#i cut off a friend because no matter what she could not grasp what had been DONE to me

[phoebelovingcare]

"gee, bee, it's been a long while since anyone's seen mage sister art from you! isn't that something you used to be known for? what happened?" well you see someone came into my inbox to ask me why actual, genuine, in-real-life incest was bad, not exaggerating, and well that was it for me

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 9

Series Summary: In order to save money for law school, you accept a job working as a maid for high end clients. You aren’t supposed to know whose home you’re cleaning, but your curiosity is peaked by your first client, and when the two of you have a shocking and surprising run in more than just your curiosity peaks.  Word Count: 5k CW: see small red lettering below the cut AN: I'm going to miss them!! I'm absolutely heartbroken that I'm done, but so fucking proud of myself for what I've created. Thank you to @lotusbxtch for being my beta from pretty much the very beginning. I am so grateful to you and so honoured (yes, with a u because I'm Canadian lol) to call you my friend. Also little shoutouts to @for-a-longlongtime, @alltheirdamn, @mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69 for listening to me go on about them for 80% of 2024. As always, graphics and dividers by @saradika-graphics

My Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: unprotected p in v, one spank, multiple orgasms and Overstim hinted at, pining, heartbreak

Eight Months Later

Joel

“I got yelled at by a feisty brunette last night at that gala,” Tommy says as the two of them sip whiskey at the bar of the club. 

“Probably deserved it.” Joel deadpans and closes the folder of invoices he’s looking over.

He should be doing this in his fancy, and newly renovated, office across the street. He was in the large office for all of three minutes the day after you left when he could only see the ghost of you. From the chair you sat in when you first asked him to teach you how to be a sub, to the door he pinned you against and confessed how out of his mind he was over you, everything was you, and it had to go if he had any chance of following what you needed from him. Joel hasn’t even been in his room at the club out of the fear of what it would do to him. Would I still be able to smell the lavender of her shampoo in there? Still be able to hear her beautiful cries of pleasure and pain bouncing off the walls?

“She thought I was you,” Tommy says, glancing over at his brother and interrupting Joel’s impending spiral.

Joel sighs, slipping his reading glasses from his face before taking a long pull of the amber liquor from his crystal glass. Tommy looks straight ahead as he continues.

“She’s doing great, by the way. Or at least that’s what her friend said when she was scolding me.”

 Joel winces at his words, “Of course she is, Tommy.” Even though it's been almost a year since you left, just the mention of you rips his barely-mended heart back in half. It doesn’t seem to matter how much time passes, he still feels like he did in his kitchen. 

The very fibers of his being ache just as hard for you now as they did then. He longs to see you and touch you, to feel your warm, soft skin under his hands again. Anyone before you was always, ‘Yes, Mister Miller,’ even when they weren’t in a scene; but not you. You weren’t afraid to be curious and unapologetically yourself. He hasn’t laughed as hard with anyone, including Tiffany, as he did with you. But the part that he misses the most is the way you look at him the first time you see him. Your eyes soften, velvety pink lips parting slightly before they curl into a smile that makes his heart hammer behind his ribs. Then, he watches your shoulders relax and it makes him feel like he hung the moon and stars for you, and if he could have, he would have.  

He clears his throat and then rasps, “She’s too smart to not be doing well.”

Tommy stands, bringing his hands to rub at Joel's shoulders. He squeezes his tense deltoid muscles and with a hint of mischief in his voice he says, “Lots of pretty girls here tonight if you feel like moving on.”

Joel shakes his head and pulls away from Tommy’s grasp with a grunt. “Never gonna happen. Get outta here before you get yelled at two nights in a row.”

“Just too bad for me that you aren’t a hot brunette,” Tommy says with a laugh.

“I have brown hair,” Joel replies defensively, running his fingers through the grown out curls. 

“Not to kick you when you’re down, but it’s mostly grey at this point.”

Joel holds up a single finger at Tommy over his shoulder as he laughs and walks away. 

Two and a half years later

You

You’ve been up to your eyeballs in studying as you prepare for your finals. These last few years in California have been the hardest yet most fulfilling time of your life. Two nights in a row now, you’ve fallen asleep in the library, only waking when your Spotify would switch from the white noise playlist you use to help you focus, to your “getting ready” playlist. After dragging yourself to your dorm room in the dead of the night, you’d get a few restless hours of sleep before heading right back to your favourite studying spot. You can’t believe that in just a few short weeks you’ll be graduating and stepping into the life you’ve always envisioned for yourself.

The unmistakable FaceTime jingle fills your AirPods. Jamie’s name is splayed across the screen of your phone, along with a photo of the two of you at Albany Beach when she visited this past Christmas break. You put your highlighter down and slide the answer toggle over. 

“Hey!” She says, her warm smile shining up at you. You squint, trying to place where she is. You don’t often let yourself think of Joel, but the cracks across your screen make FaceTiming difficult, and the selfish side of you always wishes you had grabbed that new phone before you left. Your head cocks to the side; broken screen or not, you don’t recognize the background.

“Where are you?” You ask.

“Oh, I’m good, thanks. How are you?” She jests with a mocking eye roll.  “I’m at a cabin.”

“What cabin?” You say, glaring at her jokingly. A deep laugh comes from the otherside of the phone and your eyes widen. “Who’s that?”

The man's voice comes from offscreen, “I can’t believe you thought she wouldn’t ask where you were. She’s going to be a lawyer, for god's sake.”

“Jamie, who is that? What is going on here? Blink twice if you need rescuing!” You joke. 

Jamie blushes, looking over the phone at whoever that voice is coming from. “I just wanted to call to see how the studying is going, and to let you know that I got the graduation tickets.”

A glass of white wine appears in front of Jamie and she smiles before puckering her lips in a kissing motion towards the man in the room with her. “Ok, seriously, who the fuck is that and where are you?”

“I was also calling to let you know that Laren can’t make it anymore and Odette is in New York,” she takes a small sip of her wine.

“Oh, well that’s ok,” you say, trying to squash the disappointment and hoping it doesn’t show in your voice or face. You wished that at least two of your three best friends would be there for you. “It can just be me and you, baby!” 

“Well…I’m wondering if I could maybe bring my boyfriend? Might be a good opportunity for you two to meet.”

“What? What boyfriend?” You say, officially abandoning all study materials until you get some answers. Jamie raises a perfectly manicured finger and calls the mystery man over. 

You swallow hard as Tommy Miller appears beside her. 

Jamie glances up at him, her bright green eyes full of admiration, his mirroring hers. The starry look in their eyes tells you everything you need to know; they’re so far gone for that even a search and rescue team wouldn’t be able to save them. She looks back at you. “Meet again, I guess.”

You try to push for answers, but either of them give in, claiming you need to focus on finals. Before you hang up, Jamie promises to tell you the entire story when you see each other next. You’re happy for your friend, especially seeing the way Tommy looked back at her. Even through your cracked screen you could see the love, but as you try to go back to studying you have a hollow feeling in your stomach.

Graduation Day

You

The late afternoon sun fills your dorm room, boxes of your belongings stacked haphazardly around you. After walking the stage tonight, you are going out to dinner with Jamie and Tommy, and then he has paid for a hotel suite so the two of you can have a girls’ night. You can’t wait to hear how Tommy went from, in Jamie’s previous words, “my dad’s new asshole friend” to her boyfriend. 

You step in front of your floor length mirror, zipping up the black graduation gown over your knee length, form fitting, deep emerald velvet dress. The California sun has been good to you, your tanned legs and sunkissed nose and cheeks are glowing. You place your blue and yellow Berkeley Law stole over your head and then grab your cap, ensuring the ‘Class of ‘28’ tassel is secure. You fluff your curls one last time as a light knock comes from your door. 

“Ready to graduate, gorgeous?” Ronan smiles at you, eyes trailing down your gown. He’s the type of handsome that’s almost painful to look at, but more importantly - you wouldn’t have made it through these last three years without him. You met the first day - the lock on your door wasn’t working, and he waltzed in on you half naked when he mistook your room as his. 

You smile at him in your doorway now; remembering the way you screamed at him that first time, trying to cover your chest, and him scrambling to close the door. His eyes were clamped shut, and he slammed his finger so hard that you had to take him for stitches. Now, several years later, he fills out his graduation gown perfectly with those wide rugby shoulders, a sight you couldn’t even have imagined back then. Whichever angel made him didn’t make a single mistake - he’s tall and insanely broad, with dark sandy blonde hair, and clover green eyes that in the right light are a golden hazel. He’s easily one of the smartest men you’ve ever met and an incredible athlete. The cherry on top, because of course there’s more: he’s an international student and has a panty-melting Irish accent. 

“Beyond ready. Let's become lawyers, babe.”

He steps aside, one arm out in a ‘ladies first’ gesture. Handsome, charming, and thoughtful - a dangerous trifecta. You slide your hand in the crook of his muscle-lined arm and walk across campus together.

Ronan jerks his head towards the coffee cart. “Remember when you spilled your entire coffee on your new puffer jacket?”

