#I just preferred the new weapons I didn’t like seeing them go back to the status quo

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 2

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Azriel’s shadows liked to spoil his mate rotten.

Not that Azriel could find anything wrong with that.

She deserved more for putting up with him. 

More than new tea from the Dawn Court and her favourite chocolate covered, wafer thin cookies from a small bakery near the Sidra…more than the occasional embroidery thread they snuck her…More than whatever animal he went to go hunt, to cover his bed in even more furs just for her. 

He nearly had enough Sable furs to have a blanket made for her for Winter Solstice…

Azriel also had half a mind to go sneak in her office later that day. 

Just as a treat for not killing either of his brothers. For being civil. 

Rhys had come over for sparring, unnannounced. 

Azriel had hoped to have some peace and quiet today, but it seemed like Rhys had other plans. 

Currently Cassian and Rhys were wrestling with less sense than they had had when they were just kids, and Azriel was cleaning his weapons, watching from the sidelines.

Azriel couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of his brothers roughhousing. It was typical of them to turn a simple sparring session into some kind of ridiculous competition. He focused on sharpening his knives, trying to ignore their antics.

"You know, we could also actually train properly," he called out, his tone dry. "Instead of wrestling like a bunch of children."

Cassian looked up from his grappling with Rhys, grinning. "Oh, come on Az. Don't be such a stick in the mud. Loosen up, have a little fun for once."

Azriel's expression remained impassive. "I'm perfectly capable of having fun, Cassian. But I prefer to do so without rolling around in the dirt like a wild animal."

Rhysand chuckled, standing up and clapping Cassian on the back. "It's good to let loose every now and then, Az. You should try it sometime. It might make your brooding sessions a little less depressing."

Azriel just grunted in response, not willing to engage in a verbal sparring match with Rhys. He continued to clean his weapons, hoping that the training session would end soon so he could escape his brothers' teasing.

“When did you even come home yesterday?” Cassian asked him.

Azriel looked up from his work, his expression neutral. "Around 11," he said simply.

“You didn’t come to dinner,” Rhys pointed out. “You were missed.”

He highly doubted that.

And maybe he had made that mission in Dawn just a little while longer, so that he knew that dinner would be over and when he came home, he wouldn’t need to be alone.

Azriel just shrugged. "I was busy," he said, offering no further explanation. He knew his brothers were just trying to rile him up, and he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

*Are you still pissed of at me?* Rhys asked him mentally with a sigh. *I get it. But you don’t need to avoid everybody else, just because…*

*I’m not avoiding anyone,* Azriel replied, his mental voice tight. *I’m simply choosing to spend my time how I see fit.*

“I was busy,” he repeated aloud.

Cassian rolled his eyes. "You're always busy, Az. You know, there's such thing as taking a break once in a while. Spending time with your family."

Or he could spent time with his mate. He could spent time with his mate, who let him brush her hair and even braid it …who pressed kisses to his horrible scarred hands and smiled at him. 

If it was a choice between Irena or a family dinner where he didn’t want to stay longer than an hour or two, because he was still too fucking pissed off at Rhys…the choice was easy. 

“Or is there a special somebody?” Cassian teased him.

Azriel glowered at him. "It’s none of your business." He went back to working on his weapons, his expression tense.

*You can’t keep panting after Elain for the rest of your life,* Rhys said mentally. *Look, I know I didn’t…I am sorry. But she’s happy with Lucien and…*

*Don’t worry, I’ll go to a pleasure hall and pay for it if I want to fuck somebody,* Azriel shot back viciously.

Or his own hand would suffice. More than suffice, especially if…especially if Irena had let him kiss her the evening before…sometimes he waited until she disappeared into her room, and he buried his face in the pillows that smelled like her, fisted his cock and rutted like an untried boy for seconds before he came all over himself. 

It was still better than any other sex he ever had had before.

Cassian raised an eyebrow at him. "It sounds like you need to get laid," he said, chuckling. "Maybe that'll help with your bad mood."

Azriel shot him a glare. "Mind your own business, Cassian. My love life is none of your concern."

Rhysand gave him a sympathetic look. *We just want you to be happy, Az. You deserve happiness.*

“Ohhh, touchy,” Cassian said with a snort.

Azriel just gritted his teeth, his temper rising. "Cassian, if you don’t shut your mouth right now, I swear to the Mother, I’ll shut it for you."

Cassian just grinned at him. "Come on, Az. I’m just teasing you. Lighten up."

Azriel's grip on his weapons tightened. "I don't like your teasing, Cassian. And I certainly don't appreciate you making assumptions about my personal life.”

Mostly he just wanted his brothers to leave him the hell alone.

And then...then before he could say another thing...he felt the shaking.

And then the sound came. An eardrum shattering explosion, the very foundation of the House of Wind shaking. It was terrifying him.

Irena was down there in her office. Nesta was in there. 

He was moving before he was even thinking. 

*Merrill's office, Master!* the shadows screeched.

Azriel was already running.

Cassian hot on his heels, so was Rhys.

Azriel was faster, heaving shadows around his limbs as he rocketed down the spiral stairs of the House of Wind.

Level Two, Straight to the right. Clearly...Clearly the epicenter of the blast. Of the explosion…of whatever had happened.

He pushed as hard as he could, legs burning as he hurtled down the hallway to Merrill's office.

He wasn't the only one. "Merrill!" He could hear Gwyn's shrill voice screaming, coming to a stop in a hallway of what had once been Merrill's office but now was just...

It was a mass of wood and rubble.

He barely slowed down, scrambling into action. Gwyn was already digging through it, so where Nesta and Emerie. Cassian landed behind him, immediately moving some of the debris.

His shadows swarmed as he and the others quickly dug at the rubble. Looking, desperately looking.

He moved another piece of rubble out of the way...a piece of blue cloths. The same blue cloth that he knew covered Irena's body, the scent of poppies clinging to her...Without a thought, he grasped and then dragged, a hoarse shout that was her, that was her...

He felt as if he were choking, as if he were drowning as he dragged out her body. Bloody, bruised, broken but still...still there was a faint flicker, a faint, thready heartbeat.

His heartbeat pounding in his ears, he tried to pick up on her heart. There was barely a flicker. Too fast, too faint, she was barely holding on. Barely hanging by a thread.

There was blood pooling on her abdomen, dying the blue dress she wore bright scarlet red, He put pressure on that wound immediately, leaning on her with nearly all his weight, his fingers slick with blood. "Damn it, stay with me, love," he demanded sharply.

Azriel felt like he could barely breath. Like he was falling, tumbling down as he tried to will her to stay with him. Stay. Stay. Stay. Please stay. Stay...

Rhys was there suddenly, checking her pulse. "Breathing is erratic. She's in shock," he told Azriel with a grimace. "Mor is getting Madja..."

"Az..." her voice was so weak, but he turned to see dark brown eyes watching him, brows furrowing.

"Just keep breathing, Love," he told her, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

He could barely hear what was going on around him. It was as if he were in a bubble, a world of just himself and her and the desperate beat of her heart under his fingers.

"I am sorry," she whispered.

"There is nothing you need to apologise for her, Irena," he promised her sharply. "Absolutely nothing."

Irena's eyes drifted shut. Azriel felt like something was dying inside him as her heartbeat fluttered against his fingertips. His world was collapsing, shattering into pieces as her breath stuttered.

"Stay. Just stay..." he was barely aware of what he was saying, his eyes frantically searching hers. She had to stay. He would do anything to keep her here. Anything.

"I am still owing you that flight," he told her. She hadn't let him take her flying yet. They had snuck away in the library...in the rooftop garden...in her office. But he had never gotten to take her flying. He had never gotten to take her out into Velaris. They had never had a date at a fancy restaurant, had never gone to see the symphony. There were thousands of things that he hadn't yet gotten to do with his mate, because they had all the time in the world.

Irena just stared at him, her eyes pleading, as her heartbeat slowed, fluttering weaker and weaker. Azriel felt a sharp pain in his chest as fear clawed at his spine. "Just hold on a little longer, love," he whispered. "Please."

And then there Madja. Thank the cauldron. There she was.

Azriel could barely manage to let go of her, his mind consumed with the singular thought of Irena's laboured, erratic heartbeat as he moved back. Madja immediately set to work.

He lunged for her head, lunged to pull it on his lap, to touch her with blood slick fingertips, her normally rosy red lips pale, her skin even whiter than usual.

"Hurts," she whispered, as Madja set to work, barking orders.

"I know, I know, love," he whispered, touching her cheek with his fingertips as Madja got to work.

His eyes searched hers as he murmured those words over and over, as if he could somehow hold her in this world through sheer force of will alone.

"We haven't had enough time," he whispered desperately, leaning his forehead against hers.

She was slipping away. He could feel it. Feel her slipping, feel her heartbeat slow. Feel the thread that tethered her to this world fray, fray, fray...

No. He couldn't lose her. Would not let her leave him. He had waited far too long for her. Far, far too long to let her slip through his fingers.

"Stay with me," he pleaded. "Please stay with me."

But her eyes were slipping shut, her head lolling to the side. He gently patted her cheek, trying to urge her back to consciousness, but he didn't think he was even really aware of what he was doing, where he was. The world had boiled down to a desperate litany, in his head. Stay...stay...please...don't you dare...

“I am going to be so furious with you if you die. We may have our first fight,” he told her fiercely.

He needed her to know that he would be there to be furious with her if she dared to die, that she couldn't die. Couldn't. That she had to stay. Had to keep fighting. There were too many things ahead of them...a wedding to plan, children to have, years and years of life to live.

“Az,” she breathed his name, her eyes not even open anymore.

“Open your eyes, Irena,” he demanded. “Look at me, love,”

Her eyes finally fluttered open at his command. It was barely more than a slither of brown, but he latched onto it, taking it for what it was. A chance. A moment to get through to her.

He wasn't sure what he was saying, but the words spilled forth from him, a litany, a desperate prayer. "Please," he breathed, "don't go...don't you dare..."

He was dimly aware that the others had gathered, but he didn't dare look away. Didn't dare look away from her as he cradled her head, trying to pour all of his prayers into those words. All of his hope and desperation.

"You can't go." A statement. An order. An absolute certainty in his voice. "I will not let you go."

He wouldn't. Would never, ever let her go. Would drag her back from the Cauldron's grasp with bloodied and broken hands if thats what had to be.

She didn't speak. Didn't need to. He could read her answer in her eyes, the determination in those brown eyes as she tried so, so hard to stay.

It was as if she were holding on for him, because he had asked her to. Because it was him there with her. Like she would fight until her last breath because he told her too. He didn't deserve this beautiful creature, who was willing to fight for him, willing to live for him.

It was something primal, something desperate, something fierce as he whispered those words over and over, like a prayer. "Fight. Fight. Fight."

And she listened. She did. He could feel her hold on, just barely grasp hold of that tether that kept her in this world. Just barely keep her eyes open.

Just look at him.

And she did, those dark eyes unfocused but open, staring up at him, watching him. Trying so, so hard. It nearly made his heart stop in the most terrible way that she was struggling for him.

And he was so proud of her. Of the way she was fighting like she was. Of the way she was grasping, hanging on to life like she was.

The seconds stretched too thin, feeling like eternities and only the slightest of moments. But her eyes were open, if only barely. She hadn't given up. Hadn't let go.

He was dimly aware of the others, Gwyn hovering with a worried expression, Madja murmuring quiet instructions to the others, Rhys kneeling not far away. But he barely glanced at them, barely dared to take his eyes off Irena.

He was certain that if he looked away, if he let this tenuous thread sever, that she would die. That as long as he kept her here, she wouldn't slip, wouldn't let go.

He had one hand on her cheek, her skin still clammy and pale, as her eyes slipped open and shut. But everytime, they would find his face. His eyes, like he was the only thing tethering her to the world. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her barely holding on, only that last sliver of determination keeping her here.

"Please," he pleaded, whispering those words like a prayer, like he would be praying to a vengeful god. Those moments felt like eternities, stretching on and on with only his desperate whispers. "Please..."

The world felt so still, so silent as if the world was holding its breath. Azriel's eyes locked on Irena, silently begging her, asking her to please, please...

Live, live live... he whispered those words over and over, a desperate plea to the Mother, the Cauldron, to anyone who would listen. To Irena, the only person in the entire world who truly mattered in that moment.

Her eyes were growing glassy, slipping closed only to jerk open again. Stay he demanded. Keep looking at me. Please.

She tried. Mother, she tried. Her eyes drifted to him, the smallest hint of life, of a spark there in those dark brown eyes.

He hardly dared to breathe, hardly dared to move. Afraid that any wrong move could tip her over the edge, could pull her into that chasm of non-existence that she was desperately clinging too.

He felt something pricking at his eyes, felt something in his chest cracking, breaking at the sheer intensity of emotions thrumming through him. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her like this, so pale, barely holding on, barely conscious...

“Alright,” Madja said quietly. “Good girl. You were so very brave.”

"Will...will she be alright?" He asked, voice hoarse.

He didn't let his eyes drift from Irena's face, her half lidded eyes staring at him. It filled him with such an intense pang of relief and fear at the same time. Relief, because she was alive...and fear, because they had been so close to losing her.

"She's not out of the woods yet," Madja warned. "But she'll make it. She lost a lot of blood. It will take some time to get her vitals stable again."

He felt like he could breathe for the first time. It was almost dizzying, the sheer, intense relief that flooded through him. Irena was here. Irena would live. It filled his veins with an almost drug like euphoria, that made him light headed, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

He barely managed to keep that feeling in, the pure euphoria from showing as he smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. "Thank you," he whispered, voice hoarse, eyes finally dragging away from Irena's face to look at Madja. "Just...thank you."

He looked back at Irena, taking in her face. Alive. Still alive. Still here with him, not gone. The tension seeped from his shoulders, a strange sort of exhaustion taking over. As if all the adrenaline that had fueled him, the fear, was slowly draining out of him like water.

“Merrill,” Irena whispered, her voice near silent.

Azriel felt his fingers brush her cheek, just the gentlest touch as he tried to keep it together. It had been too close. Too, too close. He couldn't stop the overwhelming feelings flowing through him of elation and fear as he looked down at her as he looked down at her, alive. Alive and breathing and whispering soft words. "Shhh," he whispered softly. "Save your strength. Don't strain yourself."

He looked up finding Cassians gaze who just shook his head. Merrill was dead.

Azriel couldn't quite process that information, not in that moment. His eyes were still drawn to Irena, still unable to take his eyes off of her for more than a moment. His fingers brushed her cheek again, just the faintest touch as he pressed a small kiss to her forehead. "Rest," he instructed softly. "I'll be right there.” He promised.

“Being here to her room,” Madja said quietly.

“My room,” he corrected.

The priestesses dormitory was locked from males. If he even tried to get in there it would’ve end well for him. And he wouldn’t leave her side.

“Your room?” Gwyn asked sharply.

“Gwyn,” Rhys said quietly.Azriel didn't even acknowledge Gwyn's words, didn't have the energy. All he could focus on was the way Irena's eyes had drifted shut, the steady rise and fall of her chest. She would be alright. She was going to be alright. She was alive. Right now, in that moment, thats all that mattered.

“Az, how long have the two of you…” Cassian asked hesitantly.

Azriel just shrugged, his hand resting on Irena's hair, smoothing back from her face. “Two years. She’s my mate,” he said flatly as he gathered her up. 

“Mate,” she rasped. “Mine.”

“Yours,” he agreed softly.

[ismaasmb]

Unpopular opinion(?)

I liked the new weapons the turtles used in Rise way more than the legacy weapons.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun seeing them use the weapons they’re all traditionally known for using throughout the rest of the franchise.

But having them all use brand new weapons made specifically for this iteration was such a breath of fresh air. And they’re all so cool. Like actually incorporating Donatello’s technical ingenuity into his staff was such a clever and fresh idea for this character who has always been known as the machines guy. It just makes sense. You know what doesn’t make sense? Him going back to using a wooden stick. Why?

[vilapollo-arts]

dressing up for the enemy

pairing: Sylus x gn!reader

tags: mdni, overstimulation, facefuck, blowjob, consensual nonconsent (mc uses the word "no" and begs him to stop during sex but not their safeword), aftercare, possessive Sylus, (slightly) drunk sex, Sylus uses his Evol during sex, not edited

a/n: you can find the full censored version of the illustration on my twitter @/vilapollo_arts!! Please consider following the account. I'll be releasing uncensored versions of Xavier's and Sylus' NSFW artworks once I reach my goal of 100 followers! And with that, I hope you guys enjoy this fic!!

It takes a lot of patience on Sylus’ part before you even start to get under his nerves. Most of the time, when you do, he bends you over any surface near the both of you and fucks you into oblivion. It mostly happens when the both of you are alone. However, this time, you decide to test the limits.

Sylus was invited to a private party which he asked you to come. Of course, he didn’t invite you just to be a beautiful display by his side. You have a target in that guest list and you need them to acquire some information. It’s as simple as that, so you decide that this is also the perfect time for you to also play around. Of course, Sylus only knows the first part of your plans tonight. You needed his connections for that.

You decide to buy a new outfit for this particular party. It’s not often that you splurge on clothing, but then again, Sylus pays for it anyway. You can blend in with the other party goers and definitely attract two of your targets–the person you need your information from and Sylus himself. The best part is that the type of clothing you bought will definitely rile Sylus up, knowing that you have you other ways to extract information from other people.

You tell Sylus that you’re coming from Linkon straight to the party, telling him that it’s best if the two of you arrive separately so that you won’t scare your target off. You want to surprise the man when he sees the outfit you bought yourself for this party. Sylus instead sends a car over to your place to pick you up and send you to the place of the event.

You decide not to bring your weapons with you. After all, you have Sylus to back you up. If you get into trouble, you trust that that man will not let you be harmed.

You arrive at the hotel where the party will be held. You inform the front desk what you were there for. Showing her your copy of the invitation. The lady nods as you and calls for a bodyguard, someone that doesn’t seem to have the same uniform as the usual guards patrolling the hotel. The man escorts you to where the party will be held, which is at the hotel’s sky deck.

Sylus meets you right at the entrance, taking you from the bodyguard’s hands. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes say it all. You directly meet his eyes as he brings you to an area with less people.

He leans over towards you. “You really outdid yourself with the…preparations you need for today,” he says.

You tilt your head to the side and smile. “Of course,” you reply as you spin around to show him the back. “Business at the front, part at the back. Like it?” you ask, looking up at him over your shoulder.

Sylus chuckles. “You know I prefer it when you don’t have anything at all,” he says, tracing his fingertips on your back. “Perhaps, after your mission, I can take you in my room and help you wash the blood off of you?”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest as you fully face him. “Don’t worry about that. No blood will be shed tonight,” you say. “At least, not by me,” you continue in your head.

“That’s a little disappointing, but I guess that’s one less problem to worry about,” he replies. “I’ll leave you to go do your thing now then. I do have other matters to take care off as well.” He almost leans down to press a kiss on your forehead, but one of the guests suddenly comes over. He takes a step back and gently picks up your hand. “It was nice meeting you, sweetie.” He winks as he presses a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “It was nice meeting you too,” you reply.

Sylus’ hand lingers before he finally lets go of you and walks away. Once he blends in with the other guests, you put your mask on and walk towards the crowd as well. You look around among the mingling crowd and spot him at the bar, talking to someone. You decide to saunter over to the bar. As soon as you take your seat right beside them, you feel the two men eye you up and down. Well, if your clothes were enough to rile up the leader of the Onychinus, of course it will also catch the attention of other people.

Your plan is to make him come to you first, which is not really a hard task considering he shooed away the person he was talking to and turns to you.

“Good evening,” he greets, inching his seat closer towards you.

You smile back. “Good evening,” you say sweetly.

“Henry,” he introduces himself and offers his hand for a handshake.

You shake his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?” he asks.

“Aren’t you going to buy me a drink first?” you ask, reaching your hand out and pressing your hand on his knee.

He smirks, amused. “One drink for them please. Put it on my tab,” he tells the bartender. He turned towards you with a wink. “Well, there you go. Aren’t you going to tell me your name now?”

You smile as you take the drink from the bartender. You take a sip and nod in satisfaction. You turn back to him and introduce your fake name.

“Are you here with someone? I doubt someone as eye-catching as you would come here all alone,” he says.

“I could say the same thing about you,” you reply, leaning forward closer to him. “No one will come and suddenly drag me out of here in a body bag, won’t they?”

From the corner of your eyes, you can see a familiar figure standing a few feet away, staring at the two of you menacingly.

Sylus’ fingers twitches. Without even using his Evol, his piercing gaze alone is enough to probably kill the man. Still, he wouldn’t want to get in the way of your mission. Perhaps once you’re done with him, he’ll send over the twins to take care of him. He’s not usually a jealous man, but he sees the way this man is putting his arm around your waist currently. It doesn’t help that he sees you glance over your shoulder and meet your gaze as if challenging him.

He huffs out a laugh, pressing his tongue against the inside of his right cheek. He downs the whiskey in his hand and places it down on the table before forcing himself to look away.

Throughout the party, you're glued right beside that man. Sylus, on the other hand, tries to ignore you. And it frustrates you because it seems like he doesn't really care that another man is parading you around as if they own you. Despite being disappointed and mad that Sylus isn't giving any attention towards you tonight, you still focus on feeding Henry’s ego so he would eventually spill the information you need from him. And you get to deal with Sylus right after. Or maybe, you will have to pour your frustrations on this man before going back to Sylus.

