was incredibly suffocating in there as he covered his eyes to navigate through his burning surroundings. He knew the way by heart. After all, he had been visiting her more frequently the past few days.

He didn’t need his eyes to guide him.

Sweat pooled on his upper lip and soaked his hair so that it stuck to his head. Beams above him creaked as they were beginning to bow under the strength and fury of the blazing fire. The dry air stung at his eyes and throat as Jaime continued to tear through to (y/n)’s room. Underneath him the floorboards began to grow unreliable, a few times they collapsed under his foot.

How would he get her out? Every step he took made the foundations even more weak. The fire was eating away at everything. He wouldn’t allow it to get his sister though.

Adrenaline pulsed through him as he neared her room. That’s where the fire was unbearable. The doorframe was charred, black edging around it. It didn’t take much strength to open it as Jaime simply shouldered it aside.

Her room was engulfed in flames. On the ground next to her bed was Thalina, sprawled out with a pool of blood collecting around her head and face down.

What the hell was going on?

The maid’s body already showed signs of serious burns. There was no saving her.

(y/n) was still fast asleep, unaware of the immense danger she was in. Her blankets were charred yet to Jaime’s shock, (y/n) wasn’t burned. She was still perfect. Untouched by the flames.

He hefts his sister over his shoulder, casting one last glance at Thalina. Remembering her plea. The maid somehow knew that this would happen. She wasn’t crazy after all.

Now it was clear. She wasn’t safe in King’s Landing. This was obviously another attempt on her life. Jaime couldn’t risk a third.

Something wasn’t right.

Groggily, you stir awake already knowing that something was strange. The comfiness of your bed underneath you was gone.

With a dry mouth and your eyes still closed you croak out “Thalina?”

A hand goes to move your bangs away from your forehead. Even the hand felt off. It was too rough to belong to your maid. Slowly you flutter your eyes open. First all you were able to see were branches stretching over you, offering you protection from the sun above. That definitely didn’t seem right.

Taking in the rest of your surroundings you register Jaime sitting next to you. His face covered in black soot much like his armor. He looked exhausted but he still smiled at you.

“Jaime? Where are we? What’s going on?” When you move to sit up your brother assists you the rest of the way. Your eyes flicker around you; plenty of trees to hide you, quiet and still. But where was Thalina? What was going on? You had no recollection after you had fallen asleep. The milk of the poppy often made you sleep heavy. Even the loudest of noises couldn’t wake you when you were under it’s influence.

Face falling, Jaime runs a hand over his face. “I don’t want to upset you when you’re already weak. Last night there was a fire in your room. Thalina’s dead. I was able to save you. And here we are. Out of King’s Landing.”

There was so much to process and it didn’t help that your brain was still slightly laced with the drug. Thalina was dead? But you had just spoken to her last night. And there was a fire? Then why didn’t you have any burns? True your clothes smelled like smoke and even the hem of your nightgown was blackened.

“Slower, please Jaime. Start from the beginning. . .” *

Everyone was afraid to enter his room.

Griff had tried quite a few times to no avail. Rhaegar would immediately threaten his life if the knight didn’t leave and the crazy look in the prince’s eyes showed that he wasn’t lying. That he would keep well to his word. It was the first time anyone had seen the gentle prince act so savagely. The beauty of the Water Gardens was disrupted by Rhaegar’s wails and the sound of furniture breaking.

Brandon should have felt a smug satisfaction, but there was only pity for Rhaegar. Pity and regret.

His wife was dead.

A fire had taken her life as well as that of her maid’s. A mysterious fire that no one in King’s Landing could explain. It happened in the dead of night. The very next morning when it had been controlled and there was nothing but charred remains left did they discover that the fire had originated in the young lady’s room.

His confidants knew that their prince must have blamed them a little bit. After all they had been the ones to insist that he leave while his wife was on her death bed.

“Someone needs to speak with him. . .”

“Do you want to be the one?”

No. Nobody wanted to be in the same room with the grieving Targaryen prince. Especially not in the state he was in where he wasn’t able to make rational decisions. Varys had warned to leave him be until he pulled himself together. There was no need to have another irrational royal on their hands to deal with. That was why everyone wanted Rhaegar to be king. He was put together and thought of the people unlike his crazy father. Now they were growing slightly concerned however. What if Rhaegar would become crazy like his father? Like many other Targaryen rulers? What if this is what he needed to unhinge and become unstable?

There were plenty of things that needed to be done though. They needed Rhaegar if they were to bring upon a rebellion upon Aerys. They needed a level headed Rhaegar.

“Your prince is distressed.” Oberyn Martell, the brother of Doran Martell, casually saunters over to the perplexed young lords. He seemed completely at ease despite the wails that had haunted the Water Gardens which had been generally a calming place that Prince Doran often escaped to. There was no calm now. Just Rhaegar’s mourning.

Oberyn’s dark eyes however reveal the sympathy he felt for him. “I can’t imagine how it must feel, losing the one you most cherish in the world. How terrible it is to love something that death can touch.” He whispers thoughtfully. “And to know that they died in such a terrible way. Fire and blood indeed.”

Griff didn’t like that last comment, feeling that it was a jest toward Rhaegar. “What business do you have here?”

“Jon.” Arthur reminds him. They were the guests of the Martells. Most of their army was composed of the noble houses of Dorne thanks to Arthur Dayne and the willing help of the Martells.

The olive skinned prince shrugs off the knight with fiery red hair. “I came to speak with your Silver Prince. Dorne is putting it’s neck out for him. And while I understand he is grieving, we must move our armies if we are to gain the upper hand on Aerys. I require another offer.”

Frowning Brandon inquires as to what he meant by that. There had already been an agreement. Dorne helps Rhaegar overthrow his father and become king while allowing Dorne to stay a sovereign country. What more could they want?

Hands on his hips, he grins at them. “I want Rhaegar to marry my sister.”

“Have you no decency?” Snapped Brandon. He took a step forward, pupils dilated at the gull that Oberyn possessed to request such a thing. True that Rhaegar had broken Lyanna’s heart and shamed both the Starks and Baratheons by such a stunt, but this was something entirely different. He had never met (y/n), but everyone that had always had the most kind things to say about her. That she wasn’t like the rest of her family. That she was sweetness incarnate. He wasn’t about to let her memory be tarnished by Oberyn’s proposal. “Rhaegar has just lost his wife! He is in no mindset to take another.”

“As I have stated before it is a tragedy, but he will eventually need another queen if he wishes for the Targaryens to continue to rule Westeros.” As if to make up for his brashness, Oberyn does happen to show a bit of humility as he looks at the ground. “It was a terrible fate that (y/n) suffered at the hand of Aerys. I mean no disrespect to her but I am merely stating a fact. And Elia is already a princess in her own right. When the war is over, Rhaegar and Elia should marry.”

The door to Rhaegar’s chambers creaked open making the other four men jump. Griff had never seen his beautiful prince look so. . . so broken beyond repair. His armor was off, instead Rhaegar donned a Dornish robe that emphasized his broad shoulders and showed off a bit of his pale chest. His eyes were rimmed red and hollow along with a gauntness that had infected his lovely face.

His voice cracks as he speaks, hoarse from hours of screaming. “You want me to marry Elia?”

“Rhaegar, you don’t need to-” Jon Connington begins but Rhaegar holds up a hand to silence him.

Oberyn purses his lips before nodded. “Yes, you’ll need a queen your grace when all is done.”

They held their breath as Rhaegar stood there quietly. His eyes refusing to lift up.

“Very well.” Breathed out Rhaegar, tired and defeated. “I’ll marry Elia once I take the crown.”

Not even bothering to say anything else, Rhaegar retreats back into his room. *

You cling to Jaime’s cape that he had draped around you to keep off the chilly breeze from the ocean. All around you was water; you could barely make out the dock from where the ship had set sail from. It was but a dark blur in the distance.

The last time you had been on a ship was when Rhaegar had called upon you from Dragonstone to come to King’s Landing. That seemed like so long ago. You felt like an entirely different person now. Older. More tired. You had lived through two assassination attempts and two heartbreaks. Learning so many secrets along the way that you felt much like the Master of Whisperers.

“Are you nervous?” Jaime asks as he takes his spot next to you.

“A little. I’m also a little scared too.” You whisper then look up at your brother. “But it’s okay to be scared.”

He grins down at you. “Look at you. You’re not a little mouse anymore, are you?”

Shaking your head you look back out to the sea. “No. I’m a dragon now.”

---

TAGLIST:

@esposadomd

@ladybug0095

@marytargaryen @madislayyy @deltamoon666

#game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #Game of Thrones fandom #A Song of Ice and Fire #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #a song of ice and fire fanfic #A Song of Ice and Fire fandom #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction

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clever-fox-studios · 3 months

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New chapter excerpt

Have another tidbit of the next chapter of "Free Runner", a short flashback to the first moment Sun and Moon came online. God knows we need some fluff before the pain:

A lot of life was dark. Or it felt that way so far to the pair who stood patiently in the atrium, only their eyes alight in the dimness. ‘Keep your radials down’ the Sunrise had been told, as they would draw too much attention otherwise and ruin the surprise. The inner flurry of codes and systems inside him buzzed excitedly to finally be allowed to fulfill his purpose after the long journey from the facility; he so wanted to reach out through the dark and take hold of the other unit standing nearby, to remind himself he wasn’t alone in this chamber, but he couldn’t.

Wait.

The yellow glint in the dark was enough for now, he told himself. The other unit–Moondrop, his Tidally Locked partner–was there with him, just as quiet and, if his inner hum meant anything, just as eager. They were never far from each other, not in the short time they’d been active, so there was no reason to believe now was any different. It was even dark, like the first time they became aware of each other.

Coming online for the first time was a slow process; awareness of one’s limbs always came before any sense of space or outside assessment. File after file opened and ran in quick succession, demanding fingers and toes be moved, passive processes being read for anomalies, systems cycled through checkmark after checkmark to ensure they cooperated properly. Somewhere between this initial calibration and opening his eyes, something else rippled through like an echo.

Sunrise.

That was him! A sunrise. A star.

Happiness flashed in his system at knowing himself. Then a tickle followed his elation, a quiet repetition of his joy that felt just a bit different. Feeling that extra nudge of emotion took his attention from his waking process for just a moment, drawing him deeper into himself. What was it? He wanted to know! Mustering the sensation as best he could, Sunrise pressed his emotional code to run again; the echo answered faintly, urging another wave of happiness that it mirrored. Each pass made Sunrise want to skip and laugh! To stay in this place with the little echo of his own happiness forever!

“Hello?”

Startled by the feeling of his own voice, Sunrise waited for the echo to respond. For a long moment, there was nothing. Fretting he’d scared it off, the robot tried to summon his joy again, to share it into the void and see if that brought an answer–but he couldn’t. Afraid his echo had vanished left him empty, too much to be able to express that fleeting feeling of light and positivity.

Then it answered.

“It’s alright.”

The echo sounded nothing like him, to his surprise. While his own voice was high and light, with clear notes that felt like they could reach deep into the darkness and find the corners easily, this one was lower, soft but creaky as if someone had just woken up.

“I’m here.”

Sunrise peered around, unsure where ‘here’ was. “Where?”

“Next to you.”

There was no one, though. Pulling himself from the deep depths of himself, Sunrise reeled as his systems continued their processes around him–breathing, cycling, flexing–but he found what he felt he needed by clinging to his dex-system. Just enough to move his fingers. Turn his hand.

A cool sensation flickered through his system check, his hand coming into contact with something outside of himself that was not part of the flurry of self-diagnostics he was dealing with. The feeling grew as the thing also moved, his fingers being laced into something firm and, inexplicably, familiar.

“Is that you?” Sunrise wondered, not fully expecting an answer.

One still came though, more of an impression than true words. “Yes.”

Joy washed through him again. He wanted these checks to finish so he could wake up! “I’m Sunrise!” he cheered, squeezing the cool thing between his fingers.

The pressure matched his as his hand was squeezed back. While the feelings weren’t as intensely directed as his, Sunrise still knew this echo was as pleased as he felt. “I’m Moondrop,” they replied. “I’m your brother.”