You glare up at him, you saved for weeks to buy that jacket. “No, but I remember you throwing up in that trash can after the Halloween party last year.” 

“Well, if Beach Party Barbie had helped Lifeguard Ken with all those shots we wouldn’t have had that problem, would we?” You laugh as Ronan puffs out his chest, but you both know he was more than willing to take your half of the ‘Best Couples Costume' shots. 

Finally, you reach the courtyard where the law students will be walking across a stage that acts as the symbolic bridge to the rest of their lives. I’m a lawyer, you think to yourself and try to force a smile. The magnitude of the day only really starts to sink into your bones as you see the friends and families of your classmates start to take their seats. The excited feeling you had earlier starts to morph. You’re proud of yourself for what you’ve done these last three years, and this was just the first step. You have so much to look forward to, so why do you feel a sense of dread building in the pit of your stomach? 

Ronan walks you to where you need to line up alphabetically, kissing your cheek and then, after leaning in and placing his large hand on your lower back, he whispers a joke about how you better not trip. You glance around the thick crowd for Jamie and Tommy. After realizing it’s hopeless to try and spot them in a group this large, you slip your cap over your hair and get in the procession line. 

You try to soak in every minute of the day, from the speeches to the birds chirping in the background, but something akin to loss flutters at the base of your spine. You’re just as sad to be leaving Berkely as you are excited to carve out your future. Leaving here isn’t what’s causing you to feel this way, however. You try to tell yourself that maybe it’s just nerves; even with all the job offers coming in from your internships, it’s normal to be nervous about what comes next. 

As the student union president gives his toast to the family and friends, you look down at your lap, pushing back the cuticle on your left thumb. Maybe it’s leaving Ronan. He’s been an anchor for you, grounding you almost every day of the last three years and you don’t know how you let yourself become this dependent on anyone, especially a man, again.  

You shake your head at yourself and try to move your focus to the cuticle on your other thumb. Seeing the skin clean from the nail bed eases the tension slightly for you. ‘I’m allowed to be nervous when leaning on people, but not everyone will leave me,’ you recite almost automatically in your mind, the mantra you’ve had these past few years whenever you feel yourself getting this anxious. Just as you finish the thought, a car revs in the distance and the realization of what - or who - you’re actually missing slams through you so hard that you almost feel winded. Your lungs ache, tears pushing behind your eyes as his name rings loudly through your mind.  

Joel.

You kept yourself busy since the minute you left Austin. The busier you were, the less time you had to focus on the void in your heart. During the school year, you didn’t have to find things to stay busy with; law school nearly chewed you up and spit you out. Over the summers, you worked as an intern and visited your friends. There was never a quiet moment, never too much time alone with your thoughts, and it was better this way. You can confidently say that you’d only thought of Joel six times since you walked out of his house that day: when you fell asleep on the beach and were so sunburnt you could barely move for three days; when you failed your first test; when your rusted SUV, that acted as your ticket to freedom at eighteen, died on the freeway in rush hour (from that point on you had to rely on public transportation to get you to the homes you cleaned). When you experienced your first earthquake; when you stayed up for forty-two hours straight after your partner in a group project didn’t have their side of the work done; and, lastly, this past New Year’s Eve when you were in Austin and thought you saw him at a party. 

“Is he here?”, that little box of feelings that you shut away in a vault long ago wonders. “Has anything changed for him in the last three years?” 

The small smile that pulls at your cheeks, and the excited flutter of your heart when you think about the possibility of seeing him again, proves that maybe nothing has changed for you. As the minutes tick by, your mind races with all the possible scenarios for after the ceremony. What if he is here? What will you say? What will he say? How will Ronan react, you know he has strong feelings about what happened between you and Joel. Even worse though, what if he’s not here? But maybe he’s at the hotel where Tommy and Jamie are staying?  

Before you know it, your row is standing and walking single file towards the stage. With each strike of your high-heeled strappy sandals against the concrete, a memory of Joel floods your system. The toast he made you in his kitchen, the kiss in that dimly lit hallway on your birthday, the way he walked you through his club and how calmly he talked about you being in charge before going into the voyeur room. The multitude of orgasms he gave you within the four walls of his private room. Him singing on the small stage of the dive bar you found, followed by him spanking you right there in the bathroom with his hand clamped to your face to keep you quiet. His strong hand grasping your thigh as he drove you to his house. The way he tasted on your tongue. The smell of his skin: all ash and leather, occasionally mixed with whiskey or mint. The feel of his body: hard, broad and hot. His shuddered breaths as he confessed so many things in so few words. 

‘It’s only you, sweet girl.’

‘Just call me Joel.’

‘I know, and I’m so proud of you, sweet girl.’

You carefully walk up the stairs, forcing the thoughts of Joel from your mind, just in time to hear your name announced as a graduate of Berkeley Law. You float across the stage, grabbing the piece of paper that acts as your degree until the real one comes, shaking the hand of the Dean who flips your tassel before you walk to the stairs on the other side; the stairs that symbolize the ending of your time here and the beginning of the rest of your life. 

As you reach the top of the steps, you look out into the audience and see Jamie. She pumps her fist in the air and before you can process the empty seat beside her, you feel it; a strong tug from behind your navel. It takes you less than a heartbeat to find him and the sight before you floods your body with a familiar warmth. Standing under a large tree at the edge of the audience, dressed in all black, and holding his Stetson hat to his heart, is Joel. For the first time in years you feel whole again.

 You keep your gaze on him, worried that if you so much as blink that he’ll be gone. You are supposed to follow your classmates, but you veer left, walking towards Joel. The closer you get, the more at ease you feel. He’s real, you think, he’s here. You stop a foot or so in front of him. 

“Hi, Freckles,” he whispers, his voice cracking slightly. His eyes dance around your face, almost as if he’s trying to memorize this moment. You can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling exactly how you are.   

“Hi, Sweet Cheeks,” you say, the same tremble in your voice, as you try desperately to hold it together. “You’re here.”

He nods and you give him a tight-lipped smile as your mind races. There’s so much you want to say, but now that he’s standing right there in front of you after three years, you don’t know where to start. 

Joel breaks the silence, jutting his chin in the direction of the other graduates as he says, “I saw you come in with your boyfriend. When I saw you kiss, I was going to leave, but I made you a promise.”

You knit your eyebrows together and take a step closer. “Boyfriend?”

“The man you walked over here with,” Joel says, his black Stetson sliding down the chest you so desperately want to touch as he drops his hands to his sides. He’s left no barriers between the two of you except the heartbreak that’s evident on his face. 

You laugh quietly, “No, he’s - that’s Ronan.”

Joel nods. “Okay.”

“He’s my friend,” you clarify, and when Joel’s face stays the same, you add, “And he’s still as gay as the day we first met!”

Joel lets out a whoosh of a breath and closes the distance between the two of you, his free hand comes to one of your curls, twirling the end of it around his thick fingers. Soft and silky meets rough and calloused. “I’m so proud of you, Freckles.”

You don’t miss how he watches your tongue dart between your lips, “Thank you.”

“So? How does it feel?” He gives you a soft crooked smile, his dimple carving into the short facial hair of his salt and pepper beard. Between that smile, and the way his brown eyes wash over you, you’re overcome with affection. He let you go. He did exactly as you asked him. He didn’t chase you or try to convince you to stay. You told him if he really loved you, then he’d do exactly this; and in turn, he did what he said he would. 

He showed up. 

“I love you,” you state and the air between you turns electric, almost like this moment could either set you both aflame or act as a generator for your future together. Joel gives you that look, the one that makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe. He lets the curled end of your hair slip from his fingers, reaching up towards your graduation cap but hesitating.

“May I?” He rasps and swallows hard.

You nod, and knowing exactly what he’s going for, you take the Stetson from his other hand and place it on your head after he removes your cap. The brim of it blocks out everything but the two of you.

“Say that again, sweet girl,” he murmurs.

“I love you,” it’s barely a whisper this time. “Even after three years apart, you are everything to me. I asked you to let me go so I could accomplish this, and you did. You’ve always done what I asked, what I needed. I’m not sorry for what happened between us, but I am sorry that I missed out on getting to spend the last three years with you looking at me how you are now. I love you, Joel Miller.”

He brings his lips within a breath of yours, and your body practically vibrates with the knowledge that if you leaned just a bit forward, you’d finally have his mouth on you again. You can almost taste the mint on his tongue as the familiar fragrance of ash and leather surround you. “I have dreamed of hearing those three words leave your beautiful lips more times than I can count, baby. You’re it for me. I’ll do anything for you, even if it means breaking my own heart, but I’m always going to be here for you, rooting for you and encouraging you. I’m glad you’re not sorry, because I’m not, I’m so fucking proud of you. I love you, too, my sweet girl.”

Finally, he presses his warm, firm lips against yours while pulling you tight to his body. You wrap an arm around his neck, holding the black cowboy hat against your head with your other hand. It doesn’t matter that the ceremony isn’t done, or that there are hundreds of people to your right. For the first time in three years, everything goes quiet. He hums contentedly and you feel yourself melt against him, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss. He parts his lips, letting you take the first swipe of your tongue against his. Need floods your system, and based on the way he grinds into you, he’s feeling the same. 