Unbeknownst to you, Sylus has actually been keeping an eye on you. Even though he’s trying to do his own thing, he still makes sure that you don't leave his periphery for more than 2 seconds. And he’s getting quite concerned with how quickly you're downing your drinks. You still remain the same composure as you had before but Sylus can see how you're starting to slow your movements and even letting the man get more and more handsy towards you. All of that, he’s able to hold himself back. All he could think about is breaking the man’s fingers and skinning his arms so he gets to be reminded to not touch what isn’t his next time. However, he composed himself.

What his breaking point is when the two of you start to leave the area with you pulling him back into the hotel. He rises to his seat and contacts Kieran and Luke to ask for information about the man’s room. Not a minute later and he receives the information that he needs. He knows that you can still handle yourself, considering how you seem to be the one pulling the man behind you. However, it still took a lot of him to not to immediately follow the two of you.

He leaves the party and follows the two of you after five more minutes and heads to the room that the twins have told him.

He arrives at the guest’s suite. He uses his Evol to unlock the door and lets himself in. There's no one to greet him at the door or the living area. He can hear his own heartbeat in his ears because that means the two of you are in the bedroom. A part of him knows that you can handle yourself, but at the same time, he knows that with your current state, you’re still you may still be taken advantage of.

He immediately heads towards the bedroom, slamming the door open.

As soon as he opens the door, he’s greeted by your figure straddling your unconscious target on the bed. You jump at the sound of the door opening, so you immediately lift your gun to the direction of the door, directly at Sylus.

Sylus is unfazed by the gun. He leans against the wall and throws a smirk your way. “If that man wasn't already unconscious, I would've sucked the light out of his eyes and I would’ve deeply enjoyed watching him go limp,” he says.

You lower your gun as soon as you hear his voice. You throw your legs over the body underneath you and hop off of the bed.

“You got what you needed, kitten?” Sylus asks, watching you sway as you walk towards him.

He slowly snakes his arm around your waist and lets you lean against him for support. “No,” you sigh.

Sylus furrows his brows. “What? Was he not the one holding the information you needed?” he asks, brushing away stray hair from your face. You don’t respond right away, so Sylus speaks again, “That’s alright, sweetie. Let me take you upstairs to my room first. You need your rest first.”

“No,” you protest, struggling to look up at him. Your face breaks into a smile in that same second. “What I mean is,” you wrap the end of his tie around your hand and pull him down towards your face, “you.” You then glare at him. “You weren’t paying attention to me all night. You don’t like my outfit?” you ask.

Sylus raises his eyebrow. “For a trained Hunter, I’m kind of worried that you haven’t noticed my attention being on you all night, sweetie,” he says, tightening his hold on you. He looks back at the unconscious man on the bed. “You didn’t notice how much I want to snatch you away from that man and show who actually owns you, kitten?”

You swallow. You don’t know what he actually means by that. However, all you mind could think of is the most unholy things Sylus could have done to you at the party, right in front of everyone. Your legs, which are already feeling like wet noodles, now feel much weaker. If Sylus’ arm isn’t currently around you, you would’ve already collapsed on the floor.

Sylus seems to notice this. Suddenly, he sweeps your legs over the floor, carrying you bridal style. The corner of his lips curve upwards. You yelp and immediately wrap your arms around his neck. “Let’s get you out of here. I’ll let the twins take care of the garbage.”

As he brings you to his own suite, you can’t help but start to feel the insides of your thighs become moist. Your whole body is heating up. The way he’s carrying you as if you weigh nothing at all definitely doesn’t help the thoughts entering your mind.

The elevator is empty when the two of you enter. “Here, let me put you down first,” he says before gently letting you stand on your own two feet. He pulls out his room card and presses it up against the sensor to activate the elevator before pressing a button. As soon as the doors close, Sylus suddenly turns to you and picks you up under your thighs before pinning you against the elevator’s wall.

“Sylus!” you gasp as his hands start roaming on your skin. His touches are rough and possessive, squeezing your arms, waist, and thighs. He buries his face on your neck, his tongue tracing the path from your jaw to your collarbone. He bites down on the area where your neck and shoulders meet. Your whole body shudders.

“You riled me up all night, kitten,” he whispers, voice heavy with lust and possessiveness. “I can’t help but think that you definitely did it on purpose.”

You throw your head back against the wall as Sylus’ fingers travel up your chest and start playing with your nipples, flicking and squeezing them through the fabric of your clothes. The world around you is blurry. All you can feel are his tongue and hands on your skin. You don’t even realize yourself wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding against the tent forming on his pants. You can feel his thickness from just rubbing yourself against him. And all you could think of is him manhandling you as he’s fucking you.

“Please, Sylus,” you whimper, your fingers running through his well-kept hair and gripping them in between your fingers.

Suddenly, Sylus pulls away from you with a smirk on his face. “We’re almost at our floor,” he says. He puts you down and fixes your clothes for you.

The elevator dings and the doors open. He ignores the pleading expression on your face and sweeps you off of the floor once again and into his arms. He walks towards the only set of double doors on this floor. Inside was a luxurious suite, much bigger than the suite you came from. However, you can’t really focus on the grandness of it right now considering that you’re drunk and really, really, really horny.

You swallow as Sylus brings you to what you guess is the bedroom.

“Stop squirming,” Sylus tells you, looking down at you with an amused expression plastered on his face. You can’t help but think that this man has some kind of trick up his sleeve.

As you enter the room, Sylus puts you down on the king-sized bed. He loosens his tie and takes off his suit. You can’t help but bite your lower lip as you watch the muscles on his body move. He hovers over you, planting his hand against the headboard and the other right beside your head. He holds your eyes with his intense gaze. His eyes travel down your body, stopping at your squirming thighs.

He looks back to your eyes and smirks. “I know you, kitten,” he whispers. His breath has a hint of alcohol in it. It feels like he must’ve drank a little more than usual tonight as well. “You don't usually have the need to use that pretty face of yours on your missions. You're smarter than that. Usually, you only use all of this,” he lifts his hand from your side and traces his fingers on your cheeks down to your lips, “when you need something from….me.”

His thumb traces your lower lips. You take his finger between your lips and sucks it lightly, keeping eye contact with him. “And what if I did?” you ask. “What are you going to do about it now that another man has laid their hands on me?”

Sylus’ jaw tenses. He lets out a deep breath with a chuckle. “I already have that man dealt with. The only thing I only have to deal with is you.” He takes his thumb out of your mouth and lightly slap your cheek but still hard enough for you to feel the sting.

He stands back and pulls the chair near the window closer beside the bed. He sits down, legs spread and gestures for you to come to him. “Get up and show me who you’re actually supposed to worship.”

Without waiting for a second, you stand up and are about to approach him but then, a black smoke comes out of nowhere. Before you realize that it's actually his Evol, the smoke pushes you down on your hands and knees.

Your palms and knees sting from the impact, but the pain is actually welcome. If anything, it only adds to the arousal already present between your legs. You crawl towards him, looking up at him through your lashes. When you reach him, you try to lift your hand but the black smoke keeps your palms planted on the ground.

“Keep your hands and knees where they belong,” he says, looking down at you.

You obey. You lean forward and use your lips and teeth to unbutton and unzip his task, which isn't an easy feat. You keep eye contact with him as you take the hem of his underwear between your teeth and pull it down slowly.

“Oh, fuck,” Sylus curses.

Sylus’cock springs out of his underwear, slapping against your cheek. The tip is already glistening with his own precum.

He chuckles. “I can't get over how my cock is as big as your face.” He holds his cock against your face, rubbing it against you. “Now, take it down your throat like a good little kitten.”

He helps you line his cock to your lips and you immediately take his head in your mouth. Your tongue circles around the tip and you moan as soon as you get a sweet taste of his arousal. It’s just his precum and yet it’s already so thick. You can't help but wonder how much he is going to make you swallow. Inch by inch, you take him in your mouth.

Sylus above you watches as his shaft disappears into your mouth. He places his hand behind your head and guides your head forward, pushing his cock further in your throat. He grits his teeth, stopping himself from shoving his cock down your throat. He knows that's what you also want, but he first needs your spit all over his cock so he can fuck your mouth mercilessly without stopping.

You look up at Sylus and his head is leaned back against the wall. The tip of your nose soon touches his stomach. You can feel your throat being spread wide open by his girth. On the other hand, Sylus bites down a string of curses as he feels your throat tighten around his shaft.

He loosens his grip on the back of your head and you pull back, leaving only the head of his cock inside before swallowing it whole once again. You start bobbing your head along his shaft. Without the help of your hand, you do your best to make sure that you swallow the entirety of his cock every time while meeting Sylus’ eyes at the same time.

And Sylus loves it. He loves the way your cheeks become hollow as you suck on his cock. He loves the way you gag occasionally when you accidentally hit the back of your throat with his cock. He loves the heavy breaths you're taking through your nose. Most importantly, he loves how you're shaking your ass in the air as if imagining that he’s fucking you from behind.

Oh, he will give you just that, but for now, he has to fuck your face first.

He grabs the sides of your head with both hands, stopping your movements. And without any warning, he starts fucking your face.

Sylus watches as your eyes roll back as you take his cock in your mouth. Spit starts to bubble at the corners of your lips as he pumps his cock into you.

Sylus’ Evol disappears around your wrist but you don't move. You know that he removed them so you could tap him whenever you needed to breathe or if he became a little too rough.

But you know you can still take it.

Your face is immediately a mess. Your own drool slips down your chin and down your neck. Sylus starts to move your head to meet his thrusts. You ball your hands into fists when Sylus fully buries his cock in your mouth and keeps your face pressed against his stomach.

He doesn't move, keeping your head down. Your eyes start to roll and you attempt to pull your head back but his hands won't budge.

“You know what you should do, kitten,” he says, voice raspy. Even he is out of breath.

You let him hold you like that for a few more seconds before you began frantically tapping his thighs. Sylus immediately lets you go.

You pull your head back, gasping for air. Your tears start to roll down your cheeks, mixing in with the mess of your saliva.

Sylus cups your entire jaw with one hand. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this,” he mumbles before slapping your cheek. His eyes travel down to your thighs and he smirks. “You like that don't you? You like choking on my cock, kitten?” he asks.

You bite your lower lip as you smile up at him, either alcohol drunk or cock drunk, maybe both. “Uh-huh,” you reply.

“Such a good kitten. Open your mouth for me.” You obey, opening your mouth with your tongue out. Sylus spits into your mouth and you happily swallow it down.

He then wraps his hand around your neck. “Stand up,” he orders. He tightens his fingers on the sides of your neck as you stand up. He pushes you backwards, towards the bed. And when the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed, Sylus throws you down.

He climbs on top of you, He takes the fabric of your clothes in his hands and rips it apart. He chuckles at the gasp that you let out. He wraps both of your legs around his waist before pinning both of your hands on your sides.

Sylus keeps his eye contact with you as he slowly moves his hips forward, lining his cock to your hole. His cock easily penetrates your entrance. Your jaw drops as your back arches. You close your eyes, sighing as Sylus' cock pushes against your insides.

But then, Sylus pulls out and buries his cock inside of you in one thrust, pushing a scream out of your throat.

“Keep your eyes on me, kitten,” he demands, pressing his whole body forward, folding your whole body in half, pushing his cock deeper into you.

You cry out and immediately open your eyes, meeting Sylus’ dark gaze. “I’m sorry,” you whimper.

He smirks. “I forgive you for that, kitten. However, you still have something to be sorry for.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confusion painting your face. “H-Huh?”

“I know that you set this night up on purpose. Aside from that mission of yours, you also took this opportunity to make me jealous, didn’t you?” He lets go of your other hand and wraps his fingers around your neck once again. He squeezes, harder than his grip earlier. “Didn’t you?” he repeats.

“Y-Yes,” you squeak. “I did.”

“Wearing that gorgeous outfit, purposefully catching the attention of each and every person in the room. You really took a huge risk just to rile me up, huh?” He laughs. “Such a naughty little kitten.” You see the glint in his eyes before your vision is suddenly covered by the black smoke of his Evol. With your vision clouded, you flinch when you suddenly feel Sylus’ breath against your ear. ““Perhaps I should give you a reward for going such lengths just to get on my nerves. Don’t expect me to hold back though, kitten. I’m gonna fuck you the way you want so fucking good that it’s going to feel like a punishment. Cry all you want, let the whole hotel hear that sweet voice of yours, but I’m not gonna stop until that slutty little hole of yours takes the shape of my cock.”

His deep voice feels like it’s caressing your entire body, leaving goosebumps on your body.

“You know your safe words, right?”

You nod.

“I need you to speak up, kitten.”

“Yes, Sir,” you say out loud. “My safe word is crow.”

“Good kitten.” You feel his soft lips against your forehead.

And when his lips pull away, he immediately starts pounding into you.

He isn’t holding back, staying true to his promise, giving you exactly what you want. His thrusts are hard and rough and his hands on your neck, tightening around you. Your head starts to become woozy. Your body feels light and the only feeling you can focus on right now is the way his cock is drilling into your tight hole. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, not that it matters because he has your vision blocked as well.

Your screams do nothing but fuel Sylus’ thrusts. His eyes remain on your face, which has the messiest and most beautiful expression right now, making his cock harder than it already is inside you. He feels like he’s about to burst. As much as he wants to fill your stomach up with his thick cum, he still has to break you.

As his cock keeps on hitting that sensitive spot inside of you, it doesn’t take long for you to reach your first orgasm. Your back arches, pressing up against Sylus’ torso. Sylus grunts above you as he feels your walls suddenly grip onto his cock. However, this doesn’t faze him at all. Despite being in the middle of an orgasm, Sylus keeps on fucking into you. He does remove his hand from your neck though, letting you cry out loud. He moves his hand on one of your legs and brings it from his waist to his shoulder.

He leans over, using his free arm as a support and fucks you deeper. That immediately brings you to your second orgasm.

“Sylus!” you cry out. “It’s too much! Please stop! Oh god! Oh fuck!!”

He slows down a bit, swallowing your screams with a deep kiss. His tongue dominates yours, swirling it around and sucking on your lower lip. “You know your safe word, love. Would you like to use it?” he asks, voice a bit gentler.

You purse your lips and shake your head. “Please keep on fucking me,” you plead. “I want your cock, Sir. Please let me have your cum inside me!”

“That’s right, kitten. I don’t want you to stop begging, you hear me?”

Without waiting for you to answer, he fucks you as rough as he was fucking you earlier. The slapping of skin to skin blends in with your cries. Your whole body feels so sensitive, each pleasure that his cock is sending throughout your body feels like it’s tripled. You don’t know where your hands are going anymore. You’re reaching for any type of anchor you can hold onto.

“I’m gonna cum again!” you cry out. “Sylus, please, it’s too much!!”

“Hold it in,” Sylus orders.

“No, I can’t!” you cry out. “Please…! I can’t cum anymore!”

“Hold it for me or I’ll let you keep coming for the rest of the night,” Sylus warns through gritted teeth.

You bite down on your lips, pulling on the sheets, trying to focus on everything else but the pleasure building up in your nerves. You do your best to relax your entire body, but Sylus starts to suck and bite on your neck. His fingernails are digging into your hips as he grips them in place while he slams his own hips against you.

“Fuck,” he growls. “I’m close. You better fucking come with me, sweetie.”

Your body automatically responds on its own, immediately tensing up as you feel your orgasm start to build up once again. He lets go of your hips before reaching for your head, slipping his hand underneath, and gripping your hair. He presses a deep kiss against your lips. His thrusts begin to stutter before he fully buries himself deep inside you. Your whole body twitches as you come again for the third time, the sensation elevated because of the feeling of Sylus’ cum inside of you.

Sylus pulls away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. You breathe each others’ air as the two of you come down from your high. He lets go of your hair and begins to caress your cheek. He straightens himself and slowly pulls out. He sucks in a breath as he watches his own cum ooze out of your hole. He forces himself to snap out of it and get off of the bed to head towards the bathroom.

You whine at the loss of his warmth.

A few seconds later, you can feel his presence once again. You feel a warm damp towel being pressed up against your hole. You realize that Sylus is cleaning you up, wiping your crotch area, stomach, and thighs. You then feel his arms underneath you and he fixes your position on the bed. He disappears once again and comes back with a new clean towel. He wipes your entire body this time. He cleans the makeup off of your face as well. The whole time, you’re in and out of your consciousness.

Sylus disappears one last time. When he comes back, he lays down beside you. He’s entirely naked this time, but smells like soap. He must have taken a quick bath. He gathers your limp form in his arms, basking you in his warmth once again. You feel his fingers caressing your back. You snuggle up against him and he lets you. The last thing you remember that night is the soft humming of your voice and the soft kiss he presses on your forehead.

“You belong only to me, kitten. Remember that.”

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Date Night

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Black!Nurse Reader

Warnings: mdni, mentions of sex, jokes about age.

Main Masterlist

WC: 1.3k

✧༺♥༻∞

Being at the Avengers Compound on your day off used to be weird. Avengers are cool and all, and you’re very appreciative for the chance to be considered ‘part of the team’ even if you only worked in the Medbay. No one wants to hang around their place of work when they don’t need to be. Then you started seeing a certain blue-eyed brunette super soldier.

So here you are walking through the main hallways to the the gym and passing a good amount of agents and techs enjoying their breaks. Then you hear your name being called. You look up from your phone and see Aaliyah, a friend of yours that works in the special equipment department (aka Avengers Weapons Only). You walk up to the cafe where her and some other work mates like to frequent.

“Hey Liyah, I didn’t know you were working today.”

She brings you in for a side hug. “I know, I’m not supposed to be, but Mr. Wilson just had to call me on my day off about fixing redwing.” Her cool demeanor shudders as the Falcon’s name coasts out of her lips.

You smirk. “I think he would prefer if you just called him Sam or your boyfriend. Your pick.”

She covers her face and shakes her head. “How about we talk about why you’re here on your day off? The Medbay is about 6 floors up and on the other side of campus.”

“Hey, I’m completely fine with saying I’m here for my man.” 

The light cockiness in your voice paints a mischievous grin on her lips. “Oh speaking of your boyfriend, does Barnes know how to use a pc- no a toaster- nope a smartphone?”

“Oh fuck off, is that what yall actually think?” You scoff as a people 10ft away from you shake their heads. “No fucking way, you can’t be serious!”

“Girl half of these people have never even seen him in person and they work in the same building he lives in.” Kyla, another nurse, says from the end of the table.

You roll your eyes and look at Aaliyah. “For real?” She nods her head.

“You know he wasn’t frozen for 70 years straight right? He couldn’t be a spy if he didn’t know how to blend in.” 

“How does he work a phone with the metal arm though?” She asks as someone comes up behind her.

“He has a flip phone, gotta remember he’s an old man.” Sam chuckles as she jolts out of her skin.

“You asshole! I told you to wait downstairs.” He shrugs and throws an arm around her. 

“You said you’d be back by 2:30, now I’m a punctual man baby. I waited a whole 5 minutes before tracking you down.” She buries her face in his chest to hide how he flustered her with the pet name. So cute.

“You should be going too, the old man has not stopped talking about you since we got here. I swear I’m gonna ask for a new mission partner.” You smile then hug them goodbye.

The walk from the break center/ cafeteria to the weapons testing arena and gym is a 5 minute straight shot. It also where you’d more times than not find your boyfriend. In the miniscule chance that he isn’t, you could probably find him in a conference room, with Captain Rogers outside lapping civilians or his suite. The kitchen exactly because those soldiers can eat. 

But the second those sliding doors open to his personal gun range, you see him just like you knew you would. He sat on a stool at a table with his muscular back adorned in a form fitting black henley and black jeans that emphasized his ridiculously thick thighs. His neck length brown hair is tied up in an adorable blue silk scrunchie as he dissembles his favorite rifle to clean it. You lean against the door frame just admiring the man’s beauty for a while more. He most definitely knows your behind him thanks to his enhances senses and experience as a spy, but that would not stop you from-

“Enjoying the view pretty girl?” Exactly, he gets it.

You smile and walk up to him, “absolutely.” You hum hugging his back and tracing your short almond acrylics across his abdomen.

A strong warm hand covers yours as he chuckles, a deep almost gravely laugh that electrifies every cell in your body. “I’ll be done in a couple minutes, then we can go.” 

You watch from over his shoulder the way his hands work in tandem to polish each nook and cranny of the gun. His vibraninum fingers curling around the body of it cause a shiver down your spine as you think about the nights you spend withering in his bed thanks to them. You shake those thoughts away and lay your head on his shoulder.

He brings one of your hands up and places his soft lips to your knuckles. “Fuck you smell so good. I knew you were coming before you hit the door.” He groans extending the kiss to your wrist before placing your hand back on his stomach.

“It’s your favorite, and you haven’t even seen the whole outfit yet.” 

He lets out another one of those heavenly chuckles. “Aw baby, did you get all dressed up for me?” The gun clicks shut and you feel yourself spinning around to face him.

“You like?” He takes your hand and you beam as he spins your once more. 

Since you were just going to a drive in movie, you paired a simple black top with your his favorite pair of dark gray baggy jeans that hug your waist and accentuate your ass just the way he likes. You couldn’t go wrong with some gold jewelry that shines beautifully on your brown skin. The whole look complimented itself.

