#The calm before the storm. The storm swallowing the calm etc.

[soapsparks]

What if everything stopped happening.

[hgfictionwriter]

Self Control: Part Three - Finding Out

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: It’s been a few weeks since you and Jessie started trying for a family. Will you be welcoming a new member to your family?

Warnings: Smut. Oral (cunnilingus). G!P (girl penis) sex. Language.

Jessie stepped out of the shower, wiping her face as she did so. She grabbed her towel off the rack and started drying off.

She wrapped the towel around herself and moved over to the counter to start her routine when you stepped inside the bathroom.

“Geez babe, didn’t know you were up,” Jessie said as she looked at you in the mirror. Her surprised expression relaxing into a quiet smile upon seeing your tousled hair and wearing one of her shirts you’d stolen for a pyjama top.

“Couldn’t sleep more,” you said simply as you ran your fingers through your hair and came up behind her. Jessie smiled further as you wrapped your arms around her middle and rest your chin on her shoulder.

“Why is that?” Jessie asked, a mild frown on her face as she tilted her head to kiss your cheek.

You shrugged against her. “Not sure, really. I’m tired, but I just couldn’t fall asleep again,” you replied as you snuggled into her. You tipped your chin down to lay a single kiss on the nape of her neck.

“Okay, what can we do to get you some more sleep then? It’s Saturday, you should catch up on rest,” Jessie said, looking at you again in the mirror.

It was busy for you this past week at work. You were a program manager at a local climate change non-profit. Jessie met you through her interest in the field when she first collaborated with your organization.

She’d initially reached out to your org, inquiring how she could make a difference. Things escalated quickly upon recognizing her name; a series of meetings were set up, talks about media, etc. but she met you in the process and you immediately felt like the calm in a burgeoning storm to her and your work reminded her of why she’d engaged in the first place. Now, years later, she could hardly remember a time before you.

“Mm, nothing,” you said slowly, Jessie spying a hint of a smirk forming at the corner of your mouth. “I’m waking up already,” you went on as your hand started to caress Jessie’s faintly defined abs. Jessie righted herself as you began kissing her neck again, kisses slow and lingering now.

“Yeah?” Jessie said with a bit of a chuckle as she smirked into the mirror, though subconsciously leaning back into your embrace.

“Mmhmm,” you nodded, now giving open mouth kisses against Jessie’s exposed shoulder. “You know I’m not a morning person, but you provide nice motivation.”

Jessie was formulating a witty response when your hand snaked down into her towel to start caressing her length. Her breath caught in her lungs at the feel of your warm hand around her.

“How are you this morning, my love?” You asked between kisses that trailed up her neck.

She swallowed. “Good,” she forced out, answer clipped though she now bore a crooked grin as she locked eyes with you in the mirror.

“That’s good,” you said. “But I bet I can make it even better,” you finished, a lilt in your voice. You held Jessie’s gaze as you removed your hand, her releasing a breath as you did so, and you lifted your fingers up to your mouth, licking them before starting to rub her once more.

“Mmnph,” Jessie voiced, her gaze flitting to the ceiling as your warm hand moved slickly up and down her length. Heat started to rush between her legs and she felt herself started to grow firm within your skillful grasp.

You undid Jessie’s towel and let it drop to the floor. “You’re beautiful,” you told her as your other hand continued to sensually explore her abs, while the other slowly stroked her to attention. Jessie gripped the counter, her knuckles turning white.

She let out a soft moan as you stroked her hardness. She began to slowly thrust into your hand and caught the smirk you gave her in the mirror.

“What about you, baby?” She asked with a breathy laugh as she reached behind her, no shorts to bypass, just your underwear which she easily pulled aside with her fingers to stroke your heat. Her cock pulsed with excitement at the wetness that coated her fingers.

“Seems like you’re pretty worked up, too,” she chuckled again as she watched your eyes flutter shut as she pushed her fingers through your slick folds.

Jessie shifted, turning and gently grabbing you by the waist to lift you onto the bathroom counter. Your legs opened immediately for her and she nestled herself between them, her arousal pressing against your stomach for now. She kissed you, cupping your cheek as she did so. She deepened the kiss as you wrapped your arms around her shoulders.

You reached between your bodies, your hand wrapping around Jessie once more and thumbing the bead of precum that had formed at the tip.

“You’re so wanting, baby,” Jessie teased into your kiss. Her jaw dropped as you circled her tip and stroked her again.

“You are too, baby,” you teased with a kiss. Jessie exhaled in a quick laugh.

“And whose fault is that?” She asked as she ground up into your hand and bit your lower lip. She grinned as you let out a short moan.

Jessie took a step back, your hand following her for a bit until you let go with a disappointed look, setting your hands on the counter as you gave her a pout.

Your eyes followed her as she knelt before you, peeling your underwear down your legs and discarding it. She relished the way your fingers wrapped around the edge of the counter and you rolled your shoulders with a breath of anticipation.

“You are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever known,” Jessie told you unequivocally as she placed her hands on your thighs and shifted inward. She held back a grin at how you bit your lip, tracking her movements.

Jessie leaned forward and dipped her tongue into your dripping entrance, drawing a sharp gasp out of you. She grinned into you as your grip on the counter tightened.

Soon, Jessie was rocking her face into your pussy, loving how your juices started to coat her face.

“You taste so good, baby,” she said as she licked upward to then latch onto and suck your clit.

She devoured you, refusing to come up for air as you whimpered and rocked into her waiting mouth, your pitch rising. She ignored how her cock strained and ached, looking for release. She didn’t even realize how she was subtly rocking her hips up in a vain attempt to find you.

When your hand came to the back of Jessie’s head, she moaned heavily into you and lapped at you with greater fervour. She dug her fingers into your thighs and pulled you closer into her face.

“Oh God, Jess,” you breathed as you gripped her hair and ground yourself against her.

It was only a matter of time before your thighs tightened around Jessie’s head as you released a small cry and you flooded her mouth with juices. Jessie groaned deeply into you as she drank every bit of your wetness that she could.

You were breathing heavily, your shoulders slumped as she stood, wiping her mouth before kissing your neck. Your eyes were closed as you wrapped your arms around her and let out a tired whimper.

“Are you done, baby?” Jessie asked as she slowly shifted her hips up, her cock pushing through your slick folds. Your body jolted as the head of her cock pushed across your clit. Despite your fading orgasm, you groaned and dropped your hands to grip Jessie’s tight ass in response. She chuckled.

Jessie kissed your neck as she brought her tip to your sopping entrance. She circled it a few times, before pushing gently forward, allowing her tip to slowly stretch you open.

Jessie grit her teeth as you let out a light gasp while she teased your entrance.

“Jess, please,” you pleaded as Jessie pushed in painfully slow, her exhaling sharply as your entrance gripped her head tightly. She shifted her hips back subtly, almost popping out yet drawing another moan out of you. “Come on, baby, please,” you begged.

She inadvertently dug her fingers into your hips as she rotated her own forward and sunk in. You both moaned at the sensation.

Jessie wrapped her arm around you as she hugged you tightly to her. She glanced in the mirror to see your reflection, your head tossed back in pleasure.

“Mm. You look so amazing, babe,” Jessie said took in the curves of your back, hips and ass.

Jessie started pumping into you, ditching her typical slow start to instead slap her hips up into you with sharp, quick thrusts that had you moaning heavily in her ear as you clutched to her.

She reached up and started to knead one of your breasts. She retracted her hand abruptly when you winced.

“Sorry, babe,” she said as she very gently brought her hand back to rest on your breast apologetically. She slowed her thrusts as she focused on gauging you.

“It’s okay,” you told her, placing a hand over hers. “They’re just really tender right now.”

Jessie’s thrusts slowed further and she stared quietly as her mind started to turn. You still had your other arm around her shoulder and you held her gaze.

“They’re usually sensitive leading up to my period,” you told her before going on quietly. “You know that.”

She did know that. But you’ve never winced like that before. You seemed to read her mind.

“It’s probably nothing,” you went on softly.

Jessie’s thrusts slowed to a stop and her gaze dropped to your stomach for a moment before looking up at you.

“It’s probably nothing,” you repeated, your voice merely a whisper this time as you anxiously kneaded the back of Jessie’s neck with your fingers.

“Do you want it to be nothing?” Jessie asked, working to keep disappointment out of her voice. You shook your head immediately.

“No,” you said. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up,” you went on, voice so faint Jessie could hardly hear you.

Jessie nodded in understanding. It’d been a few weeks since that first morning and your period was due in a few days. You’d both agreed to not get too eager and test early.

“And if it is something?” Jessie asked, her hands enclosing around your waist further as she held your gaze, eyes searching.

You watched her wordlessly, brows furrowed, but a smile soon formed on your face. Your hand came forward to rest on the side of Jessie’s neck, your thumb caressing her cheek.

“Then we’re having a family,” you said with quiet joy that Jessie saw you actively trying to dampen.

“Then we’re having a family,” Jessie repeated with the resoluteness that you were holding back. A smile started to spread across Jessie’s face as your eyes continued to search hers and slowly lit up. You pulled her in tightly to you, hugging her close.

“Bed. Now,” you told her a few moments later as you pulled back slightly.

Jessie, whose hardness was still sheathed inside of your tight heat, didn’t hesitate as she picked you up into her arms, remaining inside of you as she carried you to the bed.

She lay you down gently on the edge of the bed, mindful to stay joined with you as she lifted you and shifted you further up the bed so your head was resting on the pillows.

Your hands were all over her, searching and caressing, pulling her close as you whispered sweet words in her ear. She rocked into you, full, deep strokes as she chanted declarations of devotion and adoration to you.

Jessie broke away from a kiss to gaze down at you and you locked eyes with one another. Your eyes were misty with passion and emotion and Jessie’s eyes started to sting with tears as well. She smiled at you and you rushed up to meet her in a loving kiss.

Before long, your shared climax was upon you. Jessie shifted upwards, spreading your legs further as she pumped in and out of you.

“I really do mean it,” she panted in your ear. “I know we’ve been talking dirty about all of this. But I love you so much. And the idea of raising a family with you…I couldn’t want anything more. And the idea of you choosing me,” Jessie let out a high grunt, blinking back tears, “I’m amazed and so grateful. I love you.”

“There’s no one else for me,” you told her as you kissed her passionately before letting your head fall back with mounting pleasure. “Cum with me,” you urged.

Heat radiated out from Jessie’s core at your words.

“Always,” she said.

Your cries grew and Jessie groaned as your nails sunk into the skin of her back. You began to tighten and convulse around her length and she gave a few more thrusts before bottoming out, holding herself there and pouring herself out deep inside of you.

You both lay spent, Jessie kissing along your shoulder, neck and face before she sat up back onto her heels. She withdrew to the tip as she did so and gazed down in awe at how the mix of your cum fully coated her still hard cock. She sunk back in slowly and pulled back one more time, biting her lip at the way the cum spread along her cock and pooled at the base.

“Mmm, I gotta stop,” Jessie said though she couldn’t tear her eyes away from where your entrance was hugging her tightly. “I promised Sinc and Janine I’d meet them for brunch.”

You flexed around her, causing her eyes to shut before she gave you a glare that dissolved into an appreciative grin.

“We can always continue later,” you told her with a teasing grin. Jessie returned it, but it faded as yours did too. She gave you a questioning look as she gently pulled out of you and laid down next to you, laying her arm across you.

“I know this has been quick and spontaneous,” you started as your hand absently drew circles on her forearm, “but I’ll still be disappointed if I get my period. I know that’s silly.”

“It’s not silly,” Jessie assured you as she laid a chaste kiss to your cheek. “I feel the same. But I guess we have to keep in mind that it can take some time. Even if it doesn’t happen right away, we can just keep trying. And, if, we have trouble, we can see fertility doctors and see what’s going on. We’re fortunate to have the resources to have options,” she said.

“You’re right,” you told her quietly as you turned your head to her, she cupped your face. “I just really want a family with you, Jess. However it needs to happen.”

“Me too, baby,” she replied. “Let’s not get discouraged yet though. We don’t know anything about this cycle. And it’s early in this entire process.” She saw the worry in your eyes and pulled you into a sweet kiss while giving your waist a reassuring squeeze.

You pulled back with a soft sigh. “Should we still wait a few days to take the test?”

Jessie shrugged. She wanted to know, but it was more important to her to let you set the pace. “It’s entirely up to you. I’m with you whenever you want to.”

You chewed your lip, your gaze unfocused as you thought. “Let’s stick to the plan,” you told her. “This may not be anything at all. No need to veer off course.” Jessie smiled at you and nodded. She’d have to be patient a while longer.

“Sure thing, love. A few more sleeps. And we’re together in this no matter what happens.”

—————

A couple days later, Jessie was making coffee for you both. Her training bag was packed and ready to go at the door and she’d heard the shower turn off a while ago and knew you’d be emerging, ready for work shortly.

She was twisting on the lid of your travel mug when you stepped out.

“What’s wrong with that coffee?” You asked. She turned with a puzzled look to see you sporting a similar expression.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“You don’t smell that?” You continued as you approached, your face screwing up further as you got closer to the source of the aroma. “It smells foul.”

Jessie gave you a more perplexed look as you reached out to the container and held it up to your nose briefly before extending it away with a look of disgust.

“You’re kidding me, Jess. That smells fine to you?”

You both held one another’s gaze for a few, long seconds.

“Um, aversion to smells. Isn’t that…?” Jessie trailed off though she knew the answer. Of course she did extensive research as soon as you both agreed upon this path.

She saw you swallow before giving a tentative nod.

“Jess, are we…,” you trailed off as well. “Already?”

Jessie went to speak when you abruptly held up your hands and turned, walking a few steps away.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” you said in a rush. “I’m not supposed to get my period yet. So, we’re just reading into things.”

“Okay, dear,” Jessie acquiesced though she felt the spark of hope from the other day start to ignite.

“Don’t ‘dear’ me,” you said mildly as you gave her a look, though dropped your gaze and started to chew at the corner of your thumb. Jessie shot you a look and bit back a laugh.

“We said we’d wait to test,” you reminded her and she held up her hands in defense.

“Yes, love,” Jessie replied placatingly. Still, you huffed at her. Jessie couldn’t help but find it adorable as her body started to buzz with mounting excitement.

You snatched up the mug, but immediately set it back down with a visible swallow as you turned your nose up at it. You gave Jessie an apologetic look.

“I can’t drink this. I’m sorry,” you told her. Jessie shook her head excessively.

“That’s fine!” She dismissed. You sighed again, giving her a weary look.

“Don’t read into this,” you warned her. “I’ll see you after work today.”

Jessie pulled you into a hug despite your mood and kissed you. “Have a good day, baby. Text me when you can.”

“You too,” you said with a pout as you kissed her back.

————

“Y/n!” Jessie called as she stepped into your shared apartment after practice. She closed the door behind her and was met with silence.

You’d texted her prior saying you’d be home late, so she didn’t fully expect to see you yet, but she was hopeful.

She was glad to be home. Admittedly, she was unfocused at practice today. Her mind kept drifting back to recent signs that your family may be coming to fruition sooner rather than later; something both of you had been afraid to be too hopeful for.

She knew you wanted to tame expectations, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She was already planning out key dates and all sorts of things. Her mind raced when she let it and it left her body buzzing with anticipation.

She was prepping dinner when you came through the door. She wiped her hands and came to greet you. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the pharmacy bag in your hand. You locked eyes.

“I can’t wait any longer,” you said. “And I know you’ve just been giving me space. I know you’re dying to know too.”

Jessie grinned sheepishly. “You could say it’s been on my mind.”

“I know,” you said with a small smile as you came up and kissed her. “Thanks for being patient.”

Jessie wrapped her arms around you and you held one another quietly for a few seconds. Jessie tucked her head into your shoulder as you gave her a gentle squeeze.

“You ready?” You asked as you pulled back in her embrace. Jessie gave you a crooked grin.

“I’m absolutely ready.”

You’d both talked about how you wanted to do this. So Jessie led you by the hand to the bathroom and she had her hands on your waist and kissed your shoulders chastely as you prepped the test.

Jessie leaned back against the wall and waited for you to take the test. You placed the cap on it and took a deep breath, looking up to meet Jessie’s watchful gaze. You held out the test for her to hold and you got up. Jessie set a timer.

When you were ready, Jessie lifted you up onto the bathroom counter. Still clutching the test in one hand, she wrapped her arms around you as yours came up around her shoulders. She rubbed your back with her free hand and you rest your head against hers as you waited for the timer to go.

When Jessie’s alarm went, she silenced it immediately. She still held you close but she could feel the tension rising in both your bodies. Your grip tightened on her and you tucked your head closer into her.

“Still want me to look?” Jessie asked softly. You nodded against her. You wanted her to be the one to check the results. “Okay,” Jessie said with a quick exhale.

She was going to disentangle herself from your embrace and check, but decided against it. She continued to hold you. Her heart was beating out of her chest as she held up the test, her hand shaking as she did so.

Her mouth was dry as she trained her eyes on the test. She felt short of breath and blinked as she processed the results.

She pulled you impossibly closer before pulling back to look you in the eye, your expression a mix of anticipation, hope and worry. This woman that she loved so very, very much.

“Y/n…we’re having a baby.”