He breaks the kiss, but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours. “Take me home,” you practically purr.

“Where do you want home to be? I’ll go anywhere,” Joel rasps, running his nose down the bridge of yours. 

“Austin,” you respond, your breath catching as his lips ghost along the side of your mouth.

“I sold my portion of the club to Tommy and Tess. I don’t have anything holding me in Austin anymore, sweet girl. If you have a job offer you really want, that’s where we’ll go.” You pull back to look at him. You can tell by the set of his jaw that he’s serious. 

“I want to go to Austin. I have a job offer there.”

“Good thing I told Tommy not to touch my room at the club then.”

“That’s a very good thing,” you moan and then pull him in to kiss again. The audience behind you erupts into cheers, celebrating the accomplishments of every student in that crowd. 

You’re a lawyer, and suddenly, the future doesn’t seem so scary.

Joel

Taking you home to Austin that night unfortunately wasn’t an option. After finding Jamie in the crowd, and being formally introduced to Ronan, he called the car to pick up the three of you. You all met Tommy at the restaurant, celebrating with all the expensive homemade pasta and overpriced wine that you wanted; even though seeing you in that curve-hugging velvet dress was slowly killing him. Joel had kept at least one hand on you since seeing you again, and he doesn’t plan on changing that anytime soon. 

He didn’t want to rush you on your big night, so he waited patiently, listening to you tell stories of your last three years, and revelling in the evident joy that you and Jamie share over being together again. When dessert comes around he catches Tommy’s attention and gives him a small smile. It’s fitting that the two brothers, who have been so close their entire lives, would fall in love with best friends. 

Once in his room, he spent two hours stripping you down at an almost painfully slow pace. He kissed every inch of your skin twice over and has pulled five orgasms, and counting, out of you so far. 

Now, Joel is seated in the wide velvet arm chair in the corner of his hotel suite. His cock is buried deep inside of your tight cunt as you straddle him. Your skin feels like butter under his hands as he trails them along your back and the globes of your perfect ass. He’s missed tying you up, but this is what he longed for: the earth shattering intimacy he feels with you in these moments.   

“Please,” you mumble into his neck, desperate to move your hips.

“Not until you answer me,” he demands softly. “How many times was it that you needed me, but were too stubborn to reach out?”

Earlier tonight you told him about the six times you really needed him. He’d kissed you softly after each confession, returning the trust with a time he needed you. After the last one, he’d pulled back to look at you with dark eyes. He’d hated that you needed him and he couldn’t be there. He’d clenched his back molars twice before he said you’d be denied six orgasms the next time you were at the club, but tonight you have permission to come as often as you need to. 

He swats your already reddened ass cheek and your pussy flutters as you cry out. “Mister Miller, stop. Please, just let me move.”

“Do you need to use your safeword?”

“No,” you respond with a pout. 

“How many times?” He says again through gritted teeth, even though already knows the answer. 

“Six,” you sob. 

He tuts and then growls, “That doesn’t sound like my good girl, does it?”

You shake your head against his throat and moan a sound of disagreement.

“Do you want to come for me again?”

“Yes, Mister Miller. Please!”

He trails his fingers up and down your back again, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin makes it easy for him to caress you. He smiles to himself at the shiver that racks through your body at his touch. You react so beautifully to him. “Yeah? You wanna grind your swollen little clit on my piercing, baby girl?”

“Please,” you whine again, stretching out all the vowels in the word.

“Show me. Ride my cock, take what you need.” 

You lift your head from the crook in his neck and pull back slightly, rocking your hips back and forth; a sultry laugh leaves his lips at your eagerness. You look at him with hooded eyes, hair stuck to your forehead. His eyes trail down your neck to the bruises he sucked into your collar bone earlier and then to your breasts; both of which are covered in his marks. He watches the little gold nipple clamps, and the chain that connects them, bounce with each flick of your hips. 

“That’s it, sweet girl. You look like a goddess, my goddess. Who do you belong to?”

“I’m yours, baby,” you say through shallow breaths. He pulls at the chain and you cry out in pain. “S-sorry, Mister Miller.”

“Again, sweet girl. Tell me who you belong to.”

“Oh fuck, y-you, Mist -” his hands come to your face and when he whispers your name the rest of your sentence dies on your tongue.

“Just call me Joel.” The commanding voice of his alter ego is gone as he says it. 

Your hips slow, changing from a frantic back and forth to a sensual swirling motion. “I’m yours, Joel. Forever.”

He kisses you softly, a silent telling of how vulnerable he is at this moment. “Don’t ask me to let you go ever again.”

The smile you give him causes his heart to skip, “I won’t.”

“You might, sweet girl. I won't survive it if you do, so I’m going to remind you of this moment as often as possible for the rest of my life. Remind you how much you’re loved and supported. You’re mine, Freckles.” Your hips swirl and he feels you tighten up around him. “Come for me, my sweet girl.” 

“Fuck, fuck, Joel!” It’s a cry and moan all at once. 

“I’m here, it’s ok, baby.” With that, your body shudders and you fall into him as you shatter. Your pussy clenches and releases rapidly around his length. His cock twitches, and once he can’t hold it anymore he relaxes, letting his orgasm rock through him in time with yours.

“I’m yours, too,” he gasps as he melts into you.

The End

Coming Soon:

Curious how Jamie ended up with her "dads new asshole friend?"

Part 2 of the BDSMaid Trilogy coming mid 2025!

Also, stay tuned for the epilogue for Joel and Sweet Girl.

[arscorpii]

the way utena held onto wakaba and anthy's hands, trying her best to not let go (even though utena was barely holding onto anthy's hand, i'm sure she never wished to let anthy slip away from her grasp). both shots were lit with soft lighting ⟶ to highlight the importance of the person utena was holding onto and their bonds to utena.

the fact that she reached out to them with her left hand, the hand on which she wore her rose crest ring (the ring being clearly visible in both shots) ⟶ utena believed that she could only save wakaba and anthy by being a prince/playing the role of a prince.

utena caught wakaba's right hand with her left hand; wakaba wasn't holding back. meanwhile, anthy reached out to utena's left hand with her left hand as well. i think the difference in how each pair held hands may lie within the ideals between the pairs in their respective circumstances. with regard to wakaba, she harboured lots of pent-up emotions and thoughts about how unfairly the (ohtori) world treated the people it regarded as "special" and "ordinary," such as utena and herself. wakaba was clouded with feelings of inferiority and wanted to be special, to put it simply. utena didn't understand/wasn't aware of these dichotomous mechanisms/systems at play, at this point at least. these conflicting ideals, as in, awareness versus ignorance, were represented in the way they held hands; the hero/chosen one with her firm grasp on the motionless hand of the underdog/forgettable one.

with regard to anthy, the moment utena cracked open her coffin was the first time the both of them saw each other as they truly were. utena believed in a world beyond eternal pain and suffering anthy had to endure and wanted to share that view with her, wanted anthy to see and experience such a world, to save her from this needless perdition for good. eventually, anthy took the chance on the possibility, given how unyielding utena was in trying to reach her despite being stabbed by anthy herself; anthy hesitantly reached out to utena. both utena and anthy wanted to believe in a world where suffering is transient when they reached out to one another through the coffin opening, and not an eternally all-consuming pain as their fates in ohtori. they shared similar hopes in that moment.

utena reached out to both wakaba and anthy with kindness and love:

in the duel with wakaba, she never drew out the sword of dios or fought her. utena de-escalated the duel carefully by taking hold of wakaba's sword (the sword pulled out of saionji) and cutting off the black rose. despite not understanding the sequence of events that had them facing each other off in the dueling arena, wakaba was one of utena's closest friends and utena would save her. it's a little interesting to note that the audience (and utena, too i believe) didn't get a glimpse of wakaba's face during utena's speech as above. in addition, the focus on their interlocked hands when utena mentioned about not understanding the situation and saving wakaba is also interesting (even though the interlocked hands were due to them struggling against each other). it's possible what utena said at that moment may have reached her heart even while being under the control of the black rose. perhaps the speech may have made wakaba realise that she was indeed special. this "specialness" was emphasised by utena not letting wakaba fall into the outline of one of the bodies like the other black rose duelists; because she mattered to utena. "to not be chosen is to die" but in a way, she was chosen by utena here beyond the presented choice between her or anthy. utena chose wakaba and anthy.

in episode 39, akio used the sword pulled out of utena to break through the rose gate. utena was injured and incapacitated by anthy's stab, while anthy was relentlessly impaled with millions of swords embodying humanity's hatred. akio's futile attempts eventually broke the sword and he gave up on the pursuit. so long as he had anthy, he could try again, as in, try again to gain the power to "revolutionise the world" instead of freeing his little sister. utena tried opening the rose gate with her bare hands; dragging her injured body there, clinging onto the thorny vines of the roses on the gate, pushing through the large stone doors. she only wanted to stop the swords from hurting anthy, to help her. utena's love and care for anthy finally unlocked the rose gate into anthy's coffin. utena steadfastly held out her hand to anthy despite anthy's protests. utena's efforts moved anthy to tears, and she reached out to her. in episode 38, utena chose anthy over akio, and all the way back to episode 11, utena chose anthy over the power to revolutionise the world. utena had always chosen anthy against all odds and choices.

the aftermath:

wakaba wasn't holding back possibly due to being under the control of the black rose while anthy's hand eventually slipped away from utena's hold.

nevertheless, utena's efforts matter, very much so, because wakaba will always be on utena's side no matter what happens and anthy will find utena no matter where she is.