Since then, they hadn’t been apart, even when the lights went off and they were told to conduct a sleep cycle. Moondrop was there, only an arm’s length away.

But this time, they’d been told not to cling to each other, to stand presentably and behave.

Sunrise trusted in the familiar, yellow eyes of his brother that he was there, within reach in the dark, and he would still be there when the light returned and they finally got to meet their mistress. Finally, they could dance. Bring her joy. Sate this nagging urge to be with a human, at their side to make their life more colorful!

He was so excited he could hardly contain himself!

#robot #security breach au #azil #sundrop #moondrop #free runner sun #free runner moon #free runner au #azil sun #azil moon #fluff #brotherly love #comfort before the hurt #boy he was optimistic wasn't he #my sweet summer child #writing wip

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zbphotography · 3 months

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Mostar territorial defence soldiers provide cover for a girl and an elderly woman to run into shelter across the sniper alley in downtown Mostar, Bosnia Herzegovina, April 1992. The two were trapped between the houses, pinned in by sniper fire and called for help. Both made it safely to a shelter near by.

On a calm day in war-torn downtown Mostar I was chatting with a group of Territorial Defence soldiers, standing in passage which went though a building at the very edge of the old town. I have just arrived with a friend photographer and we were trying to get the feel of the situation. Sporadic gunshots echoed in irregular intervals through mostly empty streets, but no one paid them much attention. Suddenly, screams for help reverberated following a series of shots. They were very loud, which meant they were coming from somewhere near by. A soldier from our group risked a dive across the street for a better look. He called back saying there are people trapped between the houses just down the street. The rest of the group tossed their cigarettes, brandished their AK-47s and without much fuss slid along the walls toward the voices, hurrying only when exposed to the upper end of the street. Without even asking, we went along, hugging the wall on the side. Just as we were nearing the gap between the houses where people were trapped, a few gunshots rang followed by the ominous angry buzz of a bullet flying by. I jumped in the nearest doorframe and flattened myself on the threshold. My friend did the same one door down from me.

A game of cat and mouse - or, rather, mice - ensued. At first the soldiers we came with couldn’t locate the position of the sniper, so they decided to move around and draw fire. This risky game paid off. After a few rounds ricocheted from the pavement near a large soldier who stood an arm’s length from my hiding place, he pointed ahead and shouted the description of the house to the others. A soldier standing with the civilians, which we now saw were a young girl and a woman, warned them to run on his sign. Someone fired a few rounds toward the sniper’s position and soldier gave the sign. The girl went first running to the house behind my hiding place. I leaned out long enough for a few quick photos. As the girl passed, a few more shots rang and I pulled back. The old woman shuffled after the girl, swearing under her breath.

With them safely sheltered, we ran back the way we came. For a while the sniper amused himself shooting at the wall behind which we sat chatting with soldiers. We were waiting for the bullets to stop, so we could run back down the street and around the corner where we left our car. We were going to wait the sniper out, or stay until dark, but he had other plans. A louder shot was followed by an explosion in the middle of the street right in front of our hiding passage. Rocks and dust peppered us. A man sitting closest to the street cried with pain and clutched an arm bleeding with a shrapnel wound.

“Tromblon!” soldiers yelled and pulled farther back from the street. Tromblon was a rifle grenade launcher, which meant the frustrated sniper was now lobbing grenades at us. Another grenade exploded somewhere on the street, then the bullets continued their angry toc-toc at the other side of the wall. Almost an hour later it still went on, but the pause between the shots was getting longer. I was antsy to get back to the hotel and transmit my pictures. Finally, two soldiers who also had enough, offered to take me and friend back to our car. Well, “take” is a deceiving expression. What they suggested was to follow them. One of the soldiers was going to run first, the other last. When he goes, he said, the sniper will know we are moving and will expect another. He told us not to run in the same interval one after another, but to keep him guessing. Also, not to run in the straight line. Then he smiled, winked and disappeared down the street. Nothing happened. My friend went next. Again, all was quiet. The second soldier put a hand on my shoulder and made me pause for a few minutes. Then I got the “good to go” pat and off I went.

I don’t remember if I ran in straight line. I only know that this 50-ish meters were the longest run in my life. Even though everybody who saw me said I was flying, my legs felt made of concrete and slow like hell. As I rounded the corner, my buddy snapped a picture of me coming into safety. That’s the picture below, with obvious terror on my face.

Only when the second soldier also rounded the corner did the sniper wake up and fired a shot down empty street.

#war #photojournalism #photography #mostar #bosnia

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minubell · 2 years

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This week's oneshot also brought to you by me wanting a ton of angst, specifically Celebrimbor's feelings during the fall of Ost-in-Edhil. You've been warned.

On the Steps of the House of the Mirdain

It is hard to breathe.

Though there is no physical weight upon his chest, it feels as though his ribcage is constricted by some great serpent. Celebrimbor certainly feels as though a snake has managed to wind around him, though he only noticed its presence when it began to squeeze.

His nose is overwhelmed by the reek of ash and blood. It is dizzying in a way that makes both his head spin and his vision blur, though any tears that gather at the corner of his eyes are not from the smoke.

The sounds of screams are both too close and too distant. The cries of orcs no longer make him flinch when they scurry too close. The wails of elves he wishes he could not hear at all.

But he can. Every horrified sob that reaches his ears makes his shoulders hunch deeper, makes his hands shake further, makes his fingers curl tighter around the hilt of his sword until his fingertips blanch under the pressure. There is nothing he can do for them. The city had been carefully encircled before its walls breached. There is no way out.

Their doom is upon them all.

He never could have imagined this outcome. Never could have dreamed up this nightmare that is now his reality.

It is all his fault, and he grieves for it.

Tap, tap, tap.

The sounds of the siege-it can no longer be called that, the siege has ended, this is now a massacre-are loud, but somehow the slow, deliberate approach of footsteps drowns out the rest of the noise until they are but mere whispers in the back of his mind.

Tap, tap, tap.

Celebrimbor does not glance upwards, instead letting his eyes close. The orcs have not approached him since they swarmed over the walls like ants and gleefully began to tear his city apart. He does not need to look up to see who approaches, as it is surely the same person who ordered them against confronting him in the first place.

Tap.

The footsteps pause several feet before him. Far enough that the sword resting in Celebrimbor’s lap cannot be used without first standing from the steps he is seated upon, and he does not have the strength for that anymore. Not that he is certain there is anything he could do with it even if he could rise to fight. This foe is far beyond him.

“What have you done?” Celebrimbor asks quietly, and his voice cracks across every word. It takes every ounce of his energy to speak at all. He cannot bring his fraying spirit together enough to attempt to make it sound regal. Eregion has fallen, and so too has its Lord.

Two years of fighting has done nothing to temper his grief.

”Come now Celebrimbor, be reasonable,” a disgustingly familiar voice murmurs in response, but it sounds like a roar to his ears. It is enough to draw fresh tears to the edges of his eyes and for his expression to pinch in pain. “I have only come to collect what is mine.”

There had always been a part of him that held out some hope the deception was a farce. That his friend had been wrongly accused and would return to him. That even if he were a spy he was at least a repentant one that Celebrimbor could welcome back with open arms. That he could once more take comfort in his council and embrace. That no matter what would come they could and would bear it together.

That dream had been drowned in water the moment He spoke.

“I thought we were friends,” Celebrimbor rasps. Even with the truth before him it is hard to reconcile memories of the past with this moment of the present. Over these last two years of siege he had never truly allowed himself to think of what the war meant. Amongst the fighting and the desperation to simply survive, he had pushed all thoughts of why they were fighting from his mind. But now here he is, faced with the reason for his people’s suffering and all he wants to do is sob.

A treacherous, treasonous part of him still desires to reach out and wrap himself in that familiar embrace once more.

“We are,” Sauron lies, soft and soothing in the way his voice always has been and oh, that treasonous part of him wants to lean into the lies both physically and emotionally. A noise somewhere between a scoff and a hiccup claws its way out of Celebrimbor’s throat. “We still can be,” Sauron gently amends. “Nothing needs to change between us.”

He cannot bear this. He is not strong enough. It would have been a greater mercy had the orcs descended upon him as they did his city and people and simply ripped him to shreds. Anything to avoid this moment.

“Everything has already changed,” Celebrimbor whispers. “You cannot undo what you have done.”

Tap.

“Stay back” Celebrimbor wheezes through the ash, clinging to his sword like a lifeline, head still bowed. He does not know what he will do without the space between them, and the uncertainty is frightening. “Please.”

For reasons he cannot fathom, the footsteps cease.

Celebrimbor has no power here. He knows he does not. The sword he holds is a farce. He is not even standing and cannot bring himself to rise. He does not even yield it, instead letting it lay across his lap. This will be where the dies. Surely they both know this, yet for some reason the game continues.

When will his torment cease?

“Celebrimbor, I do not want hurt you,” Sauron murmurs. There’s a particular tone to his words, an achingly familiar way that he whispers that is meant to be reassuring. A lifetime ago, it would have been comforting to hear him speak so.

A lifetime ago, Celebrimbor did not know who he truly was.

Now it just feels demeaning.

“You already have,” Celebrimbor says quietly, staring down at the sword in his lap. It had been forged here, in the building whose steps he nows sits upon. It would be fitting that the blade defend its home, could Celebrimbor bring himself to defend his own home. “You have destroyed me in all ways but physical. You’ve ruined me.”

“It was never my intention to do such a thing,” Sauron replies, as if the carnage surrounding them was not his fault entirely. As if he had not brought his armies to Celebrimbor’s home and surrounded it in siege for two grueling years. As if he had not beaten down the gates and allows his orcs to swarm over the walls and set the city ablaze.

As if it is not Celebrimbor’s fault for believing his deceptions in the first place.

“Please do not lie to me,” Celebrimbor whispers faintly, voice barely audible over the pleas for mercy from his kin and the roaring in his own ears. “It is not the mercy you must think it to be.“

“I am telling the truth,” Sauron lies, lies as he always does. “Celebrimbor, I still consider you my friend. Is it so much to wish that you do the same?“

Celebrimbor wants to vomit.

“How can I? How can I possibly when you are-“

He makes the mistake of looking up.

It was easier to think of the voice as disembodied. To think it came out of the Unseen realm directly with no mouth to speak of. Even if he could not have that, it was also easier to think of it was emitting from a suit of armor. Faceless. Cold. Unfeeling.

This is not what Celebrimbor sees.

Pale, silvery hair falls in soft waves, framing the sides of his face before spilling down well passed his shoulders. Blue eyes look down at him in an expression that is twisted into something soft and fond. Familiar robes have been forsaken for armor that is sharped and pointed, but it stops below the chin, allowing Celebrimbor to soak in the familiar face of his friend without any hinderance.

“-Annatar,” Celebrimbor chokes, expression cracking, and the last of his defenses crumble with a pitiful sob.

“Oh, Celebrimbor,” Annatar murmurs, and when he steps forward again Celebrimbor does not have the strength nor wits to bid him to keep his distance. Slow, careful footsteps bring him closer and closer until he stands before Celebrimbor, his long shadow bathing Celebrimbor in darkness, towering over him like an executioner. A twisted, pointed crown is set upon his forehead, but it does little to distract from the familiar appearance of one Celebrimbor had once placed his utmost trust in.

Despite everything, Celebrimbor cannot bring himself to lift his sword in his own defense.

His hands find purchase on Annatar’s armor instead, grasping for anything soft amongst the spines and the points. He finds only cold, hard metal there, but not a moment later Annatar’s hands find his own and gently hold him. At some point he had removed his spiked gauntlets, which now lay abandoned upon the steps next to where Celebrimbor sits. The skin beneath his fingertips is soft and warm and unblemished. Not the cruel, searing grip of Sauron but the gentle, guiding touch of Annatar.

They are the same person.

Annatar moves slowly and carefully, as if handling a particularly volatile mixture. One hand remains where it is, allowing Celebrimbor to cling to it. The other moves to Celebrimbor’s face and gently cups his cheek, the thumb wiping aside blood and tears that run streaks down the ash and soot that are caked onto his skin.