A/N: Long chapter, folks. But I have lots more story to tell and wanted to hit this milestone in their journey. Part Four is available here.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Songs That Sound Like Sea-Foam (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Fisherman!John Price x F!Mermaid!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.7k

WARNINGS: Blood, abduction, violence, intense gore, death, swords & firearms, angst, hurt/comfort, nakedness, etc.

A/N: Guys, whatever you do, don't imagine Price in a white tunic holding Mermaid you in one arm and weilding a sword in the other. I'm frothing at the mouth.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You sit on your black rocks once more, the darkening sky warning of an oncoming storm that you can feel seeping into your bones. In your loose grip, you fiddle with John’s necklace. 

He’d given it to you only recently as a gift, seeing as you enjoyed the shininess of it so much, and you’d taken great pleasure in keeping it around your neck. Out of all of your treasures and trinkets, somehow these measly metal discs had become your favorite. The necklace is smooth under your caress, and you look down at it adoringly, eyes soft and lips curved with delicate affection. 

The cove, as always, was quiet above the call of seagulls and the lapping of waves; the whispering ripples from your tail as it sways under the water. You had gotten content with this—the silence. Because you knew it would be filled by the low gravel of an accented voice soon enough; would be swept away by the chuckles you could wring from beard-hidden lips. 

John was something to look forward to, and you loved the way he looked at you. 

Water hits the top of your head. 

Blinking out of your honeyed thoughts you look up to the crying sky as small slaps of droplets slide across your cheeks. Lashes flinch at every motion, and you glance back to the empty cove before lowering the necklace to your scaled lap. 

Confusion slithers in like an eel to your heart as your eyes slide over the growing waves. The yawning mouth of the entrance sits abandoned of any small fishing ship. 

For three, beautiful, sand-covered, months, John had never missed a day to come and see you. Rain or Sun.

A prick of a sharp fish's spine enters your brain. The rain comes down now in sheets. Lightning and thunder fight, and if you look close enough, the remnants of ancient lightning birds battle overhead with a flurry of black wings and their insatiable need for blood. Yet, still, your eyes stay frozen on the cove entrance as the water rises and rises. 

With a thinning of your lips and the violent pushing from the torrent as it swallows your rocks, you clench your hands over John’s necklace and push off your perch with a shove of your palms. 

Water encompasses you, scales dull, and fins limp as the general calmness from the encompassing water holds you in a constant sway. Your brows furrow.

Why wasn’t he here? You ask yourself, sinking among the seaweed and the schools of quick fish. Concern mingles with hurt. Do…do you think he’s alright? 

Human ways were still confusing to you, even if John had been helping you understand them and giving little clam-shells of information. But they seemed…like violent folk. Angry and selfish, from what John had said about their wars and squabbles. The thought of your fisherman potentially being in danger on land was terrifying to you. 

There wouldn’t be anything you could do if that happened.

Your fingers tighten around the strap of his necklace as you stare at the surface, back lightly hitting the bottom of the cove with a puff of sand. Crabs scatter as your tail twitches, your lungs sighing in their own special way. 

John can take care of himself, you reason. He’s just a little late is all. 

John’s never late. Your face creases, but you stuff the thought down, twisting on your side and bridging the piece of jewelry to your lip—kissing it once as sand digs into your skin. Holding the fisherman's property to your pounding heart, you close your eyes and wait as any lonely and loyal Merwoman would; tail held in close and the reverberations of a rabid downpour above you.

—

You wake up to the darkness of night. Blinking, you sigh to yourself and move a slow hand to rub at your eyes. After a moment of fatigued confusion as to why you weren’t in your cave, you realized why you had been out here in the first place.

John. 

Arms pushing you up, your mind fights to wake itself, laced with algae and fatigue. How long have you been asleep? Has the storm stopped? Surely you hadn’t slept the entire day away. You pull the fisherman's necklace over your head as you stare at the sand below you. No fish were slipping past besides one that brushes your tail, which you found odd, but didn’t think much of it. 

Shaking your head, you feel sluggish and put the necklace back on with a huff. You worry what John will think of you perhaps missing his late visit and smile slightly in humor. 

The fish brushes your tail again. 

Scales shimmering, you turn with an annoyed pull to your lips, fins scraping something hard and rough even as it’s saturated by the water of your cove. When you spot it, not only the rope but the shadow of the large hunting ship above you, your body drains of any life that had once lived in your lungs. It wasn’t nighttime. 

Eyes widening at the loop that was parading around your tail, you don’t have time to move before it tightens with a force that leaves your mouth opening in a bubbled scream; ruthlessly jerking your body along the seafloor. 

Desperately, your hands rip along the rocks and weeds of the bottom of the cove, getting torn and shredded in their soft nature as easily as paper. Your body smacks into every little object with a rattling to your bones that makes you sob. Red saturates the water as you’re manhandled in long and steady intervals back and up. 

No amount of rampaging your tail does can break the rope, and with a last-ditch effort as the sandy floor gets farther and farther away, you twist around and tear at the woven cord with sharp nails. Adrenaline pumps, pupils tiny and panicked. 

No! No, not like this! You can imagine the pain of it now—the hooks and the ripping of scales from your supple flesh. Even now the tiny ones under the dig of the vice are peeling away in long strings of red to disappear behind you as you’re thrust upward. They’re delicate, don’t these monsters understand? They’re beautiful and treasured and they’re destroying them!

You scream in pain at the pulling of your spine; a large creaking in your muscles. 

But as you gain a small sense of feral hope when the rope begins to fray from your grip, the iron net squashes any belief of surviving. 

It slams into you as John would cast his own for his prey—but this one is larger and full of cruel, curved, spikes. Is this what your parents endured? What the harpies had meant? The iron sinks far quicker than rope, and it traps you in a dome of hell before you can mutilate yourself out of the maw.

Oh, Gods, it was going to peel your skin away.

True fear pounded in your breast, and with a cry of John’s name from under the water, you watched with horror as the net descended onto you and your bloody wounds.

They drag you above waves and the first thing you do is thrash and wail so loud the seagulls shriek in surprise. There’s crimson staining the waters sloshing at you with combative ease, the violent storm from before now a light slapping at add to your fear. In the wake of open air, the curved spikes dig into your flesh as easily as a unicorn’s horn can penetrate a wyvern’s armor. Skin everywhere is assaulted and peeled to a tautness of bodily torture. 

Oh, and your precious tail. 

It hurt so badly, like nothing you had ever experienced before. 

“John!” You scream as your body strikes the side of the large ship, voice cutting out and leaving a bawling yell behind. Your form was being pulled by steady hoists and barked orders. 

All around you can hear laughing—joking. Loud exclamations of approval. 

You’re sure they’ve dislocated your tail right at the joint, how could they not have? The ream of their strong arms and ruthless greed. Oh, your tail, your precious, beautiful tail.

Long streams of salty tears fly down your dripping face; arms pushing the spikes away from your neck and face with futile action. The net and rope were your earthly graves. 

They slam you to the deck like a fish. 

Jerking and slapping around, your arms hit the wood with a bird-paced heart. The iron rattles and keeps you down like a weight. 

Brokenly gasping through loud cries, the sudden jeering faces from all around leave your fear all-consuming. 

They were ugly—broken teeth and sun-destroyed skin. Eyes that bugged and scars that could be from either a sword or a Strix’s claws. More than likely it was from meager squabbles with crewmates. But you balk back nonetheless, terrified and bleeding profusely. 

They were going to rip you to pieces. 

Inside your chest, your lungs are rising and falling quickly, and the hands that glide along your form make you want to burn your skin off. They grip at you, yanking you around as your hair gets caught in the gaps between the iron. With nail and tooth your bite and claw, but how many were there? Ten? Twenty? 

There’s uproar and more jokes as you fight back; body lifted and spikes torn out of skin as you arch your back and howl in agony. Their hands are not John’s. They don’t caress your smooth skin with reverence or holiness—this is cruelty. This is a sadistic pleasure. 

“Isn’t it our lucky day, Lads?!” A high and grating voice bellows out, and finally free of the net, all you can do is cry and flip your tail uselessly along the polished wood as they throw you down. Your vision blacks and slowly comes back—hair matted and skin slick with more than water.

It hurts to breathe too much. Whimpering, your cheek presses itself into the deck as footsteps take someone closer.

“Holy God, would ya look at that down there, eh? A true maiden of the sea,” A thunderous belt of achievement from everyone leaves you flinching, eyes tight shut to try and focus on anything but the excruciating way your skin throbs and gushes blood. “Though we’d have gotten all of them by now!” 

Haggard laughs and rotted smiles. 

A hand snaps to wrench your face upward, and you yowl and grasp at your head as your delicate strands go tight.

“Now who’s the little beauty we have here?” Whoever this man was, he had no standing on John. On your Fisherman. 

Loose skin and an age-rotted tunic, a belt at his waist holding a scabbard with a gold sword and twin pistols. He had only one eye—brown as a pile of mud—with a black eyepatch over the other. 

Your fluttering lashes took in a cracked-lipped grin of approval; whether at your battered appearance or the nature of your species, you knew not. But you didn’t like the way he was glancing at your tail as if it was made of gold one bit.

“Lords above, did ya have to be so brash, Lads?” Spittle slaps your face and you fight again with the hands in your locks to get away. The man’s hold jerks your face back and forth until you stop with bile building in your throat. “Wrecked her silky skin, you did!”

Being thrown back, your skull slams the deck before you hurl your guts in a sputtering of air and crimson. Many laugh and kick at your already broken scales. You grit your teeth and refuse to cry out.

“Get ‘er tied up and in the Hold for storage. If the scales are good enough, we’ll peel ‘em tomorrow.”

“Peel?!” Your face whips into a twisted glare, and pain leads to fast anger; wrath, even. The men grow gradually silent at your outburst and the leader comes to a slow stop—his back to you. “How dare you?” You gasp out, hands pushing your body slightly backward until the agony makes you stop with a lip-bitten whine. “How dare you do this to me? What have I done to you and your men? You’re nothing but senseless cowards who shy at something that lives its life differently! Am I only a pile of coin for you?!”

Your blood runs over the deck and seeps into the grain. Staining it with your memory and presence like a ghost that’s not yet dead. Loose scales shimmer and drip red. They were damaged and dull—your flesh was mangled. 

The leader turns back and smirks with blackened teeth. “More than a pile, Little Dearie. Far more. And if those hooks had been kinder, the King would have loved a beauty like you in his collection.” A look is slid down your body with a knowing chuckle.

He stalks off and you peel back your lips to say more, but a stained rag is shoved into your mouth instead, shutting up your rageful screeches and any hope of a peep of potent song despite not knowing these devils’ names.

By the time they chuck you in the Hold, body bouncing along the wood, and shut the hatch with a reverberation of wood, you had managed to rip someone’s ear clean off and break another’s arm; but there was only so much you could do. They had bound your hands behind you with a blow to your spine.

Curled up and longing for the sea, for John, you hold the only thing you have left. 

Silver discs on a chain, the metal smooth and the only thing now shining. You feel it hit your breastbone and sob as the headache of blood loss begins to set in. Laughter echoes from above your dark prison.

—

John saw the blood in the water before he saw the scales being pushed back and forth on the beach. Caught in that gentle push and pull now that the storm had ceased beyond a light drizzle—bright and reflecting the misty sun; far more vibrant than a fish or a sea serpent. But the blood. 

Christ, there was blood in the water. 

Blue eyes stare blankly at the sea-foam at the shoreline, red and bubbling, John’s pupils small and the lashes held back even as a salty breeze hits them with a burn. At his sides, his hands slowly close into fists. 

Jumping off the side of his ship, the man lands in thigh-deep water, gritting his teeth before he shoves his way to the sand and black rocks of land. He doesn’t know what drives his actions, or why he’s doing this, but with quick hands, he snatches up what scales he can find and keeps them in his palm; mind on fire. 

Anyone could see the fury in John’s gaze—a growing hatred for what was just beyond sight. When he has all he’s able to carry, he wades back through the water and gets himself back atop his boat easily with one hand. 

Walking quickly and soaked, he pushes aside a small cloth atop a barrel; seeing a gold box hidden under it. He opens it deftly, and while he puts the damaged and torn scales inside, John glances at the expensive and elegant twin cuff bracelets that sit in blue velvet. 

When he had been away buying them for you, he should have already been here. Wasted time.

I left her here alone. Knowing what could happen if I did. A growl bounces under his beard, face going red with anger. The two of you had quickly become enraptured with each other—drunk off flesh and touch like non-sentient animals. 

And something had taken place while he was away. You were gone, the fisherman knew. The water wasn’t as clear, the fish were terrified, and the blood alone proved this—the scales. This wasn’t an accident.

And it had something to do with that ship he’d seen on the horizon with his narrowed eyes not minutes prior. The Captain was slowly re-taking over the man.

“Fuck!” John curses, teeth bared as he spins and readies his sails. With violent pulls at the ropes, letting the mainsail shift down in a flurry of white sheets, he turns the vessel around in no time at all. It was as if Poseidon himself was pushing the ship forward to that small dot on the ocean line, far, far away. 

Deadly purpose bled into his heart, and the early afternoon sun forced him onward with hellfire following at his heels. He re-wraps his gift in the meantime, only taking a single scale from inside and putting it in a small pouch on his belt before walking to another barrel and pausing. This one was older, more sun-bleached. 

John deserted the service years ago, but not long enough to forget how the world of men can be. With a grunt on his thinned lips, the brunette rips the top off and grasps inside. 

With an experienced hand out came a sheathed Cutlass, the leather of the handle worn and indented to his very grip. It found a place on his belt, and John wasted no time in making the Flintlock pistol follow. 

A fisherman he may be, but in his blood John would always be a killer. He knew how to fight dirty and fight well—carve skin and not flinch at the sparks of gunpowder. There was no hesitation as to what he would do to get you back. 

In his chest, there was a weight of rage and concern as he glared at the far-off Hunter’s ship.

“What the hell have you done to her?” He growls, beard back and eyes narrowed. His hands clenched and unclenched with loathing. 

John’s thoughts go to the horror stories he’d heard about Merfolk and them getting caught in the open ocean, when he’d found you he had been surprised. He felt his heart beat faster when you were around, his blood would spike with love and affection. 

It was strange, unheard of, but he can’t stop it now that it’s happened. 

No one touched you with their cruel hands and lived. 

John didn’t like it, but he hung far enough away from the Hunter’s ship so that the cover of night hid him. Dark stars hung at his head, tunic blowing in the chilled breeze when the waves took him close enough—all was silent. Asleep. 

Lantern light slid along the waves, and with deft fingers, John anchored his ship with measured efficiency a small distance away. Looking over the side, the fisherman grunts under his breath and sets his shoulders. Without a single glance in hesitation, he slips silently off the deck into the water. 

Immediately, John kicks his legs and resurfaces with a puff from his nostrils, whipping his head to the side to dispel water. Making no sound, the man swims the distance between vessels, hearing the creak of the still and bulky form of the Hunter’s ship ten times his own sitting above him. 

“Fuckin’ bastards,” he grumbles to himself and thinks of your condition intensely. His heart hammers even in the clutches of the frigid waters. But beyond the insult, no other words needed to be spoken—the prior Captain was a man of action.

Violent Action.

John wades to the side of the wooden structure, the waves threatening to smash him tight into the hull and skin him against the barnacles, but he braces himself and grabs ahold of the knife at his belt, next to his cutlass. In his stupor to get to you quickly, he’d forgotten that his Flintlock would be completely useless now that it had been submerged in water. 

Grunting and trying to remain as quiet as possible, the man sets his blade into the side of the ship into the thin slits available. In his free hand, he takes up his cutlass and does the same. In a feat of impressive upper-body strength that leaves his muscles bunching and tensing—veins visible from the side of his neck—John huffs breaths as he climbs the ship one panel at a time. 

He groans and sends the blades back in at opposite intervals, the firm thunk-plunk, thunk-plunk, bouncing off the dark air as the moon shines bright. But no one awakens.

The Fisherman pulls himself up the side of the ship and swiftly ducts behind a pile of large crates on deck to gather himself, wiping his forehead with his arm.

“C’mon Sweetheart,” he mutters, “hold on just a little longer.” Duel wielding both weapons, narrowed eyes look across the open area—the stain of blood all along the wood. Glimmering in the low light catches John’s fiery gaze. 

Scales. Your scales. Littering the deck and scattered all over. 

If possible, the man becomes even more enraged, knuckles going white over his blades. The man stationed on deck was asleep across the way; leaning back and snoring. John locks eyes on him and hides back a vicious smirk. Quickly sneaking over and staying near the edge of the lantern’s lights, the ragged-looking man awakens to a blade at the base of his throat and a voice in his ear.

“The woman,” John speaks slowly and deeply, accent rolling out. The watchman tenses in his grip, but John grits his teeth and grits out, “Where the fuck is she?” 

“W-woman?” Usually, the brunette could paint himself a patient man, like a flag fluttering in a breeze waiting for the next bout of heavy winds without care or concern. But this was different. 

By God, if these pathetic fortune-seekers had hurt you even in the slightest bit…

John presses the blade harder to the man’s throat, thighs shifting in agitation, glaring at the far-off water beyond this stranger’s shoulder.

“The woman.” Blood falls down the blade edge, crimson. A tiny whimper. “The one that you stole away like an fucking animal.” 