[mellowsaturns]

in losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time)

BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER

summary: when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.

warnings: heavy angst, one sided enemies-to-lovers-ish, hydra!assassin!reader, hurt/comfort, happy ending, brainwashing, trauma, guns & knives, fighting, implied kidnapping of reader when young, all the feels, misunderstandings, poor attempt at writing action

wc: 4.7k

a/n: sorry it’s been forever but i hope my fellow buckyluvrs are still here <3 i actually wrote this a long time ago but never got around to editing until recently so i guess you can say this is (from the vault) ? inspired by the idea: what-if there was another winter soldier and bucky finds himself in steve’s position this time trying to get you back to him. anyways, i hope you enjoy this one :)

Bucky’s life was a never ending montage of gunfire and bloodshed. It didn’t matter if he was under the clutches of someone else, he still lived through the wars—the lingering smell of smoke and tang of metallic forever ingrained in his senses.

And just when he thought it was finally over—a glimmer of peace at last—it comes and steals that dream away from him.

Like deja-vu, he’s looking at faces that were once responsible for his pain.

On the screen, three Hydra officers stare back at him. All faces identified by Tony’s system. Alive. Last seen in the outskirts of some small country in Europe. Irrelevant low ranking officials that had managed to survive the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D and have been hiding and secretly continuing Hydra’s mission underground ever since. Low officials or not, it was one too many.

Bucky freezes in his spot when Tony swipes the screen. The billionaire goes on a rant saying this particular face cannot be identified, which was according to Tony, bullshit because his face recognition system is the best in the world. The rest of the team is arguing and flipping through countless files and internet archives. But Bucky knows. He knows that face and those haunting eyes that he still sees in his dreams.

“Buck,” a voice calls out. “You know her, don’t you?”

He looks up at Steve from his spot, his best friend's face worried and all knowing.

One thing about Hydra was that they were always prepared. They had backups and multiple plans ready, or else how would two heads take its place when one was cut off? Unfortunately for the world, Hydra managed to make another deadly assassin, one whose work was so discreet and nimble that even intelligence didn't know they existed.

You were a ghost story that lived in the shadows of the Winter Soldier. You were another one of Hydra’s prize possessions—less known, but just as deadly.

With Steve’s comment, all eyes are now on Bucky. A pregnant pause fills the air and he gulps before he confesses, “I wasn’t the only one.”

The room becomes tense. The war that they thought was over suddenly looms over like an unpredicted oncoming storm. “Jesus Christ, Barnes. You couldn’t have informed us about her earlier?” says Tony.

“I thought,” he says, shifting his eyes onto the ground, “I thought she fell with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bucky couldn’t find you anywhere after he escaped their grasp. After he joined the Avengers, he tried once again secretly using Tony’s technology but it was to no avail—it always ended up being a dead end. And for that, he assumed Hydra had put you out of your misery the day they were caught.

But the face on the screen says otherwise. And suddenly, Bucky feels very guilty.

Steve clears his throat, “Well, they were picked up not too long ago heading north. If we leave now, we might be able to find them and stop them once and for all.”

Everyone looks at each other, debating on his proposal. “What the Captain said. Everybody, suit up. Quinjet leaves in ten,” says Tony.

On the jet, Bucky stares off into space but countless questions run through his mind.

Steve walks over and sits beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks, voice quiet.

Bucky sighs, “I just… I thought she was gone.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

He looks up, wondering if he should tell Steve the truth. That he’s not brooding about the fact that he concealed you to them. After a moment, Bucky speaks up. “When we get there, let me handle her. Please.”

Steve didn’t know what kind of history Bucky had with you. But judging from the look his best-friend is giving, it’s more than what Steve could understand or even comprehend but he trusts Bucky and so, he gives him a nod. “She’s all yours.”

After scouting the area and tracing the location to a very hidden underground warehouse in the middle of nowhere, they split up. The warehouse was dark and dusty, surely abandoned, but Bucky knew better—it was their facade behind the most sinister of activities. Through the comms, Natasha announces that she has already taken care of all the troops in the West wing. Moments later, Sam reports that he has eliminated one of the Hydra officers. They wouldn’t last long. Hydra didn’t have much resources or time to rebuild—their current empire was weak, they were no match for the Avengers this time.

The only person Bucky’s truly worried about is you. The fact that he trained you, made you into what you were today already gave him the chills. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore, but he was certain that you were still in that killer mindset that Hydra forced upon you.

Step by step, Bucky walks through the quiet hallway, the echoes of his footsteps the only noise. It’s cold here, he notices, which gives him flashbacks to those days in his dirty cell and the cryostasis chamber. Down a hallway to the next, round a corner and another, there wasn’t a single soul in the eerily Eastern wing.

But he spoke too soon, because seconds later, a garrote wire was around his neck. The swift invisible steps and the perfect pressure that was being used to quickly cut off his air supply was all too familiar. He knows this move, he taught this move. You’re here, and you’re dragging him backwards.

Before all oxygen gets cut off to his brain, he jabs his elbow backwards and hits you hard on the rib which releases the hold you have on him and sends you stumbling back. Bucky takes a moment to regain his breath but you’re on your feet again. He looks at you and for a moment he freezes, then you let out a sinister grin. “Nice to see you again, Soldat,” you taunt, before running towards him.

Bucky’s deflecting your punches one after another. Maybe he’s glad he was the one who taught you everything you know because your moves were predictable—if it were another person, there is no doubt they would’ve been on the ground with multiple concussions bleeding out already. You’re ruthless when you do a triple roundhouse kick on him. On the fourth one, he manages to catch your leg and twists it, sending you to the ground with a groan.

How familiar this scene was, Bucky thinks.

Some forty-years ago, Hydra brought a woman into the training room. There was no further instruction than to train you and that’s what he did. He could tell you were well trained already—compliant and pliable. You were good. And you were just like him, injected with a serum that made you a hundred times more efficient and stronger. In just under a year, Hydra would start sending you on missions. Sometimes with him, sometimes alone.

During training, the both of you would spar for hours, leaving each other bloody and bruised, but it didn’t matter to the overlookers, the both of you would heal in a few hours anyways.

Once you pick yourself back up, he pulls a gun out on you. “Stop this,” he commands.

You smirk, “You going to shoot me, Soldat? I want to see you try.”

He clenches his jaw. You continue to look at him, a dark look on your face that shows no sign of true recognition.

His thoughts are disrupted when you tackle him onto the ground. You kick his gun away and pin his arms down as you straddle him. “I’m going to kill you,” you declare, “I’m going to put a bullet through your head.”

When he looks up at you, your eyes are full of rage. Bucky doesn’t know whether that’s the brainwashed version of you talking or the actual you talking—maybe both.

“What are you going to do after you kill me?” he says, irritated. C’mon, please recognize me. “This is all that remains of Hydra. Half the troops are already dead. One of your new leaders is dead. In a few hours, Hydra will be no more. What will you do after that? What are you going to do after you kill me?”

“What does it matter? You’re my mission. I’m going to finish it.”

He groans at your stubbornness that was identical to his Soldier persona.

He says your name slowly. “Get off. You can walk away from this.”

You frown, but he continues, “I know how you feel. You’re feeling helpless.” He clears his throat, “There’s someone behind this version of you. I want to talk to her.”

“What are you talking about?” you utter in annoyance. “Stop stalling.”

He says that name again, with calamity and care. You want to rip out his tongue.

“Let me talk to her. Please.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” you shout, grabbing for the gun that’s strapped onto your waist. “Stop talkin–”

“I was in the cell next to yours. You liked the colour green. You were wearing white when we first met. You always wanted to visit Bucharest. You hated the leaky cold showers in the Siberian facility,” he rambles, trying to remember every single thing about you in a desperate attempt to get your attention so this version of you won’t shoot him in the face.

And for a moment, it works because your hand freezes on the grip of your gun. He takes that moment to flip you over, so you’re under him now, hands pinned above your head. He takes your gun and throws it behind him.

You snarl at him while trying to escape his grasp. “I know you’re under there,” he says. “Please, come through. Please talk to me.”

Your face scrunches in pain, not from him—he would never hurt you—but from the mental warfare that’s currently going on in your mind. You close your eyes as he speaks again. “Listen to my voice, you know me, don’t you? мой милая.”