Your 4c hair on the other hand didn’t want to cooperate this morning, the week old braid out was at its wits end and desperately needs all the mousse and gel washed out of it. So you did what you had to, found a giant hair tie, slicked your edges back and finger coiled a few strands in the front to give the look back some of it’s life. 

He nods biting his lip and looking you up and down. “You look just how you smell: decadent, like one of those death by chocolate cakes you love. And like you want to spend the rest of this weekend in my bed naked.” He smirks.

You hook your arms around his neck, step into the spot between his strong legs. “Well Mr. Barnes, we can’t have that. You promised me dinner and movie and the look’s not complete yet.” 

He raises a brow and dips his face to yours. “Oh yea,” he says huskily. “What could possibly be missing? You already have the body glitter.” The takes an imaginary bite out of your glazed arm. You nod at the leather jacket hanging on the hook by the door and he grins instantly.

“Go walkin’ around in that and everyone will know you’re mine.” He growls, his crystal blues deepening in hue flickering from your eyes to your lips.

“Maybe that’s exactly what I want.” You whisper against his lips tilting your head to connect them to yours.

His soft lips melted into yours perfectly, your hands pull on the hair tie locking away his silky locks and gently pull at them. He groans languidly licking into your mouth and swiftly lifting you into his lap, his hands holding firmly on your ass. Just like that it feels like the first time. Your heart beating heavily against your chest while you learn each other mouths. Tugging at his roots a bit more you nip his bottom lip and smile.

“You love playing with fire love.” 

You cheekily chuckle pulling back, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

He squeezes your cheeks then playfully smacks one inciting a gasp from you. “A dangerous, dangerous game that could cost you your night.”

“Aw but my favorite movie is playing.” Your fake pout morphs itself into a smirk. “Or maybe I wanted to makeout with my hot Brooklyn boyfriend in public without anyone knowing.” He bites his lip as you look at him with siren eyes.

“And people wonder why I can’t stop talking about you, my girl is a damn minx. Fuck it, lets go.” He sighs as you jump off his lap and grab his leather jacket.

While he’s securely putting away his rifle, you look over at him and smirk putting on the jacket. “Thanks daddy.”

His eyes go wide as you walk out the door giggling.

Gotta love date night.

♥*♡∞:｡.｡

AN: I was missing the character that brought me back to my passion, so this was really for me but yall can enjoy it too xox

as always likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated

[dontbesoweirdkira]

If you're taking requests, would you be so kind as to write Yandere mk11 Kuai Liang and Hanzo? Seperately or together, whichever you prefer.

They'd be desperate af I KNOW IT IN MY HEART. Creepy and thirsty for attention n shit.

A/N: yuppoop! I hope you enjoy. I love them both in mk11. Their duo is so cuteeeeee!! I hope you enjoy because I was fully yapping in this. Is it obvious I love hanzo more?

Warnings: Yandere themes and behaviors

Requests: open

Masterlist

We all know what hanzo has been through and how hard he’s been working towards redemption. He’s forgiven enemies and his troubled ways are all a thing of the past now.

Today he’s working towards a new and better life for himself, one without any vengeance or unnecessary violence.

That was all until he met you..

From the moment he laid eyes on you, you set off a fire in him that he thought he burned out years ago.

Your elegance/poise, your sharp witted nature, and your sense of courage are things that caught his attention.

Hanzo had convinced himself that he could never love anyone again, not in the way he loved his wife at least. She was perfect in every single way, the only one of her kind to ever grace this earth.

No one could ever replace or come close to her…except maybe you.

Hanzo can’t help but to be utterly consumed by you and stalk your every move. Being in your general vicinity and studying your interactions pleased him..

You’re so much like her and there's a fire that burns so hard for you, one that is steadily burning out of control.

Old habits and mindsets are starting to creep back into him. While Hanzo is falling in love, a trigger is being set off.

He can’t control his anger and his actions as much anymore. He reacts so impulsively when it comes to you. He’s demanding and desperately overwhelming towards you.

He needs to protect you as he is convinced something bad is surely going to happen to you anytime now. This time though, the outcome will be different if you stay by his side 24/7. As it is much to your dismay to have him constantly be over you, eventually you’ll be worn down. You’ll give into his lies about this purely being a learning opportunity. A chance for you to understand more about his clan and to train under him…nothing more of course.

What a horrible decision on his part.

While Hanzo was happy having you close to him so that he could eventually begin to implement his desires on you, he didn’t realize that his friend, Kuai Liang, would also be taking such a liking for you.

You’re a perfect vessel to test the new cryo system on. You’re very skilled, well disciplined, and lacking no intelligence either…Not to mention what fine beauty you possess…you’ll be everything frost isn’t and so much more.

Quickly Sub-Zero’s investment in you grew. He learned from what went wrong before and will make sure you’ll become fully loyal to him and the Lin kuei. certainly you’ll be his equal and a perfect weapon to compliment him in battle.

Not to mention how even though he was a cold and lonely man, he longed for something to fill a void in him. You're just that. For the first time in his life, he truly felt warmth and just like with Hanzo, you consumed every part of his being.

Kuai Liang is cunning and his obsession is well kept to himself. He’s playing the good cop in this situation so well. Every time Hasashi becomes too strict and overbearing, Kuai swiftly swoops in and makes you feel better.

He pretends to not have interest in you beyond a mentor-like friendship but he’s so damn needy. Your admiration sends him over the edge.

Carefully he sends sweet smiles, gentle touches, gifted gestures and words of encouragement your way just to get some kind of praise from you. Subtly though, so as to not alert Hanzo of any of this. You may not notice it, but Kuai can see just how passionate Hanzo is for you.

Part of him kind of feels bad for going behind his friend like this but he just can’t give up his plans for you. He knows that if Hanzo ever finds out any of this that you’ll be immediately ripped away from him and he can’t have that. He needs you.

The rush he gets from when he pulls you off to the side and your pretty eyes are beaming up at him. ✨Don’t get me started on the superiority complex that he has. He loves to flex off his power and strength to you whenever he can get a chance to. This man lives to upstage Hanzo in small ways to prove that he’d be the better man for you.

Hanzo does this as well but with every other man. The members of his clan must know that they will never outdo him, especially not in front of you~

Like the anon said, yes these mfs are creepy and thirsty for literally anything from you.

Hanzo loovvesss snooping through your things to keep tabs on you and I like to think he also will occasionally take things or leave tokens for you….which is actually how he found out about Kuai’s feelings for you.

Of course, as careful as Sub-Zero has been, there was always room for error. Kuai Liang had messed up by leaving a Lin Kuei patch in your bag with a written note that explained it being a gift from him. That he and the clan would welcome you with open arms whenever you were ready to make the move.

Suddenly, everything clicked for Hanzo. From the “innocent” smiles and the “coincidences” when both you and Kuai Liang would go missing every time he’d become preoccupied…how could he be so damn foolish?!

He trusted Kuai as a friend, someone that he didn’t worry would take you away from him. While once enemies, he thought Sub-Zero proved his alliance with him. But he oh was he wrong …Kuai will beg for mercy for undermining him like this.

A jealousy fueled rage boiled through scorpions blood as he tore through your things. He tried to find more gifts like this from him so he could destroy them all. Scorpion wanted him dead for this..and you???

He’s just as upset with you. Yeah, you weren’t officially together but have you no loyalty? The Shyrai Ryu was the first to show you kindness and you repay him like this? You want to side with them? Fine. But there won’t be a Lin Kuei by the time he’s finished with them and you’d have no choice but to run back to him.

“Hasashi?” Your voice broke his emotional rampage and he slowly turned around to face you. He breathed deeply and heavy and his balled fists were flaming.

You were there standing at your doorway with Kuai Liang. It was obvious that you had just finished training together as your clothes were stiff with ice shards and your nose was a bright, pinched pink. Hatashi’s eyes narrowed at the sight of y’all and his lip lifted with disgust

Noticing the state of Hanzo, Kuai Liang quickly got in front of you, guarding your body.

“Surrender her, Liang. Or I will not shy away from burning you alive.”

“You aren’t worthy enough to have her. Y/N will thrive and be far happier with The Lin Kuei….there I will train her to become my equal.”

“ Why would you want Y/N to be out fighting your wars for you? A true man like me would keep her in the safety of my home while I went out to defend her.”

“Oh yeah? Well how did that work out the first time, Scorpion?”

(😩damn)

Something deep down in you told you to run, the situation wasn’t going to de-escalate anytime soon. Their feud didn’t just start here, this goes back long before you, you were just the match that set them off again. No peace would come your way from choosing a side.

You had no idea where you’d go but you got as far as you possibly could before resting.

‘They probably killed themselves already, right?’

Wrong…little did you know that no one actually won that day. While one was severely more injured than the other, nothing was going to stop either party from getting their hands on you.

They both yearned for you and grieved the plans that they had made for you.

Whoever finds you first will have the honor to be the one to mold and brainwash you into being their perfect little companion. Oh and don’t think you’ll have any kind of say in this because they don’t care. Death itself will have to forcibly hold them down before they will ever let you leave them again.

[g0blintears]

Dark Devotion [Yandere! Dead By Daylight x Reader]

Summary: You are a mystery to both the survivors and killers within the fog. A servant of darkness, a creature created by the entity itself, you are the shadow behind the scenes that provides the survivors with the necessities they need to survive, while also assisting killers with the weapons they need to sacrifice. You are a servant void of humanity, but not one that seeks out despair. An empty slate that perhaps just needs to be taught a little bit of hope and empathy to help the survivors escape once and for all.

Four. Bitter Murmur

Placing the new box of knives out on the counter, you gazed down at the magenta colored blades, inspecting the new weapon as they shined under the dull cabin lights. It hadn’t been long since you left the entity realm to retrieve these new accessories. Since it was difficult to travel, the entity would often send you off to one of the many different worlds to get new clothes and items for both the survivors and killers to use. 

You couldn’t quite understand why it was necessary to get these meaningless items. Apparently all of the clothes you’ve retrieved held some sort of significance to both the killers and survivors from their past lives. You couldn't see the value in those things. Sure, some were curious such as one of the survivor’s blue, white, and red sailor outfit with the ‘scoops ahoy’ logo, or one of the killer’s bunny masks that was worn down and burnt. However, you couldn’t see why those clothes would fuel either side with determination.

You didn’t question it though. You simply took what you were asked to take and stock those items in the store.

Picking up a new throwing knife, you carefully wiped down the blade before placing it gently on the velvet cushion display. As you did so, your eyes peered over to the entrance of the store. 

Swinging open the door, Ji-Woon stood at the entrance of the cabin in curiosity. His eyes wandered over the cramped cabin, from the creaking, wooden floorboards to all the odd trinkets that were set out on display. He scoured the store with a scrutinizing gaze until his sharp golden hues finally landed on you.

“Greetings, Trickster.” You welcomed him. Placing a blade down, you looked over at him with a pointed stare. “Is there something you need?”

The male looked at you with a single raised brow, but after a moment he chuckled and waved a hand dismissively at you.

“Just looking around. Go back to what you’re doing.”

You gave a curt nod and turned back to the knives display.

While you cleaned, Ji-Woon looked around the make-shift store. His eyes went from the other killer’s weapons and outfits. He grimaced at all that was displayed. They were all so tasteless. Tacky. Nothing that would suit his style. In fact, everything in this realm didn’t suit him. 

When Ji-Woon first agreed to coming to the entity realm, he thought he’d be living his same old lavish lifestyle, except with the freedom to as many victims as he pleased. Unfortunately, that wasn’t quite the case. Sure, he was happy with the endless amount of freedom to kill, but he wasn’t told that he would have to wait. In fact, he didn’t even know there were others like him. Killers. Whether they were there on their own free will or against their will, they were all killers, and Ji-Woon realized that he wasn’t as special as he had hoped. 

Although he hadn’t been special in getting this kind of opportunity, he was special in a different category.

Style.

While all the other killers kept to themselves, Ji-Woon preferred a more spontaneous style. Be it his looks, attitude, or brutality in the trials, he was different. So when he heard that there was a store in the realm, something more to set him apart from the others, he immediately wanted to check it out. 

All of the outfits and accessories though, none of them caught his interest. Chainsaws were too unruly. Kitchen knives were too bland. And masks? Why would he want to hide his handsome face? Nothing in the store would suit him.

Or at least he thought, until his gaze finally landed on a section of the store where you stood. Sauntering over, Ji-Woon smiled as though he had just found his long lost love.

“Hello gorgeous.” He hummed, picking up the black bat with purple stripes and gold accents on the spikes of the bat. Giving the bat a few good swings, the male laughed to himself, imagining hitting those survivors with a powerful blow. “Ahh, I haven’t seen you in so long! But back then you were merely a prop for a music video, but now…” Ji-Woon turned around one of the mannequin displays. Putting as much force in, he blew the head right off the mannequin. 

“Now you’re perfect!” 

Turning around, Ji-Woon walked over to where you stood. His eyes glanced at you for a brief moment before his focus was solely on the displays behind you. All of them from old concerts, runway shows, and music videos he had been part of. It was all him.

The male hummed to himself, not caring if he were taking up any of your personal space. He simply grazed his fingers over the outfits while squishing you between him and the corner. Usually he wouldn’t be so chummy with strangers, however, he was in a good mood, and being the generous person he was, he wanted to make your day as well by letting you be in his presence. After all, he was The Trickster. 

Rummaging through the racks, Ji-Woon set a few outfits on his forearm all while you stood in place, still and silent.

You weren’t quite sure what to do. You’ve never been so close to anyone before. Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. You’ve only ever been close to two individuals, and they only ever been so because they wanted to kill you.

It was odd though. The trickster wasn’t trying to kill you. Unlike the times where the two killers would press you up against the wall, knife in hand and trying to tear at your skin, the trickster being so close was different from that. You could feel his body heat, smell his scent- a mix of mint and blood, and see every detail of his features. It was peculiar. 

You stared up at him with focused [eye color] eyes.

He reminded you of an insect.

“Hey.” Ji-Woon began, his eyes not once leaving the outfit display, “Take this back to my cabin.” He ordered, his arm stretched out to show the black and gold bat. 

You glanced down at the very rare item. You already knew it was too pricey for him to get, but still, you continued to look directly at him and ask:

“Would you like to purchase these using your iridescent shards or conjure using auric cells?”

“The shards.”

“I’m sorry, you can not afford this using the shards.”

Ji-Woon sighed, “Then use the auric cells.”

“I’m sorry, you can not afford this using the auric cells.”

This time, he did look at you. The once happy smile that tugged on his lips was long gone and what followed was an annoyed grimace. It only showed for a moment though. In a blink of an eyes, Ji-Woon was back to smiling his Cheshire grin, however, those eyes of his looked as steely and sharp as ever.

The idol chuckled. His chest rumbled as his deep laugh echoed from deep within himself. Ji-Woon continued to stare you down. Were you purposefully trying to sour his mood? Why would you bother to ask him how he would like to pay if you knew he didn’t have enough? In fact, why did he need to pay for these items when they were already his to begin with? 

Picking up one of the knives on display, the idol flawlessly twirled the blade between his fingers. Within an instant, he has the sharp edges of the knife pressed harshly against your throat. 

“Now, why are you toying with me like this, huh?” Ji-Woon tilted his head with a click of his tongue. “And here I thought you were nothing more than an obedient pet, but it seems you have a wicked sense of humor. How troublesome.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the idol placed his free hand up to your face and pressed a sole finger to your lips.

“Shh, I don’t want to hear it.”

So you closed your mouth, your eyes watching as the Trickster studied you. 

His gaze moved from your eyes to your lips, his mind memorizing your features from each curve and freckle that adorned your face. You weren’t bad on the eye, he’ll give you that much. However, something was off about you. His fingers subconsciously moved from your lips to your chin, his hand tilted your head up so he could get a better look at your eyes. Those eyes. The way you stared at him as though you weren’t even in your own body…it caught him off guard.

Anyone who met Ji-Woon Hak was instantly attracted to him. They all looked at him with glimmering eyes and slacked open jaws, as though he were a literal god amongst men. Starstruck. Everyone always looked starstruck upon meeting Ji-Woon Hak. 

Thus making them easy prey.

Anytime he played as the charming idol, people loved him. They adored him. No one could resist him. Even the most uptight, egotistical civilians couldn’t stop themselves from staring at him in awe. 

So why. 

Why were you looking at him as though he were nothing. 

“What are you exactly?” He muttered, though he wasn’t exactly asking you directly, his gaze seemed lost in thought as he stared into those deep pools of [eye color] that sucked him in like quicksand. There was something about you that unsettled him, and he wasn’t sure what that was.

There was a moment of silence, before you spoke. 

“I’m the servant to the entity.” You responded, though that wasn’t quite the answer the idol was looking for, it was enough to snap him out of his stupor. 

“I see.” He muttered. His hand then let go of your face and the other hand holding the knife to your throat fell to his side. Taking a step back, Ji-Woon covered the bottom half of his face with his hand, hiding the relieved smile that curled on his lips. You were nothing but a mere servant. Those words seemed to snap him back to reality. Your existence? It’s meaningless to someone like him. Why should he worry himself on you when you weren’t someone on the same level as him!

He hummed at the thought. Of course, just another servant.

“A servant, you say?” The male chuckled. “If you serve the entity as you say, then your existence is meaningless, right?” His golden hues flickered over to you, his eyes searching for a reaction. “I mean, if I were to bring this knife to your throat, she’ll just make a replacement, correct? After all, servants are just beings beneath their masters. Easy replacement.” 

Bringing up the knife once more, he showed you his star dazzling smile.

“Since you’ve blatantly disrespected me, I should only show you your place, right?”

Your eyes stared into his wild golden orbs, those cat-like pupils stared at you with feral, murderous intent. Although you weren’t sure when you disrespected him, everything he said wasn’t a lie.

“That is correct.”

He grinned.

“Under the circumstances that I am killable that is. However, I’ve been given the form where I can’t be harmed.” You replied, much to his surprise. 

Unkillable you say? Well, whether what you said was true or not, he just wanted to punish you. He wanted to hear you scream. Ji-Woon took another step closer. With the knife twirled between his fingers, the idol gazed at you mischievously. 

“Really? May I test that then?”

You lowered your head in a bow, “You may do as you wish, as long as you don’t go against the entity or her rules.”

Ji-Woon smirked, “Perfect.”

Before he could raise the knife over his head, the cabin’s door swung upon. 

“Oh hey, there you are!” 

A young woman with mid-length magenta hair walked in. She wore a long, black hooded jacket that reached a little below her waist, and a red stained plaid skirt over some black tights. If you ask anyone else, most would think she was a survivor that somehow crossed the border and got lost on the killer's side of the camp. However, upon looking at her face, those who would mistake her for a survivor would be met with one of the masks of Ormond’s most infamous group of serial killers. 

The Legion.

Although the two couldn’t see it, the woman was eyeing the idol warily as she spoke.

“I need your help. Danny and Frank are fighting again.” 

You gave a curt nod. “I’ll be right there.” You responded, before turning your attention back to the trickster, “I apologize, but it seems that I have to cut this conversation short.” You bowed once more, “I also apologize for disrespecting you. I wasn’t aware that what I said or did could be seen as rude. I will learn from this interaction and make sure it never happens again.”

Although your words seemed sincere, the tone of your voice was anything but profound. Ji-Woon could feel his anger rise and a sneer wanting to crack his charming smile. He didn’t want an apology, he wanted to see you suffer. Something about you just irritated him. He wanted to see you cry. To scream with tears running down your clear [skin tone] cheeks. 

However, it looked as though it would have to wait. 

Taking in a deep breath, the male let out a loose chuckle. “Of course. A servant must attend to their duties.” 

Standing up straight, you could feel Ji-Woon’s eyes follow you like a wolf to a rabbit as you wandered over to the masked woman’s side. 

Behind her mask, Susie stared down at the idol with glare. Placing a hand on the small of your back, she proceeded to guide you to the door. But before the two of you could leave, Ji-Woon spoke. 

“Oh, and servant? I do hope to continue with where we left off. I’d love to test out your immortality.” He spoke slyly, sending a shiver down Susie’s spine.

You could only give a curt nod, moving as the pink haired legion member quickly ushered you out the door and down the pebbled path until the two of you were a good distance away from the cabin. Once out of earshot, Susie was quick to let out an angry groan and lift up her mask, revealing her dark, sky blue eyes that swirled like an angry hurricane, and pale pink lips that turned downwards into a scowl. 

“Man, that guy is a jerk! And I thought Frank had a big ego.” She huffed out, “Who does he think he is? He just got here and he’s acting like he can do whatever he wants! The nerve!” She exclaimed. “Agh!” She scratched her head, mumbling incoherent swears to herself.

After a moment of brief pause, Susie quickly turned to you with furrowed brows of concern. “Are you okay though? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

You shook your head, “No.”

Susie smiled in relief, “That’s good. I heard the commotion walking by and I thought you needed saving.”

“I can’t be harmed so I wouldn’t need saving.”

The woman could only roll her eyes at your words, “I know, I know, but still.” She fiddled with her sleeves and looked away with a blush coating her cheeks. “I hate when the others give you a hard time. You’re too cool.”

You looked at her curiously, “Cool?”

As in, temperature wise? You brought a hand to your forehead, feeling the smoothness of your skin. You didn’t particularly feel cold. Also, how could she possibly know your temperature? The two of you hadn’t interacted in quite some time. 