“The fish?” The tone was incredulous but with a snarl the voice continues, whispering pitifully out in fear over the night’s silence. “She’s in the Hold! I swear it, Sir, on God’s green earth I do—”

John slits the man’s throat and takes his leave before the body drops, blood spraying into the air with a garbled cry.

—

You don’t sleep so much as you fall unconscious from the lack of blood. Inside your head, your brain is fuzzy and light—everything swirling like a jewel’s many faces reflected onto a wall. The rocking of the Hunter’s ship, while something you should be used and accustomed to, made you sick at times until only the watery bile that fell from your lips hit the wood. 

At some point, you’d given into the call of nothingness at the lack of seawater and the violent shivering of your shoulders. Your tail had gone completely numb. 

Everyone knew that Merfolk needed the sea to survive—you couldn’t live without feeling its loose arms around you for long periods, pulling you in and filling your airways. 

This was torture. 

But whoever was ripping up cloth at your limp side was muttering you back into the darkness of the Hold. 

“I’m right ‘ere, c’mon, Love. Open your bloody eyes.” Hands pressed to your face, tilting it and hissing before a thumb slid along the swollen skin of a cut. “I’ll rip them to pieces…mark my word. They’ll not live through this.” 

It sounded like…

Gripping at your binds and gag, both items slipped away right before the larger cuts on your body were suddenly packed with strips of rough material. Occasional whispers of words and curses wafted out. 

“...J-John?” Your voice is rough, shattered, but at the same time you manage to force open an eye. 

Tight blue eyes meet yours immediately, and his voice softens to a painful degree as he addresses you. “That’s it, atta girl. Just keep focusing on my voice, then, yeah? Come back to me, Sweetheart.” 

Tears well your ducts, lips quivering. 

John was curled over you and had ripped up the bottom of his tunic to make strips of bandages to try and stop the bleeding. He came for you, gruff voice and large frame, all.

“How are you—” Your voice breaks into body-shaking coughs, but that doesn't deter the man. He carefully puts a hand forward and tilts you into his arms; head resting on his chest. Your ears twitch to the sound of his heartbeat, loud and fast. You cling to it like a lifeline as those calluses graze your skin once more.

How was he here? 

“What have they fucking done?” John’s voice is dark and volatile, his hand stroking your matted hair. “What did they do?” 

He’s not so much asking you as he’s asking himself. You breathe in a wheeze, not noticing the crimson staining John’s clothes—none of it his or yours in the slightest. The other men on the ship weren’t the Fisherman’s priority, only you; always you. But whoever had been in his path had met the unfortunate end of being on the opposite side of his blade. 

When he’d found you like this….it was like his entire chest had fallen still. His eyes wide with horror and fear. 

John had never felt something that visceral before, except when you hadn’t been in your cove. 

“Oh, my Beauty.” Chapped lips press to your forehead, breathing you in as arms curl around you. “Let me bring you home.” 

You shake and cry silently into his neck, weak hands coming to grasp at his neck. 

“They’re going to take my tail.” 

“No,” John’s answer is immediate and firm, pulling you closer until you might slip into his skin. “No, they’re not doing a damn thing to you. I promise, Love, not a single person will ever touch you again, you hear?” 

You burrow into his neck, this fisherman’s flesh soft under your force. Hands keep you to him, and with another kiss on your cheek, they tighten and gently move you into the clutch of his arm. 

John looks down at you with great distress, eyes flickering over every sign of abuse and hurt. The men whose throats he’d slit in their sleep deserved to be awake and see the blade descending for their neck, he thought. 

“I’m going to lift you, Sweetheart, eh?” He grunts to push aside the hatred in his tone, not wanting to scare you. He gazes around the Hold and at the low ceiling—the insistent rocking from the waves just outside. 

You suck down greedy breaths and nod slightly, shaking in his arms. John’s eyes crease in sorrow but has no option but to continue; the both of you can’t be here when the remaining men wake or discover the bodies. 

Your Fisherman frowns but does what he’s able to both quickly and effectively lift you, your tail hanging limp and dripping blood from the fins. When you tense and whine, John shushes you quietly.

“Hush, now, it’s alright. It’ll all be over soon, I’ve got you. I’m taking you back home if it’s the last thing I damn-well do.” Your teeth grit with held-back pain, every movement was agony and to think made it worse. 

Home? Home wasn’t safe anymore. Like taking a knife to the heart, the thought makes the torment all the worse. 

John holds you in one arm, head under his ear and rubbing against his beard as his muscles strain to keep you right to him with his torn tunic and blood-freckled skin. In his free hand, he wields his Cutlass and exits the Hold slowly, eyes surveying the scene. 

The scores of bodies were only a fraction of the men of this ship—only one side of the crew’s quarters that ascended up to the deck. John knew the anatomy of a ship well, certainly one like this. 

His only question was why such an unsavory bunch was living on a King issued hunting vessel in perfect condition. Was the bastard hiring pirates for his extermination game?

“If I ever get my hands on him…” John shuts himself up as someone groans in their sleep from the far wall. 

He glares in the general direction and puts his body between yours and the straight direction that he walks—sword parallel to the ground and knife at his belt as a backup. Ready and wound for a fight. 

“You..you came for me?” You ask softly as John carries on, your blood leaving a crimson trail behind the two of you; your mind is loose to all except the way your Fisherman’s thumbs run circles in your rent scales, fingers gripping under your tail joint which aches and hurts. His bicep is curled at the small of your back. 

John carries you like you weigh nothing.

“‘Course,” the brunette's eyes slide to yours, true honesty and firmness behind his words. You flutter your lashes at the fatigue in your body and his feet speed up, speaking into your scalp and nuzzling his beard into you. “No one messes with my girl.” 

“I’m not a…girl, John,” you remind, softly.

The smirk on your head gives you strength, fear steadily draining like contaminated liquid.

“No,” he whispers, “no, not quite. You’re something far more lovely, aren’t you?”

Your heart swells, tears dripping down your cheeks once more before lips slide them away with brushes of a kiss. He carries you up the stairs quickly, sword at the ready. 

Lantern light makes you squint, hands tightening around John’s neck. 

He hums to you, a small melody that you can latch onto to help focus—it keeps your mind working as everything else falls away. John’s warm flesh and his lungs, the sound of his pulse. 

He came for you. No man would do that besides him—no specimen of any species. No one except John. 

Your Fisherman. 

You’re halfway to freedom, feeling the sea air on your flesh and longing for the depths of untouchable waves. You peek from John’s neck and blink delicately, what little scales still intact shimmering, and fins aching for water. 

“John,” he begins to pick up his pace, but still glances in attentive question. “I need to be in the water. I can’t go long without it.” You already felt a bit stronger by just being by the open sea. The man nods and you smile deeply, face twisted. You kiss his cheek deeply. “You have my thanks, Fisherman.” 

His tight expression gradually loosens with care and love. “Doubted me, then?”

“Perhaps only a little,” he kisses your lips, cheeky smiles peeling his beard. 

“Well, we’ll have to fix that, eh?” The man’s face is lit by lanterns, stars like a crown above his head that illuminate the small scars and the sheen of sweat like a portrait of a good man. 

Perhaps humans were truly more magical than you had been taught to believe, for no mortal man would do this for anybody. 

In the midst of him carrying you over to the edge of the ship, he’s only three feet from the drop when the familiar sound of a Flintlock hammer being clicked back hits his ears. You feel John lock up, and your eyebrows crease in confusion; not common to the model of metal and wood. 

Looking over his shoulder, you strangle down a raspy gasp.

“John—”

“I know, Love.” He whispers, turning slowly with his sword at his hip. The stranger with the eyepatch has his weapon leveled with the brunette’s chest. “Easy, let me handle it. Keep focusing on me.”

“A thief in the night!” The leader calls, and alarm from below deck start to rise in question at the noise. John grits his teeth and his stance widens. “Thought to make off with my prize, did ya? I’ve not seen you before on this ship.”

“Hell,” John grits out, loudly now that he’s caught. You burrow deeper into him and he shields you, voice hot with rage. “Save me the fuckin’ monologue. She isn’t yours—to own or bloody take.” 

As he speaks he points his cutlass in the leader’s general direction, holding it aloft with a strong and pale arm. The leader smirks, and soon the pound of rushing feet enter the deck—men holding weapons and clubs. You make a noise of tension and John tries to shift you farther into his grip even more. 

Your tail hangs and brushes the deck, gaining some feeling back to it gradually. 

The leader laughs. “What that creature is, Mate, is enough gold for a whole moon’s time in rum and pleasure.” His single eye falls on you as the crew gets closer, crowding in and yelling. 

John shuffles back and snarls like a boar, pointing his sword’s tip from one chest to another. 

“Keep your bastard eye off of ‘er, you prick. Find your score elsewhere. She’s coming with me.” So sure he sounds that you yourself believe it. Your chest swims with pride.  

The crew closes in, but jumping at this stage was dangerous. The ones with firearms could aim in the water before you both could get away and John didn’t know if you could swim still. Your fins were torn and tail flinching with damaged nerves.

Eyepatch barks a vile laugh, “...I think he loves the beast!” John’s body winds even farther and your eyes slip to the side of his red face. He grunts stiffly, hair damp. Everyone follows in their amusement, mocking the two of you. “I knew that necklace around her neck meant something.” Your body stills and you glance down at John’s gifted silver. Blue eyes flash to the same, but as if suddenly realizing the nakedness of your top surrounded by such brutes, your Fisherman pushes on the back of your spine to shove your chest into his own with a panicked look. You grunt in surprise, but let him. “No greedy Mermaid would bother with a trinket like that! A piece of rubbish metal. It means something to her—and I’ll bet that something is you, Thief.” 

Me, greedy? Your eyes narrowed into slits. If you knew his name, you’d sing his death song in an instant. Your Fisherman’s face goes stiff, knowing the predicament the two of you were in. There was no way he was giving you up. 

But himself…

Tiny lids narrow on the arrogant leader.

“Do you trust me?” John whispers to you, suddenly, as all sides were surrounded and the water just as dangerous as the deck. 

Face creasing, you say, confused and worried, “Of course.” 

“...Then forgive me.” 

He throws you from the side of the deck, and whirs to run his blade through the nearest man. 

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[rafesfavbimbo]

Part 3 to this and this.

Pairing: FWB!Rafe Cameron x FWB!Reader

A/N: FLUFF! LIKE SO MUCH! Healed relationships >> I hope this does the heartache justice! Much love 🐰🌸💕 (not entirely proofread kinda just cranked this out)

-

Rafe can’t believe he’s standing in front of her door. His heart is pounding in his chest as he hovers his hand over the front door of her penthouse. It’s been so long and he swallows hard before he shuts his eyes as he finally knocks, soft taps but loud enough for her to hear. He pulls his hand back and stuffs it into his pocket as he stares at his shoes, his brain racking and stomach clenched with anxiety as he waits. Hoping she’s home, hoping the door opens. It’s when he hears a shuffling inside that his heart starts pounding, listening to the locks open as the door tilts open. A face he’s waited so long to see coming into view. God —she looks beautiful. She looks so stunning; a healthy glow about her and an aura of calm surrounding her as she faces him. Her eyes widening and pretty lips opening into a slight drop of shock as she whispers out a..

“Rafe?”

-

Right after y/n stormed out of his house, Rafe collapsed onto the floor. Hands holding himself up as he heaves, eyes clenched tightly as tears drip onto the floor. His face pounding and sore from the backhands she gave him —and rightfully so. He’s been rough with her before she loves to be manhandled; but the way he choked her till her face was red and the light slowly left her eyes is still playing in his head. The words she spoke to him still pounding around his brain as he chokes out a sob. She’s right, he is pathetic. She’s right, he does need her. She’s right about everything; he’s a kid full of issues playing grown up. He’s always known he’s needed help, many people facing the consequences of Ward’s lack of accountability for his son’s mental health. Hurting her though, was the break through he needed.

He’s used to being shunned, used to people being disgusted by his character. He’s accepted that; but she always accepted him. She never made him feel bad about being as fucked up as he is; until now at least. Y/n was the one person who didn’t lecture him about his actions. She put up with it; she comforted him. She loved him, the past tense use of the word making the cracks in his heart shatter more. She was the one person who loved him in his entirety; and for that reason he always thought she’d put up with him. She’s put with so much from him and this was the last straw. This was pushing him to finally seek the help he needed.

Yeah maybe Ward ignored his health, but Rafe is grown; he’s got the means to find help. That’s what he’s going to do he’s decided. He’s going to get help, make amends with those who have faced his wrath. He’s going to man up, be a better person. He needs too, for himself. He needs to do it for himself; needs to do it before he test faith one more time. He needs to do it for her. She deserves so much better, and he’s going to be better. For himself and for y/n; he’s willing to let her go. He will find his way back to her, he just needs time.

-

Y/n moved to Malibu only three weeks after the last time she saw Rafe. Her parents put her up in a beautiful Penthouse by the beach; she’s an ocean girl at heart. Her girlfriends helped her pack her things with aches in their hearts and tears in their eyes; taking her to the airport on her last day as they all exchanged tearful goodbyes and tight hugs. They knew she needed this; she didn’t need to be stuck in Kildare. She needed to spread her wings and fly; seek a happiness that clearly wasn’t here. So she flew, all the way to California and set her roots in Malibu. She’s gonna make it her home; she’s gonna make Kildare a thing of the past.

She quickly got situated, taking advantage of the beach being walking distance and soaking up the sun as often as she could. She got into modeling quickly, doing prints, editorials, campaigns, etc. She loved it, it was fun and kept her distracted. Flying from place to place and expanding her culture and knowledge. It healed her, to meet new people and experience new customs. She was on a spiritual journey, healing that hurt inside her and taking accountability for her bad habits. She was on the track to finding true zen; she was finally and truly happy for the first time in a long time. Her heart didn’t ache anymore, her soul and mind don’t scream anymore. Her stomach didn’t twist in knots anymore. So this was what true peace felt like; she thought to herself often. Choosing to stay away from any romantic encounters. She needed to be by herself; content by herself. She finally was.

Little did she know Rafe was on the same path, his road bumpier but the work he put in made up for it. He checked himself into rehab; actually accepting he had a problem. When he left he regularly kept in touch with a therapist; he told her the truth. He told her about everything. From his family life to y/n; and what he realized was that he projected all his resentment onto everyone else. He did it especially to her. His psychiatrist prescribed him medication that helped thoughts in his mind lessen; getting off it in a few months with weaning as he finally had a breakthrough. For the first time, in a long time… Rafe found his mind quiet. The thoughts stopped racing and the knot in his stomach unraveled.

He stopped throwing parties, cut his association with Barry after a very long apology. The two men making up and moving onto different paths; leaving a strong cordiality and respect between the two. He then went to apologize to Sofia, sitting her down and holding her hands in his own as he spoke with sincerity. He apologized for treating her so poorly, he apologized for using her. Giving her forehead a soft kiss and accepting her tight squeeze as she accepted his apology. Wishing him the best on his journey and vice versa. The two giving each other sympathetic smiles as they parted ways for good. Rafe feeling the weight on his chest lightening that much more, but there was one weight he waited and waited to get off . It would happen eventually, but for now he trudged it along with him. Throwing himself back into work with a new outlook on life. He was going to leave this place, it was time to find a new home.

-

“Rafe?” y/n said with shock. Her beautiful eyes staring at him doe-like as they watered. Despair rushing through them as all she wanted to do was throw herself in his arms. It’s been over a year and a half; it’s been so long. She knows how they left off but her new outlook on life pushed her to do something she’s dreamt about doing for months. She leapt forward and threw her arms around him; burying her face in his neck as tears of mixed emotion dripped from her eyes. Rafe immediately wrapped his arms around her tightly, burying his nose into her hair and taking in the scent he’s missed so much. They fell to their knees right there on her private entrance, embracing each other on the floor. His eyes closed as he let out a soft hum, he missed her so damn much. She missed him so damn much.

“I’m here, baby.” He spoke to her softly, kissing her hair as she sobbed harder into him. Her tears wetting his neck as he brought up a hand to caress her hair; pressing soft kisses and nuzzling his nose into her. Cooing to her, telling her it’s okay. She lifted her head back and looked up at him; nuzzling her nose against his as they pressed their foreheads together and closed their eyes. Just taking in each other’s presence and familiar scents they missed so much. Feeling the warmth and feel of each other under their fingertips; they missed this feeling so much. Distance truly makes the heart grow fonder; their chest beating against each other as they surrounded themselves in their own world once again. “Let’s go inside, it’s been too long.” She whispered to him, pulling back to look into his eyes as he nodded in compliance and began standing up. Taking her with him as they walked into her new home, his mind hoping it might be theirs soon.

-

Rafe sat on her black leather couch as she made him a cup of tea, bringing it to him in a pretty pink mug that he’s sure is one of her favorites. She sat it down on the coasters she had on her pretty glass table. Sitting adjacent from him as he picked up the cup; blowing on it softly as he took a small sip. While he did so she took him in; took all of him in. He looked so different; he was glowing. His aura shining and his face looking healthy. He even put on a bit of weight; he looked so different in such a good way. Glowing and the energy radiating off of him was so different from the usual chaotic darkness that shot out of him. It was light now, pure light and she felt like a bug that was drawn to it.