My darling.

For a moment, your entire body tenses up and then you let out a painful breath. When your eyelids start to flutter open, he finally sees the eyes he came to know and rely on—eyes he came to love.

The both of you are looking at each other unblinking. A scene neither of you expected but always dreamt about.

You break the silence with a whisper of, “James?”

Bucky slowly nods at your disbelief. Finally, he thinks. But such respite doesn’t last long, because seconds later, you hook your foot under his and flip him over and escape his grasp.

There's darkness in your eyes and he can tell that the Soldate is back and the fighting resumes.

You’re chasing him down the twisting hallway and when you catch up, you grab his shoulder and throw a punch to his jaw. He stumbles back and then a voice comes through the comms.

“Just took down the second one.” Steve. “Bucky, how are you holding up? You’ve been quiet ever since we split up.”

He’s trying his best to block your hand, which now has a damn pocket knife. Your quick movements are starting to tire him out. Maybe he taught you too well, he thinks.

“Buck? Bucky. Confirm your status, right now.”

Groaning in frustration, he taps his earpiece. “I’m fine,” he grunts. A second later, “Shit!” he huffs out as you nearly slice his face.

“You don’t sound fine. Is she with you? I’m sending back up.”

“No!” he says, “Don’t send anyone. I can handle her.”

In truth, he’s struggling right now—your stamina has always been better than his—but he’s worried that you’re going to accidentally get hurt and even more agitated when people appear. His main priority was keeping you safe. Fuck the mission statement they talked about back on the Quinjet.

You’re angry—no, you’re extremely angry at him. It doesn’t take a genius to tell. It’s a mixture of pure rage from both the brainwashed and actual you.

He supposed he deserved it. You should be angry. Because for the longest time, it was you and him.

Other than turning you into a ruthless assassin just like him, an unexpected companionship also formed during those hazy in-between moments when the two of you weren’t frozen or on the metal chair getting fried by those machines—during the times when he was just Bucky and you were just you, two unfortunate innocent souls that shared the same suffering.

They weren’t pleasant moments. It was dehumanising. It was getting shoved into draughty cells with nothing but a blanket until it was time to train or time to embark on a mission. Luckily, your cells were next to each other and it made the endless nights a little more bearable. He was a little off-putting at first, but when he yelled at you to stop crying because they would torture you even more for it, you knew he meant well.

During your shared time together, glimpses of your true selves would seldom come up and you would tell each other about the little bits and pieces of a life once known. And the both of you would hold onto each other's memories and stories in case the other forgets.

And whenever they prep the two of you for the chamber due to there being no current missions for the time being, the two of you would look at each other—a look of longing with the secret squeezing of each other's hand before going under.

Despite the absolute awful situation the two of you were in at the time, the both of you were hopeful for the next shared moments together. Because even when all hope was gone, you had each other. And that was good enough for the two of you.

He misses you. So damn much.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He didn’t even realise he said it outloud. “Well, I do,” he admits, his back hitting a wall.

“You talk too much, Soldat,” you say, creeping up on him. “I ought to cut your throat.”

“I’m sorry I left you with them.”

You halt in your steps and your jaw ticks. In a second, you pounce on him, your knife against his throat. He’s gripping your hand to stop you from continuing your job.

He says your name again. You’re pushing but he’s pushing back just as hard. “I’m sorry…” he repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

The desperation in his voice… You glance up at him slowly and he sees the pink forming in your eyes and your trembling lips. “What are you doing? What are you doing to me?” you whisper.

He sees the internal war behind your eyes once again. Bucky gulps for a moment before letting go of your hand, trusting that you won’t do any actual harm, and moves his hands so he’s cupping your face, firm enough so you’re forced to look at him. You look into his eyes for a second, then a minute, and for a moment, everything stops. Your breath hitches, because those eyes… those arctic blues… you know them. You fell in love with them many years ago.

A realisation washes over your face, one that Bucky doesn’t miss. You’re back.

The first tear falls. Then the second. “Bucky.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You let out a small cry before you press the blade harder against his neck, your grip a vice from his betrayal. He could feel the sharp cold metal pierce through his skin ever so slightly, but he doesn’t try and stop you.

“Give me a reason to not kill you right now,” you grit through tears. “You left me. You left me behind to rot alone. You promised me. You fucking promised,” you say, voice laced with venom and so much hurt.

Bucky’s heart breaks at the sadness of your voice. Because he did promise. There wasn’t much to do in the cells other than throw around false hope. But whenever he told you he was going to escape one day and that he was going to take you with him—it didn’t feel like false promises at all because it wasn’t, and you knew it too.

Until he broke that promise and left you all alone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to leave you there with them.”

“I waited for you,” you cry. “Day and night I waited for you to come back. Even when they relocated, I waited for you because I knew you’d find me.”

You remember that day clearly. Everyone was in a frenzy when the death of Alexander Pierce broke out and that they could not locate the Soldat. For a moment, you could taste your own freedom because government officials would come anytime now and finally arrest all these criminals. But right when they came, a few Hydra officers managed to escape and took you with them, and when you woke up, you didn’t know where the hell you were. But even then you didn’t lose hope because James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, the name you committed to memory, was going to come for you just like he promised.

Until days, months, and eventually, a year came with no sign of him.

You were angry at first, but it slowly turned into worry because what if something bad had happened to him? But what do you know? You were stuck in this building and only went out whenever they spoke those trigger words to you. And you were always under their watchful eyes, giving you no chance to even attempt an escape. Surely he would never break his promise to you so something must’ve happened to him, you told yourself multiple times.

But he was standing here right in front of you. Alive. We’re under attack, your handler said to you moments ago, Kill the Soldat before he kills you.

“You’re a liar. You never cared about me,” you hiss.

Sometimes, it got too much. But whenever reality was a bit too hard to endure, Bucky was there, always reaching his hand out to you through the metal cage, which you took and held tight. And it meant the world to you, that someone cared.

“All those moments, did it even mean anything to you?”

He uses this opportunity to pull your arms down slightly, knife finally away from his neck and his eyes start to sting from his own tears. “They meant everything to me. I care about you.”

You look up at him with a defeated expression and Bucky never wanted to punch himself in the face more. “Then why? Why didn’t you come back for me?”

“I did,” he chokes out. “When I escaped, the first thing I did was go back for you, but the facility had already been raided and there was no one there. I checked every inch of the building.”

Bucky had never felt so scared, because what if the government took you too? They would never understand—framing you as a villain even though that was far from the truth. But there was no news of your capture, so with a breath of relief, Bucky continued to look through other known Hydra facilities.

“I tried my best looking for you, but I also had to be careful because I was a wanted man at the time. When months passed by and there were no clues, I thought that maybe you had escaped. I was in Bucharest waiting for you. Remember how you said you always wanted to go there? I knew that if you escaped, you’d find me there. Even when you didn’t show, I never gave up. Steve… I think I told you about him once—he found me, he helped me and cleared my name. After that, I still searched for you but it all ended up being dead ends. And…” he pauses for a moment, “and so I thought you were dead. I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry.”

He had mourned you and blamed himself endlessly for it.

He knows he should’ve asked for help, but instead, he took this task upon himself until it got too much—because that was the one thing he struggled with the most, asking for help.

When his side of the story finally comes to light, you break into a sob. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says, “but please, drop the weapon and let me help you.”

You swallow hard at his confession. He never stopped looking for you. You didn’t even consider how hard it must’ve been for him after everything and yet you’re lashing out on him.

“How are you going to help me?” you say. “I’m a mess. All you have to do is say those words and I turn into a weapon.”

Twelve. Ember. Fragment. Nine. Academy. Order. Frigid. Yearning. Blue.

Those were your trigger words.

“I got you out of your trance, didn’t I?” he says with a gentle smile.

Hydra needed you to rebuild their empire and they relied on those nine words to do so. To them, those nine words were your greatest weakness but one of them, the last one, the one they liked to spit out in vexation, was also your greatest strength—your salvation.

Blue.

You think back, moments prior, when all he had to do was use his voice and all you had to do was look into the blues of his eyes. Hydra can repeat those words all they want, but Bucky would always be able to bring you back.

At that, your grip relaxes and the knife finally drops onto the floor, it’s noise ricocheting off the walls.

“There’s a place called Wakanda and I know someone there who can help you. Her name’s Ayo and she’s amazing. She helped me overcome my words.”

He brings his hands back up to cradle your face and you shutter at the familiar touch—at the calluses on his palms. “And I think you’ll like it there. It’s quiet and there’s so much… green.”

You let out a small laugh through your tears but doubt still fills your mind. “But… all the things I did,” you whimper, “I did such terrible unforgivable things. There’s… there’s so much blood on my hands.”

Sadness flares around his heart. It was all so familiar. He knows the feeling.

“It’s not going to be easy. God knows how long it took for me to believe that none of it was my fault. But let me be the first one to tell you,” he says, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “None of what you did was your fault. You were a victim.” He swallows a deep breath, “There are going to be days where it’ll be too much too bear and there are going to be nights where all those casualties will haunt you,” he admits. “But… but you’ll get there. Someday, you’ll learn to stop punishing yourself for something you didn’t do.”