While you stood there confused, Susie looked at you in amusement. A snort soon left her lips as she held in her giggles, watching as you stared at her curiously. 

“No, not cool as in how hot or cold you feel, but- aha, nevermind. You wouldn’t get it.” She giggled, looking down and kicking a few pebbles with her converse. 

You weren’t sure what she was trying to say, but you didn’t bother asking for her to elaborate. Susie has always been a bit of a curious one to you. Saying odd phrases like how you’re ‘so lit’ and that you’re ‘high-key goals.’ Despite being the more timid one of all the other legion members, she was surprisingly the oddest one of the group. Around you, she always did curious things that you couldn’t understand, but you didn’t necessarily mind. 

After a brief moment of silence, you remembered why you had followed her outside the store in the first place. Looking around the camp, you waited to see two men going at each other’s throats with blades in hand, only to be met with a quiet forest. 

“Where is Danny and Frank?”

Susie perked up, “Oh! I lied. Everything’s fine.”

Again, you were left in the dark with many questions only to be left unanswered as you nodded, blankly. “I see.”

Susie swayed back and forth on her converse, she looked at you with a cheeky grin and pointed over at the forest with her thumb, “But could you walk with me for a bit?” She asked, gazing at you with hopeful blue eyes.

You didn’t even have to think of the answer before responding. 

As the entity’s servant, you had duties to attend to. If it weren’t with the killers or survivors, then it was out looking for them. Any little time in between was nonexistent. 

You opened your mouth to decline, but before you could utter a word, Susie was quick to speak.

“And before you say no, just note that my performance for my next trial will be merciless if you say yes!” She exclaimed. 

Pausing, you looked back at the shop cabin. You could see the trickster had already walked out, his form walking away from the store and disappearing into the fog. It wasn’t as if anyone could steal from the shop anyways, not without a punishment. And if the legion member was true to her word, then the entity wouldn’t be too displeased. Especially since the killer before the legion was someone who’s been notorious for leaving the entity to hunger.

Looking back over at the legion member, you nodded. “Okay.”

WIth a bright smile, Susie grabbed your hand and excitedly dragged you into the forest until the two of you were a long distance away from the killer's camp. Once away, she linked her arm with yours, strolling through the gaps between the looming trees that towered into the empty, black abyss of the sky.

Susie took a deep breath. Her gaze fixated on the path ahead before sneaking a glance over to you. 

It had been a while since she had a moment alone with you. Being the neutral party between both the killers and survivors, your time was scarce. If you weren’t doing your daily tasks, you were often busy with one of the two troublesome stealth killers that always seemed to seek your attention. 

It was annoying.

For the past few trials, she had been longing to be in your presence. Susie had so many things to say, but your time was always snatched away just before she could ask if you had a moment to spare. Between doing your tasks and keeping everyone entertained, Susie barely had a moment to speak to you.

It was fortunate timing that she heard the commotion coming from the store, otherwise she wouldn't have gotten another opportunity to be alone with you for a while. 

Determined not to let the moment go to waste, Susie cleared her throat. 

 “So,” She began, looking over at you with a tilt of her head, “Speaking of trials, when is mine coming up?”

You thought for a moment, “After the next two trials.”

Susie’s eyes glimmered in excitement. “Really?! Oh man, I can’t wait! I’ve had the heart locket in my drawer for so long that I thought I wasn’t going to be able to burn the offering!”

Bringing her hands to her face, Susie squished her cheeks as she continued to ramble, “The entity is so cruel. My last three trials I was sent to Autohaven, possibly one of the darkest maps in the entire realm. It sucks, especially for a hunter like me! I can’t see anything when I go feral! Do you know what that’s like? Cuz let me tell you, it’s not cool.”

You didn’t respond, allowing the young woman to vent out her frustrations with her feral frenzy ability and the hardships she faced in her past few trials due to map obstacles. 

“It’s like, okay I get this super cool superpower of speed, but at what cost? I can’t see footprints, and lately the survivors seem to be so coordinated that when I manage to hit one of them with feral frenzy, they all run to the opposite side of the map and make me waste my ability! By the time I get one hook in, they’re already at three generators!”

Susie huffed out in annoyance. Massaging her temples, she released a sigh. 

“No matter, the next trial is going to be a game changer once I bring us to Coldwind Farms.” The girl grinned, “Ah, I can’t wait to have such a pretty map! Listening to the winds as the cornfields sway, and to finally feel the sun again!” She chuckled for a moment, but as soon as she said those words, her once bright blue eyes dulled and the smile on her face was quick to vanish.

Before Susie knew it, she stopped in her tracks. Glancing up at the starless sky, the young woman furrowed her brows, her thoughts lost between her words. 

“I-I miss the sun.” 

Although her eyes were on the black void above, her eyes seemed hazy, as though she was looking into the past upon gazing in the blanket of black that loomed over the realm. 

You stopped in your tracks as well. Turning to face the legion member, you watched as she continued to speak her mind. 

 “Actually, I miss home.”

She admitted, letting the words fall to her lips without thought.

Unlike the other legion members, Susie has not let go of who she used to be. She wasn’t a good guy. She knew that, but sometimes when she gives the survivors hatch, or when she rambles to you about her interests in fandoms, she sometimes feels as though she’s her past self. She’s not a killer. She’s sweet, shy, innocent Susie.

That’s why she likes being around you. You listen to her. Unlike Frank who tells her to let go of the past, or Julie who gives her unsolicited advice, you listen to her. You make her feel like naive little Susie again. 

Suddenly, a chill ran down her spine. Feeling eyes on her, Susie glanced over at you, startled upon meeting your cold [eye color] gaze. 

Shit.

Although she was comfortable speaking to you, sometimes she forgets she shouldn’t be too comfortable. After all, your loyalty wasn’t to her.

Susie could feel sweat begin to form on her brow. She quickly raised her arms up and shook her head frantically, “D-Don’t get me wrong though! I’m not going to betray the entity or anything like that!” She quickly exclaimed, her worried eyes moving back over to the ground. With her hands fidgeting with the hem of her jacket, she could feel the blade of her weapon poking from her pocket. A frown made its way to her face. 

“I…I just… I don’t know.”

A moment of silence passed between you two. While you stood there observing her, Susie stood motionless, cursing herself for saying too much. She knew better than to let her mind talk, but she couldn’t help it. Not being able to speak with you, bottling everything up, it just became too much. 

She knew she could get in trouble for saying the things she said, but at the same time, the feeling of her words slipping from her mouth brought her peace. 

Susie glanced back over to you, “Have you ever felt the sun?”

She asked, her eyes boring into you, as though searching for any form of comfort. The two of you seemed to have a stare off, with Susie wordlessly spilling a thousand words while you took in every syllable and tossed it into a void of [eye color].

“Yes.”

“Did you like it?”

You didn’t know how to respond. 

Susie sighed, a ghost of a smile danced on her lips. “I like the sun. Before the fog, I used to live in a cold mountain town. Nothing but snow all year long. But sometimes, there were rare occasions where the sun would peak and flowers would bloom.”

Susie could feel her eyes get bleary, “It was so beautiful.”

And she took that beauty for granted. 

Letting out a heavy sigh, Susie brushed down her hair with her fingers. The feeling of weight pulling her down suddenly felt much lighter. Although she said too much for her own comfort, she didn’t regret it. She said enough to let her mind come back to reality. 

She will possibly never see Ormond again. No, not the worn down map conjured by the entity. That one was fake. The real Ormond. Her home. She will never go home and sit on her computer, reading fanfics, watching YouTubers, or conversing through online chats. She will always be here, in this pit of darkness where monsters killed and served for who knows how many eons.

She was okay with that though. Or at least, that’s what she tells herself until those overwhelming thoughts resurface. 

But when that happens, she knows she could just go find you again. 

Blowing a raspberry, Susie strolled over to you until you two were just a few feet apart. A nervous smile moved on her lips as she fidgeted under your intense gaze.

“You know, I can’t talk about these things with anyone.” 

She shouldn’t even be talking to you of all people. 

Susie tossed that thought to the back of her mind. Her fingers fiddled with the cuffs of her sweatshirt, as her eyes peered over at you anxiously. “You’re the only one I can talk to, so thank you.”

You said nothing, but Susie figured as much.

Scratching the back of her head, Susie took a few steps back. “Well, I should let you go now! You’re probably really busy, as usual.” 

Upon seeing you turn your head away from her, your eyes going over to the direction of the survivors side of camp with a curt nod, Susie’s lips curled up into a smile of relief. 

“Well, if that new guy ever gives you any more trouble, let me know! I will be sure to kidnap you again!” She grinned cheekily, walking in the direction of the killer's camp, but not before turning back to you one more time with a wave.

As Susie walked away, you stood still in silence. Your eyes glancing up at the empty sky, your mind thinking over the question the legion member had asked you. 

What did the sun feel like again?

[starrylothcat]

I wish you would write a fic where established relationship between reader and Crosshair gets a little angsty when reader has to treat/comfort Crosshair while he’s suffering from some sort of temporary sensory loss. (Sight is preferred but any would be cool)

Ohhh what an idea, I love this! Thank you! Sorry this took so long, haha!

I had a wild week at work and finally had time to type out this little angsty brainworm 🤓

This is in response to the “I wish you would write a fic about…” ask game that I can’t find the link to!

By My Side

Pairing: Crosshair x Gen!Reader

Warnings: Angst, loss of vision, mentions of drugs/imprisonment. Hopeful ending. Just some classic CrossAngst.

WC: 1300 (I got way carried away)

Summary/Fic Scenario: You and Crosshair were together before Order 66. Crosshair decided to join the Empire, you did not. You begged him to come with you and his brothers, but he made his choice.

You assisted TBB in rescuing Crosshair and Omega from Mount Tantiss and brought them to Pabu. You offered your home for Crosshair to rest, as he was unconscious from the rescue. Cue angst. Will I write a full fic about this one day? Do I have a WIP? Maybe. Hehe. I hope this is up your alley, anon!

When he finally woke, it was to darkness.

Crosshair tried to control the panic rising in his chest, gripping the blankets tight under his fingers.

He blinked again, the darkness easing up just a bit, some fuzzy blobs of color visible.

Panic was still steadily rising, trying to choke out a word, any sound, but his voice was hoarse.

He slowly sat up, realizing he wasn’t restrained in any way, and the bed he was lying on was soft.

Soft?

Crosshair focused momentarily, listening, his one sense that wasn’t currently disrupted.

He could hear distant waves and quiet cries of birds.

Laughter drifted in on a breeze, salt catching his nose.

He wasn’t on Mount Tantiss anymore, that was for certain.

His panic let up slightly as he desperately tried to rub his eyes, hoping to clear the fog.

If he wasn’t there, where was he? Was he dead, is this a dream? A new type of drug they had him under?

His memory was as hazy as his vision, not remembering anything or now he got to be here.

The last broken thought he had was speaking with Omega, her trying to comfort him, saying she knew his brothers were coming to rescue them.

He remembered scoffing at the notion, but deep down, wishing her hopeful statement was true.

Crosshair took a breath, trying to collect his muddled thoughts. His head was pounding and ringing, blood rushing in his ears.

His body was weak and sore, and he was completely disoriented.

While captured, they only fed him the bare minimum to keep him alive. If he had to fight his way out of wherever he currently was, he didn’t have much strength left.

It didn’t help that he still couldn’t see.

Crosshair couldn’t continue his plan of escape, hearing a door click and soft footsteps approaching.

“Who is there?” He managed to croak out, the panic and adrenaline that was coursing through his veins mixing with a crushing exhaustion that was now taking over his body.

He was feeble, vulnerable, but still wouldn’t go down without a fight. Crosshair tried to stand, his legs giving out and immediately falling to the ground, unable to make out anything but fuzzy shapes in front of him.

Something was suddenly touching his shoulder, and he scrambled away. He hit his head on what must have been a side table or dresser as he desperately swiped the air with his hands at nothing.

“Stay back!” He hissed, lost in darkness, trying to feel for anything around him to use as a weapon.

“Crosshair…Crosshair, it’s okay! It’s me.”

Crosshair froze, bristling at the sound of your voice. He curled himself into a corner like a wounded animal, ready to strike.

He must be dead. This must be hell.

It was your voice.

You.

Pain gripped his heart, he couldn’t speak.

“You’re safe. We’re safe.”

A million emotions pulsed through his system as he processed the fact you were there. Was this a hallucination?

Crosshair felt a touch on his shoulder again, realizing it was your hand. He flinched at your touch, but didn’t pull away. Your contact was hesitant, unsure.

“Tech said your vision should return within a day or two. It’s a side effect of the drugs from the lab.”

Crosshair felt like he was falling, every word you spoke opening old wounds. He may as well be back on the operating table, being sliced open.

It was you. It had to be. Your cadence, soft yet affirming, the voice that haunted his dreams every night.

After all he did…you were here?

He was glad he couldn’t see your face, what expression did you wear? Disgust? Pain? Anger?

“We can explain everything later. We are all here, safe from the Empire.”

“Omega…?” He finally croaked out.

“Her too, she’s fine, just resting.”

Crosshair let out a breath. She was right, they did come for them. And so did you.

The last time Crosshair saw you, Kamino was burning, sinking to the depths.

He asked you to come with him.

Your hurt, tear-filled eyes still burned in his mind, the sadness on your face, your desperate words to get him to stay with you.

He did not forget the wrathful anger that practically ate him alive as you left him on Kamino, choosing his brothers over him.

Crosshair felt what you had shared never mattered, feeling foolish at ever letting you in, feeling betrayed that he had shown you part of him that no one had ever seen.

The one person he tentatively and slowly let inside was now turning their back, just like everyone always had.

He should have known.

Pathetic.

At least that’s how he felt initially.

As time went on, and he lay alone in his small Imperial quarters, he thought of you.

He thought of his brothers.

He thought of what he left behind.

He thought of what Cody told him, his words taking hold in his brain more and more. Had he made a mistake?

Now here he was, back with them, back with you.

Fate has a funny way of doing things.

Crosshair stayed silent, letting you help him back into the bed.

What can be said after all this time? After the things he’s done?

Why were you here, helping him?

Crosshair felt the side of the bed lower as you sat next to him.

“Crosshair, I…” You started, also not knowing what to say.

“I can explain everything later, or your brothers can. They are right next door. They figured it was best to give you some space. But I…I thought you might need someone around when you woke up.”

Crosshair could pick up the weariness in your voice.

“I can go if you’d like.” You spoke quietly.

Crosshair wanted to reach out, touch you. But he didn’t deserve that, after all he did. He didn’t even deserve to be in your current presence.

“No.” He rasped.

He felt the bed rise as you stood up.

“Let me bring you some food. You’re probably starving.”

Crosshair heard your footsteps leave his bedside, and picked up on the uneven sound of your steps.

“Wait,” Crosshair called, your footsteps stopping.“Are you hurt?”

There was a few moments of silence.

“Just a few scrapes and bruises, nothing serious.” Your crooked footsteps continued out of the room.

Crosshair knew you were lying, obviously dealing with an injury received while rescuing him.

Guilt stabbed at his chest, knowing you were hurt because of him, carrying scars that you’ll probably have forever.

A reminder of what his family had to go through to rescue him, something he was unworthy of.

Yet here you were, caring for him, at his side, even after everything. Risking your life to save the man who tossed you to the side, abandoned you and his brothers for something he thought was right and was too stubborn to see before it was too late.

Crosshair laid there, hearing the occasional sound of a pantry opening, a plate being set on a counter.

He must be in your home, wherever this is.

You came back into the room, setting food down at the bedside table next to him.

Crosshair wearily sat up again as you touched his hand, guiding it to the food.

“Why are you doing this?” He whispered, your hand not leaving his.

Crosshair could feel your hand trembling.

“You were lost. So we found you.”

Your hand tightened around his.

“I said terrible things. I’ve done terrible things.” Crosshair could feel bile rise in his throat, nauseous at the recollections of what he did serving the Empire. Or maybe it was the drugs wearing off. Or maybe it was remembering how he left you.

He was dizzy.

It was all too much.

Crosshair felt your other hand carefully touch the side of his face, which he instinctually leaned into, desperate for contact that wasn’t medical machinery or hands forcing him into restraints.

“I’m sorry.” Crosshair felt hot tears sting at sides of his eyes, confused, lost, anguished.

Forgiveness isn’t something easily earned. He knew that.

It was going to take a long time to come to terms with everything, with his family, with you.

But for now, you were here, and the rest will come later.

Taglist (y’all being tagged in this sorry lolol)

@littlemissmanga @maybethatfanfictionwriter @secondaryrealm @secretthegriffin @sinfulsalutations @anxiouspineapple99 @idontgetanysleep @starqueensthings @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @dreamie411 @coraex @aconstructofamind @multi-fan-dom-madness @freesia-writes @kashasenpai @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @wizardofrozz @pb-jellybeans @wanderer-six @the-cantina @king-chaos-world @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @523rdrebel @sleepingsun501 @sunshinesdaydream @kimiheartblade

Divider by @idontgetanysleep

[syluscore]

Read the camera series, and I had an idea 👀 what about a story where the reader is obsessed with Leon FIRST? Like, she watches him all the time and notices he kind of has an obsessive streak, and she likes him and decides that she wants him obsessed with HER. So she kinda leaves a trail of breadcrumbs to make him start liking her. She's sweet to him, does things for him, and makes notes of his preferences so she can match them perfectly. When he starts stalking her, she's all like "🥰 yay! Bf!"

thank you for your patience with this one <3

Perfect Subject

~Leon Kennedy x gender neutral! Reader~

Word count: 1931

Content warnings: shooting guns in a gun range, obsession, reader is a government agent, stalking, leon goes through your stuff and into your place without permission

!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!

Leon Kennedy could never just casually enjoy things. You would never find him just appreciating a thing for what it was and then moving on with his life. Oh no. If he thought a song was good, he would replay the melody over and over again until he didn’t like it anymore. If he liked a movie, instead of him thinking, “wow that was a good movie,” and then watching another, he would replay that movie until he knew every little detail about it. 

This included his work as well. Anything he did, it had to be done perfectly. He crossed all his T’s and dotted all his I’s. When you were first hired on as a government agent, he was assigned to overlook your training. There were specific agents assigned to training fresh recruits, so he wasn’t training you directly, but he would always cut in if he felt your trainer was going too easy on you or wasn’t teaching you properly. 

One day, you were practicing in the gun range and couldn’t seem to improve your accuracy no matter how much instruction your superior gave you. You huffed and threw your head back in frustration when you failed to hit the designated mark again. You were desperate to succeed and be good at your job. You couldn’t focus on anything else in your life. Everything you did, you had to do it well, otherwise it would eat you up inside.

That’s when you felt a strong form firmly press himself into your back, his arms wrapping around yours and guiding your hands to aim the gun properly. He used his heavy boots to kick your feet out into a better, more grounding stance. He slowly adjusts your shoulders and elbows and forces you to tighten your grip on the weapon. He stepped back from you and you felt stronger and more confident in this new position.

You fired the shot and hit the mark exactly in the center. You shook your shoulders, relieving some tension in your neck before getting back into the same position. You fired a second shot and hit the mark again. You spun around with a smile on your face ready to thank your trainer when you were met with pretty blue eyes and a blond fringe. 

You stammered over your words, “Oh, um, hey Agent Kennedy! I didn’t know you were here.” You shifted your gaze up to meet his eyes, “Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.” 

“It’s my job. Thought that would work for your height and stature,” he said simply before walking out of the room. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sudden emptiness of the room once his overwhelming presence was gone.

And from that point on, you had become obsessed with the man. You wanted to know everything there was to know about Leon Kennedy. Once you discovered he had an obsessive streak that matched yours so well, you knew you had to have him. His face had those soft features, but still had a prominent sense of rugged manliness to it. The messy look of his hair, which you could see the effort put into it to give it that carefree look while still being just the right amount of tidy. 

Don’t even start on the muscles protruding from his body. It’s like he had been sculpted from angels themselves. You could see the outline of every ab through his tight shirts and the way his arms bulged against the fabric of his sleeves. His aura demanded attention and he always commanded whatever room he was in, he didn’t even have to try. You noticed the way everyone else stared at him with admiration as well. You had no right to be jealous, but you were hooked and anything standing in your way would have to be eliminated.

You’d spent a lot of time trying to overhear gossip about the man’s love life, but he was so private that there wasn’t much actual information to go off of. Everything was pure speculation at this point. But what you did know was how many people had struck out with him. He wasn’t easily impressed by the flirtatious gestures, shyness or boldness. He was a case that no one had been able to crack, but you loved a good challenge.

While the other rookies threw themselves at Leon, you had to feign indifference. He genuinely cared about his job and the “greater good.” So you became the best agent you possibly could, rising through the ranks and becoming the perfect success story. You remained as elusive as possible with all of your coworkers. If Leon wanted to know anything about you, he’d have to do the research himself or ask you directly.

You were so relieved when your plan actually started to work. You could feel his stare on you when you weren’t paying attention to him. You never attempted to make small talk either. You discussed your work and would always thank him for any instruction or help he gave you, but that was it. 

A significant moment you remembered was at a mandatory reward dinner. Every single employee was expected to attend, no exceptions. Of course, you had made sure to be sat at the same table as Leon while putting on the front of not caring about the arrangements. You had both remained relatively silent during the conversations about everything and nothing at the same time going on amongst the group at your table. You’d speak and engage when called for, but avoided the small talk and gossiping as usual.