Rafe set the cup down, turning his eyes to look at her. The two taking in each other in, both more mature now. Both different. Their calmness radiating and intertwining with each other; encasing them in a feeling of serenity. “You looks so beautiful,” he said softly to her; a warm smile spreading across his lips as his eyes portrayed his full sincerity. “You look so beautiful,” she spoke back to him, her eyes full of positive emotion and a sincere smile on her face. “I think about you so much.” She finished, Rafe’s smile widening as he got up from his seat and stood in front of her. He got on his knees calmly, taking her hands in his gently as he looked up at her with love in his eyes.

His hand reached out to cup her cheek as she moved her head to nuzzle into it, closing her eyes as she let out a soft hum when his thumb began caressing her. “I did what you told me too.” He broke the silence, watching her eyes open while she still nuzzled into his hand. His thumb moving to caress his lips while he continued with his words. “I got the help I needed, I checked into rehab. I got a therapist and psychiatrist I see regularly. I -um… I took the meds they gave me. I just finally weaned off them; for good.” He admitted, watching as her eyes looked at him with full intent and hope; nodding at him to continue.

“I think you’ve heard enough apologies from me, but i’m going to give you one more. I am so sorry; for everything y/n.” His voiced thickened with emotion, thumb continuing to caress her as she continued nuzzling into him. She brought hand up to his wrist and held it softly; pushing him against her harder as she turned her head to nuzzle into his palm. She kissed it softly, and opened her eyes too look at him again. “I wasn’t good for you; I wasn’t good for anyone. I was a boy, like you said. I wasn’t willing to grow up and take accountability for myself. I-I pushed all this blame onto everyone else, especially my dad. I was old enough though, old enough to look for help on my own instead of depending on other people to do it for me. You included.” He squeezed the hand he was holding as he looked into her eyes, praying they display the swirl of emotions he’s feeling.

“You are the best thing to happen to me, and I took it for granted. I took all of you for granted. Your body, your mind, your heart, your soul. A priceless gift that I treated so carelessly and treated as if it was replaceable. You’ve never been replaceable, you are a gem, my gem. My diamond in the rough and I can’t believe I didn’t cherish your value the way I should have from the very beginning. You made me feel so many things, that to this day is hard to put into words.” Her eyes watered up, tears threatening to spill over as she cupped the hand on her cheek with her own, closing her eyes as she nuzzled and nuzzled into it. Biting the tip of him thumb softly when he brushed his thumb against her lips; feeling him squeeze the other hand he held in his.

“What I can say though; is that you’ve made me feel an emotion no one else has ever made me feel. You made me feel hope. Hope for so many things, but especially hope for a beautiful life with you. It terrified me, it was new and I didn’t know how to handle how overwhelming it was. I didn’t know how to handle it without messing it up. For the first time I didn’t feel like an outsider, I felt like I had found my place on earth and that was alongside you. My place on this earth is to be by your side, to love you to the best of my capability. I can’t promise things will be perfect, but I can promise things will be better. I will work for this, for us. I’m more than willing to rebuild the structure of our relationship and making it sturdy this time; make it stable. We were a ticking time bomb and this time I want us to build something indestructible. I’m in this all the way baby, all the way. I’m going to be the man you need, I’m going to take care of you. You deserved to be loved and I will give you all of mine. I am going to push myself every single day to be the man you need and to continue bettering myself so I can be good for you. I want everything with you; absolutely everything. I can’t imagine spending my life anywhere else. The one thing that kept me going was you. It’s always been you.” He finished, pouring his heart out to her. He watched as tears started pouring down her cheeks, her eyes full of something he hasn’t seen in a long time but he was hoping he would get. Love, forgiveness and acceptance.

He brought the hand he was holding in his to his lips, pressing soft kisses to her knuckles as he unwrapped it with her compliance. Her brought it to his cheek and nuzzled into it the same way she nuzzled into his. Pressing a kiss to her palm as she began returning his affections with a caress of her thumb against his cheek. C’mere,” she whispered softly, grabbing him by his white button up to bring him up to her face. She stood up the same time he did, his arms going to wrap around her as her hands fisted in his shirt. She stared up at him as he stared down at her, bringing a hand to smooth back her hair as he leaned down slowly. She leaned in to his advance and for the first time, in such a long time their lips reconnected again. Tears falling down both their closed eyes as they took in each other the way they’ve wanted to, under the circumstances they wanted to. This was so different, not the harsh sloppy kisses and dominating make outs they use to have as the only form of expressing their passion for each other. No, this was full of serenity, full of love and full of the same passion they’ve always held for one another. A kiss of reunion, forgiveness, love, acceptance and most importantly a kiss to symbolize the beginning of their new life. Together.

When they pulled back, they opened their eyes to look into each others. What once was full of hatred, anger, hurt, and utter disdain. Was now full of complete tranquillity as they accepted to forgive each other and move on. “I want everything with you. I want to build a life together, here. We can be happy, we can do whatever we want. You can build a company of your own out here, and I can continue modeling. I want us to leave our old lives behind and step into our new ones. This time with no unspoken words, because I want us to be able to be open with each other on anything and everything. This won’t be easy, but it will be full of complete love and acceptance. I’m sorry for everything I told you. For so long I hated you, you broke me down into a person I hated being. I was so lost with you and so lost without you. Being here has helped me grow so much, traveling has helped me learn more about myself. I realized that it wasn’t all you, it was me too. I wasn’t good, I enabled you and kept you from finding better for yourself. We both did. The time we’ve had apart and the time I’ve had to work myself made me realize how much I hated where we left off.” She poured her heart out to him, feeling his hand come to caress her cheek as he urged her to continue.

“You are everything to me Rafe, I love you so much. All this time apart made me realize how much I missed you and love you.” She cried to him watching the tears fall down his cheeks that matched her own as he pressed his lips to hers in a hasty kiss. Holding her face to his as they poured their love into each other. A love that once felt so heavy for both of them, now making them feel so light. It felt like they were flying; soaring together through the air onto a new adventure right by each other’s sides. Rafe moved to wrap her in a tight hug, his kisses traveling all over her face from her cheeks to the top of her nose, her chin, forehead just wherever he could get his lips. He tightened his grip on her as she returned it by wrapping her arms around just as tight. Burying her face in his neck once more and taking in the scent she missed so badly. Rafe laying his cheek on the top of her head as he closed his eyes. Together at last.

“Let’s make this place our home,” Rafe told her, feeling her smile against his neck as she let out a soft nod. “Home is wherever you are,” he kissed her head once more, taking in the scent that calms his being like no other. Taking in the presence that feels like the sun shining on him during a cold day. Bringing him warmth.

“you’re my home.”

A/N: THE END! haha, i hope this did the heartache justice!! Please let me know your thoughts! (p.s. almost done with request) 🐰🌸💕

[deadhands69]

Something More [than a storm]

Katsuki Bakugo x gn/afab reader

MDNI

Setting: fuckboy!Bakugo, mid-time skip, Senior Year of College. Reader did not attend UA high, just joined for university. Enemies to lovers (with a lot in between.)

Warnings, etc: this series contains smut, angst, light violence/injuries, drinking/intoxication, swearing.

part 1  -  part 2  -  part 3  -  this is part 4  -  part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

Overnight, the snow accumulated four feet against the doors. With the few heat related quirks around the building, you aren't really trapped but no one has bothered to clear the way, enjoying the snow day instead. Even with everyone milling about the common space, a hush surrounds everything. It's pretty calming. 

“You think Professor Aizawa still walks his cats in this,“ Mina muses, sipping her second hot chocolate of the day.

“Probably just the really fluffy ones,” Jiro answers, “did you see Shinso’s arms that time he tried to take them in the rain?” 

The three of you laugh, posted up in your usual corner of the common room near an almost completely whited-out window. Happily, you savor the first good cup of coffee you've had in days.

A gust of wind takes the top layer of snow away and your mind drifts to the forest with it.

Everything seemed to happen so naturally last night but in the clear light of day, you aren't sure how you feel anymore. He’s beautiful and hot, sure, but being around him means having to deal with him. You know how sharp his words can get. But kissing Bakugo, if that’s what you’d call it, was nice. Maybe that’s all it has to be.

Your friends are staring at you.

“Uhm [y/n], you okay?” Jiro asks.

Shit.

“Can I tell you guys a secret?” you whisper, immediately regretting it. 

“You can,” Mina teases, lightly elbowing your side, “but I think we already know who your secret is.”

“You didn't...” Jiro’s wide eyes are locked on you. 

Silently, you wish the blizzard would swallow you whole. 

“It's not like that,” you mumble, “not quite at least.”

The pink face to your left closes in on you, “Go on.”

“Last night, I kissed him. Or he kissed me. Well, more bit me...” you trail off, knowing your words won’t do any justice to the story.

“He…bit you?” Mina asks as Jiro cringes next to her. “That’s interesting.”

“No, it was cute. I think?” they have you second guessing yourself, maybe it is a bit weird. You tell them what happened. How he fell and landed on you (they both agree that had to be on purpose, having never seen him trip over anything before.) When you get to the kiss part, you’re still not sure how to explain it.

“I’m not sure what else you would expect from Bakugo, he’s kind of a weird guy,” says Jiro.

“Yeah, and I mean that’s why I told him to hang out with you. I thought you’d hit it off as friends but I guess I’m not surprised. That story kind of fits you both,” Mina adds.

“Fits us both?” you ask.

“Let’s be honest [y/n], if anyone got all cutesy and romantic with you, you would run,” Jiro laughs. 

Across the room, Bakugo eyes your group giggling as you bury your face in your hands. Suddenly your phone vibrates. 

Bakugo [Don't make a big deal out of it.] Bakugo [I know what you’re talking about.] You [don’t make a big deal of Aizawa walking his cats in the snow?] Bakugo [Oh.] Bakugo [That tracks.] You [🙄] Bakugo [If you wanna impress him, let’s get a good grade. We still have to do the written part of the project.] Bakugo [Preferably sooner rather than later. You free tonight?] You [nope, verrrryyy busy] Bakugo [wtf do you have going on?] You [sunbathing] You [rooftop bars] You [yeah, tonight works] Bakugo [🙄] Bakugo [my room?] You [yeah, 7pm?] Bakugo [That works.] Bakugo [Oh, and don’t drink too much.] You [?] Bakugo [Soy Sauce and Dunce Face just walked in with a case of liquor.]

As you could have predicted, the vibe shifted quickly. Kaminari approached your table with a bottle of Rumplemintz, topping off everyone’s drinks but yours (he offered but you kept your hand firmly planted over your coffee.) Not drinking would be easy with your recent hangover still fresh in your mind.

Within the hour the volume had doubled. The boisterousness spread both in and outside, a snowball fight breaking out in the afternoon.  

After you are all sufficiently soaked through your winter clothes, you head inside to shower, change, and eat something warm. 

Both of your friends are a bit tipsy and opt to head back to their rooms after dinner rather than drinking more. Jiro warning you to not do anything stupid while Mina agrees with her before winking over her shoulder as they leave. The common room has calmed down quite a bit when you go back to your dorm to get ready. 

Get ready for what? You wonder how awkward the situation you're walking into will be. Will he just ignore what happened? Part of you hopes so, another part of you - no, let's not think about that. You’re still coming around to the idea of tolerating him, best not to let your mind wander too far. It was a one time thing specific to the situation and that’s enough.

Walking the fine line between overdressed and what Bakugo would consider too frumpy, you opt to wear skinny jeans, boots, and an oversized sweater. Touching your makeup up slightly, grabbing your backpack, then you're out the door. 

You vaguely know which room he is in but were glad when he texted you the number just in case. Arriving at his door three minutes early, you knock hesitantly. He opens quickly, ushering you in.

Dark.

Blackout curtains block the light from outside with a few lamps here and there to illuminate his room. This can only do so much when nearly all of his furniture and bedding are stark black. His decor is minimalist. Everything is perfectly in order, even the notes on his desk are organized. You weren’t sure what to expect but somehow it fits him. 

He pulls up an extra chair by his desk, gesturing for you to sit then the two of you get to work.

Much to your delight (or dismay?), he never mentions the kiss. Carrying on relatively professionally outside of a few jokes here and there. 

You’re still nervous.

Once more, his proximity makes your heart rate skyrocket. Sitting this close to him, the two of you bumping into each other every time you need to grab notes from across the desk. It’s not lost on you - the way his bare wrists feel brushing over your knuckles. His warm skin leaves tingles on yours. This is also the first time you’ve gotten a good look at him in a tank top, having to stop yourself from staring at the dragon tattoo covering his scarred right arm. In spite of the distractions, the work is easy - it’s just a matter of putting it on paper. You get through it.

“Done,” you sigh in relief after typing out the final paragraph. 

In one quick hour, you finished the project you’d been dragging out for weeks.

“Looks good to me,” he confirms, standing to stretch. “I kinda thought we’d be working on this for longer, what are your plans for the rest of the night?” 

Admittedly, you have no plans. It’s a little after eight and you were more than caught up on sleep. Normally, you’d text your friends but everyone is passed out by now. Almost everyone. 

Packing your backpack, you mention a scary movie you’d been meaning to watch.

“No shit?” he laughs, “I rented that one last night and fell asleep right after I started it. There’s still a few more hours on the rental if you wanna watch it?”

Watch a movie alone in his dark room…with him? Seems like a normal friend thing to do, you reassure yourself before answering, “yeah.”

About 45 minutes in, you both realize your mistake. The movie you thought was a thriller turned out to be a romance drama. You’d both misinterpreted the title and quick preview then spent the first half waiting for the killer to show up. After a while, you finally said something and he looked up a synopsis. Neither of you moved to turn it off, opting to talk instead, and tuning back in every once in a while to make fun of the overdramatic plot. 

“How’d everything heal?” he eventually asks after catching a glimpse of your wrist as you adjust your sleeve. 

“Healed fine,” you pull your sweater off to show him before remembering how revealing the tank top you threw on underneath is. Momentarily, you pause then decide it doesn’t really matter. It’s a snow day movie night, there’s not exactly a dress code. And it’s not a big deal, you’re just showing a friend a scar. People do that.

If he does notice, he does a great job hiding it. 

“Did heal well,“ he mumbles, running his fingers along your back, “it doesn’t hurt, right?”

“Nope.” You’re both silent for a while, trying hard to look engrossed in the movie as one of the characters drops to their knees crying in the rain. All you can think about is the thrilling feeling of his hand still lingering on your back.  The credits roll but neither of you could recount what happened if asked.

“Well, that was stupid,” he says, slamming his laptop shut. 

“And really misleading, they should give us two hours of our lives back for that,” you laugh.

“Nah, just the first. The rest is kinda on us. We could’ve found something better to do,” his hand slides to the small of your back.

“Oh yeah?” you ask leaning towards him, unsure again why you’re flirting with Katsuki Bakugo.

“Yeah,” he smiles widely before leaning in to kiss you. Pressing you back onto his bed, this time with less (but still some) teeth. One of his hands tangles in your hair, pulling as your mouth opens wide for him. Your tongues meet. He tastes like a snow day: vanilla, mint, and bad decisions. 

His other hand grips your hip, pulling you closer as he grinds you against his leg. You gasp out a moan before realizing what happened.

Are you about to become one of the girls you make fun of who ends up in his bed only to be forgotten in the morning?

Fuck.

No, you’re not.

Pushing away, you jump up and run out the door.

part 5 m.list

Taglist: @anonymity-222 @k1tk4tkatsuki

[ellieslaces]

CAN’T CATCH ME NOW. (prologue)

presenting: Umbrella’s Hunger Games

featuring: leon kennedy x fem!reader

synopsis: the Hunger Games, an annual show of brutal control the Capitol has over each of the twelve Districts. the Games’ number one sponsor: Umbrella Corporation, the creator of the Games’ most horrific torture strategies and nightmare inducing deaths. these games have always been cautionary, always a far away but constant threat — until you find yourself Reaped and thrown into an area full of your worst fears with 23 other Tributes, all out for blood.

content warnings (future): harsh language; heavy violence; gore; torture; heavy themes of murder; infanticide; social injustice; class discrimination; brief mention of suicidal thoughts; angst; character death; eventual smut; enemies to lovers

notes: this is inspired by the Hunger Games (no 1) and takes place in the universe; if topics such as violence murder infanticide etc trigger you, skip this series; the reader is said to be a Career Tribute

Chloe talks: posting a my prologue for my new Leon Hunger Games series before the next strike tomorrow! please enjoy, I’m convinced this will be my magnum opus :)

word count: 768 (it’s a prologue, so it’s short)

now playing: can’t catch me now ; olivia rodrigo

how you can help Palestine! 🇵🇸

Images of dark alleys, of scorching hot deserts, of raging icy tundras, of sickly beautiful yet dangerous forests haunted each child’s dreams. Not for any reason in particular other than the fact that the images were fed to them since birth. Spoon fed into their heads — the showings of each years annual Hunger Games.

Decades upon decades ago, the ocean swallowed nearly half the continent in a devastating and unprecedented tsunami. States and even smaller countries were lost to the depths of the sea, leaving the remaining forty percent of the country overflowed with a surplus of population.

Women, men, and children with nowhere to go, now crowded the north part of what once was the United States. Now twenty of the fifty states remained, thousands upon thousands of casualties, leaving too many for the forty percent of the country to support.