And he vows that he’ll help you every step of the way.

You breathe out slowly, digesting all his words. “You can trust me,” he tells you, “I won’t let you down this time. I’ll be here.”

Blinking up at him, the small hesitant part of you so desperately wanted to say, “How can I trust you?” but his eyes were telling you everything you needed to know. Because it was filled with nothing but honour and truth.

He breaks away from you and reaches out his hand. An invitation. You stare at it for a while, then you slowly lift yours and brush your fingers amongst his before grabbing it tightly—a truce of sorts, a promise. He squeezes back in return, a loving smile on his face, just like all those nights many moonlights ago.

Your breath hitches when he pulls you into his embrace, your face burying perfectly into the valley of his chest. He wraps his arms around you in urgency, in fear, almost afraid you’ll slip out if he doesn’t.

“It’s over,” he mumbles into your hair.

Because two floors down an explosion erupts, finishing off the last remaining garrison of troops. Three hallways down, Natasha sets fire to a room that contained the other small red leather book that held those nine suffocating words written in Russian. Outside, the last Hydra officer attempting to flee falls to his knees from an arrow to the chest. And the only hope they had left to rebuild their regime was safely in Bucky’s arms.

He pulls away and uses his thumb to rub gently across your cheek, “It’s over. The war is finally over.”

Now that the worst is over, Bucky’s hopeful. There will be other conflicts to come, that was just how it worked, but this one, the one that held you and him underwater for years was finally over. War always took too much, but this time, it gave something back. Because among the ashes and ruins you came back to him, no more oceans in between.

“What do we do now?” you press nervously. You were taken at a young age and spent years in the Red Room before you were sold off to Hydra. Like Bucky, you’re in the wrong time period, there’s no one to go back to.

There’s so many things you could do, Bucky thinks. You can finally start living the life you deserved, the life that was taken from you too early. He’ll have to explain all this to his teammates but he knows they’ll understand. They treated him so well, there’s no doubt they’ll show the same kindness for you. Then, he’ll go with you to Wakanda, get rid of the words, maybe stay there for a while so you could heal—maybe show you the goats he took care of during his time there.

You’ll probably adjust to the 21st century better than him—you won’t need to start off with a flip phone, that’s for sure. He’ll make you listen to all the great records and watch all the movies you missed out on. There’s so many things he wanted to do with you. He knows you have no memories, no recollection. It didn’t matter, Bucky thinks, he would make new memories with you, ones worth cherishing and remembering. If you’ll have him, of course.

But first and most importantly, “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Then we can talk about it,” he says, rubbing the grime off your nose.

He grabs your hand and heads for the exit. But before he does, you pick up your knife from the floor and in one quick motion, you spin around and throw it. The knife embeds itself into the wall a few metres away, right next to a prying face. You stand in front of Bucky and stare at the intruder with a murderous gaze and Bucky’s heart races at the thought of you still wanting to protect him after everything.

The blond raises his arms up in surrender.

“Steve,” Bucky says from behind and you briefly recognize that name. You turn around to look at him and he meets your eyes, nodding. You relax your stance.

“Hi,” Steve says, voice slightly hoarse. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Bucky scoffs at him, as if he wasn’t eavesdropping the whole time.

Steve looks at the both of you, then a gentle smile adorns his face. “C’mon, the rest are waiting outside for you both.”

You step forward. This is it. Freedom. A new life. Bucky notices your hesitation as you suddenly stop in your tracks. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he squeezes with reassurance. You take a deep breath, then the two of you follow Steve to the exit, leaving behind the smoke and memories of your old life.

Outside, the sun comes up slowly but surely on the horizon, painting the awakening sky a gentle warm hue of oranges and pinks.

A new beginning awaits.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Best Friends

Sam and Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, Castiel x child!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you don’t want to go to school, and the boys are having trouble making you

“NO!”

Dean was out of his bed in a second and bolting towards the library when he heard your scream.

“No, no, no!” You continued, and Dean heart pounded in his ears as he yanked out his gun.

He froze in surprise when he reached the library. Sam was making a desperate attempt to wrestle a sweater on you, and you were fighting him like it was made of acid.

“What…” Dean wasn’t even sure what to ask.

“Dean!” At the sight of the oldest Winchester you finally managed to slip out of Sam’s grasp and ran right to Dean.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked as you latched yourself to his leg, hugging him like your life depended on it.

“She doesn’t want to go to school,” Sam grunted as he followed you over to Dean, reaching down and trying to pry you away.

No!” You screeched, and Sam grimaced as he continued to pull at your hands, trying to unclamp you from Dean’s leg.

“Kid, cut it out,” Dean grunted, leaning down to help Sam. “Just go to school.”

“No!”

“Why not?” Sam sighed.

“I wanna stay with you!” You whined.

“I’m flattered,” Dean muttered sarcastically. “But you’ve gotta go, so just—“

“Got her,” Sam sighed in relief when he finally managed to pry your fingers off Dean’s leg. “Alright brat, let’s get you to school.”

“Brat” was Sam’s occasional nickname for you, and it was normally used ironically, like when he called Dean “jerk”. However, Dean could tell that Sam meant it a little more this morning.

“I don’t want to!” You whined as Sam carried you to the Impala, Dean trailing behind in case you tried anything. It turned out to be a good instinct, because before Sam could buckle you in, he turned for one second to look at Dean, and you took the opportunity to jump out of the car and make a run for the bunker.

“Hey!” Dean lunged for you, but missed.

“Cas!” You yelled suddenly, trying to summon the angel. “Cas I need you!”

“What’s the—“ Cas froze for a moment when he saw the scene; Sam, scooping you into his arms while you yelled and struggled, and Dean doing his best to keep you from kicking and/or biting Sam. “Matter,” he finished lamely, still unsure if he should interfere.

“We’re trying to get her to school,” Sam grunted when you kicked him in the ribs.

“She’s having a bit of a tantrum about it,” Dean added.

“Cas, help!” You cried.

“Can I talk to her?” Cas asked, and all three Winchesters seemed to freeze for a moment.

“Have at it,” Sam shrugged, setting you on the ground but keeping a hand on your shoulder to stop you from running.

“I won’t let her escape,” Cas assured Sam as he knelt in front of you, and Sam stepped back to give you two some space.

“N/N, I thought you liked school. Why don’t you want to go?”

Castiel’s gentle tone calmed you, and your response came out much quieter than your previous ones.

“I wanted to stay here with Sam and Dean,” you sniffled, shuffling on your feet.

“What about your friends at school? Don’t you want to be with them?”

“No.”

Cas was surprised when you started to cry at his question.

“Why not?”

Sam and Dean were both getting impatient, but Cas’s attention was fully on you.

“Be-because Lily’s been sick all week, and she’s my best friend! If she’s not there, then I don’t want to go!”

“And why didn’t you tell Sam and Dean this?” Cas asked.

You just shrugged, still sniffling. “They-they’d make me go anyway.”

“It’s true,” Dean called out.

Cas ignored him, still focusing on you.

“Don’t you have any other friends to play with?”

“No,” you whined, the tears once again streaming down your face. “Everyone else is a butthead.”

Castiel had to bite back a smile at that.

“Do you know who you remind me of?” He asked.

“Who?”

“Me.”

“You?” You sniffled. “How?”

“Well, every time I have to go to heaven, I don’t want to. Just like you don’t want to go to school.”

“Why?”

“Well, because all of my best friends are right here,” Cas smiled. “Sam, and Dean, and of course my favorite little Winchester.” You giggled as Cas poked at your stomach, your tears slowly stopping.

“But you don’t say anything,” you argued.

“Well that’s because I know that I have to go anyway. Even though all the other angels are buttheads.”

You giggled again at Cas’s words.

“I have to go,” Cas continued, still smiling. “Because I have a job to do. And you have a job to do right now; you’ve gotta learn, so you can grow up smart like your big brother Sam.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Sam elbowed him.

“Oh.” You seemed to ponder Cas’s words for a long moment. “But…will you be here when I come back?”

“Of course, little one,” Cas promised. “I’ll be ready and waiting to see my best friend.”

Your face lit up at this, and the boys relaxed. You wouldn’t fight school anymore, at least not today.

“Cas, can you take me to school today?”

“I don’t think Dean would like me to drive the Impala…” Cas began, but when your lip began to quiver Dean stepped in.

“Just this once, ok?”

“Yay!” You giggled as Cas lifted you into his arms and deposited you into your seat. “Hey Cas?”

“Yes little one?” Cas asked as he buckled you in.

“You’re my best friend, too.”

“Oh yes?” Cas smiled at you.

“Yeah, and Sam, and Dean! You’re all my best friends.”

Cas did something that he rarely did—he bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to your head.

“Then we’re all very lucky, little one.”

[biblomaniac]

Supercorp headcanon:

Lena gives Kara extravagant gifts not because she’s rich and money is no obstacle, but because that the only way she knows how to show that she cares.