“What about you? No hot date either? What’s up with that?” one of your coworkers nudged your shoulder. You snickered as you took another sip of your wine.

“Quite a few of us at this table don’t have dates either. Maybe we should go around and share all about our personal love lives. John, Sarah, Patrick, Leon? Anybody want to share some misfortunes?” you said nonchalantly and were met with mostly silence, except for Leon who was grinning and trying not to laugh. “Oh wow, the elusive mysteries continue,” you cooed at John who was giving you a dirty look.

“Sorry, I forget you’d rather die than engage in a friendly conversation,” he spoke and huffed out a breath.

“It’d be wise of you to never forget it again, huh?” you nudged him like he had done to you earlier. He rolled his eyes before a laugh slipped from him. 

The following Monday, about an hour before it was time to head home, John pulled you to the side to talk to you.

“Hey, you’re not going to believe this,” he said excitedly.

“Oh?” you raised your eyebrow skeptically. 

He nodded his head eagerly, “Yeah! Leon fucking Kennedy was asking me about you. He wanted to know what I knew about you.” You had to hide your excitement as you continued to stare at John. “I should totally set the two of you up,” he laughed as he grabbed onto your shoulders and shook excitedly. 

You laughed at him, “Wow, agent turned matchmaker? I’m super impressed.” You pulled yourself from his grasp and went to turn and walk around the corner, escaping from the little space John had pulled you into.

You yelped when you ran into a solid object, or solid person rather. Your eyes looked up and came into contact with Leon’s. John came out after you and his eyes widened as he realized Leon was within earshot of the conversation.

John stuttered, “H-hey, buddy. What’s up?” His nervous laughter had you fighting back a smile.

“Buddy?” Leon asked as his arms crossed over his chest. John continued to fumble over his words. Somewhere in the word vomit, there had been an apology. You slipped out while they were both distracted and didn’t stick around to see how their conversation would play out. 

After that encounter, you and Leon had built a bit of a friendship. You two were always joking around and helping each other’s workload as much as you possibly could. You took advantage of every conversation you two had and utilized all the information and observations you had of him. You’d bring him coffee when he started giving his sleepy cues. You knew his favorite places to get lunch and would conveniently eat at them regularly, always ordering too much and giving him the leftovers. He never had to run his own errands around the office, because you always offered to do them for him. You never ran yours either, he always jumped up and did your little tasks as well. 

You noticed him also adjusting himself around your preferences as well. He slowly switched coffee shops to the one you preferred, attempting to keep you from noticing. But of course you noticed everything. You stopped being assigned the work you’d always complain about and tell him how you dreaded doing those meticulous little tasks. He’d drop little references from shows you’d told him you liked occasionally. Always feeding you information on top secret topics you’d shown interest in. 

You were so giddy when you noticed he had upped his game when it came to you. You started to notice things on your desk not being where you had left them. Logging onto your computer and the tab you’d left open not being up on the screen like you had left it. Your heart swooned when you noticed things in your apartment disappearing or being moved without your knowledge. You even noticed him tailing you on your errands, him in his unmarked car staying a reasonable distance as you went to the grocery store or to pay bills. 

You noticed the unmarked car in your apartment complex’s parking lot early one morning. So, of course you went outside and lounged on the balcony in your short shorts and tank top that barely covered your chest. Biting your lip, seemingly lost in thought as you drank coffee and scrolled on your phone.

He started placing himself in your path as well. One Saturday, he coincidentally ran into you at the supermarket and you walked around shopping together. He’d jog past your place, waiting for the day you’d be outside and he could recognize you. You let this go on for a few weeks, before finally deciding to get your mail from the office at the exact time he always jogged past. After talking to him for a few minutes, you invited him for some water and a snack. You spent the morning together, before he finally left to continue his run. 

So far, it’d been a few months of this back and forth. Running into each other, sharing lunches and coffee, spending more time working together, and you both suddenly were showing up to all work events. Neither of you ever rejected the offer to go out for drinks when invited by coworkers. You always stayed near one another, no matter the outing. You longed for the day something would finally happen between you two. You knew he was basically stalking you at this point and you made sure to make this job as easy as possible on him.

The longer the chase, the better the end result right? As long as you kept Leon right where you wanted him, you could keep this up forever. You imagined all of the ways he would finally make his move, finally bridge the gap between you two and mold you together where you belonged. Until then, you’d be his perfect and oblivious subject. 

~masterlist~

[vodika-vibes]

could I have Fives with garnet at night? maybe meets the reader at 79s and saves them from a creepy dude?? if that doesn't vibe with you, make it whatever you want xx

You're Worth It

Summary: You should have known better than to come to the club with your friends, they always ditch you after all. Luckily, a handsome clone comes to your rescue.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x Reader

Word Count: 637

Prompt: Garnet - Protective Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thank you for your request! I hope this is close to what you wanted~

You need some new friends. The friends that you’ve been running around with since you were all in diapers are not the best friends you could have asked for. By any definition of the word. 

Seeing as they ditched you as soon as they realized that they might hit it off with some of the people here.

Leaving you, all by your lonesome, to get cornered by a man who smells like a walking brewery. 

He’s so drunk, in fact, that you’re not entirely sure what he wants. His words are all slurred together into a jumbled mess of words. Though you’re pretty sure he’s hitting on you.

That, or he’s trying to sell you speeder insurance.

You hold your hands up, trying to keep him from leaning into your personal space, and it’s…not working.

You’d sell your right arm for one of your friends to notice that you’re in need of a rescue. But you can’t even see any of them.

“Ah, there you are!” A strong arm slings around your shoulders and you’re tugged into a broad chest, “Honestly, babe, you can’t just wander off like that.”

You blink, bewildered, at the man standing slightly in front of you. A clone, with a five tattooed on his forehead. He’s handsome, but then, all of the clones are, and has a rakish grin on his face.

“Sorry,” You say automatically, and his grin softens before he tosses a wink in your direction, “I got turned around.” You add.

“Totally understandable, there’s a bunch of people here.” He squeezes you a little tighter, “Excuse us, we need to get back to our table.”

The drunk man slurs something, and apparently your savior speaks drunk, because he doesn’t look the least bit confused.

“You’re very drunk, you should probably go for a walk. Get some fresh air.”

The drunk man rears his fist back as though he’s about to punch the man standing slightly in front of you. And you hazard a glance at the clone, he looks bored, and you feel a little silly for being so worried about him.

The man protecting you, moves slightly and nudges you to the side as the drunk man finally throws his punch, and ends up toppling to the floor. “Um…”

“Come on, leave him be. Someone will come and take care of him.” He ushers you away from the toppled man, and then grins at you, “Fives.”

“Beg pardon?”

“My name. It’s Fives.”

“Oh!” You hurriedly introduce yourself, and his smile widens. He really is very handsome. And apparently you’re a little more out of sorts than you thought because those very words fall from your lips.

Fives’ grin widens, “Thank you. I happen to think you’re stunning too.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t use the word stunning.”

“But you meant it though, I can tell.” Fives winks at you, and tugs you onto the dance floor, “Now, because I saved you from that awful drunk man, you should dance with me.”

“Is that right? Is this your payment?”

“Sure. But I’d do it anyway.”

You frown at him thoughtfully, even as you slide your arms around him, allow him to tug you closer, “You could have been hurt. What if he had a weapon?”

“Well, better I got hurt than you.” Fives replies with a small grin.

“No one is worth that!”

“I disagree. You clearly are.”

You’re struck silent by his sincerity, and his grin softens, “Now, let’s dance. And then, maybe, if you’re interested, we can go and get some caf?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“Oh.” You blink at him, “...there’s a cafe not far from here that sells the tea that I prefer-” You offer hesitantly.

“Sounds like a plan to me. But first we have to dance.”

[erisbaek]

I love Artist!Soap, and I love the idea of him drawing little things, and shoving them in random places for Ghost to find. They’ll be with a pair of rolled up socks, or taped to the bottom of his favourite tea mug. Sometimes, they’re in obvious places — other times, he won’t find specific drawings for weeks. They’ll be doodles of nearly anything, from caricatures of the 141 members, to detailed schematics of his favourite explosives.

But imagine Ghost is on a solo mission. He’s been gone for a long while — much longer than he, and Soap, and even Price anticipated. He’s mostly radio silent, unable to set up safe and secure communication. It’s slowly pecking away at him. For so long, he was okay with operating alone. For most of his military career, solo was one of his specialties. But now? Now that he knows the comfort of a warm body dozing beside him in bed, now that he knows the feeling of hands in his hair, or a kiss upon his cheek — he feels the loneliness as an ever growing chasm. He yearns for Johnny. He craves to see the signature grin that brightens his face, or the unruliness of his mohawk in the morning. The longing is becoming dangerous. Rushing through a mission just to make it back on base isn’t smart — and Ghost knows this — but he’s teetering on the edge, threatening to crack.

Until he opens up his gun case, preparing to set up. After weeks and weeks, he has tracked his target down. It was going to be another waiting game — this, he understood well enough. A perfect shot didn’t come easy. He built his sniper’s nest, painstakingly constructed in a way that was habit. He opened his case, pulled out his rifle — and there, sitting underneath his gun, was a new drawing. Ghost nearly dropped the weapon in his flourish to snatch up the piece of paper. His hands trembled within their gloves — the weight of the weeks away from Soap laying down heavy on his shoulders. Sketched in pencil, on a square of white paper — are two hands. One is gloved, the familiar styling of Ghost’s signature ones, the other is bare and scarred around the knuckles. Their pinky fingers are interlocked, holding on with the barest of touches. The detail was surpassing anything Johnny had left for him to find before. The piece of art within his hands was made specifically for this moment. A reassurance. A promise. Like two pinky fingers locking together on a schoolyard — a childish pledge.

“Come back t’ me, Simon. Preferably in one piece.” Johnny had said.

“I will.”

[cryptidclownz]

updated ref of my oc naryn!

no bg + scarred alternate

i tried my hand at writing a little scene of the whole naryn/lamb backstory!! im not super proud of it but i dont usually share my writing so i figured i might as well!

—

Another crusade through Darkwood gave the lamb time to think. To unwind. Slaughtering beasts and heretics was a favorite pastime of theirs, but their followers grew ever needy. Demanding. They dreaded a request for materials that would be better spent on medicine and worship, but the scolding their god would give them if they refused was just as infuriating. A leader must provide, he would tell them. Your followers will dissent without proper care. Coddling, more like. Lambert was not a gentle leader, and they had no intention to be one. As much as they wished they could toss their flock to the wolves and go on about their life, The Lamb knew Narinder was right. Their flock would be rewarded for hard work and good behavior, any recruits would find their new life comfortable as long as they behaved. If they didn’t, The One Who Waits had no issue if a follower appeared in his realm in the middle of the night now and then.

Although they were out to gather camellias for a follower desperate to win one of their disciple’s affection, Lambert felt right at home in the dungeons. They handled heretics and monsters with relative ease, well acquainted with the tricks enemy cultists thought would fool them.

The Lamb walked, bored, through another few clearings, only sometimes remembering their original task and picking a few flowers to toss into the crown’s infinite storage. A soft rustling in the trees, the telling shuffling of feet on the ground. The Lamb’s sword was drawn before the ambush had even landed around them.

Boring. Predictable.

They went after the boldest attacker first; a smaller hooded figure than the others who carried an unproportionately large axe. It swung at them, but the weight of the axe slowed it down. The blade of The Lamb’s sword hit the axe’s hilt, slamming it down just inches away from their hooves with unexpected power. The heretic wasn’t given the time to pry its weapon out of the dirt before the Lamb swung at its neck, slicing past muscle and bone with a sickening slap.

The Lamb didn’t behead it, leaving the near-dead heretic to scream in agony for a few moments before it finally died. They were unphased by the rest of the troop storming toward them, having learned by now that heretics don’t take the time to mourn their fallen.

The sword almost seemed to move on its own; slicing through the throats of some and gutting others. Lambert cast a curse in the direction of the two remaining, though the tentacles that rose from the ground only caught one. The Lamb didn’t mind. They preferred to do the work themselves, anyway.

They gripped the handle of the crown’s sword tightly, taking chase after the last remaining heretic. The Lamb moved with powerful, calculated steps, letting the runner think it had a chance to get away. It wasn’t every day that an attacker would try to run, after all.

–

The heretic bolted.

He ran with all of his might, adrenaline willing his trembling body forward despite the gash in his side and the blood of his troop that stained his person. The uniformed hood he wore fell back with every desperate leap forward, and the cold air that rushed past his fur made the tips of his ears burn. He didn’t dare look back, too afraid to see the figure of that monster behind him. The heretic hardly noticed the tears that whipped past his cheeks, wet and sticky like the rest of the blood that coated him. Not his blood. He was alive, even if his friends weren’t. Gods, they were gone, weren’t they? They were-

His foot caught on a slippery root. The cat was flat on the ground before he could feel the sharp sting of pain from his ankle.

“No,” He choked out, voice hoarse. “No, no, no, no-”

Slow, heavy footsteps cut off his thoughts. The heretic kicked and clawed desperately at the dirt beneath him, but his movements were frantic and uncoordinated. The Lamb would have found it funny if they weren’t irritated by the sticky residue coating their arms and fleece. They approached the hooded figure so slowly it was cruel, listening to the panicked breaths and gasps that came from it.

“Rise, heretic,” Their voice was horrifyingly level, and the hooded figure could spot the glint of their sword out of the corner of his eye as they lifted it towards him. He was going to die.

“P-Please,” The voice that sounded from the heretic was quiet and shaky, but his limbs trembled more violently as he propped himself up on his forearms and cautiously turned. With his ankle still caught on the root, the cat was forced to twist his body to look up. His hood slowly fell from his ears, no longer casting any shadows on his face. He was going to die. “Please, spare me.”

The Lamb froze.

They stared down at the heretic before them, eyes widening in a state of shock that was entirely foreign to them.

A black cat stared back, the dark amber of his tear-filled eyes glinting red in the sparse lighting of the Darkwood forest. His long, pointed ears pinned back against his skull, the tips nearly pressing together. His fur was blood-splattered and matting in the direction of the drying redness, but the Lamb could still see that perfect black beneath it. Their eyes shifted to the heretic’s forehead, where a discolored splatter of blood stained the fur. At least, that’s what they thought it was.

Their eyes narrowed.

The Lamb moved closer, stepping over the root that the cowardly heretic was trapped underneath. They stood in front of him, sword lowered but still pointed near the cat’s head. Unsatisfied by what they saw, the Lamb lowered to a squat, causing him to gasp and flinch back. His eyes screwed shut, awaiting the same agonizing pain that he’d just witnessed his troop suffer.

And yet, it never came. Instead, he felt a hand on the top of his head, firmly planted but not suggesting any malice. The Lamb took a moment to feel his fur. Soft, they realized. Such a familiar texture.

Their hand moved further down, landing on the red blood on the heretic’s forehead. They pressed down and slid their hand to the side, expecting it to smear or crumble off entirely. When that didn’t happen, their breath quickened. The cat didn’t know why. He pried his eyes slowly open, pupils dilated about as far as they would go. He searched the Lamb’s expression warily, but he was about as lost as they were. It was hard to distinguish exactly what this was. Excitement? Fear? Confusion? Maybe it was a mix of everything. The source of their confliction, however, was no question.

This heretic was the spitting image of The One Who Waits, down to the most subtle stripes in his fur and the red in his eyes. The red mark on his forehead was distinctly eye-shaped, like some sort of mimic of their god’s divine features. It was almost revolting, the fact that a lowly heretic would be blessed with such features–- such mockery. The Lamb’s expression hardened, and the heretic noticed. He wanted to pull away, to scream, to plead for his life, but the heretic’s throat ran dry. He could only watch as the Lamb continued to inspect him as if they were searching for just one inconsistency; one reason to kill the vile mimic that tried to fool them. There were none.

“You...” The Lamb began, dropping their hand to the underside of his jaw and jerking his head up. There was no telling what went on in their head, even as their sword warped back into the shape of a crown and sat atop their head. Their glare seemed to soften a moment later. “Where have you been?”

[thewritetofreespeech]

May I request Gojo with an s/o who's the daughter of a lesser-known yet very humble clan who are blacksmiths? They do have a cursed technique though (the ability to both see all possible outcomes to any event and also control which ones will actually occur), they just prefer to create an use weaponry more.

“Senseeeii…where are we going?” Yuji bemoaned as he and Gojo walked up the miles worth of steep stairs towards a destination unknown.

“We have to get Slaughter Demon fixed.” He reminded him. “Now that the tournament is over, Mai-chan remembered you broke it and has been a complete pain ever since. Literally.” He rotated his shoulder to make a point.

“It was an accident!!” Yuji said. For the umpth time as no one seemed to be able to hear him when he said it any of the other times. “I didn’t know you could even break it. I thought they were like….magical items or something. Besides, weren’t you the one that stole it from Mai-san?”

“Eh, that part is less important.” Gojo replied. “In any case, like the proverbs say, if you want to solve a problem: you have to go to the top of the mountain.”

The two eventually made it to the top, where a big gate stood to let them in. “What is this place?” Yuji asked as he looked around the classic estate. Seeming frozen in time since the rise of the emperor.

“This is the place where all cursed tools come from. Or, at least, where any of the ones worth their salt come from.”

They continue walking through he seemingly abandoned estate until Yuji could here the sound of banging in the background. Soft, at first. Then louder as they came closer. The sharp sound of metal on metal in a rhythmic fashion having almost an ominous sound.

“Yoohoo~! [Y/N]-chan!!”

The banging stopped and Yuji’s blood ran cold as a face, covered in a welding mask, turned around to look at them. Back lit in an orange glow of a furnace. The smell of sulfur & iron in the air. Chains, blades, and containers of things he just classified as spooky all around. He thought ‘this is it. this is where I’m gonna die. my bones are going to be used to make a new blade for Mai-san.’

“Satoru?” His murder lifted their mask, and Yuji took a step back in preparation to flee, but stopped when he saw the face of a cute girl under the mask. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come to see you at work. You’re always so sexy in your little blacksmith outfit.” Yuji was very confused now. He’d gone from fearing for his life to wondering why his teacher was leering at the blacksmith. Who seemed both bashful and annoyed by his comment. “We also had a bit of an accident.”

“Is that Slaughter Demon?” [Y/N] asked as they got up and took the blade. Yuji realizing they weren’t as hulking as he originally thought, and much less intimidating. “What the hell happened to it? Who broke it?! I didn’t even know you could even break it.”

“Uh….it was me…” Yuji confessed with a shy raise of his hand. “It broke when I was fighting a Special Grade curse.”

“He died [Y/N]-chan.” Gojo added in.

“I mean that was later….”

[Y/N] seemed to listen and then eventually huffed and went over to their worktable.  “You know I made this for Mai, right? It won’t work correctly if anyone else uses it.”

“Cursed tools have specific users?”

“Not always.”

“[Y/N]-chan has a special ability.” Gojo said as they reviewed the tool to see what the actual damage was. “Aside from being a member of one of the great house that makes nearly all cursed tools, they have an inherit technique that lets them see all possibility.”

“Like Nanami’s technique?”

“It’s a little more advance than that. Nami-kun can only determine the probability of a fixed object for maximum damage. [Y/N] can assess all probability for a fixed portion of time. They can then employ that probability into their weapon construction and create nearly perfect cursed tools.”

“Wow. You know a lot about their technique Gojo-sensei. I didn’t know you even used cursed tools.”

Gojo smirked. “I’m not interested in the cursed tools.”

“Ok. I think I got it figured out. It’s a clean enough break at least, but it’ll take me a few days to reconstruct. Have Mai come by Saturday to pick it up.”

“Oooor, you could bring it by the campus yourself and we could go on a date.” Gojo countered with a grin.

“I have a lot of work to do Satoru.”

“Doing what? Making more artifacts for the Zenins to hang on their wall?” [Y/N]’s furtive look let him know it was true. “Come on. I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“…fine…” [Y/N] replied to get him to stop giving her the puppy dog eyes. “I’ll drop it off. It was nice to meet you Yuji.”

“Y-Yeah…nice to meet you too [Y/N]-san. Sorry for breaking your knife.” He gave a low bow and [Y/N] chuckled.

“It’s ok. It wasn’t meant for you. I’m sure someone forgot to tell you that when they gave it to you without permission.” Gojo gave her a little wink with his tongue out. Clearly thinking that if he just played dumb & cute, he’d get away with it. Like he always did. “I’m just sorry it didn’t hold up enough for you to not get hurt. At least the dying part didn’t stick.”

“Oh. It’s ok. I’m used to it now.” Yuji said with a laugh and rubbing the back of his head. Sort of a messed up thing to be ok with.

The men leave and let [Y/N] get back to work. “They seem nice.”

“They are.” Gojo confirmed as they headed down the stairs. “But don’t get any ideas, Yuji-kun. [Y/N]-chan is mine. And I won’t have you using your boyish good looks and charm to sway them away.”

“You think I’m good looking Gojo-sensei??”