The government handled it with the worst of ideas, their support was lost, their lack of understanding and empathy led to an inevitable uprising. People stormed the gates of the White House, threatened to kill — and did kill — senators, and representatives, and judges, and even their families.

This uprising nearly destroyed the country as a whole. Thousands were slaughtered, bloodlines were destroyed, families killed by the rebels. Until a group of unknown power that had been hiding behind the scenes for decades stepped forward, taking control of the people. This led to a bloodbath of violence, political control, and the people finally were forced to accept their defeat.

From then, the country was divided into thirteen Districts, each with its own purpose of serving the new country’s Capitol. This new country — Panem — was run with a ruthless government, a controlling President with no mercy and a clever mind. He was cruel, and heartless, and as dangerous as he was calm.

No one dared to object him, no one dared to take his power for fear of the consequences. So, for decades, President Ozwell E. Spencer ran the country. His company — one he started long before he was elected as President — Umbrella was the sole sponsor and creator of the annual Hunger Games.

Where each spring, twenty four children between the ages of twelve and nineteen were picked at random by pairs to represent their District in a fight to the death.

One boy, one girl from each District, chosen by random to be plucked, and bathed, and painted, and paraded, and eventually murdered for the sake of entertainment. Once, these Games were a reminder of what revolution could do, how it could crumble a nation. But that notion was long gone, all that now remained was the entertainment value of their deaths. Deaths none of them deserved. Deaths you never imagined you’d actually witness, much less cause yourself.

The intricacies of these Games were lost upon you, all you knew was to survive. Despite being a so called ‘Career’ and had as close to luxury as you could for someone from one of the Districts, you hardly had the stomach to commit things such as murder. Much less upon other children, people your age.

District One, luxury items, riches, and favor of the Capitol itself. Careers, the title of the Tributes that were put into the Games each year. These Tributes were raised with advantage, raised with early training available to them. Available to you.

For the majority of your life, since you were able to understand what the Games meant, you’d been trained by Victors, the Redfield siblings. Chris and his sister, Claire, were once Tributes themselves, in consecutive years.

Chris Redfield won at nineteen with pure brutality, physical strength and power, partaking in the bloodbath and taking out a good majority of the other Tributes in the beginning. Chris’s Games lasted a mere week.

While Claire Redfield managed to outsmart each and every other Tribute in her arena, successfully becoming the Victor by simply waiting for them all to die by natural causes, or killing themselves with their own stupidity. Her Games lasted three, the ending of said Games pushed quickly to be brought to a conclusion. Leading the girl to become Victor at a mere thirteen.

So, despite the fact that you weren’t technically supposed to be trained by Mentors unless Reaped, the Redfield siblings trained you behind the curtain. They prepared you for the possibility of you being Reaped, of being subjected to the horrors they’d seen. To the murder they had to commit to stay alive. They wanted you to win, to have a chance of survival.

But, maybe they should have just let you die. Maybe they shouldn’t have taken you under their wing when they found you shivering in the rain after a school bully had taken your pack and shoes and jacket.

Maybe they should have just let you be killed. Then you wouldn’t have to live with the memory of him.

[irisintheafterglow]

The Archer (gojo x you)

summary: after your best friend becomes viewed as a monster, the only thing to do is cling to the ones that loved him too. (or, screaming who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay?)

wc: 1.1k

cw/tags: hurt/comfort, angst but heartwarming ending, manga/anime spoilers, established relationship, pet names (babe, baby, sweetheart, etc), mention of vomiting but nothing descriptive, yeah did i mention angst

note: i just need to hold gojo satoru and tell him that it's going to be okay is that too much to ask for (anyways hope you enjoy the pain that my brain farted out)

likes/reblogs/feedback are always appreciated <3

“Su?” He freezes, rooted in place as the sun casts shadows on his unreadable expression. “Where are you going?” He sticks his hands into his pockets and turns to you with a smile so fake you need to take a step back. He'd lost a lot of weight but what terrified you the most was the calm aura that surrounded his weakened body, a contentment that was scary to see on someone in so much agony.

“Mission, just a few Curses plaguing a village of about a hundred.” Forcing normalcy into his voice was as successful as forcing a square block into a round hole and you couldn’t stop the worry from leaking onto your face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I had another dream.” His face falls, washing over into careful blankness. He was used to this, your technique and the consequences it brought. It was, however, a long time since you confronted someone directly about what you see. “You know, Future, it doesn’t show me what will happen.” He won’t meet your eyes and you hesitantly take a few more steps toward him.

“It shows me what can happen.” 

His words are cautious, delicate as if saying the wrong sentence would break you like a fragile piece of pottery. “And what did you see?” 

“Something that I’m begging you not to fulfill.” You swallow the lump in your throat and blink back the fear threatening to spill over from your eyes. “I’m so scared, Suguru. I’m so fucking scared.” You stumble the rest of the way forward and his arms wrap around you instinctually, holding you tightly as you continue to plead for him not to go. He pulls away to look at you and a sliver of hope pokes the back of your mind when you see the conflict in his eyes. It disappears as resolve hardens on his face. 

“You’re family. Whatever I do, I will not harm you.” 

“I need you to promise you won’t–”

“I can’t promise anything beyond that.” After a moment you have no choice but to nod, defeated, and he pulls away for the last time. “You have my word.”

The news hits you like a train that you saw coming ten miles away, knocking the air from your lungs and sending shards of invisible shrapnel into your body. Because of your technique, you know before everyone–Yaga, Shoko, Nanami, the higher-ups, Satoru. You feel the moment Suguru makes his decision in your own body like cruel twin telepathy and you rush into the nearest bathroom to expel everything you’d eaten that day. You feel the same sensation again when word reaches Yaga, the whispers of massacre and Curse User and traitor seeping into your ears. Nothing, however, could compare to the storm you felt when Yaga told Satoru. 

You fall asleep early in the days after Suguru leaves. Not because his absence didn’t keep you up at night, but because you didn’t really know what to do except hide in dreams. Dreams that kept you in a state of blissful ignorance; you, Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko at the fair or the park or the beach, not scattered into four separate corners by indifferent Fate. Suguru’s departure felt like a severing of your soul, like your brother died rather than your best friend leaving. You avoided others like prey escaping a predator, paranoidly checking reflections in windows for people you didn’t have the energy to talk with and ducking behind corners when voices got too near. When the few missions you completed were over, you were back in bed, curled into yourself so tightly that no one could reach you. 

No one, at least, except Satoru.

He calls you some nights later and you squint against the harsh light of your phone screen. 

“Satoru?”

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty.” There’s a forced smirk in his voice that you see through like glass, immediately noticing the way his pained tone wavers with every uttered word. “Did I wake you from your beauty rest?”

“Mhmm,” you hum exhaustedly, groaning as you sit up in the darkness and swing your legs over the side of your bed. “Door’s open if you need it.”

“Yeah…okay.” The melodically teasing tone in his voice drops in an instant, as does its volume. You make sure there’s an unopened bottle of water ready for when he gets to your dorm. He was probably just as dehydrated from sobbing as you are. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what, love?” 

“Waking you.” You laugh softly, rubbing your eyes and sitting back on the edge of your bed. 

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re too good at that.”

“What, knowing when you’re lying? I thought we weren’t supposed to lie to each other. Relationships 101.” He huffs as much of a chuckle as he can. “What are you really sorry about, Satoru?

His voice cracks and your heart feels like it’s been stabbed a hundred times. “I need you. Really badly.” There was no suggestive air or promiscuous tone in his voice, just unfiltered desperation not to be alone. “Can I–”

“Of course. Get over here; I miss you.” 

You time the duration it takes for him to get to you, two minutes on the dot. He opens your door slowly as if to check if you’re still awake, and shuts it just as gently. You flick on your nightstand lamp and feel your stomach sink when you fully take in just how tired he looks. There’s no trace of anger or frustration on his face, only pure loss. The bags under his eyes deepen as he sighs, avoiding your eyes for the first time you can remember. He just stands there in the middle of your room, deflated and suffering. When he speaks, it’s a strangled and helpless choke. 

“I couldn’t–”

“Shh, just come here.” You rise from your bed and catch him when his knees buckle, his face buried in your shoulder. He doesn’t cry or heave like you did; he just grabs whatever he can with his hands and holds you so needily his arms start to tremble. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.” 

When you finally slide under the covers with him, he’s still clinging to you like you’d float away if he let go. “Stay.” He pleads with you even as you have him locked against your chest, gently carding your fingers through his hair. It’s soft between your fingers and reflects the little moonlight seeping through the cracks in your curtains. 

“I will.” You press another kiss to his forehead as if to seal your words, but he doesn’t feel safe yet. 

“Please, stay.” 

“I swear on my life that I will not leave your side.” You try to lace Cursed Energy into your words, make them as unbreakable as you command them to be. Squeezing your eyes shut, you breathe him in, willing him to let himself go. To not be the honored one or the strongest sorcerer, but Satoru, to break down and grieve just as any other man would. 

“I’m so sorry.” There it is, baby. Just let go. 

“I know, sweetheart. Rest now, I’ve got you.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[shadowdaddies]

Hey girly, I had a dream last night and I feel like it’d make a good story. This time it’s cassian! So we want to go into battle with everyone and fight but cassian is set on us staying so we get into this big argument the night before we leave. While in battle, the reader gets seriously hurt and possibly kidnapped or taken and cassian can feel them through the bond getting hurt and is freaking out. Obviously the inner circle ends up finding us and cassian drags her into their room and starts apologizing and telling her how sorry he is and they make a pact to never go into battle angry and maybe it ends with some smut if you wanted to. Thank you so much!

thank you for the request love! I've been dying to write more Cassian lately

Stay Together

Cassian x Reader

Warnings: explicit torture, battle, weapons, injury, etc

You could not believe the conversation that you were having with Cassian. “What was the purpose of all the training I’ve gone through if you’re going to try to stop me from joining you in battle, Cass? I’m not just going to stay here while everyone else puts their lives on the line.” Arms crossed, you gave him your most stern look, daring him to challenge you further.

Cassian often didn’t know when to let things go, and now proved to be one of those moments. He towered over you, speaking in a lethally calm tone. This was not your mate, this was the General speaking to you now. “You will not go into battle tomorrow. It is against my official orders, and in this moment I am telling you as your superior officer that you are not prepared for this fight.” 

Seething with anger, you stormed from your tent. A lower ranking officer who was positioned outside eyed you with concern as you dodged any attempt at conversation, stalking past him. In need of space from Cassian and knowing that Mor was off with Emerie, you went to her tent to stay the night, eventually falling asleep still waiting for her to return. 

You awoke to alarms ringing and shouting from all over the camp, the sounds of people running past your tent signaling that there had been an advance from the other army. They’d come early. You sprung out of the cot you’d slept on, realizing Mor never came back last night. You could only hope she’d stayed with Emerie as you ran to find your own mate, hopeful to locate him in the chaos. 

Most everyone had evacuated the camp by now, headed to the battlefront. You couldn’t fathom how we had been caught off guard so easily - how could the entire other army have moved that quickly? Throwing the flap open to your tent, Cassian was nowhere to be found. Of course he wouldn’t be here - he would be on the front lines - and your last words to each other were an argument. 

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you searched frantically for your armor - pausing when you heard shuffling and whispers outside the tent. Who would be heading back into camp in the middle of an attack? You grabbed your dagger, creeping outside to peer around the corner where you’d heard the noise.

The same officer from last night stood in front of you, smiling as he casually flipped his own dagger in his hand. “What are you doing here? Most everyone has left for the battlefront by now,” you questioned him, looking around for anyone else in the area. You panicked as you realized that you were alone, the knowing look on his face telling you everything you needed to know.

“You think we’d send our entire army against you so soon? We just needed a distraction.” You gripped the hilt of your dagger, barely holding yourself back from attacking this male who’d revealed himself as a spy. You needed to get more information first. He continued, “With enough spies in your camp, it was too easy to convince everyone that the other army was on the move. You really should be more aware of who might be listening - your little fight with your mate last night gave us the perfect opportunity. Now we’ll be able to not only destroy the camp and weaken your forces before our attack, but we’ll have a member of the High Court, the General’s mate, as leverage.” 

You scoffed. “You think you can take me? You know who trained me.” He slowly nodded. “I don’t need to.” Suddenly you sensed a presence behind you, turning to see several males just before the world went black.

You awoke, blinking your eyes rapidly in an attempt to adjust to the lack of light in the room. You were seated at a table - chained to a chair, your arms cuffed to the tabletop - your entire body feeling weak and throbbing in pain. Instinctively, you tugged on the bond in hopes of reaching Cassian, but felt nothing. Panicked, you lowered your mental shields to contact Rhys or Feyre. Nothing again. Realizing you must have been given faebane, your next move was to find a way out of your chains. As you studied your binds, the door opened, a large, uniformed male and female entering the room.

“Good, you’re awake. Now we can begin,” the male said, yellow eyes shining with twisted pleasure as he took the seat across from you. The female stood to the side, unrolling a pack to reveal a number of tools and knives. You were here to be tortured for information. 

Taking a deep breath, you schooled your features into a neutral expression, focusing on detaching from the physical pain that was coming. You didn’t bother to look at the tool the female held up in your peripheral vision as she made a show of inspecting it. The male leaned forward, a sick grin showing several missing teeth as he asked you a question. You tuned him out, ignoring everything he said so that you wouldn’t give anything away.

Heavy silence hung in the air, the male seemingly repeating the question before sighing in resignation. He nodded to the female, who roughly grabbed your hand in hers, and the pain tore through every nerve in your body as your fingernail was ripped from you. A scream echoed through the air - presumably your own - as your vision flashed white. 

It felt like hours had passed, as they found creative new ways to draw pain from you. Your body slumped forward as much as the chains would allow, you began seeing visions in the darkness. Azriel appeared in the corner of the room, and you were grateful for this trick your mind was playing on you, just so you could see a familiar face. You smiled, feeling a sense of comfort rush through you before the male’s hand made contact with the side of your face. 

Reeling from the impact, your vision began to fade as you slowly lost consciousness again - only seeing flashes of Azriel’s face as he killed your captors. You felt the warmth of your mate, Cassian’s voice sounding from a distance in your head. This must be the end, you thought, welcoming death - or whatever may come - as long as you were with Cassian.

Your first thought as you looked around your bedroom was that this was clearly not Hel. Your muscles were sore, but otherwise you felt whole. You could feel your mating bond again, tugging on it as hard as you could just to see Cassian burst through the bathroom door with wide, puffy eyes. “Sweetheart,” he whispered, running across the room to kneel at your side. Tears ran down his face as he held your hands in his. “I’m so - I’m so sorry,” he choked out through sobs. “I should have listened to you, I never should have let you leave like that. I love you. I love you. I love you. Please, please forgive me.” Your heart broke with his, feeling his remorse and fear through the bond. “I’m sorry too, Cass. I thought I was going to die having left you after an argument. That feeling was worse than any pain I went through.” 

Cassian looked up at you, his broad hand holding your face as he swore, “I will never leave you in a fight again.” You nodded. “I promise, I will never leave you in a fight either.” The bargain mark burned the back of your neck, a sharp diamond with intricate swirls now permanently on both of your bodies. Cassian leaned in, kissing you softly until you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss, communicating all that words could never express. 

You pulled him into the bed with you, the two of you holding each other close. You would face the looming threat of the spies and the war soon enough - but tonight, you had your mate, and you would never have to face those threats without him again.

[castlebyersafterdark]

Imagine Will going home after the first confession/make-out and immediately getting off alone. See, while Will had frequently gotten off while fantasizing about Mike in the past, this is the very first time he gets off with the thought “oh my god, this could actually happen. Mike and I having sex someday, that could be real”. Plus he now knows more things that elevate his fantasy. How Mike kisses, how he grips his hips, how he sounds when Will kisses his jaw and neck, etc. Safe to say Will does not last long.

Being the person that he was, Will was in the unique position of knowing what it was like to experience the feeling "if I disappeared right now...," though, not as happily as he could ascribe to his current state. More than a feeling. Here and gone. Been there, done that.

If the worst should happen and he disappeared again, if the ground opened and swallowed him up, if another gate split time and space and whisked him away - in that exact moment as he walked through the bedroom door after the best night of his life - he'd do so with a smile on his face. Didn't mean he wanted it to happen. Having now known what it was like to kiss Mike Wheeler, oh what a waste it would be.

What a revelation. It was like coming back to life all over again - another cliche experience of which he had personal knowledge. He was pretty sure his heart had stopped several times tonight. When he - when, he and Mike -

He'd kissed Mike Wheeler. Mike had kissed him. A lot. Quite a lot.

Please, let him live, actually. Forget all that darkness. He wanted to stay right there. Solid ground. Boring and wonderful planet earth. Linear and spinning. The cruelty of giving him everything he'd every wanted and then losing it? Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?

No thanks. He'd rather not have known then, if this was lose-able, if this would get snatched away.

The burden of knowledge.

Please, let me keep him.

They'd kissed once before, days ago. Danger. A fight. More danger, imminent danger. More fighting, and then stillness. A kiss. A confession. Too much danger for those so young, for anyone, really. And - now. Time. Calm before some storm. A chance to talk and slow down and smile into each other's mouths and and and. Kiss. For the sake of kissing, not to seal the truth into each other's anxiety corroded skin when faced with the possibility of this was it. Now or never.