Celebrimbor cannot help but lean into the comfort, even as something deep within him wails to fight.

He is weak. He has always been weak and the doom he has brought upon himself in his folly has also doomed his people.

“I am here, my friend,” Annatar says with great fondness in his voice. “You are safe.”

The words do not pluck at his heartstrings so much as they snap them in two.

Celebrimbor descends into sobs, bringing the hand Annatar has still permitted him to hold to his head, pressing his forehead to the backs of Annatar’s knuckles. His shoulders shake has he hunches in on himself further, trying to hide from the destruction and devastation in Annatar’s long shadow. There is a name on his lips that he repeats like a prayer, but his throat is too seized by grief to allow him to do anything but breathlessly mouth the word.

Annatar, for his part, only hums soft reassurances. The hand on his cheek strays to the back of Celebrimbor’s head where it gently cards through his hair, sorting through tangles and dirt and dried blood. He can feel trimmed nails gently scrape across his scalp and down the back of his neck. Hands that could so easily end his life instead dedicate their time to trying to comfort him.

He does not look forward to when those nails will turn to claws and rake across his skin, when the serpent that was once his friend will tighten its coils around him once more and choke the very life out of him.

He wishes for a quick death, one that he knows will not be afforded to him.

He wishes his people did not have to die at all.

“Please,” Celebrimbor whispers hoarsely when he scrapes together enough of his voice to manage words again. When the pause of fingers sorting through his hair alerts him that Annatar has heard him, Celebrimbor continues. “You know these elves. Let them leave. Let them live, I beg of you.”

“Why?” Annatar asks after several aching moments of consideration.

“Please,” Celebrimbor begs, desperation staining his voice. There is nothing else he can think to say. Every moment that passes is another scream that chokes into silence, another wicked laugh from an orc, another elf dead. Even just one spared would be enough.

The silence as Annatar considers his words is agonizing. The line between Annatar-his companion, his partner, his friend-and Sauron-betrayer, deceiver, enemy-is blurring once more. The armor looks more and more alien, the expressions his friend making more and more unidentifiable. There is a wickedness within him Celebrimbor was blinded to before.

“Why do I let you manipulate me so?” Annatar sighs, an echo of words Celebrimbor had once said to him in jest, as though it is some great effort to call off the carnage he has caused. But when he lifts his hand up and firelight gleams off of a golden ring upon his finger, Celebrimbor cannot feel anything but relief and gratitude.

The gleeful calls of orcs dies out for a moment as some silent command ripples through the city. Then the army is moving again, swarming down streets and over destroyed homes with concerning precision.

“Oh,” Annatar comments flatly. “It seems as though the orcs have left an opening in their encirclement of your city. Any elf who happens upon it while fleeing may be able to escape, though where they will go now, I cannot say.”

“Thank you,” Celebrimbor whispers breathlessly.

“I am not without mercy, Celebrimbor,” Annatar murmurs, hand finding its way back to his head. Instead of continuing his ministrations, Annatar simply lets his hand rest upon the top of Celebrimbor’s head. Now that he is seen it, Celebrimbor can feel the cool metal from the ring upon his scalp. A single, plain band that marks the exact moment of Annatar’s betrayal. The moment he forged not only a ring, but a gap between them so large it would never be able to be crossed. “It is as I told you, I am only here to reclaim what is mine. Now…” Annatar trails off for a moment and Celebrimbor lets his eyes close once more. His hands release Annatar’s hand, letting it fall away from his forehead as his own hands settle back down upon his lap. Near the sword that still rests upon his knees. He knows what comes next.

“Where are my rings, Celebrimbor?”

“I… I cannot say.”

“Cannot?” Annatar asks patiently, and Celebrimbor can feel how Annatar’s hand does not so much as tremble on top of his head. The gesture no longer feels as comforting. It feels demeaning now, in the same way his tone does. Like he is a child being chided by his parent. “Or will not?”

Or a misbehaving dog.

“Will not,” Celebrimbor murmurs, shaking hands slowly finding purchase on the hilt of his sword. If he must find comfort in something now, it will be a weapon.

He startles when a hand grips his face suddenly, a thumb pressed just beneath his lips, fingers curled under his chin. He flinches away from the grasp but Annatar is stronger than he and forces his head upwards.

“Open your eyes, Celebrimbor,” Annatar beckons, and against his will Celebrimbor finds himself staring once more into those kind, blue eyes. There’s a slight smile to Annatar’s lips that make him want to scream.

Dangerous.

“I am not very patient,” Annatar hums, and that hand on Celebrimbor’s head begins to gently sooth his hair down repeatedly in an action Celebrimbor belatedly realizes is a pet. “I do not want to hurt you.”

“Do not want to?” Celebrimbor rasps. “Or will not?”

“Do not want to,” Annatar affirms softly and Celebrimbor’s heart sinks. There must be a look that crosses his face because Annatar’s expression softens slightly. It is not comforting. It can never be comforting again. “Oh, Celebrimbor. Sometimes we all must do things we do not wish to do.”

Celebrimbor stares up at the face of his friend. He takes in those soft, silvery curls that are somehow unblemished by ash and blood despite the massacre around them. He takes in those blue eyes, the slight smile on his lips, the perfect shape of his features that even by elvish standards always seemed unnatural. He breathes it all in, giving him the chance to look at Annatar one last time before closing his eyes.

When he opens them again, Celebrimbor stares up at the face of Sauron and quenches any feelings he may have still held for him under the cold waters of reality.

“If you thought we could be friends after this, you were mistaken,” Celebrimbor rasps and in one quick movement swings his sword-

-and in the next moment, he finds his face pressed harshly to the cold stone of the steps he had been sitting on, sword casually battered aside and shattered before it could complete its arc, ears ringing from a blow he did not see. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Sauron holding some cruel, black, spiked weapon in one hand while the other presses his skull a little more into the steps until he can hear something begin to creak.

One of them is going to crack soon, and likely bone before stone.

“Now, now,” Sauron smiles and it is all wolfish teeth, and Celebrimbor finds he cannot breathe all over again. “None of that. I told you I was not without mercy, Celebrimbor, but I will not tolerate foolishness either.”

The hand pressing his skull to the ground does not yield, nor does it force him down further. It remains perfectly still, pinning him in place with just enough pressure that his ears ring and his head ache.

If anything, Celebrimbor simply wishes he would push down a little more and let death take him faster.

“All we are going to do is talk, my friend,” Sauron informs him. “You are going to tell me where my rings are, and I will not be forced to harm you. You will be safe with me.”

Celebrimbor chokes back tears, but his throat remains too firmly closed to make any noise aside from a soft sniff. It does not matter. It will be for the best if his throat remains that way, if the breathlessness keeps him from spilling secrets.

He cannot let Sauron find the rings. No matter what that means for him.

#silmarillion #celebrimbor #sauron #tides of war #TOW ficlet #Damn I really said ALL HURT NO COMFORT huh #Poor Celebrimbor #silvergifting #(I guess?)#(But only the bad kind)#Annatar #fanfic

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chronosbled · 2 years

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Mister Dickson, how have you come to love a witch?

☣ — “A witch?” The words that come forth ever so clearly lack the usual playful tone that his voice normally possesses, making it evident that — whether she was a witch or not — he didn’t appreciate the term in how the question was asked. ‘How have you come to love a witch?’ As if she wasn’t worth loving in the first place. As if, just because she wasn’t human, she wasn’t worth loving. As if she wasn’t lovable. That thought alone was more than enough to make the smile on his face fade, leaving nothing but a blank canvas for an expression. “Do you think she’s a witch? Do you think that, because she’s different, she isn’t worth the time nor the effort I put into her?” His voice soon turns cold as he speaks, taking a single step closer towards the stranger, until they were backed against a nearby wall. “I can assure you that she is worth it. Every. Single. Second. She has always been worth far more to me than most of these useless human females that want nothing more than someone’s money and reputation.” Yes, that’s right, because every other woman that he’d met only ever wanted him for one thing or another — his money, his looks, his family name, his reputation, the things he could give them, the things he could do, the things they could brag about — but in reality, would scream and run in fear once they found out he wasn’t what they thought he was. Those that called him a monster. Those that no longer breathe after making such a claim.

☣ — “I love her because of the fact that she’s different. I love her because she isn’t afraid of me. I love her because she understands the pain and suffering I have gone through because she has also suffered. I love her because she loves me for how I am and doesn’t try to change me, instead she tries to help me achieve the things I strive for, she encourages me more than anyone else ever could. She doesn’t care that I am not mentally stable, nor does she care that I have done things that would make most humans claim me insane. She simply loves me. She loves me.” The fabled tale of achieving true love that had been spun for as many years as he could recall, dancing around within his mind ever since his mother had read him his very first fairy tale storybook — it was something that resonated deep within his being, even when he couldn’t understand such a feeling — he had been fascinated with such a concept, not because it seemed ideal, but because it seemed so foreign to him. The older he became, the more he began to crave the love and affection of someone he held dear, but alas... he had never been blessed by such a thing no matter how hard he strived for it — perhaps it was his fault for wanting such things from people that he clearly meant nothing to — his grandfather had never been capable of love after all. “Crystal will always be more important to me than anything else. She will always come before my studies and my work. She will never be second place in any sense of the word. She was able to take someone utterly incapable of feeling any type of human emotions... and somehow able to make them feel every positive emotion that could ever be felt. She was able to make me feel as if my heart didn’t belong to that of a monster, but a human being. She was able to make me feel human.”

☣ — His hand moves slowly, eventually coming to rest upon the strangers shoulder while the other hand seemingly disappears behind his back, emerging only a few seconds later with a rather large blade, the serrated edge resting gently against the other’s throat. “Now,” a barely visible smile begins to take over his features, “surely you see just how lovely a person she is? I’m sure that you understand completely why I love her, because if you don’t, then I’m afraid I’ll have to show you just how far I’m willing to go to show you my love for her. After all,” blade pressing further into the other’s neck just enough to draw droplets of blood, “I’m sure she would love to meet you. You would make a nice snack for her... and how she does love to play with her food~.”

#☣ [ ' I αɱ ƚԋҽ ҽαƚҽɾ σϝ ɯσɾʅԃʂ αɳԃ I'ɱ ʅσσƙιɳɠ ϝσɾ ʂσɱҽσɳҽ ƚσ ϝҽҽԃ ɱҽ. ' ] - ✡ Iɳ Cԋαɾαƈƚҽɾ ✡#☣ [ ' Eʋҽɾყσɳҽ Lσʋҽʂ A Vιʅʅαιɳ. ' ] - ✡ Dιƈƙʂσɳ Gҽɾαʅԃ Rҽɠιɳαʅԃ Sιɱɱσɳʂ ✡#☣ [ ' Lσɳɠ; ʅσɳɠ; αɠσ ι ԃιԃ ɳσƚ ƙɳσɯ ɯԋσ ι ɯαʂ. αɳԃ ιɳ ƚԋҽ ԃҽҽρɳҽʂʂ ι ɯαʂ ʅσʂƚ αɳԃ ɳσɯ... ' ] - ✡ Rҽʂιԃҽɳƚ Eʋιʅ 8 ✡#☣ [ ' Fσɾ ϝυɾƚԋҽɾ ɾҽʂҽαɾƈԋ. ' ] - ✡ Aʂƙʂ ✡#☣ [ ' Mαʂƙҽԃ Pαɾƚιƈιραɳƚʂ. ' ] - ✡ Aɳσɳყɱσυʂ ✡#{ Anon... this is why we don't question Dickson's love for Crystal. }#{ You will end up with injuries and then be Crystal's snack. }#{ He will happily feed you to her. }#{ I can't control him when he's like this. I'm sorry. }#{ Dickson is not above killing people or kidnapping people for those he loves and cares about. }#{ I mean... he already kidnapped and murdered his canon wife's college teacher because he took advantage of her. }#{ So he will certainly do ten times worse for Crystal since she doesn't care if he murders people like his canon wife does. }#{ Dickson will go to the ends of the earth for Crystal. }#{ It's not like he doesn't have the resources to do so. }#{ And it's not like he's incapable because he's weak like a human. }#{ He's an experiment gone wrong in the end so he is dangerous and deadly. }#{ He would watch Crystal viciously murder someone in front of him and he'd be like 'That's my wife. She's so cute when she kills people~.' }#tw; knife #tw; blood #tw; blood mention #tw; knife mention

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 2 years

Text

Old Bones Aflame (Part 42)

90% sure that I'm nearing the end of this fic. I anticipated about 3 or 4 more chapters give or take and then I'll be starting the next one. May or may not take a break to work on some Azula week prompts and finish a Swan Queen even before diving into the next thing.