Lena grew up and a largely loveless home. Any gifts she received were most likely only for show, or had a practical purpose. When she was young, Lena learned that people wanted her for three things: her body, her name, or her money. Buying expensive gifts for fake friends and temporary dalliances became the only way she could express even the simplest of gratitudes.

When she meets Kara, she keeps up the practice. An office full of flowers for a positive article and a company to keep Kara happy and employed are only the ends of an extreme spectrum. Lena would give Kara just about anything to keep her happy, although Kara doesn’t ask for anything but Lena’s time.

By profligate present #50, Kara has to put her foot down about the amount of gifts the brunette gives.

“What do you mean you don’t want it? I can exchange it for something better.”

“No, Lena. It’s lovely, but I just can’t accept it.”

“I don’t understand. Why don’t you want it? Is it not good enough?”

“Lena,” Kara can hardly explain before Lena is on her phone ordering an upgraded model in three different colors.

“They have red, blue, yellow, green, purple… Y’know what? I’ll get the first three and we can go from there.”

Kara uses a small burst of SuperSpeed to grab the phone from Lena’s hand before she can press ‘order’.

“Lena, there is nothing wrong with it! I can’t accept it because you have given me too many gifts already. I appreciate them, you know I do, but it’s just too much. I don’t need you to buy me gifts to make me spend time with you. I just need you, Lena.”

Lena is stunned for a moment before she drops her head to hide quivering lips. When she looks up, her green eyes are misty. Kara wraps Lena in a hug before any tears can fall. A few minutes later, when Kara thinks Lena has calmed down enough to speak without crying, she pulls away enough to see Lena’s face while they talk.

“Lena, what’s wrong?”

Lena keeps her eyes pointed to the floor, feeling ashamed at her outburst. Kara’s right hand grasps Lena’s chin just enough to tilt her head up.

“Look at me, baby. You don’t have to be embarrassed. Tell me what’s wrong.”

In a voice meeker than Kara has ever heard from the strong, outspoken woman, Lena admits:

“I just… no one has said they wanted me for me. Any relationship I’ve ever had has been transactional. I don’t… I don’t know how to show you I care without giving you things. You mean everythi—a lot, to me Kara.”

Lena almost lets the extent of her feelings slip, but she isn’t so far gone as to get entirely loose lipped. Kara wants so badly to scoop Lena up and just wrap her in comfort, but she doesn’t want to overshadow the initial matter at hand. She decides unfiltered honesty is the first course of action, then the comfort can commence.

“Lena, I LOVE you. I don’t need the gifts, or your money, or anything like that. If you never bought me another present, I would still care as much for you as I do right now,” Kara leans down slowly, pressing her forehead against Lena’s.

Lena gazes up at Kara, eyes watery and searching. Kara never breaks eyes contact, content to hold Lena’s gaze until she finds what she is searching for. It feels like ages have passed when Lena finally replies, and even then, Kara doesn’t think she would’ve been able to hear the CEO if not for her SuperHearing.

“I…I love you, Kara. Not as a friend, but as more. I wanted to show you how much you meant to me, in hopes that you would want more. I was too afraid to say anything; too afraid of you deciding that one day, you couldn’t handle being friends with me anymore. I don’t think I could take it if you rejected me, Kara. I—“

The blonde cuts her off with a kiss. It doesn’t feel earth shattering or like an explosion of fireworks. It feels like coming home. Lena squeals, wrapping her arms around Kara’s neck when the reporter reaches down just far enough to grasp Lena by the back of her legs and lift her enough to comfortably hold Lena against herself.

With beaming smiles, they separate their lips but remain pressed against each other.

Emboldened by their newfound comfort, Kara presses kiss after kiss to Lena’s face. Lena giggles, squirming away as much as she can while held aloft by Kara.

“If I knew all I had to do to get you to kiss me was stop accepting your gifts, I would have put an end to this when you bought me that ridiculously expensive coffeemaker that I never figured out how to use.”

“Kara!”

[jjtheresidentbaby]

Hi! Congrats on 1000 followers!

Could you do a cg! Rafe Cameron x little! Reader with the prompts "shh, go back to sleep. you need it." and "shh shh, no, it's alright. you're fine, shh."

Btw, I love your blog and I’m so happy you’re doing obx fics now!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you’re fine ⋆ﾟ⊹ ➢ event masterlist

» rafe cameron x reader

» a/n: hope you don’t mind me taking some creative liberties and making this pouge!reader turned kook!reader

» warnings: set sometime in season 3, talk of canon events, pouge!reader turned kook!reader, pet names, nightmares, angst, crying, hurt/comfort I’m still not sure I like this

Rafe jolts when you wake up with a choked off scream that quickly turns to a sob, he moves from his place in a chair in the corner of the room to the side of your bed in seconds, already reaching to rub your back.

“Shh, shh, no, it's alright. you're fine, shh.” He soothes and pulls you up into his lap when you reach out for him.

“It’s okay baby, you’re alright.” It’s so gentle coming out of his mouth you’d swear it wasn’t Rafe if it wasn’t for the moonlight coming in through the window lighting up his distraught expression scrunched on his face.

It’s been months of this. Of waking up in nightmares that leave you shaking and grasping for Rafe to be at your side, of Rafe doing absolutely everything he can to comfort you, of you trying to adjust to living in Tannyhill with Rafe rather than back on the Cut near Jj’s house where you grew up. You and Jj don’t talk anymore, none of the pogues give you so much as a sparing glance, they’re all too aware of what side you chose when you didn’t flee off that cargo ship with them- you stayed with Rafe.

“I- I was back there-.” Rafe tightens his arms around you with a low shh that you listen to easily, leaning into his touch and letting him start to rock the both of you in place.

“You’re not there, you’re here with me. We’re safe and back in obx, we never have to be there again.” It’s not the fear that was steadily coursing through your veins on that boat that bothers you, really it isn’t, it’s the look of absolute betrayal that spread over all your old friends’ faces.

It’s something you can’t shake and while you know you made the right decision- you, Rafe, and Barry melted the cross down, you’re all rich, Ward isn’t around to bother you, you’re living a better lifestyle than you’ve ever dreamed- it’s still stomach churning to think about the pogues. You don’t even know where they are right now or what they’ve been up to, once they found out you helped melt the cross that was it, you had hope that maybe they’d see where you were coming from but that crossed the line. A line you truly didn’t think existed.

You grew up on the Cut with them, hell you had problems with Kiara when John B introduced her because she had a house on Figure Eight, you never thought you’d end up on this side of island for anything more than a job or a party, you thought you’d be with them no matter what, that nothing that happened would break the bond between you and the other pogues and now-. If you think about this too much you’ll get a headache.

“Shh, go back to sleep. you need it." The feeling of Rafe’s chin hooking atop your head brings you back to where you are.

“I’m sorry.” After that day on the boat where you had clung to Rafe the second you two were alone, crying and scared, slipped so far into your headspace you couldn’t think about that fact that you were hugging around Rafe Cameron- it feels like all you’ve done is apologize to him. The guilt of absolutely everything you do eats at you, no matter what choice you make it ends up hurting someone, you end up being the problem.

“You don’t need to apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Rafe replies with zero hesitation as he always done. He’s never questioned your loyalty to him or said you need to get over what happened with the pogues, in some weird way you think understands it, he doesn’t have anyone but you and Barry left. And even then- Barry betrayed him once, you can still feel the tension between them at times because of it.

“You’re always taking care of me and I’m still a mess.” It took all of two seconds for Rafe to jump into caregiver mode on that boat when he realized that you were regressed, you don’t think he’s ever gotten out of it. Months later and nothing has changed, he’s taken on the role as your caregiver without a single question or judgement made, as if he already knows everything he needs to know to watch you.

“Shush baby, it’s not your fault those pogues put you through so much.”

Logically you know Rafe’s version of events are skewed and probably will be no matter what you say- but it still hurts a little to think he blames them in full. It was your own fault, you went along with every plan they came up with from that first day John B said you guys should go out looking for the royal merchant after that storm, and even if you eventually felt out of your depth and like things were getting too hectic and you wanted to tell them to stop- to go back to how you all were before- it’s still on you.

“They’re never going to forgive me.” You whisper and truly don’t mean to, that was supposed to stay in your head.

“They’ve put you through hell, you aren’t the one that needs to be forgiven, you made the right decision. The smart one.” You nod at Rafe’s serious but soft tone and curl farther into his chest.

“Yeah, I’m glad I have you.” Everything else aside- you’d do anything to keep Rafe around, he’s there for you in a way none of the pogues ever have been and you can’t ignore that.

“You’ll always have me baby.” He presses a kiss to the side of your forehead and lays you both back against the bed, shifting slightly so you can lay over his chest and he can pull a blanket over both of you.

“Try and sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” You hum to Rafe, letting your eyes slip shut in contentment. He will be here when you wake up, you know that, you’d never doubt that, and it makes some of that guilt slip off your shoulders.