They were getting closer to hope. To normal. It was going to get bad again. But, they existed suspended in the still of a moment.

Try to be normal. As normal as it can be when you're in love with your best friend and he knows that now. A secret unspooled. No longer restricting and suffocating like vines around limb. The strength to fight.

His room was dark and Will didn't bother with the light. He closed the door behind him and let out a long, contented sigh. Still smiling. His face almost hurt from the constant strain, though it could never hurt him. The solid ground was more like clouds, feet so light they stumbled as he approached the bed.

He couldn't concentrate on one foot in front of the other when his mind was a haze of Mike Mike Mike. His kisses. And everything more.

Will fell back onto the bed in the room he'd been staying in temporarily at the farm. Ever since returning to his town, he was a boy in limbo. He'd bounced from Mike's floor to his bed to the couch in his basement, to a cot at the radio station, and now to a spare room at their latest residence. At least he got a space to himself for once, with privacy. Sharing with Mike had been lovely and terrible and exciting and agonizing. A head spin, a constant mind fuck. Tense and soft and tense again. Close quarters, a team! But often - too far away.

He regretted it now, knowing what he knew, how Mike felt for him. And how he'd felt for him for quite some time. He regretted them not getting their shit together in time to take advantage of a bedroom and a locked door and a bed big enough for two. Big enough for two seventeen year old boys to lay side by side (and on top and behind and under and and and - he had to stop. A jolt ran down his body, hooked under his stomach. Twitching under his jeans. The images in his head - enough, Will. Enough.)

Didn't matter. He couldn't change time, force a path not ready to be tread. That hadn't been their journey. They liked each other. Maybe even loved each other. Will was so in love it made him sick from it most days - Mike hadn't said he loved him, didn't have to. He'd felt it. Still wanted to hear it. In time - the thing he couldn't force to move faster or slower, backwards or forwards. Where time stood still he didn't want to re-visit. Figured he would again. Inevitable. The threat loomed, ever present. A steady imprint on his roller coaster reality.

Ever present like the phantom feeling against his lips.

Mike's lips. His mouth, Mike's mouth. Will shifted in his too-narrow bed and kicked off his sneakers and pulled off his coat, brought a finger to his lips. Traced the shape of them, traveled the sloping curve. Less than an hour ago he'd had his mouth pressed to Mike's over and over and over and over. Teeth nipping at reddened skin. A tongue, cautious, testing, then sure, tracing slick lips and slipping into wet heat. The tingle of how it felt when they touched. Seemed weird to him before he'd tried it, even if he'd thought about what that would be like over and over.

He kissed the spiraling ring of forefinger and thumb as he brought his fist to his mouth, kissing his own skin. Inadequate. Couldn't get away with doing that anymore as he'd often practiced and fantasized, didn't feel like Mike's soft lips and hot tongue. Didn't taste like him, just nothing but his own skin.

Gosh, was that another revelation, learning how Mike tasted. Couldn't describe it, but he wanted more. Sweet but strange, skin and saliva and the hint of his own fruit flavored gum mixing with Mike's 7up and popcorn. They'd been hanging out in Mike's basement - a night of normalcy until the next disaster. He'd wanted to stay over. Mom insisted on him coming home. School night. As if that mattered anymore.

The world could end. He needed Mike. Needed to taste him again.

Will turned into his pillow and kissed the fabric, lips soft and slow as he allowed himself to moan into the scratch of threadbare cotton as he relived a memory. Guess he could go back in time. Freeze it. Repeat it. Kiss the pillowcase like he kissed Mike. He hadn't known what he was doing. Didn't seem like Mike knew either. Sloppy and inexperienced and so, so eager. Mike had said not to feel nervous, he'd never kissed anyone like that before either.

He hated himself a little for it, but Will couldn't help but feel excited about that truth. Being the only one to go further, to get Mike in a way no one else had, in a way someone else hadn't. He'd wallow in the guilt later. Now, he relived it. Kissed and kissed and continued where he wished they had before they parted with great reluctance.

It had been wet and open and messy and full of love. The heady adventure of inexperience and need. Heat and teeth. Breath through nostrils and mouths re-sealed. Hands grabbing at t-shirts and then bare skin, hands under clothing.

He was definitely hard now, all from making out with his pillow and trying to conjure the phantom flavor that was all but gone at that point. He ran his tongue over his teeth once more, over his lips, and frowned when he only tasted himself. His hips thrust forward into nothing and he couldn't take it.

Will's hand flew to his zipper, hesitated a moment as his fingers trailed up the body-heat warmed metal, then relented and pulled the teeth of the zipper down and apart slowly. He brushed a hand against the parted gap in his pants, petting over-top the underwear covering soft hair and the base of his dick, smiling dazed at the teasing relief. Mike hadn't touched him there. They'd only kissed - well. Not quite true.

They may have gotten a little carried away.

He'd only been pining over the boy for the bulk of his young life, all of the parts that mattered, anyway. Before Mike and After Mike. The after was love and longing. The after now, having kissed him and told him how he felt and come out on the other side alive, in the true After - he knew too much. Felt enough to make him burn.

Hands sliding under his shirt, too gentle against his skin, against the scar tissue of a burn mark on his side and then felt all too good as those same gentle, huge hands gripped his waist and hauled him into an eager lap. Thighs around thighs. Ass on knees, then raised as he followed Mike to fall back against the couch, bodies flush. Hips slotted together, hot and hard and unacknowledged save for the sudden, jarring sound of a moan. Mike had groaned low in his throat, and shuddered over how it felt against Will's tongue. High and breathy a moment later as Will pulled away to press his mouth and teeth against the side of Mike's neck as their hips rolled and then slowed.

Too much, all too much. Pulling away with a heavy, rapid heartbeat. Slower, drier kisses. And Will's hand now, shoved down his pants, tight between his sweaty skin and the taut fabric of his jeans and briefs. Pent up. No relief despite skin on skin.

Will pulled his pants off the rest of the way. Tan and tight - chosen on purpose for his date (it had been a date, a date, a date!) He knew how his ass looked in them. Mike noticed, too. Felt it up for only a moment as they'd sat thigh over thigh, chest to chest. Cock to cock, too, when he admitted what they'd done. Will's hand stroked himself tight at the thought.

He'd felt Mike against him for only for a moment, but it had been enough for Will now to moan softly into the pillow again as his hand pulled at his cock, slow and too dry. Didn't care. Wasn't the point. He was traversing a memory, using sensation to slow time, speed it up, imagine what could happen if they both hadn't gotten too nervous.

Mike had been hard. Mike didn't just like him, want to be with him, want to kiss him - he wanted him. He wanted to do things with him. His body liked it, liked him. Wanted to fuck him, whatever that really meant - and fuck, wasn't that a revelation all in itself? The way Mike's hands had felt on his waist. A perfect resting spot, made to hold him like that. Will turned onto his back and spread his legs, splayed and vulnerable as he jerked off, slicker now as he leaked all over himself. Still not perfect, but good enough.

He knew how it would go, how he wanted it. Was that how Mike would want it, when they finally did get brave, find courage, have sex? Will, like this, like they'd been on the couch, with his legs wrapped around Mike as Mike's big hands held his waist, his hips, drove into him and guided him in time with his thrusts.

How would time feel as they made love? Too fast or too slow? Would it freeze? Would it matter? Will's hand sped up. Back arched, neck twisted as he writhed from the pleasure of it all, memory and hand and phantom kisses, cheek against the damp spot on his pillow where he'd mouthed and pretended he could taste Mike instead of the bitter flavor of the old pillowcase, fabric and old sweat and traces of shampoo and his own plain spit.

It was over suddenly, as words echoed around his brain. His orgasm caught him off guard as he conjured the ghost of Mike's mouth on his mouth, the bashful roll of his hips, and the sound of his groan and pretty words against his teeth.

"I like you so much, Will. So much. Could kiss you forever."

And Will had to live now, they both did. There was so much more he wanted to do, a door flung open, unleashing desires stashed inside a lifetime of want.

Will removed his sticky hand from his softening cock and rested his fingers in the mess on his stomach, tracing through pearly white patterns as it dripped into his navel and slid down his side. Unbothered. Out of breath. Smiling in disbelief that Mike was his, and he was Mike's.

He brought his clean hand to his mouth, curled a fist again, and kissed Mike good night. Mouthed his love into his own skin. Wondered if Mike was doing the same in his own bed, thinking of Will and how they couldn't lose each other again. Wanting. Knowing he could be getting it all, within reach.

No disappearing. Solid ground. They were going to make it.

Will had gotten a taste. Wanted more. A lifetime of thinking about never. Real was better. Real was kissing Mike forever. And everything else.

~❤️

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒂𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚

🍓the strawberry shack masterlist🍓

summary - luke has been having a stressful time lately and decides to try out a sweet girl from the strawberry shack.

warning - smut, gloryhole, swearing.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Luke had been having a terrible day. He had Taylor pissing him off and lawyers coming in and out of his diner because of his divorce from Nicole. Luke couldn’t catch a break, and fishing didn’t seem to calm him anymore. He needed something more. Luke felt ashamed and dirty for entering a place like this, as he wasn’t someone you’d think would. But he had heard it was the place to go if you had to vent your frustrations. 

He stormed in before quickly apologising to the startled woman behind the counter. He nervously walks up to her and looks around before reaching into his pocket and taking out some money. He hands it over with a soft smile, which she returns and gestures for him to enter through the door down the hall. “Thank you.” He nods and heads off in the direction she pointed him to. Luke enters and gulps as he notices the women’s lower halves positioned in different poses. 

He awkwardly heads over to where you lie, bent over with your beautiful, plump ass sticking out. He clears his throat as he stands behind you, swallowing the lump that forms as his pants begin to tighten. “Uh… Is it okay if I touch you?” 

“Yes, honey. Do whatever you want to me.” He groans at your sultry voice, feeling pre-cum leak out of his tip and create a wet patch on his jeans. Luke reaches forward, unzipping his pants and taking out his hardened member before he steps forward and swipes it against your sopping folds. He sighs when he comes into contact with your softness. He rubs his bulbous tip against your puffy clit before pressing it against your entrance, slowly pushing into your hole until you engulf him, squeezing his thickness and swallowing him deeper inside you. A moan slips from your lips, and your walls flutter around the massive member. 

“Oh, fuck!” Luke groans, closing his eyes as he savours the feel of being inside your warm cunt. He buries himself deep before slowly pulling back out until his cockhead is the only thing left inside. He begins to thrust in and out slowly. His hand grips your hip while the other grasps the cheeks of your plump ass. His head falls back, and his mouth drops open. Luke felt like he was in heaven, never having been in someone so wonderful before. He continued to pull out slowly, only to thrust in harder and deeper. Your nails dig into the bed underneath, your body jolts with each thrust, and your walls tighten as shivers roll down your spine. 

The hand playing with your ass moves to the front of you, locating your puffy clit. Luke slaps it softly before pinching it between his fingers and rubbing it, enjoying how your cunt flutters around his cock with each movement. Luke plants his feet down and begins to pick up the pace, slamming deep into you, grunting when he feels you squeeze his cock every time he pounds into your sweet spot. His fingers continue to rub your swollen button, holding you closer to him as he fucks into you, biting his pink bottom lip and screwing his eyes shut. A whimper slips from your lips as your walls pulsate around him, and your juices squirt out, covering the burly man. Luke grunts. He looks down and sees your cream coating him, causing his balls to tighten and his cock to twitch wildly before he empties himself inside you, filling you with thick ropes of hot cum. 

Luke sighs, resting his forehead against the wall as he catches his breath. “Jesus… I’m so sorry, darling!” He slowly pulls out and tucks his softened cock into his jeans, pulling out a clean handkerchief and quickly cleaning you up. Spewing a bunch of apologies, whispering to himself that he’s an idiot for using a woman like this.

Your heart warms, and you smile softly. “It’s okay, honey. Don’t be sorry, and I’m here for you whenever you need me.” You sigh, resting your cheek against the soft pillow that you have.

“Again, I’m so sorry!” Luke continues to ramble, cheeks turning a soft pink before he says his goodbyes and leaves, gnawing on his bottom lip, knowing he’ll be back even though he feels disgusted with himself.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[blushstories]

my love! could u write a steve x reader where she’s been feeling a little uncomfortable and upset and anxious with the way her body is changing (it’s not changing for any particular reason though it’s just like undergoing natural changes that everyone has because appearances can fluctuate) and there’s just a lot of comfort from steve bc he sees how self conscious it makes her and reminds her that there’s nothing wrong with how she looks etc etc 🥺🥺🥺

:,( heart goes out to everyone who’s struggling with this i think u are beautiful yes you behind the screen <3 I hope this is okay darling anon!

When you enter the room, Steve senses that something's different. He can see it in the slight slouch of your shoulders, your heavier footsteps, and the thin line of your mouth.

Though he can't pinpoint how much you're weighed down until you sit next to him on the couch and look up. Staring back at you is your reflection in the living room mirror and you're instantly reminded of your spiralling anxieties from five minutes ago. You frown and stiffen, droop further, like a wilting flower, and begin to argue with yourself in your head.

Can you sit on Steve's other side? The mirror doesn't reach there.

That would look silly, you've just sat down. Steve will notice.

What if you--

"Bubble?" He says, bringing a knuckle to your face and swiping his thumb down against the soft apple of your cheek twice. A third time tugs your face towards him. "What's going on up there?"

His eyes are searching yours, diving as deep into your soul as he can, trying to read your mind. They calm the storm in your mind momentarily as you admire them, but then his hand slides to your jaw and he whispers, "hey."

A bite in your throat. Searing eyes. You swallow and look down. Then at the mirror, after which you find comfort back in his eyes. His thumb taps the side of your face. You aren't sure if you even want to tell him. Is it silly? What if he doesn't want to deal with it? What if he sees it as something to be dealt with?

"Stop it, sweetheart," he chides, concerned. "Stop what?" "Thinking." He reaches out to you, warm hands on your calves and ankles as he swings your legs over his lap, forcing you to shift closer to him. His arm lazily rests around your shoulders, and his fingers dance around the side of your neck. He waits. You collect your thoughts as if collecting breadcrumbs.

"I think I've changed," you say finally. Your teeth fidget with your bottom lip. Steve's fingers pause. "Changed how?" You look at him, wishing he could just read your mind so that you don't have to say it. Saying it makes it feel truer, somehow.

"Like..." you look down at yourself, gesturing vaguely at your body because you're still afraid that when he finally understands, he'll dismiss you. "It's different."

His eyes widen quickly before returning to normal, and his head nods in recognition simultaneously. His tongue escapes to wet his bottom lip, and his eyes flit into the distance somewhere as he thinks. You don't breathe.

The next time he looks at you, he doesn't show any signs of contempt. You wrap your arms around your legs, embarrassed. No, vulnerable.

"Sweetheart," he says, thumb massaging the flesh of your shoulder. "We all look a little different every day. Even I do."

"Really?" You say, skeptical. "I swear. But you never notice what I do, right?" You scrunch your mouth to the side and shake your head, now resting on the peak of your knees, and "You're beautiful," comes out before you can stop it.

A twinge of pink settles in the apples of his cheeks, and he smiles, disarmed. "Thanks for proving my point, doll. In reality, on Earth, this dimension, the opposite of space, whatever the hell you want to call it-- " "Language!" You gasp dramatically. He smiles, and pinches your nose with his knuckles in response. "There is nothing wrong with how you look. That's a fact. And it will still be one tomorrow. And tomorrow's tomorrow. You get it. You say I'm beautiful?" He says, pecking your exposed temple. You nod silently, chewing on his words. "I think you're beautiful. I gotta tell you, doll, I thought you were beautiful the moment that Stark introduced us."

You raise an eyebrow, hyperbolically high. "No, really!" He insists, encouraging you to sit up and then lean against him. His arm winds around your back and his fingers play with the lacy hem of your shirt at your waist. "And then the party that night. Do you know that I was so distracted every time you walked by that Bucky threatened to ask you out before I did, right there and then, so that I'd actually listen to him."

You gape, the corners of your mouth tugged up in amusement. "He did not," you giggle. Steve nods, failing to suppress a smile creeping into his cheeks. "So I asked you within the minute, you said yes, and now, I have the loveliest girl in the whole of the States right next to me. She's my favourite. My girl." You lean into him, smushing your face into any nook you can find to hide your giddy smile. A hum of content rumbles through his chest, and his hand strokes your upper arm while he mutters, "Buck would argue that you're his favourite too, why he can't choose Sam or someone..."

You're not sure what to say, except, "Thank you." "No need, doll." He turns your head with his knuckle to kiss you tenderly, his hand on your hip, hoping to show you words unspoken.

[astoldbyaja]

The Blossom surrounded by Fire - Ch. 1 (Warrior AU- HBO MAX)

Amaka, is an African American woman with cosmetically altered ears due to her past ownership. Her journey has led her to Chinatown in San Francisco where she is now under the guardianship of Wang Chao. As Amaka tries to remain invisible, helping any ill residents with her healing knowledge, she slowly becomes drawn in to the dangerous world of the tongs. Seeing as she is a black face in a town of yellow, she is powerless to the demands of tong leaders and their lieutenants. They use her for their own gain, however calm and collective Long Zii lieutenant, Li Yong, sees more than just a body, and sees into her heart. But how can he claim his blossom when she is surrounded by nothing but fire?