Azula finds herself a comfortable log to sit upon, the one that Hama had dragged over there a while back so that she would have a place to rest. She will leave the Avatar to find his own place to sit. Evidently, the grass is comfy enough for him.

“What did you want to talk about, Azula?”

“What was it like for you when you died? After you came back, I mean.”

Aang furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“Did you have all of your memories? Were they in order?”

His look of puzzlement only deepens. “Yeah, I had no problems with my memory. I was a little confused when I woke up with hair and on a Fire Nation ship but everything else was in order. Why? Are you having trouble with your memories?”

“Not anymore.” She replies simply. “I suppose that there are a few things that are no longer in chronological order but it isn’t a big deal. Those things are mostly insignificant moments, anyhow.”

“Is everything else okay?” He asks.

“What did your appetite look like when you first came back?” She returns with a question and then a second. “And your sleeping pattern?”

Again he fixes her with a quizzical expression, this one is dashed with concern. “Azula…”

“Answer the questions, Avatar.”

“Normal.” He replies and her heart sinks. “I guess I had some trouble sleeping but that’s because I just let the entire Earth Kingdom down. But other than that, normal for me.”

“Right. That’s all I needed to know.”

“Azula, are you having trouble sleeping and eating?”

She shrugs. “I don’t need to do either anymore. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve eaten anything. I feel fine. I haven’t slept in that long either. I am fully alert and I don’t feel tired. I suppose I should be happy, I’m more efficient now.” More efficient and less human.

“That bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“Why would it?” She asks. “I have the advantage. I don’t feel pain either, would you like to see?” She draws out the pin cushion that Hama had told her to hold onto for a moment.

“That’s not necessary, you don’t have to hurt yourself–”

“But I won’t be hurting myself.”

“You still bleed, right?”

Azula nods.

“Then you’re still hurting yourself. Just because you can’t feel it, doesn’t mean that you aren’t hurt.”

She shrugs and shifts herself about on the log. Her fingers brush against the spongy, moist moss beneath. “And that’s no bother to me. I was getting sick of feeling pain anyhow.” And yet she finds that she craves it intensely. She almost wants to sever her other hand just to see if she’d be able to feel that. Maybe superficial pricks, cuts, and burns simply aren’t enough…

“Maybe we can take you to the spirit Oasis and see if that would help.”

“I’m not interested in journeying anywhere with you and your friends. “You can’t guarantee that Zuzu won’t turn that bison of yours around and take me to some prison or ward instead. I’ll find my own way there if I ever decide to humor the idea.”

Aang nods. “I can’t make you go if you don’t want to go. But I can let them know that you might be coming by and put in an Avatar’s request that they help you out. Just don’t…”

“Destroy anything, kill or maim anyone, use it as the first step in a plot to take over the Water Tribes…I get the gist, Avatar.” She sighs. “I told you already that I’m content with my bones, my geode, and this gaggle of idiots.” She gestures towards the house. “And Hama.”

“Why is Hama separate from the rest of the gaggle?”

“She has a degree of intelligence and common sense.” Azula replies. “Anyhow, thank you for speaking with me.”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.” Aang smiles. “I don’t hate you, Azula. We were all just kids fighting a war that was meant for our parents to take care of.”

“Oh, because they handled that so well…”

“Sorry, I should be more careful…”

She lifts her hand. “It won’t do any good to dodge subjects. Father treated me as well as he was capable of. Mother is gone and even if she weren’t she’d be gone from my life. I found a new one, Zuzu can have Ursa.”

“That’s kind of really depressing.”

“I don’t feel sad.”

He opens his mouth but she answers before he can ask. “I can still feel emotions. Just not physical pain. And Ursa doesn’t bother me. Acceptance or something of that nature.” She plucks a few longer blades of grass from her shoe. “I have Hama in the same way that Zuzu has Iroh.”

“Are you sure that you don’t want a ride to the Northern Water Tribe?”

“I’m sure, Avatar. I actually had a few other plans to get to first.”

“If you change your mind, we’ll be in Honoki a bit longer.”

“If things go as planned, I won’t be.”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Hama #Found Family #Fanfiction

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shycoconutt · 3 years

Text

I Need You (Kakashi x Reader Smut)

A/n: Oh boy do I got some smutty smut for you. This is my first time writing smut and I think I did okay! Please let me know what you think and, as always, feel free to send some requests my way! 🤍

Summary: You find yourself unbelievably horny waiting for Kakashi to get home from work. The night goes exactly as planned.

Word Count: 4200

Warnings: NSFW ( minors, there's the door -> 🚪), fem!reader, vaginal sex, rough sex, doggy style, cunnilingus

Gods, why am I so horny?

Sat in the reading chair in the corner of your and Kakashi’s bedroom, you find yourself unable to focus on the new novel you picked up at the bookstore this morning. Each time you try to focus on the words in front of you, your eyes start to drift off the page and fall on your bed across the room. The bed where Kakashi and you have had sex now maybe a dozen times. You two have been platonic partners for years, but it wasn’t until recently where you both allowed your feelings to blossom into romance. Some would say that your relationship with Kakashi came on fast, but those who say that don’t truly know either of you.

After the war, and after keeping your feelings for each other bottled down for years, Kakashi took you on a vacation to a quaint village on the outskirts of Konoha. During your stay, you two could finally relax and find comfort in each other. The future seemed less uncertain, and you allowed yourself to open up in ways you never had before. You both knew you loved each other, that you were meant for each other, but the stress of war and the lack of knowledge that either of you would come out alive prevented anything from happening. The last thing either of you wanted to do was take the other’s heart six feet under.

It was the third night on the trip when he proposed to you. Kakashi and you were naked together in the natural hot spring, embracing each other in the water. The words he spoke to you that night are etched in your brain, never to be forgotten.

“My whole life I’ve been fighting; fighting for Konoha, fighting for my team, fighting for our friends, fighting my demons, fighting the truth, and fighting the feelings I have for you. I never understood why it was so hard to escape you, but it isn’t until now where I finally understand. Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever had to do. Our love is so natural, so pure. It pains me to know that our reality has muddled it for so long. You are the best thing that’s ever come into my life, and the gods only know how thankful I am that you have been by my side through it all. Everything I’ve ever gone through, every challenge I’ve had to overcome, you’ve guided me along the way. I used to think I was undeserving of your love, but now that we both are standing here, bruised and battered by our past, I realize that it was always supposed to be this way. You and me. Forever.”

That was the night you and Kakashi shared your first kiss. The night you first held each other in a naked embrace. The night you touched the skin normally concealed under each other's clothes. The night you trailed kisses down his chest, to his stomach, his hip, and up his shaft. The night you grabbed him in your hand and stroked him while looking into his eyes. The night you felt his tongue draw across your nipples. The night you felt him suck and nibble at your neck. The night you felt his fingers, god his fingers, trace up your wet heat to rub onto your most sensitive spot. The night he held onto your hip and slid into your tenderness. The night you whispered sweet nothings in each other's ears while he pumped into you. The night you made love, four times.

It’s been a week since your mini-vacation of ultimate bliss. Immediately after arriving back to the village, you both moved out of your individual apartments and moved into the Hatake estate, per Kakashi’s request. When you asked him if this is truly what he wanted, he assured you that this was the place he wanted to make a home with you and your future children. He also liked that the estate is largely removed from the Hokage tower, where he will be spending the majority of his time in the future. Renovations are far from over, but your bedroom was the first area of the house to be set up. It’s your shared sanctuary, and to be completely honest, you’ve never felt more at home.

The only word to describe this week between you and Kakashi is passionate. Even with opposite schedules, you both make time for one another every day. You’ve been insanely busy at your new job that you acquired post-war, spearheading the mental health resource center for war veterans and shinobi still in active duty. Kakashi is busy shadowing Tsunade while she sorts out post-war rehabilitation plans for the village. This is your first day off and, unfortunately, Kakashi is out doing future Hokage duties. Though frustrating, both of you are super understanding of each other's roles in this village and you respect that time with each other may be limited in the coming years. That’s why any chance you get, you both check in on each other throughout your day. Whether it’s offering to take his ninken on a walk while he’s in the office, or him bringing you breakfast when you get to work, you find opportunities to be present in each other’s daily lives.

The evenings, however, are a whole other story. Both of you are usually home a little after eight, and you’ve adapted to having late dinners with each other. After cleaning up, the rest of the evening is spent wrapped up in each other. One thing you weren’t expecting about being with Kakashi is that he is constantly touching you when you are alone together. His hands are either on your thighs, wrapped in your hair, caressing your face, squeezing your arms, massaging your shoulders, touching your lips, or any other way he can get them on you. You crave his touch, so to say that you enjoy this side of him is an understatement. Not only does Kakashi adore touching you, he also adores being touched.

Touching leads to caressing, caressing leads to groping, and groping leads to passionate lovemaking.

Well, geez (y/n), maybe if you stopped daydreaming about Kakashi’s hands all over you then you wouldn’t be this goddamn horny.

Here’s the thing with you and Kakashi’s newfound sex life. You are in the early stages. All the sex you have is all about romance, making up for the lost time, and finally expressing your feelings with your body. It’s amazing and you wouldn’t change your lovemaking for the world.

But right now, you don’t desire lovemaking. You desire rough, animalistic, dirty, dirty sex.

The kind of sex that makes you shudder in desire and fear.

The kind of sex that makes in between your legs sore the next day.

Realizing you’ve been daydreaming for the past fifteen minutes, you close your novel shut and toss it aside. You look over at the clock on your nightstand to find that it’s almost time for Kakashi to be home. Usually, you would already be cooking something up for dinner, but you have a feeling that any food you make would just get cold. Eating is not your priority right now, Kakashi is.

A devious smile forms at your lips when you consider what you plan on doing with him when he walks through the front door. Should you take him right there? Get down on your knees and beg for him? Run a warm, candle-lit bath? Put whip cream on your tits and tell him that you’re his dinner? All great options, but none are really representative of how much you need him.

In one swift movement, you are up off your chair and running towards your closet. He could be here any minute and there’s no time to waste. Once there, you take in how disorganized your closet is. You have yet to unpack any of your clothes, as all you’ve worn the past week is your jonin uniform and your pajamas. Rummaging through the boxes sprawled out on the floor, you finally find which box you are looking for. The box looks like any other box, but written on the side in marker is the word intimates.

Bingo.

One might think you are a sex fiend with all the lingerie you own, but that is far from reality. The truth is, lingerie has always made you feel sexy. Most of all, it’s just so pretty. You love the power it gives you. You love the fact that no one knows that some days you are wearing the world’s skimpiest lingerie underneath your uniform. It’s like you have an edge on someone that they don't even realize. Also, when you did happen to end up in bed with a man, you were over-prepared. The look on their faces when you stripped off your clothes was priceless. It was your way of telling them that you expected them to want you.

There are way too many options to choose from, and you find yourself starting to panic as time passes on. You know you’re overthinking this as, honestly, Kakashi would love anything you put on. Some things you know about Kakashi are that his favorite color is blue, he loves your thighs and is obsessed with how soft your skin is. Therefore, you should obviously go for the baby blue lace and silk set. It includes a lace balconette bra, a thong connected to thigh garters, and a silk robe to go over the top. After putting it on and taking a look at yourself in the mirror, you knew you made the right choice.