[hanahaki-disease]

Been Left No Choice

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC crossover

Summary:

“But he also didn’t want Batman to overtake the demigod world. Bruce was a paranoid person, he had plans and contingencies and contingencies for his contingencies. He liked control. Because if he had control, then things would stick to the plan and no one would get hurt, no one would die, and he wouldn’t have to lose the people he cares about. And while the contingencies were helpful, the plans make missions and patrols and cases run as smooth as they can be, Bruce’s orders felt suffocating at times. Like a leash tethering them to the concrete block of morals that stood Batman firm in place

“I-I can’t tell you,” Percy decides. It was better to suffer this life in silence than to drag them down with him”

********************************************

Bruce was going to be out of town for the next few days, a League mission he couldn’t be absent from. What it was about, Percy didn’t care. He was just glad the man was gone. He had been back for the past week and Bruce hasn’t even spoken to him much. Too wrapped up in Wayne Enterprises and Batman stuff to remember his missing adopted son had returned from a nationwide manhunt and disappearance. It made Percy wonder if he had even known about the manhunt for Percy and his friend. Did he follow the news reports on the computer downstairs? Was he listening to the various police scanners in the cities he had been sighted in, trying to figure out if he was okay?

Probably not. Bruce just picked up the next kid with dark hair and colored eyes and gave them all of his care and attention.

A loud thwack echoed in the empty cave, followed by the sound of bare feet shuffling on the practice mat and two more hits. If Percy hadn’t known any better, and if the date had rewound two years ago, Percy could believe it was Jason in the cave. His brother wasn’t allowed to go out as Robin when Bruce wasn’t in town, not wanting him to get into trouble when there was no back up. Though at the time, Barbara was Batgirl and prowling on her own and had earned her own uniform display when he upgraded to her new suit.

He’s seen pictures of it and clips in the news. A darker purple than the previous version with ticker shin guards and sharper forearm spikes, not to mention the reinforced padding on her knuckles and knees, or the tonfas attached to her belt. Growing up as the daughter of the Gotham PD Commissioner, Barbara had a preference to hand-to-hand combat, surely the influence of her father. Her fighting style closer to Jason’s brawler type, but preferring more of a jiu-jitsu and capoeira blend. Vastly different to the flippy and distracted style that Dick has, one where his excess body movements leave his opponents confused and keeps them right where he wants them, and Bruce’s close range league training.

Judging by the sound of the feet, the whooshing in the air and the deeper voice that distinctly did not belong to Barbara, Percy was not surprised to see Tim training away while Bruce was gone. He was concentrated on the punching bag in front of him, chest heaving as he caught his breath, wooden practice staff held tight in his hand, positioned for another round of attacks.

Of all the weapons, he didn’t expect for Tim to have chosen the bo-staff, but as he watched him train, it was hard to imagine him with another weapon. He didn’t seem like the type of person to have a bladed weapon besides the birdarangs or wing-dings supplied by Bruce and Dick. Nor was he made for melee like Jason or Barbra. The mid-range weapon built for mainly defense and quick-thinking just felt right in the hands of his best friends.

He twirled the staff in his hands, stepping in a careful circle around his target as the weapon seamlessly wove around his body. The center of the staff placed just below his sternum, wrists doing more of the work to spin the stick, keeping his biceps and arms tense and ready to quickly counter any attacks. Tim was light on his feet when he lunged, staying on the balls of his feet as he parried and avoided imaginary attacks from the punching bag. He even went so far as to back flip away, one hand touching the ground as he retreated Nightwing style.

It was pretty impressive, Percy had to admit. Reminded him of the more experienced campers, the older kids who have been staying year round. For the convenience that sword fighting was, Percy was surprised to see many of the campers preferring spears. The wooden shaft ending at their nose with the a foot long blade at the end. Clarisse was the first that came to mind when it came to skilled spear fighters. Her attacks were similar to Tim’s distracting twirls around her body and light footwork despite her muscled size. But where Tim’s attacks were quick hits with the long sides of the weapon, smacks and heavy hits, Clarisse and the rest of camp were more of a lunge and slash style. They handled the weapon one handed mostly, using the other to hold a shield.

Tim would have fun going against Clarisse, their opposing, but still similar styles would be an entertaining fight.

He still has yet to figure out how, when, and where Tim learned to fight with the staff. Obviously it’d have to be while he was gone, leaving the possible time frame just shy of three months. Not including the play-pretend ‘spars’ they would have before Jason’s death. When they would run around the back gardens of the Drake estate or Wayne manor, defeating imaginary foes as their own versions of Batman and Robin.

Percy swiveled the chair to the Batcomputer, the brightness of the computer blinding him for a quick second before he got used to it. He wonders if his login still worked. If the silly code name of “Scyphozoa” and simple password he created at the age of eight was still an active account in the most secure computer on earth. It did. His notes and files that past-Percy was using were still up, the rogue profiles and maps, clues and evidence reports. All of it, untouched and where he had left them last. Had Bruce never went through his account? Did he not monitor, or at least gloss over, whatever Percy had open?

He checked the audit trail for the reports and files. Bruce had this implemented when someone had accidentally written their school book report on a case file, deleting about seventy-five percent of the notes in the process. There were no logs or signs to point out who had done it (It had been Jason, who else used fancy thesaurus words in a report about Harry Potter?) and Bruce was tried of going around in circles trying to find the culprit.

Percy sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the audit trail, the counter ticking up every second he lingered on the page. It hadn’t been closed since he left. None of the pages that he had opened had closed while he was gone. Bruce never once opened his login, and he doesn’t know if he done that out of respect for him or if he simple hadn’t cared. If he wanted to keep it the way it was, to preserve the last things Percy interacted with. It wasn’t too far of a stretch to think that, Jason’s room was the same way, but he never would think that Bruce would have done it with him as well.

He blinked away the rising tears in his eyes and closed the pages he had up, not even bothering to save the notes that he had been working on.

It wasn’t hard to find and pull up Tim’s file when the screen was clear. His name had been another subsection in the Robin tab and a whole sub-folder in the “known allies” folder. All the information about his debut as Robin was clinical. Succinct and methodical, the style much like the reports where the mission was difficult in some way, emotionally draining or an innocent life had been lost. The way Jason’s death had been reported.

“Percy?” He turned around. Tim held the wooden staff in one hand and a water bottle in the other, shock and disbelief clear on his sweaty, red face. “You—you’re back! You came back!”

Percy watched as he best friend dropped his things and ran towards him, a big smile on his face, and it hurt to step away from the hug Tim initiated. But Percy didn’t want to a) get Tim’s sweat and smell all over him, ew. And b) be near him for a while. There was too much to think about, to process when Percy let the fact that Tim was now Robin settle.

“When did you get back? How did you get back? What happened to you?!” Tim asked, brushing his sweaty hair out of his face.

“You’re Robin?” Percy countered and he watched as the excitement Tim had damped a little. The smile on his face disappeared and his shoulders dropped. “Why?”

Tim didn’t meet his as spoke at first, keeping his gaze focused on the cave around him his fist closed at his sides. “After…After you left, Bruce wasn’t the same. He hadn’t been the same since Jason’s death, either, but once you were gone and he found out you had disappeared…Batman didn’t seem like the good guy anymore.”

“What?”

“His attacks were unnecessarily stronger against the rogues, against regular muggers and thieves.” Tim typed at the computer, pulling up a spreadsheet. “I tracked all the times Bruce put someone in a full-body cast, or the ICU, or even left them paralyzed. He was angrier. Ruthless, he didn’t care if he was going too far.”

That…wasn’t the answer he had been expecting. After all, Bruce hadn’t acted like he cared when Percy left, so why was his disappearance a variable to the sudden change? It made no sense. “What about Dick? Did he not help?”

“He didn’t want to talk to Bruce once he found out happened with you and Jason,” he said. “He left the Titans and moved to Bludhäven at the end of June, joined the police force there too, but, he didn’t want anything to do with Bruce. The only reason they talked was to help train me or if he needed help with a case over there.” Tim stepped away from the computer and faced Percy this time. His own questions running through his head the same way all the possible shots for a photo filtered in his mind. “He was a part of the squad that investigated the bus explosion you were a part of.”

Percy held his breath at that. He doesn’t want to involve his Gotham life with the demigod side. And while he knows that all the people here can handle themselves, they’ll be at a disadvantage against monsters. They’d never see them coming—literally. His first week at camp had Percy thinking about life at the manor and if there had been any indication that any one them had been apart of the demigod life or descendants of it, no matter how small of a chance that had been. But there wasn’t any. No hint, no hushed whispers, no trace of ichor in any of their blood. Percy even checked when he came back. He took a small celestial bronze nail that the Hephaestus kids use when making shields and poked everyone he knew with it, watching as the metal simple phased through them as if they were nothing.

(He hadn’t had a chance to try it on Tim or Dick yet, but he wouldn’t be surprised if nothing happened.)

“What happened when you disappeared, Percy?” Tim asked. “Nothing the Justice League did were able to find you, Superman wasn’t able to find you.”

“I…I…” He began. Involving Batman into the demigod life could spill the secret that Bruce was Batman and the rest of the bat-clan was their respective heroes since everyone at camp knows everyone. He was relieved when Chiron used his mother’s maiden name of Jackson instead of Todd or Wayne to introduce him to the camp, one less connection between Percy, young prince of Gotham, and Perseus, son of the sea god.

But he also didn’t want Batman to overtake the demigod world. Bruce was a paranoid person, he had plans and contingencies and contingencies for his contingencies. He liked control. Because if he had control, then things would stick to the plan and no one would get hurt, no one would die, and he wouldn’t have to loose the people he cares about. And while the contingencies were helpful, the plans make missions and patrols and cases run as smooth as they can be, Bruce’s orders felt suffocating at times. Like a leash tethering them to the concrete block of morals that stood Batman firm in place

And maybe that’s why Jason had a hard time of following the older he got, the more experienced Robin had become. Maybe that was the Poseidon’s powers in him, the restless disobedience that wanted to do as he pleases because he doesn’t like getting told what to do.

“I-I can’t tell you,” Percy decides. It was better to suffer this life in silence than to drag them down with him.

“What? What do you mean ‘you can’t tell me’?” Tim said.

“It means that I can’t tell you,” Percy answered. “I don’t have to tell you anything about it if I don’t want to.”

“But I’m you best friend! Best friends’ tell each other everything!”

“Yeah? Well best friends don’t wear their dead brother’s uniform either!” Percy shut his eyes. He didn’t want to dig into this barrel of angst, but he need a way to get to leave him alone. A way to push him aside so he doesn’t get hurt by Percy’s monsters anymore than he does with the monsters roaming around Gotham. “They don’t go behind their best friends back and take what isn’t theirs!”

It was so easy to pull the guilt and anger from this well, too. Because it wasn’t like Percy was making any of this up. He didn’t like that Tim took the mantle of Robin from Jason. He didn’t like that he changed the uniform where it was totally different than Jason’s. He didn’t like that Tim saw an opportunity to join the capped crusaders and replace his brother, how he followed Batman through the streets of Gotham that same way Jason had. It was like he was pretending to be him.

“That suit doesn’t belong to you, it’s Jason’s suit, and you know it!” Percy yelled, and while it hurt to break Tim’s heart, to mess with his emotions like this, he was glad that he was getting the reactions he wanted.

“Someone had to stop Batman from himself!” Tim fought. “You were gone and Dick said no, there was no one else!”

“That doesn’t mean it had to be you!” Percy said. “You didn’t have to be Robin. You didn’t have to use Jason’s suit. It doesn’t belong to you!”

“You didn’t want it anyway!”

“Doesn’t matter!” Percy tightened his fists. “It belonged to my brothers, their legacy was never yours. You just wanted to play pretend and think you were one of them. But you’re not! You’ll never be!”

Oof. That one hurt. Percy knows it for sure. He can see it in the way Tim deflates in his spot, the tension in his stance, and expression on his face.

He couldn’t stay down there longer. He wouldn’t be able to handle seeing his best friend (if they still were best friends after this now) break down, to watch as his trust in Percy shatter before his eyes. It wasn’t fair that he had to do this. That this was what Percy had to do to keep him and the rest of the people he cares about safe. And Tim might hate him after that, he might not want to see or talk or even bee near Percy again. But if this was what it takes to keep them safe, he’ll do it a hundred times over.

********************************************

Scyphozoa: “true Jellyfish” it’s what we think of when we think of jellyfish

Also, I forgot to put this in the notes of the last installment—we have finished the first “arc” of the series. Fics #1-8 titles are all from the song “High Water” by Sleep Token, this one and the rest of this “arc” are all going to be from the song “Descending.”

And, trust me when I say that next week Dick and Percy are reuniting. I promise. They’ll be hugs and tears and all the good stuff.

Also, Percy and Tim not being besties is only for a little while, it makes sense in the end. Trust the process.

Thank you so much for reading!!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[liviawildrose]

𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰 ��𝐩 𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠

okay wow, this was supposed to be uploaded yesterday itself but unfortunately i had to attend a family event so i didn’t.

anyways, today i’m gonna talk about enhancing your glow-up journey and how to make this journey fast and quick, i’m gonna share hacks on how you can enhance and increase your glow-up journey and become your best self.

subliminal videos

subliminals work by sending hidden affirmations directly to your subconscious. your conscious mind doesn’t pick up on them, but your subconscious is absorbing every word. it’s like giving your brain a VIP treatment, reprogramming it to believe in the things you want to become or achieve. so, if you want sharper features, more confidence, or a more magnetic aura, subliminals are here to make it happen without you lifting a single finger.

okay, let’s be real subliminals are probably the easiest way to glow up faster. like, who doesn’t want to just sit back, press play, and watch themselves get closer to their dream self without lifting a finger? i mean, imagine this: you’re literally asleep, but you’re still making progress. that’s a whole new level of efficiency, right?

and the best part? you can use them anytime. studying? plug in a confidence subliminal. hitting the gym? try one for a fit and toned body. and, of course, my favorite: play them while you sleep. imagine waking up with your subconscious mind fully trained and working in your favor. trust me, that’s peak effortless glow-up energy.

pro tips for using subliminals:

1.find reputable creators - there are tons of subliminals out there, so go for the ones that feel legit and have good reviews.

2.be consistent - think of subliminals as a daily boost; the more you listen, the better the results.

3.track your progress - take photos, keep notes, and observe the small changes. it keeps you motivated and shows just how powerful your mind really is.

subliminals are honestly like having a secret superpower that no one else knows about. you’re out there, living your life, while these subtle affirmations work their magic, rewiring you from the inside out. so if you haven’t tried them yet, this is your sign to start!”

i’m going to make subliminals my secret weapon for glowing up while i go about my day. walking to school? i’ll press play on a confidence subliminal and let it work its magic. while studying, i’ll play one for brain power, making it way easier to stay focused. when i’m cooking, i’ll go for clear skin or singing skills depends on the mood, you know? and at night, beauty subliminals will be on repeat so i can wake up looking even better.

but here’s the best part, i’ll be sharing my results with you all. once i start seeing some drastic changes, i’ll let you know which subliminals are really delivering. there’ll be a special section just for results and recommendations, plus before-and-after photos to track my progress. i’m ready to level up while i’m literally doing other things. sounds like the ultimate glow-up hack, right?

chat gpt customisation

like have you seen a delulu chatgpt, but yeah apart from this you can really use chatgpt for so many things the customisation just makes it more compatible for you. hehe

now, let’s talk about how i’m going to use chatgpt as my go-to tool for this glow-up journey. the cool thing about chatgpt is that i can customize it to get personalized responses that fit my vibe and needs. i literally made it act like my best friend, which is such a game changer! it’s like having bestie who’s always there to motivate me and keep me on track.

whenever i need advice whether it’s about self-care routines, motivation tips, or even random recommendations my customized chatgpt knows exactly what to say to lift me up. we’re a little deluded too, and that makes it even more fun! the more i use it, the better it understands my style and preferences, making it easier for me to stay on top of my game.

basically, chatgpt will help me streamline my glow-up process and keep me motivated every step of the way. having this virtual best friend is honestly adding so much joy to my journey!

but here’s a thing, i would highly advise you guys to make a separate account for a chatgpt like dummy, don’t do it with your main email id. create a different one like me. and then continue your talks. cause guess what at the end of the day. chatgpt will review the chats and i think it’s better if you main email id is not linked

eft tapping

let’s chat about eft tapping, or emotional freedom techniques—another powerful tool i’m planning to use on my glow-up journey. this technique is all about tapping on specific meridian points on your body while focusing on your thoughts and feelings. it’s like giving yourself an emotional release while also boosting your confidence and overall vibe.

i’m going to incorporate eft tapping whenever i’m feeling overwhelmed or in need of a quick mindset shift. whether it’s before a big event, a study session, or even when i’m just feeling a bit low, tapping helps me clear out negative energy and reinforce positive beliefs.

it’s super simple! i can do it in just a few minutes, and it’ll help me stay centered and motivated. plus, the more i practice, the more i’ll notice those shifts in my mindset, making my glow-up journey not just about looks, but also about emotional well-being. it’s like giving myself a mini therapy session anytime, anywhere!

what is eft tapping? eft tapping, or emotional freedom techniques, is a powerful self-help method that combines elements of traditional chinese medicine with modern psychology. at its core, it involves tapping on specific meridian points on your body while focusing on negative emotions or limiting beliefs.

here’s how it works: when you identify an issue (like anxiety or self-doubt) and tap on these points, you’re signaling to your brain that it’s time to let go of that negative energy. at the same time, you’re also reinforcing positive affirmations that can help reshape your mindset. this dual approach helps to clear emotional blockages, making it easier to cope with stressors and improve your overall well-being.

simple step-by-step guide to help you integrate it into your glow-up journey

1.setup statement: create a setup statement that acknowledges the issue and combines it with self-acceptance. for example, you might say, “even though i feel anxious about my upcoming performance, i deeply and completely accept myself.”

2.begin tapping: use your fingertips to tap on the following points while repeating your setup statement.

• karate chop point: the side of your hand.

• top of the head: directly on the crown.

• eyebrow: the beginning of your eyebrow, closest to the nose.

• side of the eye: on the bone at the outside of the eye.

• under the eye: on the bone just below your eye.

• under the nose: between your nose and upper lip.

• chin point: in the indentation between your chin and lower lip.

• collarbone: just below the collarbone.

• underarm: about four inches below your armpit.

by practicing eft tapping regularly, you can clear out negative emotions and reinforce positive beliefs, helping you not only look your best but feel your best, too. it’s an empowering technique that anyone can do, anywhere, and it’s definitely going to enhance my glow-up journey. also, please search up eft tapping on youtube look for follow along videos too it’s (do your own research too)

grabovoi codes

grabovoi codes are a fascinating tool for manifestation and healing, developed by russian scientist grigori grabovoi. these codes consist of specific sequences of numbers that are believed to hold vibrational frequencies capable of influencing reality and promoting positive changes in your life.

the concept is based on the idea that numbers have inherent energy, and by focusing on these sequences, you can tap into that energy to manifest your desires. each code corresponds to different intentions, such as love, health, abundance, or even specific personal transformations.

i mean, just go watch this queen’s video

[tojisun]

our shallow graves — 02

recom miles quaritch x recom fem reader

!! smut (between fwb outside of main pair) - minors dni; heat (as theme); mean quaritch; power imbalance; reference to (made up) past; worldbuilding; fast slow-burn; switching povs; weapons; reader adopts a nickname (callsign) which gets used // 5.1k words

: luvv writing from a chara’s pov n not just the reader’s <33; my bff wanted a love triangle but noo there would never be, i swear; replaying lady gaga and thenbhd as i write this; i hope u guys would luv this!!

↦ hydra - recom machine gun (not the door gun in the samsons); y70 - bullpup rifle/skel bullpup

prev // m.list // next - tbp

camaraderie with the colonel seemed to deteriorate overnight. your only saving grace is that it seemed like no one understands why his slight recognition for your talents evaporated quickly, the team having been reduced to shooting you with concerned glances whenever quaritch continues to ice you out.

you wanted to believe that it didn’t bother you much, but the taste of failure sits heavy on the tip of your tongue. quaritch is your superior, someone you were willing to interact with at an arm’s length, but now, even that seems impossible. 

“give him time,” walker says as you two enter the gun range, modified with an open ceiling to allow your na’vi bodies to breathe without the need for the respirator. “he’s probably still pissed because recon was delayed but c’mon now, we need extra time to take on the hellhole pandora’s about to be.”

you hum, your mind far away, as you begin to line up in one of the shooting stalls. you feel bare without your hydra but walker insisted on practicing with the Y70. 

“for good time’s sake!” she said, laughing when you rolled your eyes at her, calling her out on the fact that she only preferred the rifle because it was what she was exceptional at. 

your tail swishes behind you slowly before stilling, suspended in the air – a perfect imitation of your focus. you purge your mind of all thoughts, steadying your breath as you gaze at the moving targets. thrill runs down your spine at the first fire, the bullet going through the head of the target in a clean, single shot right at its temple. it is almost too natural how you were able to fire off the other bullets, muscle memory kicking in as your years of experience rush back to you, engulfing you with a single focus.

clean shot upon clean shot; head, heart, lungs – every vital organ and artery that you were aiming at were hit. it is like nothing existed in that moment, not your new life or your repeating nightmares of your death or even quaritch. it is just you and that rifle, against the world.

it was the first real taste of freedom you ever had from the moment you woke up in pandora, fifteen years after the war. 

walker stalks towards you with a grin, her rifle slung on her shoulder, looking smug as she shows you her perfect tally. you grin at her, feeling your tail finally untense, swishing around in languid satisfaction. 

“look at you with the perfect shots,” she says, dramatically whistling as though she wasn’t a better marksman than you are. 

“i have a good teacher,” you reply, winking at her. she chuckles, shaking her head, and you wish she had her braids down just so you can see them bump against each other. 