MDNI, +18 , smut, SA, 1800 period story, racial slurs, etc.

-------------------------------------

I never really thought about my future, because for the negro the future was death if you came across the wrong person. Everyone is the wrong person. I was constantly waiting for death to come either by sickness, hanging, or something more sinister.

I didn’t know where my path was going to take me, but one thing for sure, it was going to be one hell of a crazy ride on my way to hell that was for sure.

My eyes slowly crept open as I could smell fish. I was on my back which brought me some comfort. Because of my ears, I could never stay on my side for too long. I sat up slowly and gently scratched my curly mane. I knew he wouldn’t allow me to sleep in, not while there was work to be done. I removed the blankets from my body and got up. Sliding the door open, I was looking at the nicely dressed back of Wang Chao.

Upon my unexpected arrival to San Francisco, our paths crossed and although we didn’t trust each other then, my ability to speak Cantonese and other languages made me useful to him as a translator for business with others. Also my willingness to help the sick with my knowledge of medicine. I entered the room and moved over to him giving a soft smile as he glanced at me.

“Good morning.” he said with a gentle smile, and I leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

“Good morning.” I said and he immediately raised a bowl of fish and rice. I looked up at him and nodded my thanks and took it.

“How did you sleep last night?” I asked picking up a pair of chop sticks and using it to eat. He sighed now raising his own bowl to eat.

“As good as any with one eye open as usual. How about you?” he asked. I shrugged some.

“I slept okay… I am pretty sure I lied on my side for a bit too long.” I replied. Chao nodded observing the side of my head. Slowly he raised his hand to move the side of my hair off my shoulder. I was still as he exposed my pointed ear.

“They’re still sensitive.” he noted. I nodded.

“They may be like this forever. I don’t know what he was thinking when he did this.” I replied my mind drifting back to that horrible night. I remember a violent storm had hit and it was the perfect time to do what he did. No one could hear my screams of sheer agony. I wanted to die that night. I hadn’t realized I was looking out into the empty space beside my guardian, until his hand gently came to my cheek.

“Hey. Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t put yourself back in that state of pain. You are safe here with me.” he said. I couldn’t help but grin.

“You are a black-market salesman who also sells men that come off the boats to different tongs. How am I safe?” I teased. He gave a mild grimace.

“Well, you know how to ruin a mood.” he said, and I chuckled some before looking down some in thought.

“People are starting to talk. They know we are… associates.” I replied. He nodded.

“Well, what do you expect, a colored woman with pointy ears is walking about Chinatown without a care in the world.” he said. I gave him a stunned look.

“Without a care in the world? Hardly. That’s a duck’s privilege.” I reminded and he nodded bringing a small cup to his lips.

“Very much so.” he said swallowing and then looking down at me. “Since everyone is whispering about you, those whispers have been slipping their way into different tongs.”

I could hear the warning in his voice.

“Which tongs?” I asked.

“All of them. At first no one batted an eye, but now that you’ve been helping the Chinese with their fevers and other sicknesses, it’s only a matter of time before their leaders call on you for services.” he said. Hop Wei, Long Zii, Fung Hai, Suey Sing… violent gangs who are in the opium trade. I had a lot to learn once Chao decided to take me in. He only told me the names of the leaders, but I had never seen them face to face. When I would walk about with him, he shielded me from the eyes of those he knew were dangerous.

I didn’t care about the gangs. I just wanted to help those who needed it. I have seen a lot over the years and one thing I knew: if you are not white, you do not matter to the world. With what I knew, I wanted to help people anyway I could.

Chao with his connections, delivered to me the ingredients and supplies I needed to create my herbs and medicines.

“Then let them call on me. If someone is sick, I will help them.” I replied turning from them. However, his hand caught my forearm firmly and I looked up at him. The seriousness in his eyes made me somewhat worried.

“Amaka… the reason why I am an independent contractor is because being alone keeps me safe. My loyalties are to myself and helps me survive. You, being a good healer, is a good skill. It will help you survive. But sadly, you not being Chinese means you can easily be discarded and forgotten in this town if you catch the attention of the wrong people.” he said. I winced at his words and looked away some.

“It almost saddens me to know I don’t have your loyalty. But I guess after everything you have done for me so far; I will only take what I can get.” I said softly. He shook his head and planned to say something, even going so far as to put his hand on my cheek, but I shook my head. “The day is starting. We both have jobs to do.”

He sighed and nodded.

“You are right. I will open the shop.” he said. I nodded and sat my finished bowl of food down on the counter.

“I will get dressed. I need to check on a few families.” I replied and we both parted. I cleaned my face and pulled the top half of my hair back and pinned it down with a large black clip that Chao had gotten for me. The bottom half remained down and covered my ears. I’ve been called a demon before, and my ears have put me in danger many times before. It was best to keep them covered. I wore a faded white dress with red flowers over the chest hem. It was tight around the bust area, as my bust was big, but I wouldn’t complain. It wasn’t anything too nice, but showed I wasn’t a threat either. Chao had found many dresses for me to wear upon him taking me in. He even gave me a small satchel to carry my medicine and journal in. I wrote down symptoms and medicines to help said symptoms. I slid on a pair of black boots and headed out through the market area where Chao had most of his weapons. When he saw me approach, he looked me over before looking confused.

“You’re going to wear that dress? That’s your nice gown I got you for when we go to meet Ah Toy tonight.” he said. This woman is a brothel owner who Chao had spoken to a lot apparently. He wanted me to meet her as insurance in case anything happened to him, then I could go to her for help. However, this is the first time I am hearing that I was to meet her tonight.

“You tell me this now?” I asked. He scoffed.

“It’s not like you had plans tonight.” he said. Touché. Chao had the luxury of walking about Chinatown without being bothered. I did not have this luxury unless I was with him and that was very rare since he was usually doing business with the tongs. If he had a new customer who spoke a different language then I would help, but other than that and helping those who sought me out for my help, I remained inside, hidden away as to not make anyone uncomfortable.

“Do you really think this dress will help me blend in at a brothel?” I asked. He looked me over.

“In a room full of yellow, you will always stand out.” he said. I couldn’t help but touch my cheek at his words knowing them to be true. “But now that I think about it, you can’t wear that dress either. If you’re going to be at my side, then you’ll need something far better.”

I smiled and nodded.

“You’re the boss.” I replied stepping closer to him and pecking his lips. “I will be quick.” He nodded.

“You got your knife?” he asked, and I reached into my back and pulled out the black handled blade and showed it to him.

“I have my knife.” I replied. He nodded with approval, moving to hand me the brown hooded topcoat. I began to put it on and place the hood over my head. Slowly he took my hands in his and I could see the look of worry in his dark eyes.

“Please be careful.” he said. I smiled and nodded before moving through the front of the store where multiple chickens cawed loudly and out into the town I went.

[acerathia]

somebody's watching me || Chapter 3: Burn

Summary:

Meeting him was your fate, your salvation, and you shall do everything to keep things this way.

Wordcount: 4.1k

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Pairing:

Getou Suguru / Reader

Tags/CW:

no-curse au, Getou is still a cult-leader, cults, Getou's fake personality, dark content, Major Character Death, Paranoia, schizoid form of anxiety disorder, isolation, overthinking (in connection to the anxiety), some form of descent into madness, violence, stream of consciousness to show the mental state of reader, everything has meaning (dreams, colors, symbols etc.), warped look on reality, dissociation, blind trust, indoctrination, manipulation, mind-altering practices, polarisation of people/society, peer pressure, denial of reality, emotional abuse, body horror, drugs (implied), hallucinations, dellusions, suicidial thoughts

Note:

Peep the updated tags please Please be cautious reading this work, as it contains heavy themes, which might affect some people. Minors do not interact!!

You’re sitting in a bright living room. At first glance it seemed like a normal room, yet something about the place seemed wrong. The cushions felt too hard, the sun much too bright and piercing, the carpets too soft and unused. At the same time, the floor creaked under your feet and dust trickled from the ceiling. It seemed as if the place had existed for a long time and at the same time as if it was a new building. Maybe you were just imagining it. Adrenaline shot through your body, making you aware of every single detail. After all, you didn't know if, when, or how you would have to escape from this place. Admittedly, your confidence had come a bit hastily, and now there was no way you could back out. Not when there was still a danger of being caught. The man might as well have just moved into the apartment. That answer proved to be the most logical, and yet….

Before you could properly finish processing your thoughts, the host placed a cup of tea on the table for you. He claimed that the drink would help you calm down. After all, you seemed a bit rattled.

You were sure that this statement was a massive understatement. Your body didn't just feel 'a little rattled'. Every muscle was shaking as if you had been in a race during a storm. Still, you took the warm cup between your fingers to raise it to face level. The smell invaded your nose. It smelled simple. Like tea. But there was a sweetish undertone lurking in the background. The tea was probably simply composed of fruit, nothing else. Although it was indeed unusual, since the norm was green tea. A strange suspicion entered the back of your mind, but you shook it off your shoulder like an annoying leaf. To convince yourself of anything, you put the rim of the cup to your lips and let the liquid lick lightly against it. To say, you felt little desire to burn yourself. Only a few drops entered your mouth. These rolled almost too easily over your tongue. In fact, the temperature of the tea was on a pleasant scale. Only the taste came unexpectedly. It should have been sweet. But the bitterness hit you like a slap in the face. This was followed by an unusual sharpness that settled on your tongue like a warning signal. Nevertheless, you swallowed more sips of the tea, imagining that this liquid took the heaviness off your shoulders. Also, you did not want to insult the man's hospitality.

At the same time you avoided the waiting look of the host, who had sat down opposite you on the other armchair. Should you introduce yourself? Tell him your real name or just a nickname? You bit your lower lip. You were not used to such situations. But if you had decided to be there, then you should probably go through with it properly to prove something to yourself.

But when you opened your mouth to start with an introduction, you were interrupted by the man. The latter had only held up his hand briefly, but the gesture was enough to silence you. After a brief pause, he claimed that an introduction was not necessary at the moment. While you didn't understand why, you folded your mouth shut again with a slight nod. Now you had run out of ideas for a conversation and didn't know what to talk about. So, you kept silent with your gaze back towards the cup. Your fingers turned it around in your hands. A while passed without anyone speaking. Then he finally spoke up. It was a simple question. How you were really doing. But these simple words caused a strange feeling inside you.

Your need to be heard and understood grew umpteenfold in one fell swoop. Your eyes began to burn and you had to blink a few times. A lump formed in your throat, making it difficult to swallow. That simple question wrapped around you like a warm blanket, lulling you into trust like a lullaby. You felt soft and more inclined to tell the stranger everything. But you still had enough consciousness not to blurt out your whole life story right away. Still, you explained your current situation with as little detail as possible. While you trusted him a little more than these helpers, you did not feel the need to tell the stranger about your breakdown. Since the state of affairs demanded it of you, you also reproduced parts of the dream. Although you did not feel good about it. Your lungs felt like they were under pressure and your stomach wanted to rise out of your mouth.

You tried to tell everything as well as you could from an objective point of view, to distance yourself from it as much as possible. Still, you couldn't control your voice far enough to keep it from shaking.Under normal circumstances, you would have been annoyed by that. But at the moment you were in the comfortable position of finally being able to talk about your worries.

When you finished the explanation, you looked up at him with narrowed eyes and a firm grip on the cup. He was probably looking at you with disgust and suspicion.You weren’t normal, after all. Your jaw clenched tightly. You had no idea what you were actually expecting from an adult. But when you met his gaze, you froze for a moment in surprise.The man's eyes were not filled with disgust or disbelief or anything like that. No, he was looking at you with understanding.You didn't understand that at all. Why should he believe you? Wasn't all your talk bullshit?

"Your dreams are a sign. You are destined for something greater."

These words made no sense to you.What did he mean by 'something greater'? It sounded absurd. This dream, these sensory delusions were making your life more difficult. You didn't feel special or talented or blessed. You were just confused. Slowly, the surroundings seemed colder, the bright apartment sending a shiver down your spine. The pillows slumped as if they were about to swallow you. You were stuck. Yet all you wanted was to live a normal life. Of course you wanted to be destined for something greater, to be special, everyone wanted that, but you didn't feel you deserved that distinction. Had you done anything to get that designation? No, as far as you remembered you hadn't done anything special and yet that's what you wanted, you longed to be special. Your thoughts were approaching dangerous territory. Would you be willing to do anything to get it? To be special? For the affection and admiration of people? Yes… That's how much you wanted that. And yet, you couldn't admit that you would really do anything. Part of you still claimed you weren't worthy of being that way. A dichotomy arose inside you. Your every thought seemed to be at odds with itself.

The gentle pressure on your hand brought you back to reality. He had placed his hand over yours to comfort you. Had he noticed what those words had triggered in you? You hoped not, and yet when the stranger claimed to help you, you realized how open you lay, how easy you were to read. The next words were too good to be true. He said you had to do nothing but put your whole will, your whole being into this matter. He would take care of the rest. These claims, these promises sounded far too tempting. Like purple cotton candy. Did you even deserve this help? For some reason, you hesitated.Of course you wanted help, but what would be the price? Why should you trust this strange man?

Slowly, you pulled your hand from the clasp of these strange hands.You apologized weakly. You would need more time to think it over.With these words you straightened up. The whole thing was hard to digest and you needed some time alone. You? Something special? And a strange adult who would be all too happy to help you, even if you sounded like a crazy person? This was way too much. Your hand briefly clutched the back of the sofa. All at once the whole room spun around you and you closed your eyes. After a moment, everything had straightened out. Probably the exhausting day was catching up to you.

Despite the rejection, the man seemed friendly and kept his expression the same, a smile promising comfort. You would always be welcome back to this humble home, even if all you needed was a sympathetic ear. This statement expected nothing more from you than your presence and that reassured you a bit. Perhaps you could trust him. So, you looked at him again to say goodbye properly. But the place where his face should be was blank. The features had blurred into an unrecognizable mass. In surprise, you stumbled backward a few steps. A scream caught in your throat, yet you forced yourself to not react. After blinking briefly, the man's worried looking eyes were back in place. His skin had also smoothed out again. You had no idea what just happened, but it caused you great anxiety. Were you worse off than you knew? But you didn't let the worry show on your face and took a deep breath. Then, without an explanation, without another word, you turned away and left the apartment with long steps. With the first step out of the building, the heaviness settled back on your shoulders. Almost as if his simple presence had scared away the gloom.

All the way home you felt somewhat disoriented and clammy. A whisper breathed on the back of your neck.Someone was close on your heels. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't make out who or what was lurking behind you, but something had made itself comfortable in the corner of your eye and was moving there nonstop.The echo of footsteps faded each time you stopped, but when you turned around, there was no one behind you. No matter how loud the footsteps of the pursuer had sounded. Finally, you quickened the pace, but the sounds behind you did not lose distance. Your breath shortened.The wind rustled in your ears. Your head felt like it was filled with cotton. Your thoughts were foggy and muddled. You could no longer think straight.

You stumbled as you tried to avoid the shadows.They grew with each erratic step and grabbed at your ankles. You tried to ignore the whispers and focus on your moving feet and the ground beneath you. But that was exactly how you ran full tilt into the hot, burning shadows. Desperately raising your arms so that they served as a shield for the important body parts, you rammed full force through the tentacles of the shadows. When you made it out, you felt a strange sensation on your arms. As if the friction had been strong enough to tear your skin open. But when you looked down at your skin, your arms were on fire. The fire ate into the skin of your forearms, slowly working its way up to the rest of your body. You had no idea what to do. Fire was supposed to be smothered somehow by rolling or put out with water. But you were too afraid of the possible consequences stopping might trigger. So you just kept running, faster. For your fear of the shadows at your back was greater than the pain, which prickled like thorns across your arms.These disembodied pursuers breathed down your neck, and yet they never fully extended their hands.Not to help you, but not to catch you either. As if simply their panic and pursuit were satiating their hunger.

And yet, in the end, you were backed into a corner. Right outside your front door. You had nowhere to go and if you went in full of fear, your mental condition would only be questioned. Yet you would normally be fine.You had no idea what was wrong with you at that moment. The only chill on your hot body were the tears on your cheeks.The room behind the door you were pressing against was filled with screams. Words you didn't want to hear anymore. Feelings you didn't want to experience. But it was the only place you could go to. And yet you just stopped in front of the door. Let yourself fall defeated to the floor. Pressed your burning arms against your body to smother the fire. To loosen the chain around your chest. But the screaming and whispering only sounded stronger in your ears. Struggled for your attention. Your hands moved to your head and clawed over your ears to muffle the promises, the insults. As you did so, the smell of burning coal assaulted your nose and a wetness spread from your palms to your face.Still, you could not take your eyes off the creeping shadows. They moved more slowly than before, but you now had no way to flee from them. Your burning arms proved what these creatures could do to you if they got too close.If they touched your skin. Simply put, you were screwed.