Before finding a comfortable spot on the bed, you quickly grab some baby oil and rub it all over your body. The oil will allow Kakashi to slide his hands all over you effortlessly, which is exactly what you need. Satisfied, you grab your book and lay on top of your made bed. You weren’t planning on actually reading, but you think your casualness while wearing such a sexy outfit will have Kakashi’s head spinning.

So there you were, belly down, ass out, feet intertwined, book in hand, when you heard the lock click and the front door open. Perfect timing.

You could hear Kakashi kick off his shoes and take off his vest as he walked into your home. Usually, you would be standing in the kitchen where he would come and give you a warm embrace and kiss you until you told him that he has to eat dinner. But, you're not there, and you can sense his confusion.

“Where’s my babygirl?” Kakashi’s voice projects throughout the house, a hint of concern in his voice. You smile at the thought of the pout that’s probably on his face right now.

“Sorry sweetheart, I’ve been caught up in my new book. I’m in the bedroom,” you call back to him.

You hear what sounds like a sigh of relief as his footsteps make their way down your hallway in the direction of your bedroom, the sounds of pieces of his uniform dropping off of him every few steps. You make sure to keep your head turned to the door so you can take in his reaction to your state.

“Oh, the new book you got this morning? How is it? Let me guess, you already finished-”

An indescribable feeling shoots through your whole body as Kakashi enters your bedroom. He just finished pulling his mask down his face, as his hand is still caught to the fabric pooling around his neck. With a smile on your face, you soak in his expression as he’s stood in the entrance of your room, a deep blush forming on his cheeks and his mouth still agape in mid-sentence. His eyes dart back and forth from your face to the bottom of your ass that’s hanging out of your silk robe.

Damn, you really did that (y/n).

“What’s wrong, Kashi?” You say in the most innocent voice you can muster. You bat your eyelashes and flip over to sit up so he can get a good look at you. You let your book drop off the bed and land on the floor.

There’s another pause before Kakashi slowly walks towards you on the bed. Without speaking, he reaches a hand out to you. You take it and he pulls you up so you're kneeling on the bed as he stands in front of you. His dark eyes bore into yours as both of his hands drop to your thighs. Slowly, he grazes them up over your hips, your waist, up the sides of your breasts, to wrap around the back of your neck. You can feel the hairs on your skin stand in anticipation. With his hands still wrapped around you, he brings his head down to you and grazes his mouth on your jawline. From there he plants small kisses up the side of your face until he reaches your ear where he nibbles before speaking to you in a strained, low tone.

“You’re a very dangerous woman, (y/n).”

He must have felt you shudder because you could feel him smile against your cheek. Standing up straight again, Kakashi’s hands drop to the tie of your robe around your waist.

“May I?” he asks, giving you the sexiest look you’ve ever seen. Kakashi has been so effortlessly attractive since you met when you were young. Having these intimate moments with him almost seems surreal.

“Of course, Hatake,” you smile up at him.

Taking the tie in his hands, he starts to unravel the knot keeping your robe together. Once loose, he lets it fall over your shoulders and off your body completely.

After a few moments taking in the sight of you, Kakashi lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head.

“You’re so out of my league,” he confesses to you.

You let out a small giggle.

“Absolutely not,” you protest.

Without missing a beat, Kakashi grabs on to you and tosses you back on the bed so you are laying down underneath him. One of his hands wraps around the back of your head while the other cups your breast. Pulling the fabric of your bra down, he kneads your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. One of his knees lands in between your legs and he brings it up to press on to you. You can’t help the moan that escapes as you feel him all around you.

“So what’s the deal?” Kakashi teases. “I leave you alone in the house for one day and I come back to this?” He looks down at your body and back up again. “Where did you get this outfit, hm?”

“Oh baby,” you start teasing him back, “I guess one thing you don’t know about me yet is that I wear lingerie like this all the time.”

“Oh really?” he questions.

“Yep, all the time.” You smirk at what you’re about to say next. “Actually, remember that one time we were stationed together in the Earth country for a month for that S-rank assassination mission?”

Kakashi nods, confused where you’re going with this story.

“We let our guards down and almost hooked up the last night before we came back to the village.”

“I remember.”

“Well,” you pause for effect, “guess what I was wearing underneath my uniform that night?”

Kakashi remains silent, brows furrowed waiting for you. You smile at him deviously as you say your answer.

“This.”

Kakashi lets out what can only be described as an aroused, defeated groan when you utter your confession. He quickly comes back down and your mouths crash together in a heated frenzy. It isn’t until now when you realize that his bulge is hard against your leg, asking to be broken free from the confinement of his pants. While making out, you reach down and slip your hand under his waistband and grab onto his throbbing cock, stroking it in your hand. Although rock hard, the skin of his cock is soft and velvety.

Kakashi moans in your mouth when you make contact with him, but quickly escapes your grasp and gets up off of you. Sprawled out on the bed, you watch him strip down naked in front of you, starting with his shirt, then his pants and briefs. His body is truly something to marvel at, as decades of being a ninja have carved his body into perfection. You love the way his member slaps against his lower stomach when he pulls it from its confinement, excited and eager for you. He stands for a moment, contemplating what to do with you.

“I don’t want to take that pretty outfit off of you just yet. I guess I’ll just have to work around it for now,” Kakashi says as he stands at the end of the bed. Grabbing your ankles, he pulls you towards him and bends your legs upward until your knees meet your chest. Holding both of your legs up with one hand, he takes the other and spanks your ass cheek with a loud slap. You whimper from the sting while he rubs the mark he left. Kakashi sucks in another loud breath.

“Ugh, (y/n), you look so good for me.”

Before you can respond, Kakashi takes your thong and slides it over so you are exposed to him. Getting down on his knees, he brings his face to your glistening cunt and flattens his tongue against it. There he gives you one long lick up your slit to taste you. A moan erupts from him as your wetness meets his taste buds.

“You’re already so wet for me baby,” Kakashi breathes before going in to suck on you.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” you confess through your moans. “I only get this wet for you.”

“That’s because you're mine and mine only.”

Kakashi takes his time with you, almost as if this is his last meal on earth and he wants to savor it. He’s delicate in some moments and fierce in others. Incorporating his fingers, he slides them into you and curves them up to hit your g-spot repeatedly while eating you. Your hand instinctively cradles his face while the other intertwines with his silver locks. You start to feel tightness in your lower stomach as he brings you close to climax. The sound of his moans muffled inside you is enough to send you over the edge.

“Kakashi, baby, I’m gonna-”

“Come for me, baby,” Kakashi nods, giving you permission to let go.

Letting go of Kakashi, you grip onto the sheets around you, feeling the tightness build and drop out of you. Closing your eyes, the waves of ecstasy ripple throughout your body causing you to scream out in pleasure. Riding with you, Kakashi slowly continues to work you through your climax, cleaning up whatever juices spill over.

“Good girl,” He says to you while bringing your legs back down onto the bed. Slowly, he kisses up your thighs while hooking onto your thong, bringing it down off of them. While he does this, you reach around and unclasp your bra, throwing it aside. Once the thong is thrown aside as well, Kakashi lifts himself off the floor and flips you over so you're laying on your stomach, another smack landing on your ass cheek. The high from your orgasm is immediately replaced with anticipation for what he plans on doing to you next.

You feel Kakashi’s naked body slide on top of you until he's flush against your skin, his body completely enveloping yours. Once his face is level with yours, and his cock is hard against your backside, he brushes your hair away from your face.

“Are you ready for me?” Kakashi whispers into your ear.

You nod into the mattress, chest rising and falling with every strained breath.

“You need to use your words, (y/n),” Kakashi scolds you while tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I need you, Kakashi. Please, I need you.” Your words come out as a plea, not being able to take his absence any longer.

You feel Kakashi’s weight lift off of you as he reaches around your waist and lifts it up so your ass is tilted upwards. From there you can feel him position his tip at your entrance, slowly rubbing it up and down to spread your wetness.

“Please, Kashi, I need your cock inside me,” you beg.

Without further hesitation, you feel every inch of him slide into your folds until he’s bottomed out inside you. The feeling of him deep within you sends you into euphoria and you can feel yourself tighten around him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Kakashi whispers.

Starting off slow, he pumps into you with control. You feel pleasure and pain as Kakashi kisses your neck while grabbing onto your hair. After each thrust you feel him going faster and harder, your bodies smacking against each other. To gain more leverage, he lifts off of you and brings you up onto your hands and knees. With his hand gripping your shoulder, he pumps into you with ferocity.

“For years I’ve touched myself thinking about getting to fuck you like this baby. You’re so beautiful and so good to me. Everything about your body draws me to you,” Kakashi says in between moans. You feel him start to twitch inside you, his thrusts getting more out of control. You look over your shoulder and meet his gaze.

“We deserve this baby. You deserve this. Give me everything.” You both know your words mean more than just sex, and Kakashi relishes them.

Lifting you up by your neck, Kakashi brings you toward him so you're both kneeling while he continues thrusting inside of you. He brings one hand around your front to circle your clit and the other cups your breast. Your hands lift up behind you to grab onto his face. Turning your head to him, you kiss him with every ounce of passion you have left. This new position is hitting you at your core and you can feel yourself tighten again. Kakashi must have felt it too, as he broke free from your mouth to tilt his head back in pleasure. Without exchanging words, you know you both are at your limit.

With a few last staggering thrusts, both of you reach climax in unison. Feeling yourself go limp, Kakashi wraps his arms around you to keep you steady. You feel streams of his hot semen pool inside of your contracting walls. With Kakashi’s moans singing in your ear, you can’t help but smirk at his vulnerability. With him still inside, you hold onto each other, trying to catch your breaths. After a few beats, you both begin to laugh at your exasperated states.

“Stay here, I’m going to get a towel,” Kakashi says while shifting out of you. After pulling a towel from the cupboard in your bathroom, Kakashi brings it to you and cleans up between your legs. Before you have time to move, Kakashi picks you up bridal style and spins you around in his arms.

You scream and start to laugh as he plants kisses all over your face. “Kakashi!”

“Hm?” he hums in your ear, pretending he didn’t just lift you with little to no effort.

Holding you up with one arm, he grabs a blanket off the bed and carries you to the chair in the corner of your room. There he sits down and places you sideways on his lap so you’re facing each other. He then takes the blanket and wraps it around you both so you can stay warm while cuddling each other. Kakashi has always had a knack for knowing exactly what you want at any given moment.

“I thought we could get some inspiration for our next round,” Kakashi says with a smirk as he pulls out a copy of Icha Icha Tactics from underneath the cushion.

“What? How did that get there?” you laugh.

“Oh, I have multiple copies of these everywhere,” he jokes, waving the book in the air.

You laugh and lightly hit his chest. Tucking the blanket up closer to your face, you lay your head down on Kakashi’s shoulder while he flips open to a page in the book.

Before he starts to read to you, Kakashi lifts your chin to kiss you. Every time your lips touch his, flashes of your joint past enters your mind. Although it was hard, and you faced many difficult trials on the way, you are forever thankful that you were both able to live long enough to experience these moments. You took care of each other, lifted each other up when they were in the dirt, and now you can finally share the love you’ve always held for each other. You wouldn’t change any of it. After your kiss, before pulling away from you, Kakashi looks deep into your eyes.

“I love you, (y/n).”

You smile up at him, tears brimming in your eyes.

“I love you too, Kakashi. Forever.”

A/n cont.: Well, whattdaya think? :)

#kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakashi fanfic #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi x reader #hatake kakashi #kakashi imagine #naruto fanfiction #kakashi x you #kakashi x y/n #kakashi one shot #kakashi x yn #kakashi sensei #kakashi smut #kakashi hatake smut

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dailyadventureprompts · 2 years

Note

In honor of our late GM. A holiday they had in game was for the local god of strength, and it was a quiet remembrance type holiday. Just a quiet day to remember everyone who ever picked up a weapon then left, never to come back.

Festival: Tolling Day

Today we shed blood and tears for those who’ve fallen on our behalf, not only their loss, but the tragedy that they were forced to leave us in the first place. Today we renew the old pact, to honor their sacrifice by striving for a world where they would never have been asked to make it ,To learn the lesson our history has so painfully taught us. Today we remember, and we pray for a world that will never again have need of war.