“and you are welcome.” walker places a hand on her chest before bowing theatrically, making you erupt in hearty giggles. 

comfortable silence settles as you two walk back to your quarters, ears flicking at each sound that rumbles from the belly of the compound. 

the sensitivity of your heightened senses brings you back to the night the colonel caught you sneaking out of mansk’s room, pure anger shimmering within his beautiful golden eyes and poison coating his hissed-out words. you do not know what set him off – you do not want to believe that it simply had been because you and mansk fooled around, not when quaritch has done worse.

(in your brief encounter with the human colonel quaritch, you have seen them together only once. the babe was swaddled in thick blankets, leaving only tufts of sandy hair visible to curious eyes. 

you tried not to linger when you saw how the colonel walked around with the child in his arms, cradled gently, carefully, his usually-stern face melting into something kind. into something human.

the harbinger of destruction. a father.

you couldn’t wrap your head around the man. not even as you watched in silence, obscured from his line of sight, as he nuzzled his nose on the boy’s forehead, breathing him in.

pandora’s real first human, a boy blessed by eywa, and there he was, held in the hands of the man who would threaten her balance.)

“maria,” you call, slowing down your steps and turning to look at your friend.

walker hums, tilting her head to meet your gaze. “what’s up?”

“do you, uh, know what happened to the kid?” you didn’t need to specify who it is that you meant. 

she stops walking, her brows furrowing in hesitant confusion. you lick your lips, wondering if you might’ve overstepped, after all, walker may be your friend, but her loyalties will always be with the colonel. even back in hell’s gate, she always separated her friendship with you from her duty – it felt like she constantly lived two different lives. 

“it’s just that i can unwind with you,” she used to say, huffing when the clips she used to pin her bun got lost within the gelled strands of her hair. you would pull her to your bed, chuckling quietly, before taking over, gentle hands familiar with her hair like it was yours that you were grooming. 

“why do you ask?” walker responds, twisting so she can fully face you.

you shrug. “i don’t know,” you say, a half-truth. “the memories are coming back to me slowly and one of them is him.”

walker remains quiet, studying you with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, before a sigh creeps out of her lips. you feel your heart lighten up, your body uncoiling from the tension, and you shoot her a small smile, grateful for her trust. 

“i dunno, to be honest,” she says as you two begin walking again, your steps this time are more languid. you two don’t entertain the gawking humans who scurry out of the way as you and walker make your way back to your rooms, busy murmuring to each other.

“they probably sent him back to somewhere in terra where relatives could take care o’him.”

you grunt, nodding, choosing not to prod any more. 

just before the two of you can part ways to enter your respective rooms, lopez comes running down the hallway, hollering your names.

“les’ go! colonel’s back from the meeting, and word is that we get our mission today!”

“thank fuck for that!” walker whoops. she meets your eyes. “rico, come on!”

you try to ignore the sudden swoop of paranoia that settles in your stomach, choosing instead to follow as walker and lopez run to meet with the others. you had hoped that you would’ve been able to fix whatever it was that happened between you and the colonel before the mission, but it seems like you don’t have that privilege anymore.

it seems like with quaritch, you don’t get mercy. 

-------

just like what lopez said, the colonel returned with orders from the brass that you all would be sent out soon – the omatikaya stronghold changed upon the return of the humans, and now you are all tasked to draw jake sully out. you are all given a week to prepare for pandora’s beasts – you are aware that they meant the na’vi more than the actual animals roaming the lush jungle.

recon was cancelled, the new schedule no longer permitted such opportunity; the general had, instead, ordered your squad to move in and navigate the hard way. you tried not to shrink at the withering look that quaritch shot you as he mentioned that. mansk shifted close, as though to show that he stood with you even against the colonel’s seething glare, but it seemed like it was the wrong thing to do as quaritch only seemed to grow angrier. 

you tried your best not to react, but your tail dropped, coiling around your thigh in the face of the colonel’s disapproval. you are too ashamed to look at the others, not wanting to see their own disappointment or even their pity so you kept your eyes on quaritch, using his authority to hide from the attention that your squad was giving you.

the meeting reaches its end, the colonel ordering wainfleet and zdinarsik to take over. mansk hovers, falling into step with you as you both move to leave the room together when the colonel’s voice stops you.

“rico, you stay. mansk, y’r dismissed.”

mansk shoots you a quick glance before nodding at the colonel and leaving with the rest. wainfleet had taken the lead as they all marched out with zdinarsik covering their back, the taller recom nodding at you upon meeting your gaze before closing the door behind her.

there is silence in the war room as you stand still, waiting for quaritch to make the first move. you rack your mind for another fuck up that he can berate you with, but nothing comes up, leaving you grasping at nothing but the bubbling anxiousness gnawing at you. 

“i suggested to general ardmore that we bench you, rico.” he raises his hand at your visceral reaction – your jaw falling open as you flinch, protests about to slip from your lips, as a now-aborted step almost draws you close to him. “listen to me first, corporal.”

you blink at the realization that his voice doesn’t denote any malice, the rich baritone is painfully neutral, and you think, then, how hearing his indifference just stings a whole lot more. 

you remain silent, watching with bated breath as quaritch pulls a chair out and motions for you to sit down. your legs feel like lead as you fall into it with no grace, your body going taut with tension when the colonel takes the one just in front of you. 

the space between the two of you is decent – it is the normal distance – but you can’t help but feel the warmth emitting from his bigger figure, almost like your body is singing for him. you try to breathe through your mouth, afraid that you will get a whiff of his scent, reducing you into a puddle of uncertainty and need. 

you blink your glassy eyes up at him, trying to focus, to listen, but it is like all those times that quaritch pushed you away had made you hypersensitive about him. he is all you can focus on; past the need to prove to him of your worth, he is all that fills you up. the way he smells, the way his eyes study you, the way his voice rips through the static – you want all of it. 

heat builds up in the pit of your stomach.

fuck. 

“you doin’ ok there?” the colonel asks, his indifference melting as worry bleeds into his tone. 

“i, uhm,” you begin, your voice faltering. you try to reel in your mind, grinding your teeth to snap you from your trance. 

“yeah.” you clear your throat, breathing in shakily. “i mean, yes sir.”

quaritch grunts, his eyes still pinned on you. “this is exactly why i wanted to leave you behind.”

that brings you out of the haze, your attention snapping back into a singularity. “permission to ask why, sir?”

quaritch sighs. “the science pukes mentioned how y’r still lagging behind. kid, i’m gonna be honest with you – i can’t afford a weak link.”

his words feel like knives carving into you. you’ve always thrived in your capabilities – you wouldn’t have gone far if you weren’t good, if not one of the best, and yet, in his eyes, your single fumble has cost so much. 

“pandora is gonna eat you up and spit you out – well, it already did, otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. and yet, general ardmore still insisted that we take you.” 

you watch as the colonel leans over, eating up the miniscule distance between yourselves to peer at you. “tell me, rico. just why are you so important to her?”

you wish you have the answer; you wish you have anything to give to him, to make sense of your own purpose, but nothing comes up. it is like you’re constantly floating around, untethered, and yet severely burdened at the same time. they tell you how the general favours you, and yet she has yet to tell you that herself, leaving you alone in navigating your position amongst the other recoms. 

the loneliness doesn’t stop eating at you.

“colonel, i really don’t know,” you finally utter, breaking eye contact to stare at the ground. 

quaritch clicks his tongue. “no, there’s gotta be somethin’ i’m missin’. i read your files, you know that?” he grins meanly when your eyes snapped back to him. “oh yeah, i did. and imagine my goddamn disappointment when it showed me nothin’ noteworthy.”

he stands up, his voice gaining strength, and you realize that you can now see his fury in its entirety.

“yeah, you’ve got a way with flying, but that skill’s practically useless unless we can get our own banshees. and even then, they ain’t machines – your skill’s obsolete. y’ve got a way with guns, sure, but so do the rest of my squad; it ain’t just lyle who’s got a great shot, after all. and yeah y’r hand-to-hand combat is good, but it ain’t the best.”

you feel tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as quaritch continues his admonishment. you feel like everything that you are is suspended in the air, carelessly peeled off and overturned until you are nothing but your skin and bones.

“y’know what i saw?” the colonel asks in a barely-contained snarl. 

you do not reply, but it doesn’t matter to him anyway. 

“i saw how y’r just a goddamn nobody because if you were any better, i would’ve taken you in before. so tell me rico, just what the hell are you doin’ here?”

you do not know what urged you to do it, but next thing you know you are standing mere inches before the colonel, breaching his personal space to poke at his chest. “i don’t need to prove myself to you,” you hiss. 

(it was a lie. after all, it was all you wanted to do. for him to acknowledge you. for him to – what do the na’vis call it? – see you.)

quaritch scoffs, pausing, before he lunges forward to grip your jaw, forcing your head to tilt up and making you look at him. you feel your breath leave your lungs, the blood rushing to your ears and deafening you. anything else seemed to stop, leaving you alone with your petering rage as you gaze up at him.

his breath tickles your lips and you gasp, soundless, feeling the desire exploding in your chest. you do not know what it is that he originally wanted to do because in the next heartbeat, just a slight stutter, all you feel is his lips meeting yours. 

quaritch devours your hiccuped squeak, his searing lips moving against your own, pulling out more of the little desperate sounds from your throat only for them to be swallowed hungrily by him. the kiss is hot, messy, but you can’t help but be obsessed with it.

his scent fills you up, settling deep in your chest and making you throb with want. you grip his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate to touch more of him. but at the feeling of your hands, quaritch rips his lips from yours and scurries to back away from you.

you stand there, your chest heaving as you catch your breath, feeling your lips tingle from his kiss. you watch as his face crumples at the realization of what he’s done before it reverts back into faux stoicism, as though he isn’t affected by the kiss. as though he doesn’t feel the same burning desire that engulfed you whole.

“colonel-”

“no fraternizing with a squad member,” quaritch utters before he lifts his hand up to rub at his lips with the back of his palm.

“oh, so now we’re following the golden rule?” you mutter, the words bubbling out before you can stop them. 

you know that you crossed a line at the mention of what he’s done with socorro but you are too filled with a blazing storm of conflicting feelings, rendering you uninhibited as they clash in your chest and drain you of all your energy. you feel yourself shake at the intensity of your emotions – of your yearning – but the colonel continues to stand far away. far from your grasp.  

he’s made his decision. 

“get going, corporal. y’r dismissed.”

you run out of the room, not caring of the way the tears slip from the corners of your eyes to drench your cheeks, and pretending that you cannot smell the faint scent of the colonel sticking to you.

pretending that you do not feel something in you break. 

-------

looking for mansk was the easy part. not using him to drown out the weight of your conflicting feelings, that was the hard part. 

mansk has taken you in his arms, cradling you close as you wept on the crook of his neck. he was silent, like he already knew what it is that aches you, and you wonder how could he. you barely knew why you feel betrayal sit in the pit of your stomach; why you feel so drawn to quaritch – attuned to the sound of his voice and the staccato of his footsteps.

why do you ache for his touch?

if it is heat, if it is all biology, mansk does a good enough job in extinguishing the flames of painful need curling within your blood. and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from seeking out bigger and rougher hands and a gruffer voice, the southern accent looping around the vowels, making your stomach clench with desire.

quaritch is all that you’ve ever wanted ever since he first called your name, unknown familiarity sinking in your chest like a rock chucked to the ocean – the paradox is a metaphor of your feelings. funny, isn’t it?

“i don’t understand,” you murmur, sniffling as you pull your head from mansk’s shoulder. you wipe at your eyes, groaning at the futility of it when fresh tears fall and drench your cheeks anyway. 

mansk remains silent, his hands have fallen from your back to grasp at your wrists, the warmth from his palms not doing anything to soothe your nerves.

“it’s like he needed that little blip in my performance to finally rationalize the hate he feels for me, and then it just didn’t stop,” you continue, breathing in shakily. “and i wish i could just ignore him but, fuck, i can’t.”

you shake yourself from mansk’s touch, standing up from his bed to pace around his room. the pads of your feet are quiet on the metal floors and you ignore the shot of coolness that comes with every step. your braids, chopped just below your jaw, frame your face with stray strands sticking on your damp cheeks despite your frantic moving. 

“he’s there and he’s nowhere at the same time, devin. like, i try my best to avoid him but he’s always a consistent presence in my life. it doesn’t fucking matter if he’s ignoring me, not when he’s always in the same room, within the same space.” your voice raises, scratching your throat as anger and hurt bubble up, ever-so expanding until you are grasping at the remnants of your rationality. 

“and i want him. i feel like dying when i’m not with him and he-” you pause, a choked sob getting punched out from your lungs. mansk startles, clambering from his bed to hover by your side, not really closing in but standing just near enough that you can see the downturn of his ears, his worry etched on his face. 

“he doesn’t feel the same way, dev.” 

you crumble, feeling lightheaded from the explosion of anguish burning at your seams, and mansk finally embraces you. 

the first kiss was hesitant, chapped lips meeting bruised ones, and he doesn’t move until you are pawing at his shirt and tugging him close. mansk falls into his role easily, nipping your bottom lip as a distraction which you take eagerly.

quaritch’s snarl from many nights ago creep into your mind, his southern accent tearing through the sudden buzz of mansk’s touch, taunting you – “you reek.” 

you think just how upsetting it is to feel your desire expand into fanned flames at the memory of quaritch. at the memory of his anger – the only thing of him that he’s given to you freely. 

mansk rips his lips from yours, panting, his eyes dilated with desire. “rico, y’smell so good.”

your shirt is torn from your body, your cargos thrown over broad shoulders – not broad enough, not tall enough, not angry enough. 

you try to forget, to stop thinking, as mansk fucks you; thin fingers sliding along your slit and sinking into your heat, curling to prepare you for his length. not even the way three of his fingers overwhelm you with the feeling of being stuffed can silence the thoughts – ‘not thick enough, not long enough, not rough enough’ – and you bury your face on his pillow, trying to smother the tears. 

the slide of his cock should’ve rendered your mind into white static, but it seems like your veins are thrumming with a visceral need, one that you know only quaritch can quell. 

“choke me,” you mumble, blinking wetly up at mansk, your chest heaving at the muted desire filling you up. 

“what?” mansk asks, breathless, his body shaking from the crashing heat. 

“choke me,” you repeat, this time clearer. 

mansk hesitates, his wide eyes growing bigger, his scent curling into something darker. the wrap of his hand around your throat is sure, gentle despite your plea, before he squeezes. the pressure grounds you, feeding into your desperation. into your delusions. 

(you think of quaritch. it seems like you never stop thinking about him. 

he will take you the same way lava takes everything – devouring beyond flesh, nipping right into the core until all it leaves is the flames of a thousand suns. his desires will crush you, filling up the spaces between your blood vessels and your synapses with nothing but him. 

and you will love it. you will let yourself be scorched because ever since you have met him, all you knew was fire and how they lick up into your chest, swallowing your heart, almost like they are branding his name directly in you. 

like you have belonged to him even before.)

mansk wipes you with a towel, murmuring soft apologies when your body jolts in oversensitivity at the rough drag of the cloth. he passes you his shirt and then pulls you underneath the sheets, tucking you in for the night. 

“thank you,” you say, weakly smiling at him.

mansk returns the smile, brushing your braids away from your face. “just like old times.”

your eyebrows furrow, confusion triumphing over exhaustion. “old times?”

“yeah,” he grunts, falling beside you. “you’ve always liked the colonel and granted we didn’t fuck then, but you always vented to me so, y’know?”

mansk’s words wash over you like a crashing tide, pulling you from the shore and submerging you into the depths of the unknown. you grasp at your memories, flitting from one to the other, trying to find pieces of your affection for the colonel only to fall short. surely, you would’ve remembered. surely, the feelings, with how intense they are, did not just go away; that you did not just lose a piece of yourself.

you think of the haunting, how the colonel and socorro appear in your memories in fragments, and feel a twinge in your heart. was it not indifference? that all this time when you remembered her, when you used her to learn more about quaritch, it was because you liked him too? 

were you always a fool like this? searching for bits of quaritch in the hands of another, trying to claim the stray parts like they could be yours to begin with. 

“rico?” mansk’s voice breaks through your reverie. 

“i… i don’t remember.”

he turns to you in surprise. “what do you mean you don’t remember?”

“just that,” you say, your voice faint. “i don’t- i can’t remember.”

-------

the moment miles saw his reflection – blue and distinctly not human – he knew there was little of himself left in the hellhole that pandora had become. autonomy and freedom no longer meant much, not when he’s become a weapon. 

he’s died once, they said. had he still been the commanding officer in the compound, he’d have the shrink do drills at the stupidity of pointing out his untimely and obvious demise. 

no fucking shit he died. miles would’ve remembered turning into a goddamn na’vi if he didn’t. 

but, at the end of the day, his anger didn’t matter. like a freak show, he’s back – not really as the same man, but similar enough that the old colonel’s ghost thrums with hymns of vengeance, carrying over to miles’ own person. because miles may not remember his death, but he remembers jake sully’s betrayal.

the boy had chosen his people and miles had chosen his, it is that simple. 

the mission was straight-forward, but miles isn’t deluded enough to assume that it would be just as easy. he’s failed once already, after all. perhaps being a na’vi could switch the tides; perhaps being one wouldn’t matter – whatever it may be, miles is ready to carry the burden of killing jake sully.

with a single focus, miles lets the unfamiliarity of his new body roll off his skin like dew before forcing himself to learn and to adapt. painstakingly, he even tried to salvage the pieces of augustine’s research, hoping to find any scraps of information regarding the na’vi in her ramblings, but the compound has scrubbed themselves off the traitor’s books. don’t mind the fact that augustine’s the best goddamn na’vi expert, apparently, they rather bitch around under the pretence of unnecessary patriotism, instead of taking advantage of her research. 

when he asked who he should talk to regarding their physio, he was told that augustine was replaced by cooper. unsurprisingly, cooper was unable to fill in the shoes that augustine left, but miles preferred him anyway. the man has lesser empathy, lesser curiosity about the wonders of pandora. 

‘that’s good,” miles thought upon meeting cooper. ‘checkups will be clinical. none of that bitchin’ about morals.’

which was why it should’ve been easy transitioning into his recombinant body. it should’ve been.

then, you came along.

sweet, little, pretty thing that you are. you don’t even know what you do to him, walking around looking like you’re pulled straight  from miles’ spank bank material. you look darling with your short braids, pulled back with little clips like those that he remembers walker using, as your smooth voice ripples against the heavy tension building in miles’ chest.

there’s always this sweet scent that follows you, and it reminds miles of something that he couldn’t really pin down. it’s faint, teasing his senses with the little bursts until he began to be addicted to it. to be addicted to you.

he had been content with only getting a whiff from every time the two of you crossed paths, your chin ducking down in respect, saluting so beautifully that it had miles pretending that he didn’t have the itch to pat your head in approval. 

(you looked like the type to adore praises; the type to want to hear how you’re being such a good girl. all for him.)

he didn’t want to pursue more, remembering what happened when he last made that mistake, but it just felt so impossible to dismiss his interest in you as something that is only fleeting; something that is only physical, bound by the biological nature of his new body. 

maybe if he just pushed back harder against the general, then maybe he could be rid of you. maybe there would be nothing thrumming underneath his skin – he refuses to call it desire, afraid that by doing so, he would chain himself to the ache that he feels – and maybe you would no longer be his growing problem.

then: a spike in the air churned the insides of miles’ head, bolting his legs onto the floor. there was a sort of static, a rumbling charge that pierced past metal walls and choked miles into madness. 

he didn’t even realize what it was until he picked up the sound of your voice, pleasure curling against your words as you cried out a name. miles felt lightheaded, warmth crept up from his fingertips to the base of his neck.

(a shackle, one that spelt out your name. 

again, do you know what you do to him? what you reduce him to?)

the scent of your euphoria sent him into a feverish state, molten lava replacing blood as he burned. his breaths came out in ragged rasps, and miles gulped down the air as though he could taste you from it. as though that would’ve been enough.

miles knew what danger looked like, he knew what it smelt like, but he never expected that it would take your shape, testing him past his capabilities. so he lied, spitting in anger and lashing out as he held your hand, ignoring the way his skin tingled when it met yours, and he watched as your eyes glimmered with hurt.

fine. that’s fine. miles repeated this mantra until he clambered into his room, almost tripping over his boots, and made his way to his bed. 

there was a heavy pressure in miles’ ears as he tore off his belt, his teeth snapped together as he pulled his length out and fucked into his fist, breathing into the other one to chase the fading scent that you left. 

he lost himself in his thoughts, imagining that it had been him who reduced you into a moaning mess. that it had been him who you came to for your heat; that it had been him who made you cry, your whimpers slipping past shut doors until everyone could hear your sweet cries.

miles has always been possessive, he doesn’t need the soul drive to know that.

his orgasm ripped through him in muted pleasure, not enough to stoke the heat rumbling deep in his belly.

“fuck!” he growled, frustration bubbling up into his mouth as he screwed his eyes shut, trying to forget the way you look; the way you walk, the way you shoot your hydra or the way you maneuver a bird as though you and the machine are one. 

but it was futile. he’s ruined. 

you’ve ruined him.