The weight on your shoulders shifted and now clawed at your throat with sharp fingers, making it difficult to swallow, to breathe. Your only hope consisted of the vanishingly small possibility that someone would help you. Someone had to take pity on you. But who was going to come to your aid? There was no one who cared whether you lived or died. There was no reason to offer you help or comfort. Even at this moment, you still had enough trust in your fellow human beings, but you realized something that you should have realized so much sooner. No adult would help you. As long as you did not show them your feelings, your suffering, they would be only too happy to ignore everything. And if you did confide anything to them, they would only make it worse. You gave up. You were tired of waiting for some miracle. At that moment, your fear disappeared and you were glad. Glad that everything finally came to an end. Your eyes closed in exhaustion. The last thing you heard was the crackling of the fire in your clothes.

~~~

Again, your surroundings had changed. The atmosphere was pleasant, even though it was not particularly bright. You put your head on the back of your neck to look up to the sky. It seemed to be a cloudy dusk. The colors blended together and shone down at you in a muted way. This sight calmed your muddled thoughts. Your feet felt as if they were floating across the forest floor filled with branches. The open woodland pressed closer to you the deeper you walked into the forest. The trees grew closer together, towering higher and higher. As the sun departed, the surroundings around you darkened. This caused you to bump into the tree trunks more and more often. But this did not bother you, you just continued the walk. On the winding path, you spotted a carved mark in one of the trees. Your steps stopped just short of it so you could run your thumb over it. It was made of two intertwined rhombuses. Before, you had seen this sign only a few times and it had always filled you with a certain fear. But now it aroused a steadily growing interest in you. Although you did not trust this sign, you wanted to understand why it appeared in your surroundings. Why you came across it more and more often. So, you walked in the direction of the next notch of the sign. Your steps were no longer light on your feet, but grew suspicious. The ground changed from a soft carpet of leaves to a thorny undergrowth. This bored hostilely into the soles of your bare feet. Pointed branches, broken stones and finely grated glass dug into your skin. Almost as if the forest wanted to leave a visible mark on your body. The pain brought tears to your eyes, but you didn't waste a thought. You couldn't remember when it had started. But your mind was filled with only one phrase. With a mantra.

"Family is there."

What those words meant, you didn't know. Still, you were convinced, even if your mind dimly realized, that it couldn't be your actual family. And even if they were to be found there, you would never really move towards them with such anticipation. To you, your family consisted only of people with whom you shared a house. More than this and their genes, you had nothing in common. Still, you did not slow down. Your belief in this sentence was stronger than the distrust and you quickened your step. The pain on the soles of your feet was pushed to the background and forgotten.

You became so fixated on the unknown destination that you failed to notice the change in surroundings. Fast moving clouds pushed in front of the setting sun. These seemed to grow darker, more vicious with each passing second. But no matter how strongly the storm brewed above your head, not a single sound reached your ears. It was unnaturally quiet.The wind blew no crackling leaves about. Your footsteps throbbed against the ground without actual impact. You didn't notice this lack of sensory input. Not even when you couldn't hear the words that leapt across your lips with recognition. The mantra filled your head to such a high degree, and yet those words were empty in your current state.

Only when your soles were cut to the red flesh did you enter a vast meadow. This seemed to stretch endlessly into the distance. There was a deafening crash. The sudden brightness blinded you so much that you wanted to close your eyes. But they refused. The force of the light flooded your head like a tidal wave. This shock brought you back to consciousness and you realized something: you should never have come here. Unfortunately, this realization came too late. Slowly, your bright surroundings returned back to normal. At least, it should have. But no matter how normal this moment seemed, something had burned into your retina. They tingled and stuck. When you tried to move your eyes in any way, a sharp pain shot through your skull. With a hiss, you fell to your knees, and at that moment the open wounds on your feet drew attention to themselves. Your body felt like a prison of all these sensations. Your eyes glared at your palm, looking for any sign that you were still in control. But your body no longer obeyed you, not even your hands were really yours. Only when a voice sounded in front of you did you look up again. There stood a group of people. They had not been there before.

You didn’t know how they had gotten here in the first place. They were wrapped in purple robes. Yet their faces were not covered. There was no reason for it, either. For none of these people possessed proper facial features. They seemed to be blurred beyond recognition. As if someone had erased them.Slowly you tried to crawl backwards without attracting the attention of the crowd. But you moved too slowly. All fingers pointed at you with a jerk. The rustling of robes cracked like thunder in your ears.But that was not the worst of it. For everyone started talking. The words spilled from their lips at the same time. Their distorted voices changed the sounds into a new language. Still, their tone sounded demanding, insistent. You wanted to retort something, but your own voice failed under the noise in your ears. The sounds ripped into your head. Their echoes resounded between your bones. And these slowly joined together to form a sentence. No, to three words. A name. A description.

"The Chosen One."

The assembled voice seemed as if it would be familiar to you. But the constant repetition of the words through the crowd was too much of a distraction. With a jolt, everyone moved toward you at once. A hand reached for you. You could still pull your leg away and avoid the hand. But the next one grabbed you from another side. It seemed as if more and more hands were groping at you, the more you struggled. But if you didn't move, you would end up between their claws. If you moved, you would also end up the same way.

The situation trapped you and would inevitably end in your demise. Finally, the people got hold of you. Grabbed you and tugged and pulled. It seemed as if they all wanted a piece of you, as if all their lives depended on it. You tried to fight back, moving and squirming. It was way too much at once. Yet you did not manage to break free of anyone. But just as quickly as the mass grabbed you, it let go. Yet it still felt as if the hands were still on you, holding you down. You couldn't move, no matter how hard you tried. Your body did not obey you. When you finally looked down at yourself, you discovered the shackles wrapped around you. You knew them from somewhere. But at the moment you couldn't think of from where. The sight of the strangely familiar chains caused panic in you. Your body reacted and you retched, unable to breathe. You could no longer breathe. A whimper escaped your closed throat.Something was compressing your windpipe. You were tied to a wooden chair. You tossed your body around, trying to get up from the seat. But with each movement, the restraints only tightened around your body. At least, you had completely lost your ability to move.

The thorns of the backrest bored into your back and a strange wetness spread there. The pain pressed in deep, settling in your lungs. But you couldn't panic anymore, couldn't even breathe deeply. Otherwise you ran the risk of being impaled. But because your panic could not express itself through your body, it paralyzed your thoughts. There was a static emptiness in your mind and you no longer thought about the possible consequences. So, you directed your impassive gaze to the crowd in front of you. In the meantime, they had placed their index and middle fingers of both hands on top of each other. That way, a hollowed triangle was formed, which was placed over their non-existent faces like a sad mask. In addition, they had all knelt down in front of you. A furrow appeared between your eyebrows.You didn't understand what exactly was going on, but a bad feeling crept up your legs and settled in your stomach.

All at once, a buzzing sounded. You would have thought it was an insect, but you hadn't seen a single creature except these people since you arrived. This could mean only one thing: The sound was coming from people's mouths. It was getting louder by the second, penetrating the skin of your scalp and scratching the skull underneath. You didn't know what to do. People stopped moving. You couldn't move, let alone flee. At least the group's immobility indicated that you could not be a victim. You were tied up, kidnapped, but otherwise fared well. There was still… No, you didn't even want to think about the word. It would only ignite something that would then be destroyed anyway.

Sweat began to run down your back. Since when had it been so warm? The cool wind on your face answered that question.

The heat seemed to come from the chair. The wood was burning, on fire. Had you been mistaken? Had you been sacrificed? The thought triggered a resistance in you. You didn't want this. With a jerk, you tried to free yourself. But the shackles around you held you in place, cutting off the air and every possibility of movement. Even though you could still breathe, there was only smoke around you. The smell invaded your nose and took its new place in your lungs. The flames licked at the soles of your feet.You felt the skin swell and burst. The pain burned at your nerves. This feeling slowly worked its way up the rest of your body. But after a while you felt nothing at all, and that's when you knew it was too late. You had no choice but to let it wash over you.

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

Corentin {The Prodigal Saer}

wood elf storm sorcerer // they/them // dark urge

"Getting lobotomized was the best thing to ever happen to me. Getting dissected gave me IBS."

Age: ~30 y/o

Background: Haunted One

Favorite Weapons: The Spellsparkler Staff and the Sword of the Emperor

Style of Combat: fly by the seat of your pants and pray to whoever's still listening

Most Prized Possession: the acorn. you know the one

Deepest Desire: To remember their family from before they were taken to the cult. it's a desire they'll likely never be able to fulfill- they couldn't remember their mother & sibling even before the tadpole.

Guilty Pleasure: Eating just frosting. Gale taught them how to make it one day and they haven't been the same since. They experiment with different flavors and add-ins sometimes too.

Best-Kept Secret: There are definitely some things they've remembered that they haven't told anyone (yet) because either they're too ashamed or it's too painful. I think the raid/mission that directly broke them & resigned them to their lot as Bhaal's Chosen is one of those.

Greatest Strength: They're pretty good at recognizing when to be charming vs intimidating, when to use violence and when to at least try to talk their way out of a situation, etc. It's a skill they re-learned and honed over the course of the game.

Fatal Flaw: They're stubborn as hell and don't like to budge on their convictions and decisions, which is great when they're correct and really not great if they're not. And they can be careless with their words when arguing about said convictions and decisions, especially if they don't know the other person(s) involved or if they don't care that much about them.

Favorite Smell: wood smoke

Favorite Spell/Cantrip: Shocking Grasp for sure

Pet Peeve: Slow walkers who also take up the entire pathway for unclear reasons. They can deal with one or the other, but not both at the same time.

Bad Habit: Chewing their fingernails. Sometimes they'll wear down the nailbed so badly their fingers bleed. They swallow the nail

Hidden Talent: Weaving. They got really good at braiding while they were a teenager, practicing both on their hair and Orin's. It was calming to them, and they pretty quickly expanded to looms and more intricate plaits/knots/etc as a way to cope. Muscle memory meant they started doing it out of habit after getting off the nautiloid.

Leisure Activity: Gardening; stabbing the ground and pulling up weeds can be great ways to blow off steam. Also reading- they didn't exactly get much of an education, and what they did have they'd forgotten. They want to learn as much as possible

Favorite Drink: Hot chocolate, made half with cream & half with milk.

Favorite Food: hand pies, especially ones filled with sausage or beef. But they have to either make them themself or be certain whoever made them is telling the truth about the ingredients they used.

Favorite Person: Wyll, hands down.

Favored Display of Affection (Platonic or Romantic): Hair! Playing with it, brushing it, styling it, etc.

Fondest Childhood Memory: sitting on their bed, detangling and braiding Orin's hair when they were teenagers. They're sure they have some happy ones pre-Bhaal but all that's left of them is that inkling, no specifics.

Other: Their fashion sense was pretty bad when they got off the nautiloid. The others (especially Astarion and Shadowheart) stepped in pretty quickly to remedy that, which means most of their outfits in Acts I and II were picked out by their companions. They'd gained their footing by Act III but still made some...questionable color and cut decisions occasionally. It's unclear whether they've always been that way or if it was from their brain getting scrambled. Also, they bind sometimes! Whether or not they do depends on how they're feeling that day (physically & mentally), if it's practical, and if it goes with the vibes of that day's outfit(s).

Fun Fact: Wyll helped them cut their hair after the proposal!

Top 10 Songs: - "Nunemaker's Parable" (Everybody's Worried About Owen) "I am mourning/I am morning/So break me anew" - "A Good Thing" (Kyle Stibbs) "This is birth, in reverse/This is sacred, tell me, how'd I take it worse?" - "Pyre" (Mel Bryant & the Mercy Makers) "I am a child of god my fingers move the earth and yet/I cannot scrub the dirt beneath my nails" - "Prologue" (Shayfer James, Kate Douglas) "We build a cradle from our grave/And feel it rock with every wave" - "A Pearl" (Mitski) "It's just that I fell in love with a war/Nobody told me it ended" - "The Price of Life Itself" (Moon Walker) "But mama didn't raise no wolf/And I was never really one to fight" - "Bloody! Bloody!" (Junie & TheHutfriends) "A craving that cannot be fed/It's happening again/(I think it's getting worse now)" - "Take Me to War" (The Crane Wives) "So I will leave it where it's standing/And instead I will find me a match/I'll turn it all to kindling/I'll burn it all down to ash" - "Fate Goes" (Shayfer James, Kate Douglas) "Fate is the only one that's just, and I trust/That fate goes as ever fate must/Ashes to ashes, dust to dust" - "In the Woods Somewhere" (Hozier) "The creature lunged/I turned and ran/To save a life I didn't have"

Questionnaire template by @sporeservant!

[nani-nonny]

Sneak Peeks

I was relaxing and having a few drinks to really enjoy my Spring Break when I realized I hadn’t updated LCD in like… 3 weeks? Give or take? So, I decided to share what I’ve been working on in that time because I didn’t stop writing hehe. Below the cut are sneak peeks for BYMH Part 2 (Peepaw Interview), LCD Ch.7, and WDS Ch.1.

BYMH Part 2

First question: Have you ever met the other peepaws? For example: OMO, WMAS, MNMC, etc…

Reunion freezes in his seat and his eyes widened in shock. “There’s more of us?!”

Fourth question: If you had the chance to reset the clock—not time travel to the past like you have already—all the way back to the day the Krang invaded, would you take it?

Reunion shifts awkwardly in his seat and looks away. His hand tightens on his knee and creates a fist that slams on the tense muscle of his thigh. He swallows before saying, “I… I’m guessing that’s a question for the others… right?”

Leonardo Come Down - Ch.7 (#2)

Splinter jumps off his chair to drag Leon by the hand to the table. He sits his son next to Casey and takes his plate to the sink. “Talk to Casey, I’m going to… think about what to say when he comes home.”

Splinter pats Leon’s hand before he leaves the kitchen. Leon scratches Splinter off his list, but he watches his father’s shoulders slump the farther the rat gets from the kitchen. Are they…?

Whispers of Distant Souls - Ch.1(?)

He mumbles to himself like a spell, “A ninja’s greatest weapon: hope. Hope will get me through this. I can’t give up.”

Leonardo’s fist tightens again and he sucks in a sharp breath. He shuts his eyes as he forces himself to sit up, changing his position to sit on the back of his ankles all while holding tightly to his wound with his prosthetic. He breathes slowly before opening his eyes to assess the situation.

WDS Sneak Peek Bonus:

“Would have hoped to tell you before he found you, but you’re adopted. Papa wanted to tell you before our eighteenth.” -Donnie

Are you really siblings if you don’t try to trick them into believing they’re adopted?

Anyways, I’m almost done with WDS CH.1 but I want to post it when I have the entire story planned out. I already knew how I wanted the story to start but it really needs a little more oomph in its entirety so I’ll focus on that before ch.1 is uploaded.

And LCD Ch.7 might be a bit of a slow one since it’s leading into a bit of a bigger picture so disclaimer if it’s a bit boring(?). Think of it as the calm before the storm.

BYMH still needs some work because I’m deciding whether I want to post WDS’s answers from part 1’s questions before or after his first chapter is uploaded. Well, that and I’m thinking if I want to add another question because the interview is about four questions long? Idk I’m an indecisive person so the answers to my own questions will probably come up soon.

[ailelie]

The List: A writing exercise

The goal of this exercise was to use sound of words/etc to underscore emotion. Please let me know if you think I've managed it. This was inspired by Norman Rockwell's 'Breaking Home Times.'

“For Alta’s sake, child, stop tip-tapping your feet. Can’t keep my concentration going with you all jittery like that.”

“Sorry, Mama,” Elodie said, pressing the soles of her bare feet to the ground. Shadows stretched long across the grass, unmoving. Music tinkled out of the beat-up radio, fuzzy-hushed save for the too bright high notes. It was Papa’s childhood radio. Fixed it all up himself. Now it was all Elodie could do to keep it running. 

“What will be, will be,” Mama said, slowly stitching a new smock from two old ones. The needle flashed in and out with Mama’s breaths, sure and steady.

“Can we turn it up, Mama?” Elodie asked. She squeezed her knees so tight together she could feel the bones kiss.

“Just be quiet. We’ll hear it.”

‘It’ was a list. The list. Alta was a promise once. Elodie had seen the old posters in Papa’s effects. It was supposed to be the next Nevron, a nexus of tourism and second chances. No one knew about the ten-year storms then. Half a year in and every bit of promise was smothered under two meters of fine, fine dust. Course by then, all the working ships had fled and the people left behind had to make do and they did.

Alta got by. Even made a tidy export from their storm dust, but no second chances ever came. 

Until the list. Meriam Academy, first rate of its kind, extended a hand to all the failed colonies, offering scholarships and, more importantly, actual ships, to get the next generation out to the stars.

Elodie’s fingernails bit divots into the sides of her thighs. “What if--” she began, but Mama stopped her with a loud sigh.

“Just be still, child. Honestly.”

Elodie bit her lip, swallowing down protests. She was never getting a chance like this again. The radio crackled and the song cut mid-note.

“We interrupt this broadcast,” a smooth, deep voice, full of promise, cut in.

“It’s time, Mama!” Elodie shot up to her feet. The announcer slowly read the names, listing them off by sector, then planet, then family, and finally first name. Even Mama’s hands stilled as she listened.

“And, finally, from Sector 38, Alta, Harrigan, Elodie.”

Elodie was squealing before the announcer even finished the first syllable of her family name. “Mama, he said my name! I’m going! Mama!” She leapt up and down, certain she was about to fly.

Mama just turned back to her sewing with a soft sigh. “He did,” she said, measured and calm. “I heard.” A line of tight, small stitches formed under her fingers as the radio kicked back to music and Elodie burbled and babbled, mind brimming with plans. In her heart, she was already gone.