Setup: Every culture has its monuments to past victories, and epitaphs commemorating its defeats, but it is only in those places that follow the worship of Tyr, marred god of valor that you find the toll stones, ancient edifices that relate to no one battle or war, but to the enduring martyrdom of those who have fallen in the protection of others.

The Tolling Day is a quiet festival, usually held in late autumn when the raiding season would have ended and before the harvest began, though sometimes its observance is moved to the anniversery of some great local tragedy. Given the practicality of Tyr’s clergy there is little in the way of formal ritual, save an open invitation for those who have lost loved ones to battle to come to the stone and make a small offering of blood as an expression of their grief for the fallen. In addition to allowing those left behind a cathartic means of expressing their loss, this practice communicates a simple but profound message: “These people died for us, we live for them, our sorrow is all one sorrow and we will not forget them so long as there is blood in our veins still”

Adventure Hooks:

The party is invited to participate in Tollingday and remember those that they have lost along the way, a poignant moment to reflect on fallen allies that needs no more drama than asking the heroes what they might feel, regret, and what pains them still.

During drawn out conflicts, it is traidtion for a priest of Tyr to wet the tollstone every day with a new offering of their blood, an ongoing votive meant to call out to those spirits lost in the ongoing conflict and guide them home from far off battlefields. During such time the monument becomes steeped in all manner of magical and emotional energy, and may also attract those sorts of dark spirits that feed on war. Such is the case when the local adherent of Tyr asks the party to help her slay the group of fiendish hounds that’ve come to lap at her monument at night, having been unable to work a full banishment while fending the pack off with just her shield arm.

Ealdormen Galryff was always envious of his elder brother Gelrynd, who seemed to inherit all of their parents’ love, good fortune and charm, leaving Garlyff with leftover scraps of spite and low cunning. Whatever success Galryff obtained building their family holdings, it was always overshadowed by the outstanding glories his brother won at the point of a spear, hunting down monsters and bandits. The ire he stoked with the local brigands was Galryff’s oppertunity, who conspired with the outlaws to draw his brother out and have him killed, mutilating his body so his death could be blamed on beasts. The Ealdormen made quite a show of blood and grief at that year’s Tolling day, completely unaware that his dishonest and dishonorable offering would anger the god of valor and set a divine retribution in the works. Now rumors spread of a mauled rider atop a blood-painted steed, stalking through the night, killing at random, and wielding a ghostly spear that looks like a wound in the air itself. Galryff has used his position to offer a great bounty to whoever can destroy this rampaging horror, knowing every one of the rider’s victims are in fact the very same toughs (surreptitiously pardoned over the last year or so) he enlisted in his conspiracy.

Art

#festival #tyr #highlands #plains #field #low level #Halloween #undead #mystery #bandits #fiend #Cleric #mid level #monster hunt #dnd #dungeons and dragons #adventure #5e homebrew #homebrew adventure

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uvobreakmylegs · 3 years

Text

Detour

I’m excited that it’s fall but i’m also sad that i won’t be able to swim anymore

Warnings: death, graphic depictions of violence, creepy behavior, groping, mentions of smut, kidnapping

The two guys at the gas station check out counter had been there when Phinks had first walked through the sliding glass doors, and they were still there when he approached the check out himself, having only dropped in to grab another pack of beer. The gas station clerk seemed annoyed while the two guys were pulling their pockets inside out, evidently in search of any spare change that may have been hiding on their persons. There was a sad pile of jenny and some change sitting in front of the clerk while she waited for them impatiently, and she seemed ready to push all of the money back towards them as it became more and more likely that these two didn't have enough cash for the assortment of alcohol and junk food that also sat on the counter.

Any other time Phinks would've been annoyed by the situation. But seeing as he didn't have anywhere to be, he found that he didn't really care all that much. The troupe likely wouldn't meet back up for some time which left his schedule quite open, and he had found it difficult to find something to occupy his time with while he waited for the boss to bring everyone together again.

Phinks had decided that a road trip was a decent way to pass the time. It was something he'd never really done before and so far it was easing his boredom as he had hoped it would. There was no real time limit he had set on himself or any destination that he had in mind. He'd just keep doing whatever he felt like until the novelty of the trip wore off and then go home.

“Would you like to take a few items off?”

The tired voice of the clerk cut through his thoughts, and Phinks found that there had been no progress with the two in front of him.

“No no, we need all of it,” one of the men, a redhead, insisted, “we just, uh....”

Trailing off, the man glanced over to Phinks, who was still waiting with his single pack of beer. Then the man looked over to his companion and then back to the items on the counter.

Phinks could already sense what the man was going to ask of him before he spoke out.

“Hey man,” the guy said to Phinks, “I know it sounds bad, but do you think you could spot me on this? I'm bringing this stuff back for my party. We ran out of some stuff way quicker than we expected. Can't let people down, y'know?”

The redhead started telling him how much more they needed until the clerk interrupted him to tell him off for harassing other customers for money. A mini argument started between the two, with the man insisting that he wasn't harassing anyone and the clerk disagreeing with him. The man's friend joined in shortly after and it was quickly turning into a mess.

What obnoxious fucking people.

If he was in more of a bad mood he'd have probably snapped the necks of all of them. The presence of cameras stopped him from doing that, however, as it would just be too much of a pain to go to the back and destroy the footage after. Still, even though he didn't have anywhere to be, it didn't mean that he wanted to waste his time listening to people bicker. The easiest way out of this was to just give them the jenny so they'd all shut up.

After pulling out his wallet, Phinks slid the jenny across the counter.

That shut the three of them up, and the two men were quick to express their gratitude while the clerk just looked tired.

“Thank you so, so much, man,” the redhead continued after they collected their bagged items.

“Mm-hm.”

Phinks was only half-paying attention to him as he waited for the clerk to scan the beer so he could hand her the jenny owed. That transaction went much quicker and Phinks was soon making his way to the exit.

The two men seemed to be waiting on him, though.

“Hey, since you helped us out, you wanna come to my party?” the redhead asked.

Normally his automatic response would've been to give him a flat “no”. But in this instance Phinks just shrugged.

That seemed to give the redhead hope, and he began listing the reasons why Phinks should follow them back, like his “cool house”, hot women and great beer.

Given the especially cheap brand of beer Phinks had largely paid for, he had a hard time believing that last point. He also wasn't quite sure why this guy was so insistent on getting him to come along. Was it really just because Phinks had bothered to help them out?

“Name's Stu by the way. Back there is Billy,” the redhead told him, sticking out his arm to shake hands. When Phinks didn't do the same, Stu seemed a bit dejected, yet even that didn't make him back down from inviting Phinks.

“So how 'bout it, man? You wanna come?”

“.... I'll think about it,” he told him.

“Okay, but do it fast man. My place isn't that far from here.”

Phinks nodded, and Stu ran off to the car where his friend was waiting. The other guy didn't seem as keen on Phinks as the redhead had, regarding the blonde with suspicion. Phinks could hear him saying something as the two entered the car. Stu seemed to brush him off, and then their car doors closed and Phinks couldn't hear anything else.

The two ended up pulling out of the parking lot before he did, and Phinks found himself following them as they all made the same turn onto the highway.

He still had no real urge to go to some random guy's party, especially when he found him to be pretty annoying. And if it was a party filled with the friends of someone like that, he'd probably get irritated with all of them pretty quick. Better to just ignore them and be on his way.

Although the thought of just driving aimlessly through the night wasn't all that attractive, either. He'd done that several times now, and the feeling of being the only person in the world while he drove on the empty highway had lost its touch by now.

The car in front of him veered off the highway to get onto a side road.

After a few seconds, Phinks did the same, just thinking to himself 'why not?'. It would be something different, a little detour on a trip that was meant to be a distraction, and if it ended up being something that he didn't want to bother with, then he could just leave.

Although the noise level in the house wasn't quiet, it was nowhere near ear-shatteringly loud as Phinks may have expected. At least it had that in it's favor. Other than that, it was a stereotypical frat house party, with everyone talking and drinking as they got more and more shitfaced.

The two who brought him here vanished into the kitchen, and Phinks began to make his way around the house, sipping one of the cans of beer he had bought for himself since he had no interest in the shit the host had him pay for. A girl in one of the upstairs rooms noticed the beer in his hand and begged him to share with her, even going as far as to tug on the sleeve of his jacket when he told her no. He ended up pushing her away, and though he had tried to use as little force as possible, his strength combined with her tipsiness caused her to stumble back into a wall. She was still whining about him when he walked back down the stairs, going on about how mean he was.

He thought he'd been pretty nice to her, all things considered.

It didn't take long for Phinks to lose interest in this particular distraction. Not that he'd been expecting much, but after going around the house and not even seeing anything that might be worth stealing, he figured it'd be best to leave soon. With his short temper being one of his vices, he didn't want to deal with what would happen if some drunk got on his nerves and he smashed them into the wall.

With the sights, sounds and smells became grating to him and seeing no reason to stay any longer, Phinks went about trying to find an exit. Attempting to get out the same way he came in was put to a stop when he saw how congested the front entrance had become. He could've easily pushed past all of them, but since that would likely draw a fair amount of attention, maybe it'd be a better idea to find a different way out. Phinks wandered into the kitchen, walking by Stu who tried to talk to him. A patio door leading to the backyard caught his eye and he ignored the party's host as he walked by several people to get to it.

The cool air outside felt refreshing and he let out a soft sigh as the patio door slowly swung closed. Claustrophobia generally wasn't something he had an issue with, but that seemed to change a little when he was faced with a house full of drunken strangers who didn't understand the meaning of personal space. Another nice thing was the fact that no one else seemed to be out here. He didn't think it was that cold out, but it worked just fine if the people inside thought otherwise.

He stood on a deck with an assortment of patio furniture that sat in front of an in ground pool, and when he looked to the side, he saw the gate within the fencing that surrounded the backyard.

That was his way out, then.

With no more reason to stick around, he was about to head out and back to his car-

But he paused when he heard the sound of splashing water, and he looked back to the pool.

So he wasn't the only person out here.

Some of the patio furniture had blocked you from his sight so he hadn't noticed you at first, but you were now swimming out into the center of the pool and impossible to miss. It was pretty late in the year for swimming, wasn't it? Yet you seemed to be content with yourself despite the temperature and lack of company, swimming around the pool like you owned it. Maybe you did; he wasn't sure what your relation was to the party host.

Then your eyes met, and you smiled as you greeted him.

“Hello.”

“... Hey.”

He hadn't come out to look for company. He was looking to leave.

Yet something about this situation, about you, intrigued him, and Phinks walked forward, continuing with “isn't it a little late in the season for swimming?”

“That's what everyone seems to think,” you said, “it's going to be drained tomorrow, so I wanted to swim one more time before that. It's the last chance I'll get for this year.”

“No public pools around here?” he asked.

“I don't really like public pools,” you told him, laughing a little bit as you continued “the ones around here are never clean, and I don't wanna swim around in nasty water.”

Phinks couldn't say if he really had an opinion one way or the other. He tried to avoid situations where he'd need to be shirtless in public, as the spider with the number 5 on his ribs would've been a dead giveaway for anyone who understood it's meaning. He just shrugged at you as he said “fair enough.”

Phinks now stood at the edge of the pool while you swam up to the edge.

“I don't think I've seen you before. You new around here?” you asked him.

“No. Just passing through. Helped out the host at the gas station and he invited me as thanks,” Phinks explained, “I was expecting this to be taking place at some shitty apartment; didn't think a guy like that owned a house.”

“He doesn't, it belongs to his older brother Jed. Stu just lives with him,” you responded.

“Ah.”

That made a bit more sense to him. Since he hadn't been able to buy beer from a gas station on his own, it didn't seem likely that the guy would've had his own house. So he was just leeching off of his brother.