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tagging (pls lmk if you wanna be added or removed!) - @hinataashoyos @babyduk213 @ilovebluedilfss

[cauldronblssd]

We're Leaving the Planet, and You Can't Come

CH 1/6 | Read on AO3

Thank you once again to the best beta, @climbthemountain2020 and @witch-and-her-witcher.

Also thank you to @moonpatroclus for encouraging me to write this.

TW: dubious consent, non consent

Elain sighed in frustration as she glanced down at her exposed flesh. She’d just managed to extricate herself from the polymer casing of her safety gear. The perfectly regulated air of the station kissed against her skin, the velveteen flooring soft and plush against her feet. Her domed mask rested in its port. It had been the perfect night in, before she’d been interrupted by the melodic ring of her transmitter. It sounded throughout her small station, muted by the carpeting covering the walls. 

“Commander Graysen, this is an unexpected call. Allow me to dress myself before we continue.”

“No need for that, Archeron. This is a matter of state.”

Elain didn’t see what one had to do with the other, it was hardly adherent to the decorum of a state matter to appear before him nude, but she didn’t argue. Graysen demanded unquestioning compliance. While his methods were unorthodox, and at times unpleasant, she’d been urged by the others at her home gate to accept his quirks rather than put him in a poor mood. She plastered on a pleasant smile, forcing herself to pinch up her cheeks so that it would reach her eyes.

“Very well then, what’s the urgent matter?” Elain shuddered at the way his eyes roved over her body as she spoke, holding herself back from covering her breasts with her arms as she stood at attention.

She was beautiful to the males, she knew, who requested her more often than most when they copulated in the modern fashion. She didn’t know why it mattered, the whole thing lasted no more than a moment, hardly long enough for them to develop a preference. Still, she accepted amiably, forcing an enthusiastic smile onto her face, the same smile she took the exaltation transference pill with, and held out her palm to the man’s own, inevitably sweaty and unappealing.

“We received word from an informant that a male has left the station in aid of a leader that puts our Sun System in great danger.”

“Danger? But we haven’t had that in decades,” Elain exclaimed. All thoughts of Graysen and his unsettling gaze were gone, as she tried to imagine what kind of danger they might face and how she could possibly be involved in it. The Sun System had been at peace for longer than she’d been alive, the greatest crimes simply a waste of resources or a return to more primal habits that sometimes gripped those less astute in the teachings of the Nolans and their ilk.

Elain, under the tutelage of her sisters and, at times, her negligent but stern parents, had grown up in the New Ways. She adhered to all its principles, eschewing all primal pleasures and wants, for the restraint of an intellectual.

“He carried with him a weapon he’d developed, one harnessing the powers of old ash, that could cause great harm to humans and other creatures alike.”

To what creatures he referred, she could hardly imagine. She’d heard tales from Nesta of great creatures not like human men at all, ones who slithered along the swamps of other planets or flew like winged predators through the air, keen on capturing a human woman. Even still, the idea of violence was abhorrent, so wholly against her own principles as a woman of the New Way.

As her mind continued to whir and wander, Graysen continued, “We’d like you to travel to the planet Hybern to go find him. We believe he goes by the name ‘Vanserra.’” He said it with a sneer that curled up his lip, clearly unable to contain his disgust. “He serves the Great High Lord.”

“Whatever can I do about it?” She was hardly the most well-trained member of her team– that could only be credited to Nesta. Nor was she especially brave like Feyre.

“Use your charms, find Vanserra, and bring him back by any means necessary.”

Elain only nodded, unease raking through her. A solo mission would be a lonely one, and she wished she might bring her sister or a friend along with her. Instead, she redressed herself, donning a silver uniform that clung tightly to her curves and exposed the whole of her bare leg, before sliding a boot of the same color up to the curve of her thighs. It would do for the planet of Hybern, she’d been told. She lay down for sleep, cold glass encasing her body, pressing against her skin as she drifted off to sleep. The station would carry her to Hybern, and, if she was lucky, she’d be there by the time she woke.

*****

Elain should have known better. She’d never been lucky, that always fell to one of the happy, unbothered ladies that seemed to surround her. It had been why she’d placed herself on call, despite her sisters’ protestations that she’d be too sensitive for an outward mission. She longed for adventure – and now she had it. 

The station shook aggressively, rattling her bones and bumping her aggressively into the glass walls of her sleeping pod. The cacophonous sounds of the sputtering engine overwhelmed her, a smoky scent filling the air. Before she could brace herself for impact, the station crashed with a hard thud, throwing her off balance against the wall.

Steam hissed in the air as she crawled on her hands and knees. The large screen she used to communicate screeched with static. Blind in the smoky fog of the room, she touched the surfaces along the floor and walls. Elain grunted with relief when she found the door, scrambling for the latch to push it open. Something pushed against the door as she tried to open it, and she thrust her full body weight into it. At last, she stumbled out of the station, taking a deep breath and noting with relief that her oxygen mask would not be needed.

That was the only comfort this planet was likely to offer her, and she shivered as the hair raised on her arms. A cold, harsh wind cut through Elain’s already scant attire, raking against her bare skin. Her hair blew around her face, hitting her with surprising force. 

Elain’s heart stopped as she yanked the golden-brown strands away from her face to see in front of her. Ghostly children, in shimmering shades of white approached her. Perhaps it was a phantom of her imagination, a result of the harsh impact of her crash landing. She’d heard of monsters on other planets, beings that were not human at all, but something like it. She’d never heard tales of this, children both haunted and beautiful, approaching her en masse.

Elain staggered backwards, placing her hands against the increasingly cold metal of her station. It was a cheery pink, bright and garish against the cold white backdrop of this place. It had been foolhardy to trap herself against it like this, seeking the stability of the familiar. It went against every bit of training that she’d received in her time on the guard. Perhaps her sisters had been right, she should have remained on the care teams, relegated to easy daily tasks more suited to her anxious disposition. The children made no sound as they approached her, wafting on the air as if by magic. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, her whole-body shivering.

The children beckoned her as they surrounded her. There was nothing to do but follow, though she was loath to leave the comfort of her station behind. Her steps made an audible crunch against the cold rock underfoot, unlike the silent glide of the apparitions in front of her.

It was only when they arrived in a room inside a cave, with a rudimentary cell carved into the side of a mountainous rock that she began to question her decision. Her commanders had long informed her it was better to die in the moment than be captured. Awful scenarios began to circulate through her mind, each one featuring these unsettling ghostly children. 

They must have some kind of corporeal form, because, to her horror, one child, a small girl in pigtails, began to bind her wrists to the bars of the cell, tightly overhead. Her ankles were then restrained, holding her in place with little give to move about. She began to shout, screaming for help, from whom she didn’t know. Did anyone inhabit this planet, or had they died, leaving only these half-alive creatures behind?

Her heart pounded in her chest, fear constricting her breathing as she cried out. 

She scratched and clawed for something she could grab as a pack of white foxes entered the room. They circled and sniffed at her as she stood, unable to move. 

The sound of a thunderous bellow interrupted whatever horror had been about to occur. Standing in the entrance to the cave stood a man, or something like one. He was exceptionally tall and broad, filling the whole of the cave. Long, blood red hair curled and waved down his back, an ominous picture against the barren landscape. His lip lifted in a menacing snarl, claws protruding from his hands in a promise of what’s to come.

Elain gasped, her words gone from her as she watched him step forward, the children parting to make way. They scattered, leaving her alone in the cave with the foxes and the man in front of her. The animals too, seemed to heed his direction, falling into step behind him. 

Rich, brown skin spanned his muscular chest and arms. To bare so much of his body was an indecent exposure that would have him labeled a rebel in the Sun System. She turned her face away, as if the impropriety were the worst of the errors she might be reprimanded for when, if, she ever returned home.

One long claw touched her cheek, drawing a prick of blood, as he turned her face towards his own. It was inches from hers, and she could see the long, sharp fangs that he bared in a grimace. She pulled at the restraints on her wrists but there was no give to be found.  The man’s hot breath was warm against her face as he towered over her. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” Even as he said the words, he traced his claw languidly down her cheek and the curve of her neck. She shivered, unsure of whether to meet his eyes or if that would only provoke him further.

“You saved my life,” she uttered in response. Stupid. She could hardly ingratiate herself to a half wild man like this. Still, she tried to recall her training, considering what negotiations she might have to offer. “What can I offer you in return? My home planet, the Sun System, would pay handsomely for my return.”

He hissed in response. “And what is your life worth, then? How much gold would they offer?”

Elain’s lips trembled as she weighed her true value. Perhaps the Nolans didn’t intend for her to return at all. The more she considered this mission, the more unusual it seemed that she’d been sent alone with not even enough notice to inform her sisters. Perhaps there was no need to banish her when they could just send her away, expecting her to never successfully return. Perhaps this Vanserra didn’t exist at all.

“Don’t worry, little pet. I don’t need any gold.” Despite the reassurance, she hardly felt comforted as he took several deep breaths, his chest rising and falling closer to her with each one. Elain twisted again in the ropes holding her wrists and ankles, feeling at once both nervous of the implications and something else she hadn’t experienced before.

The man watched her useless pulling, an amused expression on his, admittedly beautiful, face. An arching, prominent nose and full lips set off his angular features, with one eye of a bright russet brown and the other an usual shade of golden yellow. It only highlighted his otherworldly appearance, his strangeness, or rather, her strangeness in this place she didn’t belong.

Home. She needed to go home. Forget Vanserra and this stupid mission.

“I need to fix my station, to get home. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

He quirked his brow as he looked her up and down.

“And if what I need is your body?”

Elain felt her brows pinch together as she struggled to understand his question. If he meant to take her body, or some part of it, she wasn’t sure she’d ever make it home.

The man crouched, leaning in close to her ear and Elain couldn’t help but suck in a breath at his warm scent, like a crackling fire in the middle of this barren, snow filled planet. “Don’t worry, love, I’ll make it feel good.”

That didn’t comfort her, at all. She still didn’t truly know what he meant and worse, she was beginning to suspect it was of a prurient nature – something that surely would get her banished on her home planet if she wasn’t already. Perhaps they sensed the same thing in her this man seemed to, the same reason she was called back over and over for transference.

“Copulation, you mean?” She said it in as neutral a tone as she could maintain, trying to hide her uncertainty at the idea. It was nothing, and yet, with this man...

“If that’s what you’d like to call it.” That amused grin was on his face again, baring his too sharp teeth. She looked down, nervous. And oh. She’d never seen a naked man before - it was hardly necessary for the act performed in the safety of the Sun System health centers. Could they all be as large as this? Or perhaps it was due to his otherwise large stature. 

The man chuckled, lifting her chin to bring her gaze back up to his eyes.

“You’ll have to untie my hands,” she offered, her will to fight this leaving her.

“Oh?” His smile turned into something else then, pulling at the left corner, highlighting that unusual eye. “You look rather pretty like this.” 

He pushed his hand against her own restrained one as if to show his meaning. His fingers interlaced with hers. Her heart thundered in her chest. He couldn’t mean to...

One long claw pulled at the front of her clothes, ripping the silver material away from her body in one swift gesture. Cold air rushed against her, her nipples hardening and a shiver running down her body.

“I didn’t bring the transference pill,” she continued. “I wasn’t expecting to...”

“Do the human men on your home planet need a pill to fuck you, love? You’re wasted on them, then.” He brought his mouth closer to her, her pulse quickening at the sight of his sharp fangs. He brought his mouth there, to where her heart fluttered in her neck, his tongue swirling around the spot. Something began to throb between her legs.

“I can smell you, sweet thing. I want to taste you, too.” 

He sucked at the crook where her neck joined her shoulder and a gasping moan escaped her. What was happening to her? It felt too good, nothing like transference at all. 

She’d heard talk of the old ways, of humans driven mad by lust, behaving no better than animals. It was all talk now, tales passed down through whispers. To even speak of it was strictly forbidden by the Nolans and the commanding officers of the Sun System. It was punishable by banishment, a sentence as sure as death.

Even knowing this, Elain leaned her head to the side, giving this man access. “What’s your name?”

He chuckled, sucking on her earlobe before speaking with the low growl of his voice. “Lucien. Call me Lucien, pretty human.” He dipped his fingers into her mouth, and she accepted it, sucking on them without knowing where the instinct came from.

“Lucien,” she repeated, as he removed his fingers from her mouth, a line of spit trailing in between them. Her cheeks flushed warm as she watched it. 

“And you? What shall I call you?” 

A more rational part of Elain whispered that she shouldn’t give him her name. Names had power. And still she couldn’t deny him anything, something pulling in her ribs, urging her to give herself over to him.

“Elain,” she said as she looked up at him, feeling desperate to move, to relieve the ache between her legs.

“Elain,” he repeated, smiling as he said it. He moved her hair off her face, a sudden tenderness to the gesture. She liked the way he said her name, a slight lilt to the word that made it sound different, more beautiful than plain.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe they sent you here all alone.” He rolled his hands up and down her sides in an exploratory fashion, as if letting her adjust to the idea of him touching her. 

Lucien brought one hand to her breast, cupping her gently in his large palm before rolling her hardened nipple between his fingers. She didn’t know. Didn’t know she could feel so sensitive, that a singular touch could feel like this. She whimpered in response. Was this a spell, some sort of magic cast by this alien creature? She wasn’t sure she cared. Her body chanted for more, more, more. The ache between her legs turning into a pulsating throb with every touch and tweak.

“These humans have been neglecting you,” he growled with a possessive squeeze of her throat. She’d have hardly called it that, didn’t like to think of the ways she avoided their unwelcome attentions. Here she was, tied up, unable to get away from Lucien’s invasive mouth that seemed equally inclined to talk as to taste, and yet she didn’t feel used at all, she felt wanted, worshiped. She arched her back, leaning further into him, the only movement the restraints allowed her.

He offered her another rueful smile as he squeezed at her throat the same moment his mouth connected with her breast. The swirling movements of his tongue against her, wet and warm, had her ready to beg for more. She’d die if he stopped.

He pulled his fingers away from her throat, placing them back in her mouth. “Quiet, Elain.” He said it in an admonishing tone, as if she should have known to be quiet, when he’d been growling and roaring for anyone to hear. It set off another alarm bell, one she chose to ignore in favor of the way he’d moved his mouth down her body, now kneeling in front of her.

Lucien ran a hand against her thighs, and she gasped, surprised to find them wet where he touched. Was this part of the magic, too? He dipped a finger against it before placing it into his own mouth. He let out another growl, not at all quiet, she thought.

She should feel debased, it was all wrong, or at least that’s what she’d been taught. She tried to shut her mind off from the pleasure, but then his tongue began to lap at the wetness between her legs, and she bowed and pulled against her restraints. It was too much, electrifying and overwhelming all at once and she wanted to close her legs against his onslaught. 

He didn’t slow, but he ran a soothing hand up and down her hip as he continued, licking and sucking and all but panting against her. Occasionally, he’d turn those sharp fangs to nibble at her thighs, offering her another sensation to focus on before he continued whatever slow build had started in her gut.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she rubbed wantonly against his face.

“God, I could die like this,” he murmured. Elain gasped, feeling panicked, and he chuckled in response. “Don’t worry, my pretty human, I won’t. At least not until I get my cock in this tight cunt of yours.”

He squeezed himself to indicate his meaning, and Elain felt another panic rise in her chest. She wasn’t sure where he would put that. It was long, wrapped in veins that seemed to dance against his skin as he moved his hand against them. Glistening fluid, much like her own, dripped from the tip, trailing down his cock and onto his hand.

“I can’t wait to see this pretty cunt stretch over my cock, sweet thing. You want me to come inside you, breed you full and keep you here as my pretty mate?”

She didn’t know what he meant, truly, but the way he said the words, the way his fist clenched around himself as he said them, gave her an idea. Mate. She liked the sound of that word, whimpering and whining in response.

He trailed his fingers between her legs, dipping one of his clawed fingers into her wet entrance before dragging the finger backwards. “You like that don’t you, want me to make you feel nice and full?” He traced his finger around it, and she froze, despite the aching throb that said yes.

He sucked on the sensitive point between her legs with increased fervor, running his tongue along her in a soft motion, soothing away the intensity.

Her whole body felt hot, like she was burning from the inside out. She didn’t want it to stop, and yet she didn’t know what would happen if they kept going.

“Lucien,” she started to warn him.

He squeezed her thighs possessively, moaning into her. “That’s it, Elain.” And he nibbled at her clit before laving at it with his wet tongue and her whole body began to shake with violent tremors. She’d never felt like this in her life, something strong and electric pushing with delicious pleasure through her whole body. Whatever had been building was overtaking her now, and it was all she could manage not to scream. Pleasure suffused her body like a golden light on this cold planet, bright and burning like the sun. She felt alive in a way she never had in all her life. Elain couldn’t move, suspended in that upright position as Lucien continued to lap at her until it ached. 

When she began to move her body away from him, he stood, towering over her once more, before thrusting his tongue against her mouth. She opened wide for him as he tilted her jaw up toward him, finding it unnatural to taste herself and yet not seeming to mind. 

Lucien grabbed at the ropes on her wrists, biting at them with his teeth and they came loose. She rubbed at the tender skin as he performed a similar motion at her ankles. Elain sagged against him, his large body holding up her own with ease. He held her for a moment, running soothing touches along her hair and back.

“We’re not done yet, my little mate.” She nestled further into him, humming in contentment. He lay her down against his jacket on the floor, his hand nestled under her head. Her whole body felt heavy, woozy and spent with pleasure.

It was Lucien’s finger again at her entrance that reawakened her, as he ran it along the wetness still pooling and dripping between her legs.

He moaned at whatever he found, running back and forth with his knuckles against her. “God, Elain, you’re so...” His words trailed off as he placed kisses along her thighs. “This might hurt at first.” 

She couldn’t imagine it doing anything but hurt, if he planned to push himself inside her. Still, the ecstacy of what she had experienced a moment ago left her mind hazy, everything touched by the velvet softness of pleasure that still ran through her.

“Tell me you can take it,” he pleaded with an urgency to his voice as he pressed himself, warm and unyielding, against her entrance. 

She considered telling him no, only so she could hear him desperate again as he begged her, as if he hadn’t just put his mouth all over her while she was tied to the wall.

His large body shook as he held it over her and she lifted her hips in invitation. She was already ruined, already destined to be banished to empty space, she might as well commit. Still, she flinched as he pushed the first inch inside of her, a sharp pain causing her to tense. He reached between them, touching her and rubbing in maddening circles as he continued to push. It felt like an invasion of her body, she was too full, he was too large, a giant by any human standards. And yet her body ceded the space. She could feel herself dripping against him, the glide of her wetness easing his way in deeper. When he pressed himself fully against her with a final snap of his hips, they both moaned.

This is what the humans had all but banned, what they feared. She ground her hips against him, experimentally. Yes, she could see why, she felt a bit mad already, the pain and pleasure pushing her closer to that edge again.

With a tender kiss that had no place in this coupling on the floor of a cave, Lucien began to move, still cupping her head as he thrust with more force. Each push awakened something in her. She felt alive, everything clicking into place with the pleasure of this moment. She felt powerful as she began to push back against him, matching his rhythm and drawing more growling sounds from him. 

“Yes, Lucien,” she chanted, holding onto his broad shoulders. 

She could feel the muscles moving with each shift of his body, everything working with all of his powerful control to give her this. She remembered she was meant to be repaying him for saving her life, but it didn’t feel like that at all. Elain kissed his cheeks and neck and anything she could reach as she moved with more urgency, wanting to please him, to hold up her end of a bargain. Her body was what he asked for, and she’d given over every inch of space, full with nothing but this man, a stranger to her in every way but this one.

He murmured her name in her ear over and over as he moved, as if learning and memorizing it for later. She hummed, repeating his own back to him. Yes, this was all they were in this moment, Lucien and Elain, two bodies met by chance on this barren planet. When pleasure began to crest in her again, he knew, covering her mouth with his own in a frantic wet kiss as they reached their peak together, all sweat and skin and one steady heartbeat.

Lucien continued to pant, licking and biting at her neck and shoulders and breasts as they both came back to their senses. She ran her hands through the long red locks of his hair, enjoying the way they slipped between her fingers. As the planet turned away from the sun, it had gotten darker, lit by a vast sea of stars against the inky black sky outside the cave.

Lucien moved off of her, resting his head on his elbow to look at her as he lay on his side. “Was that what you expected, little mate?” 

Elain huffed, frustrated suddenly at this male who felt all too proud of himself. “Not quite all they chalked it up to be when they talk of it at home.” She sighed for effect. “But I suppose these things are always exaggerated in fiction.”

He didn’t seem deterred, perhaps knowing that her body had already told him quite a different tale. Even now, she couldn’t keep herself from touching him in some way, her knee brushing against his thigh and her cheek leaning against his arm.

“I’ll do my best to surprise you when you come back to visit me, then.” He bit her neck as he said it, drawing another gasp from her.

“I’m going home,” she reminded him with a frown. It didn’t sound as appealing as it had before.

Lucien scowled then, wrapping the blanket around her as he scooped her up, cradling her in his arms. 

“Let’s get you back to my station, I’ll work on repairs.”

Lucien walked with broad strides throughout the planet, cradling her tenderly in his arms, though something had tensed in his body. He dipped his head as he stepped through another cave, this one furnished more like a home, with soft lights and furs covering various surfaces. He laid her down on a pillow pile, wrapping her up before stepping back out into the bluster, the incoherent chatter of foxes following behind him. 

Elain drifted into an easy sleep, despite her dire circumstances, humming with content.