Despite being ready to leave just minutes earlier, he found that he now had a reason to want to stay here longer. But standing and talking to you was getting a little awkward, so Phinks sat himself down on the concrete next to the pool. So far you weren't annoying compared to some of the others. And despite being by yourself beforehand, you seemed pretty open to talking with him, resting your arms on the edge of the pool.

“You friends with them, then?”

“Jed is in a few of my classes, so I'm friends with him. Not Stu, though. He's kind of an asshole. Likes to play a lot of stupid pranks.”

You rested your chin in your hand as you thought back.

“He's destroyed two of my phones so far, both times by dumping water on me,” you said, “although I guess he did repay me for both, but it's still such a hassle to go through.”

“You're nicer than I am. If some guy like that fucked up my phone I'd kill him.”

You laughed at him, not taking his words seriously.

“You seem nice enough. You helped him out, right?”

“Only because it was the fastest way to get outta there. Stupid bastard started an argument with the clerk.”

“Yeah. That sounds like something he'd do,” you said, tiredness lacing your voice.

A cheer then sounded from inside the house, and though the doors and windows were closed, it was loud enough that the both of you could hear it from outside.

“Things must be ramping up in there,” you commented.

“Guess so,” Phinks said, taking a swig of his drink after.

“Isn't it kinda weird that you're keeping to yourself with an event like this? Don't see the point in going out if you're going to avoid people,” he added.

“But isn't that what you're doing by coming out here?” you asked.

“Nah, I was getting ready to leave.”

“What stopped you?”

“I haven't done much out here beside sitting here talking to you. What do you think?”

You seemed a bit taken aback and a little embarrassed as you realized the reason, but gave him a small smile.

“Oh wow. Are you saying I managed to be charming enough to keep a guy from leaving?” you asked him.

“No. You're just not as annoying as the others I've met tonight.”

Your expression was rather blank as you took in that information.

“..... I'll take that as a compliment, then,” you said, “so what do you do?”

“What do I do?”

“For a job, or just anything in general.”

“I do a couple odd jobs here and there, I guess,” he answered, “every once in a while a bigger opportunity comes up, and I just do whatever I need to.”

It was an oversimplification of his criminal activities, and he hoped that he'd been vague enough without sounding suspicious.

It appeared that he had as you didn't seem to think it was strange.

“You mentioned earlier that you were just passing through. Are you on your way to a job or something?”

“Nah. I'm currently off-duty. And I had a lot of time to kill, so I decided to take a road trip.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” you said, “I work on campus, so I don't really get to do vacations for now. Can't remember the last time I went on one.”

“Job at least worth it?”

“Kind of? Although the other week I needed to go through something stupid.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I got screamed at by a lady.”

Your tone made it seem like that was something happened on a regular basis.

“For what?” he asked.

“Something with her daughter's textbooks. She ordered one that she didn't need on accident but didn't want to admit that she made a mistake, so she just let her mother yell at me for forty minutes and claim that we were the ones who fucked up.”

You sighed a little after the explanation. Evidently that situation still made you frustrated.

“.... Did she apologize after?” Phinks asked.

With a slightly wistful smile, you shook your head as you said “people like that don't apologize.”

“Sounds rough.”

It went without saying that Phinks wouldn't have tolerated anything like that. If it had been him he'd have killed them both and tossed their bodies in the trash. But he kept that rather violent thought to himself.

“Sorry you needed to deal with that,” he added.

“It's okay. It's little things that keep you going,” you said, “I've been looking forward to swimming for a while, so I'm pretty happy right now. Although I guess I'm kinda doing a job right now.”

“How so?”

“Jed's at his job right now, and since he doesn't trust Stu, he asked me to make sure nothing happens to the pool. The last time Stu had a party there was a bunch of trash in it the next morning, and it was a pain to clean up. So in exchange for using the pool, I have full permission to snitch on anyone who tosses anything.”

“Yeah? What's snitching gonna do?”

“Jed's a scary guy. Nobody wants to make him mad.”

If Phinks had felt like being more of an asshole, and if you'd been unpleasant during your conversation with him, he probably would've taken his half-finished beer can and thrown it into the pool just to upset you and also to see if your friend was as scary as you were making him out to be.

But so far he'd been enjoying himself, so as fun as that thought might have been, he decided against it.

You pulled one of your arms off of the rim and back into the water. Evidently you were getting cold, but you held on to the edge to continue speaking to him.

“So how long have you been on your trip?” you asked.

“A few weeks.”

“A few weeks? You must have been all over the place, then. Did you go anywhere in particular?”

“Not really,” Phinks answered, “didn't have any real plan when I set out. Just drove to wherever I thought would be interesting.”

“That's kinda cool,” you said, “must be nice to be able to go wherever you want without any real plan.”

“You can't?”

“Nope. Classes and work means I can't just run off whenever I feel like it.”

“Too busy getting screamed at?” he asked jokingly.

“Yeah, something like that,” you answered, laughing a little after.

You pulled your other arm back underwater and just kept a hand on the side of the wall.

“Cold?” he asked.

“A little.”

“Probably why most people aren't swimming this late.”

“I don't care; it's worth it,” you said, “honestly, the thought of being able to swim was what kept me going this week.”

That.... Was a little bit sad, Phinks thought to himself. That all you had to look forward to at the end of the week was a few hours to swim by yourself in the cold. There were much sadder circumstances in the world – he was certain that anyone from Meteor City would be more than happy to switch places with you – but your life must have felt empty. Although Phinks was technically in the same boat at the moment, at least being with the troupe gave him purpose. What did you have besides a shitty job and presumably a fair amount of college debt? Just the 'little things' to keep you going?

Maybe he was presuming too much; he'd only just met you after all. But it bothered him regardless.

“What are your plans for after college?” he asked.

You seemed a bit startled, and you looked away from him for the first time.

“Not really sure, actually. I'm still undecided on my major,” you admitted, “I need to figure out soon, though. I'm going to run out of the basic coursework that I need to get through, and my family is getting mad that I haven't made a decision yet.”

So you didn't have any direction and were being pressured by others. Still not the saddest circumstance ever, but if it had been him, Phinks was certain he'd have been miserable.

You clearly didn't want to keep going on about that particular subject, as you began to ask him questions about his trip, wanting to know where exactly he had been so far and how much longer he planned to drive for. The change in topics was obvious, but he decided to go along with it.

As the night grew darker while the two of you talked, he decided that he liked you. You could hold a decent conversation, even if the things you two talked about weren't all that meaningful.

You were pretty cute, too.

The party behind him still seemed to be going strong, but it was largely going ignored by you both, in part by the fact that you were still the only ones outside.

Your face lit up as a thought came to mind.

“You should come in!” you told him.

“No thanks.”

“Come on! It's really nice!”

You grabbed at his free hand, tugging on his arm lightly as you tried to encourage him to get into the pool.

“If you get my suit wet I'll drown you,” Phinks said told you.

You giggled, once more not taking him seriously. Though he was only half-serious about it at this point.

“Then take it off and come in,” you insisted.

“I don't have a swimsuit.”

“That doesn't stop most people.

“Good to know,” he said flatly.

Though you'd stopped tugging on his arm, both of your hands remained on his wrist as you looked up at him.

“Can you not swim?” you asked.

“I can swim fine,” he said, “I just don't feel like it right now.”

You seemed a bit disappointed, but you had yet to let go of his wrist.

“Should you really be that surprised with the temperature being what it is?” he asked you.

“It isn't that bad. And the pool is heated,” you insisted, “didn't think a bit of chill would scare off the most interesting person at this party, though.”

The corner of his lips curled a bit at that. He wasn't one for meaningless flattery, but he didn't mind hearing you say things like that.

“Is that why you're not letting go of me?”

“You don't seem to be doing much to shake me off.”

“I could if I wanted to.”

“So you don't want to?”

You were teasing him. And while he could tease you back, he went for a different approach.

He yanked his wrist out of your grip and grabbed your own wrist just as fast, and lifted you up until you were eye level with him. To say you were flustered by the action would've been an understatement, and your free hand grasped at the arm that held you up to lessen the weight on the arm that he had trapped.

With you partially out of the water, Phinks allowed his eyes to travel over your form, following the trails of water that dripped down your skin and imagining exactly what you looked like under that swimsuit. His grin got wider when he saw your body reacting to the cooler temperature and the way your nipples showed through the material. It hadn't been on his mind when he first approached you, but after spending time with you he found himself liking the idea of fooling around with you. Probably not in the house, and he doubted you would want to do anything in the pool due to that friend of yours you had mentioned. Maybe there was some dark corner around here where he could take you to do what he wanted.

You were squirming a little, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“It's cold,” you whined.

“Yep,” was his reply.

“Come on, let go. I'm only in a swimsuit.”

“You weren't letting me go,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but I didn't pull you into the water.”

“Because you're too weak to do that.”

“That's not fair!”

“Don't think this is a situation where fairness matters, sweetheart.”

With that he let you go, and you dropped back down into the pool. You pushed away from the wall after, giving him a slightly sour look.

“Problem?” he asked.

“It's cold,” you repeated.

He just smirked.

“You're gonna need to deal with it at some point,” he told you.

“Yeah, but I wasn't ready for it then!”

You had to have noticed the way he looked at you, right? There was no way you were so oblivious to have not seen how he had blatantly looked you over. Yet you weren't mentioning it.

By now you were more at the center of the pool, pointedly out of his range.

“You done talking?” Phinks asked.

“No, but I don't want you pulling me out again.”

Then you looked away like you were embarrassed.

It clicked for him. You must have liked it, but you were too shy to say anything about it.

Your reluctance was cute, though Phinks knew he'd get tired of that game pretty fast.

“Come back over,” he told you.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to.”

You shook your head.

“You're going to do that again, right?” you asked.

“Maybe.”

“Then no. I don't wanna get out yet.”

“How long are you gonna stay in there?”

“Until I feel like getting out.”

“And if I want you out of there now?”

“Then you'd have to come in and get me.”

…. Oh

That's what it was.

A ploy by you to get him into the pool.

That's what you had to mean by those words, right?

“.... What the hell,” he said to himself as he stood.

It got your attention when he began to remove his clothing, throwing them over to a few neatly folded articles of clothing that sat next to a bag on the patio, which he assumed belonged to you. You were watching him closely, and he could sense a growing interest in you when he removed his shirt. Your eyes lingered a little when you caught sight of his spider tattoo, but there was no hint that you recognized what it meant, which was preferable.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked.

“You were looking at me earlier,” you answered defensively, “you're not allowed to get mad when I do the same.”

“Didn't say I was mad.”

You acknowledging the way he had looked at you then just reaffirmed in his head that you hadn't minded, and after stripping down to his boxers, Phinks jumped in. The water felt just as nice as you had said, but he didn't take much time to focus on it as he was quick to approach you. Within moments, he had wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in close, lifting you a little so you were at eye level with him. You seemed flustered again, but you didn't make any move to get away, and were resting your hands on his chest.

“I don't think you told me your name,” you whispered to him.

“Phinks.”

“Phinks,” you repeated, smiling afterwards, “I like it. It's cool.”

“Thanks,” he replied, “and how 'bout you?”

You gave him your name, which he also repeated to himself.

“Not as cool as 'Phinks', I guess,” you said.

“It suits you,” he said.

You smiled at him, then shifted slightly in his grip.

“Are you just gonna keep holding me?”

“You said I needed to come in and get you.”

“And what did you want to 'get' me for?”

Despite the question, you clearly had an idea of what Phinks was after as you began to move in closer to him. Phinks did the same, and slowly, the gap between the two of you was closed as your lips met together in a kiss.

With the heavy scent of pool chemicals that surrounded you two, it was hard to smell much else, but your lips were soft against his. The kiss was a bit tame for his liking, but he let you do what you wanted for now as you readjusted your arms so they were wrapped around his neck.

One of his hands slid down your back to reach down and squeeze your ass, and you gasped into the kiss. He slipped his tongue into your mouth for a brief moment before you pulled away, your hand over your mouth as you looked away in embarrassment.

“I'm not sure we should do much more here,” you said, glancing up at the house behind him, “there are people watching. I'm not into that.”

“Where do you wanna go?” he asked. It didn't surprise him much that you two might have attracted an audience, and when he heard the door to the patio open from behind him, he chose to ignore it.

“I don't think we'll get much privacy here, so how about my place?” you asked.

“Do you usually bring home strangers?”

“Only the really cool ones.”

He grinned.

You were leaning in to kiss him again when you suddenly froze and turned your attention to something behind Phinks.

“Don't do that!” you yelled.

Phinks turned his head just in time to see his and your clothes land in the water, with the guy who'd invited him – Stu, he remembered – pointing and laughing after having thrown them. The annoying woman from earlier, the one who had whined at him for his can of beer, was also there, standing behind Stu and running off with him towards the gate in the fence.

Phinks saw red.

He let you go and swiftly exited the pool, following after the two even as the chill of the night air nipped at his skin. He barely felt it, and he didn't give a shit that he was running around barefoot either. All of his focus was on catching up to those two assholes who'd dumped his clothes in the pool.

He was angry enough that he didn't notice the sound of feet following after him.

The two perpetrators were in an alleyway between two rows of houses, drunkenly laughing their asses off. Their demeanor didn't change when Phinks caught up to them. The woman actually began to laugh harder, probably because Phinks was still wearing only his boxers.

Stu was trying to contain himself a bit, and put his hands up as an offering of peace.

“Hey man, it wasn't anything personal. Just a prank,” he said, “you can use the dryer, and I'll lend you some clothes-”

His sentence was cut off when Phinks grabbed both sides of his head and twisted it completely around, the cracking of his broken neck ringing out in the empty alley.

The sight of Stu falling to the ground with his head facing the wrong way had the woman instantly sober up, and she looked to Phinks as she opened her mouth to scream.

Barely a whisper of sound was able to escape as he did the same thing to her, and now Phinks was standing half-naked in an alley with two dead bodies.

“Obnoxious fucking people,” he muttered to himself.

Then there was noise that came from behind him.

Phinks turned and saw the other guy who'd been at the gas station on the ground, his arms barely supporting himself as his eyes were wide at the sight of his friends dead before him.

His eyes widened even further when he spotted the spider on Phinks' ribs, clearly recognizing what it meant as he whispered “oh my god.”

Make that three bodies, Phinks thought to himself as he rushed forward to snap his neck as well.

Three bodies that he needed to get rid of. If anyone else from the party came out here and found them, the police would be called immediately. He had no intentions of staying here any longer, but it'd be best to put a bit of distance between himself and the crime scene before the police were inevitably called.

He was dragging the other guy by his ankles and in the process of collecting the woman's body when someone walked out into the alley through one of the other entrances. An older woman, who was definitely not from the party and had come from another house, carrying a bag of trash walked out in front of Phinks, and like the guy right before, her eyes grew wide as she saw the sight of the dead before her.

She made a move to run back to her house, but Phinks picked up a pebble that he infused with nen and launched it at her head. It traveled through her skull and the fencing beside her, and blood sprayed out from the exit wound and splattered onto the fence as well as she fell to the ground.

This was turning into a goddamn mess, and after Phinks had thrown now four bodies over into a different backyard, he heard a voice calling out “mom?” from the direction that the woman with the trash bag had come from.

Fuck this. He needed to go.

When he returned to the backyard to retrieve his clothes, he found you on the patio. You were holding his jacket over the concrete, desperately trying to wring out the water that had soaked it completely. You were visibly shivering as you did so, with goosebumps running up your arms and your teeth chattering. He noticed his pants hanging off the fence that surrounded the patio, and while they weren't dry by any means, you had clearly done your best to get the water out of them. Meanwhile your own clothes laid in a soggy heap by your equally soaked bag.

You noticed him when he walked closer.

“I'm sorry,” you told him. You looked guilty for some reason.

“You didn't do it,” Phinks said, considerably calmer now.

“No. But I made a big deal about you getting in with me, and with Stu around I should've been paying attention. I'm really, really sorry.”

He was about to tell you to stop apologizing when he heard a shout coming from the direction of the alleyway.

Fuck. He forgot that he needed to leave.

Luckily you were the only one who noticed, as the rest of the party goers still had the doors and windows securely shut. He pulled on his pants and his sopping wet tank top, and the sensation of wearing those wet clothes was just as unpleasant as he had anticipated. At least his shoes were still dry.

You were still holding his jacket, looking confused as you looked off in the direction where you'd heard that voice. Phinks was about to just take it from you and leave, but when he looked you over again, he thought over the things you two had talked about, the things you had said and how you'd acted around him, and he came to a split second decision.

Grabbing your clothes and bag, he shoved them into your hands before he grabbed one of your arms and pulled you after him. You seemed startled, but you didn't question him as you were too surprised to think of anything to say. He led you out through the backyard and down to where he had parked his car, opening the passenger side door and pushing you inside. He then walked around to the driver's side, and within moments you both were speeding out of the neighborhood.

By the time he came to the highway there was a strong smell of pool chemicals that filled the car, and both of the front seats were slowly soaking up the excess water that dripped off of the two of you.

You seemed to be in a mild state of shock, as you had yet to say anything. You just sat in your still wet swimsuit looking rather confused while you still held onto the soaked clothing Phinks had forced onto you.

After a while you shuddered and finally spoke up.

“Do you think you could turn up the heat?” you asked him.

“Oh. Sure. Sorry.”

Phinks turned the heat up all the way, and after a few moments you seemed to relax a bit, though now you were glancing over at him while smiling nervously.

“Uh, so, there's a lot that I should probably be questioning,” you began, “but I'll start with if you knew why there was yelling?”

Should he lie? No, that might be weird if he pretended not to know.

“I punched that guy in the face. I think I broke his nose,” he told you, “that was likely his friend after he saw him.”

“Ah. Okay,” you said, “that's..... Not very good, but I think I get why you did that. You're gonna get charged with assault, though.”

Fat chance.

��I'll deal with that when I come to that,” he answered, “sorry if I put you in a tough position.”

“It's okay. Well, not really. But Stu's pranks have always been pretty bad and what he did was shitty, so I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Think you can forgive me?”

“... Yeah, I think so. Just promise you won't do anything like that again.”

“I promise.”

“Okay,” you said as you nodded, “so second question: where are we going?”

“.... Not sure. Didn't have much of a plan besides getting out of there and going back to what I was doing,” Phinks admitted.

“So you're just back to driving around going wherever?”

“Seems like it.”

“Why did you bring me along?” you asked.

“.... Didn't want that to be the last time I saw you,” he said.

“Oh.....”

His answer ended up making you flustered again, and while you did seem to be holding some reservations about him with his admission of violence and the fact that he really had just kidnapped you, he could see you rationalizing everything in your mind and convincing yourself that this wasn't all that bad.

It was preferable if you did that. It made taking you with him a lot easier.

“Luckily for me I don't work tomorrow,” you said, “and since the day after that is Sunday and the campus store isn't open then, I also have that day off. So I think it's okay if I drive around with you for a bit. Just get me back by Sunday night, alright?”

“Don't worry. I'll get you back safe and sound,” he told you, and you visibly relaxed at his words.

You were a little naive, a little too trusting. But that was fine. Phinks liked that about you.

“Okay so third question,” you announced as you looked down at the wet clothes in your lap, “what should we do about this?”

“Right. Let me pull over.”

He stopped the car beneath a streetlight, and you sat sideways on the passengers seat while you held the clothes out of the car and wrung the water out of them as best you could. Phinks took the opportunity to change after you handed him his jacket, and he threw the mostly damp clothes in the backseat.

Glancing over at you, he did appreciate how much your swimsuit showed off while you tried to dry out your own clothes. But while he liked the idea of you staying as you were for the rest of the trip, you probably wouldn't be as big of a fan of that. Going over to his trunk once more, he dug around through his bag before he found what he was looking for.

“I don't have anything that will fit you well,” Phinks said as he made his way over to you, “but this should cover you up.”

What he handed you was the long white robe he wore on occasion, usually for combat or missions.

You seemed a bit surprised when you saw it, but you accepted it gratefully. Your gaze went to the jeweled eye that hung near the neck of the garment, and he heard you mumble about it being pretty.

He wondered briefly what you might think of the snake headpiece he usually wore with it, but the time for that would come later as you were currently slipping his robe over your head.

“Thank you,” you told him again as you threw your clothing in the back as well.

Then your attention went to your bag, and you frowned.

“What's wrong?”

In response to his question, you tilted your bag to the side and water began to pour out of it.

“Ah.”

“How much do you wanna bet that my phone is dead?” you asked as you reached inside.

As was expected, your phone screen stayed black when you hit the power button, and you sighed.

“And that's phone number three that Stu has destroyed.”

“Don't worry. It won't happen again,” he told you.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

You tossed the now useless phone into your bag and looked back up to him as if to say “so what now?”

Phinks had an idea for that.

“Wanna go to a motel?”

“A motel? Wow, you sure know how to treat someone,” you said sarcastically.

“You really think I can get you into a nice hotel with you looking like that? You don't even have shoes,” he said.

“I didn't get a chance to grab them,” you responded, though you seemed to concede a bit.

“Could we stop somewhere tomorrow so I can get shoes or something?”

“I'll buy you a whole new wardrobe if that's what you want.”

You laughed at that, shaking your head and saying that you didn't need that.

Before too long, Phinks was back in the drivers seat while you watched the streetlights as the car passed them by, your fingers idly playing with the jewel on his robes as you did so. He had turned down the heat and turned on the radio, and though it still felt strange to be sitting in the wet seats, it wasn't bothering either of you as much anymore. The smell from the pool was mostly gone after driving a bit with the windows opened just a crack.

Except for the occasional car that drove in the opposite direction, you were the only ones on the highway.

“How far are you gonna drive?” you eventually asked.

He wanted to get out of the state at least. Phinks didn't want to deal with a confrontation with the law while also taking you along with him. He wanted to get as far as he could while you were still cooperative, and whenever you realized that there was no chance he'd be taking you back, he'd go to more extreme measures of keeping you with him. Your phone being dead was a good thing for him; you wouldn't be able to try and get help as easily.

“I think we've passed by three or four motels already,” you added, “was there something wrong with them?”

“No. Sorry. I got a bit distracted,” Phinks replied, “I've come to really like the highway at night. There's something soothing about it, I guess. Wanted to stay like this for a bit longer.”

You nodded in response and looked back out the window, your fingers still playing with the jeweled eye.

“Can I borrow your phone at some point tomorrow? I need to call someone just so everyone back home knows I'm okay. Don't want them to worry,” you said to him.

“Sure,” he said.

Arguing with you over that would seem strange. He'd just need to avoid that subject tomorrow.

He noticed when you yawned.

“Getting tired?” he asked.

“A little,” you said, laughing a little as you added, “this wasn't how I was expecting my night to go.”

“Same here.”

“I hope you decide to stop soon. I might not be up for it tonight if you're planning on continuing where we left off at the pool when we reach that motel.”

“That's fine. We'll have all day tomorrow, right?”

His words made you embarrassed again, and you shyly answered with a yes as you smiled to yourself.

So that was the plan, then. Drive as far as he could tonight, fuck your brains out tomorrow, then get away further before you figured things out. You would likely object, not liking the idea of being taken away from everything you'd ever known. But he was certain that after spending enough time with him, you'd prefer it. Your current life wasn't any good, but he was prepared for you to not understand that at first. And if he needed to tie you up and shove you into the trunk to keep you compliant, he could do that. Seemed like a pretty fool-proof plan.

You were yawning again.

“Get some sleep if you need to,” he said, “I'll wake you up when I find a place I like.”

You nodded. Soon after he saw you settling back into the seat and closing your eyes as you attempted to get some rest.

He liked the sight of you next to him, sitting in his clothes while you nodded off in his car. And when he turned his attention back to the empty highway, he was once again hit with the feeling like he was the only one in the world. A feeling that only came with seeing an area that was typically full of people seem completely abandoned.

But this time, though, he wasn't alone.

#reader insert #yandere #yandere hxh #phinks x reader #yandere phinks #phinks magcub #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere x reader

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