[volklana]

I Really feel That I'm Losing My Best Friend.

Modern!Sihtric x Reader

Title Comes From This Song:

Request: Hi lana!! Can I get a best friend modern sithric x fem reader smut? They're just friends until everyone in their friend group brings up that reader and sithric would be a cute couple and it changes the dynamic of the relationship and they begin to have sexual tension until it just blows up

Thank youuu

A/N: I am awful a writing smut so I did my best. I'm really sorry if this wasn't what you wanted. But you know me by now there has to be angst dripping through the plot

Also this is not proof read because I have a fever, but I will correct any mistakes I come across xx

“You always fucking cheat,” you pouted attempting to swipe the cards from Sihtric’s hands and his eyes glistened with mischeviousness.

“Do not,” he laughed incredulously, pulling them away from your hands, to which you physically attempted to wrestle them out of his grasp, his laughter bouncing off the walls.

Uhtred had bored of the game ten minutes ago and was lying sprawled out on the sofa, his head resting on Gisela’s lap, bottle of beer resting on his stomach, and rolled his eyes at the exchange between you and sighed.

“Are you seriously telling me you two are not fucking?” he swiped and Gisela gave him a warning look over the hand of cards she was still holding.

Sihtric completely stilled in your arms and you immediately retreated.

“Oh come on!” Uhtred urged looking to Finan to back him up “I can’t be the only one who thinks this right?”

“We’re just friends,” Sihtric stuttered and Finan and Uhtred laughed.

“I’m your friend and you don’t look at me like you want to take all my clothes off,” Finan teased and Uhtred smirked his way.

“Leave them alone,” Osferth chimed in and you were grateful for a second, “I’m sure they’ll tell us when they are ready,” he smirked.

“It’s not like that-really, we’re just friends,” Sihtric tried to persuade, absolutely refusing to meet your eye.

“I’d like Eadith to be my friend,” Finan winked to Uhtred’s raucous laughter.

“In that case me and Gisela are just friends,” Uhtred chimed along too and you couldn’t help but shrink at being the cause of everyone’s laughter in the room.

“Uhtred!” Gisela warned with a stern look, to which he shrugged in surrender.

“C’mon, you’d be such a cute couple,” Finan added and Sihtric was rising from his spot on the floor, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment and made his way outside to light a cigarette.

Gisela booted Uhtred off her and tutted “Now look what you’ve done.” 

Your stomach was uneasy as you made your way into the kitchen to get another drink, you could hear Gisela and Uhtred arguing. She was scolding him for being such an arseling and you were grateful to her. 

“You know how shy he is!” she chided.

You watched Sihtric outside, pacing up and down as he smoked. He ran his fingers through his hair and your heart skipped a beat, when he suddenly looked in through the glass and into your eyes.

You made your way outside and he offered you a cigarette which you gladly accepted, and ducked down to meet the flame of his lighter.

“Are you alright?” you tried after a few minutes of uneasy silence.

“I just wish they would cut that shit,” Sihtric sighed “I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

“They don’t have to be,” you said softly “Sihtric we know what we are, nothing they say matters, okay?”

He nodded, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

“Are we good?” you asked, bumping his arm and he laughed a shaky laugh.

“Always,” he replied.

Uhtred appeared sheepish after a few minutes, scratching the back of his neck, and Sihtric laughed.

“Did Gisela send you out here?” 

“No-Yes. Kinda.” he sighed “The bottom line is I was joking. You’re my friends and I love you both and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

“Forget it,” you smiled kindly, squeezing Sihtric’s hand in yours. 

Sihtric tossed and turned on Uhtred’s sofa, you were sleeping soundly on the pull out bed on the floor beside him but Sihtric was sick with anxiety.

He cursed himself for being so weak. It was getting hard to deny to his friends that there was nothing between you both when he couldn’t even deny it to himself any more. He was ashamed at the tears pooling in his eyes, threatening to spill but he swallowed the lump down and willed them away, just as his father had taught him to.

Be a fucking man, it was drilled into his head from as soon as he was old enough to comprehend and he turned his back to face away from you.

Despite his father’s beatings, despite how much he tried to stomp it out of him, Sihtric was soft and he was so painfully in love with you that sometimes his chest physically hurt with longing.

It was pathetic- he was pathetic.

Sihtric drove you back to your apartment the next morning and he was unusually quiet the whole ride back. Usually he would come up for a coffee, but when he didn’t unbuckle his belt and left the car running, you uneasily retrieved your overnight bag from the trunk of his car.

“Thanks for the ride,” you smiled, testing the waters and he gave a tight lipped smile in response.

“Of course, it’s what friends are for,” was all he offered but he didn’t get out to hug you the way he usually did and you climbed the stairs to your apartment with a feeling you couldn’t quite place brewing in your stomach.

You and Sihtric did everything together. You had a weekly cinema date without fail once a week, every week, since you met. Sihtric was a film fanatic, he consumed movies both in the theater and on his own in his apartment. You suspected it was because he was never allowed to watch films as a kid and now he was making up for lost time. You knew just enough about his childhood to know that it was not a happy one. His mum had died, leaving him to be raised by an abusive father and an older half brother who relished in torturing him. Sihtric never went into specifics but you knew that he had gone hungry and dirty for periods of time and the thought of it broke your heart. Because Sihtric was an absolute light in your life, whenever you were with him you were carefree, his joy for the little things in life was absolutely contagious, like the first time you had made him try cotton candy and you watched his eyes widen and a huge grin broke out over his face as he devoured it. But your absolute favourite thing you did together was the spontaneous late night drives in Sihtric’s car with the windows rolled down, singing along to whatever playlist was on, and on so many of those rides you wondered what it would be like if Sihtric were to put his hand on your thigh, or throw his free arm over your shoulder while you snuggled into his side, but you had to quickly dismiss these thoughts, because he had made it abundantly clear time and time again that you were his best friend and you would never risk losing him because of your little fantasies.

Except it felt like you were losing him already since the night of the party...

You collapsed onto your bed and checked your phone for the thousandth time, to find nothing, no memes, no song recommendations, no silly pictures, Sihtric had sent you absolutely nothing in the last four days and you were trying not to let it upset you, but you couldn’t help but feel hurt. This was the longest you had ever gone without hearing from him, he always texted you multiple times a day, and now you were getting radio silence.

You picked up the stuffed bear that Sihtric had won you at the fair a few months back and gave it a squish sadly, it still smelled vaguely of Sihtric's cologne after you had begged him to spray some on him.

You quickly snapped a pic of you kissing its cheek and sent it to Sihtric.

‘We miss you x’

Sihtric opened the message and sighed, how was it possible to be jealous of a damn stuffed toy.

You bit the inside of your cheek, you could see he had opened the message but no little dots popped up to indicate that he was typing back.

You let thirty minutes pass, feeling sick with anxiety the whole time, and when he still hadn’t replied you climbed under your sheets and switched out the lights.

Sihtric felt bad opening your message and not replying, but he sipped his drink as Osferth returned from the bathroom, face briefly lighting up when Osferth announced this round was on him.

While you lay in bed trying to figure out why you were crying.

‘Wish it was me there with you x’ 

He typed after a few hours, and deleted and typed again, before he accidentally pressed send in it his drunken stupidity. He fumbled to quickly unsend it, but the blue tick lit up indicating that you had read it. 

Your heart hammered in your chest, as you considered what you wanted to say, once you crossed this line, you weren’t exactly sure you would be able to put the genie back inside the bottle. 

‘I wish so too x’ 

After what seemed like an eternity he replied,

“Goodnight, y/n, Sweet dreams xx”

Sihtric was avoiding your messages and dodging all your calls. Your heart broke even more when you saw an insta story that Osferth shared of him, Finan and Sihtric at the movies, your stomach sank down to your toes because you had always thought that was yours and Sihtric’s thing.

You messaged him for the umpteenth time that week, ‘Have I done something wrong?’ But just like the previous messages you had sent, he opened but never replied.

Your heart was breaking, you were getting up going to work, and coming straight home and getting into bed. Your anxiety was the worst it had been in years and you kept a hold of your phone, willing a notification to come through anything at all that would show you Sihtric was still your friend. You were going insane at night trying to figure out what you had done wrong, had you offended him somehow? Or worse, had he sensed your feelings for him that night at Uhtred’s and just didn’t want to have the awkward conversation, or let you down gently. 

But the final nail in the coffin came when Gisela texted you late on the Saturday exactly two weeks after the night Uhtred had decided to stir the shit. 

‘I’m so sorry you couldn’t come tonight. It’s not the same without you!’

Your head was whirling, and you felt like you were going to be sick, until our phone lit up again.

‘Sihtric did invite you didn’t he?’

You could have landed Sihtric in the shit by telling her that he hadn't, but you knew Gisela would gut him from the inside out if she knew he was treating you like this, so to protect him you replied.

‘Of course! I’ll catch you next time xx’

Sihtric sat on his reading chair, the lamp in his living room the only thing lighting his apartment. His stomach was twisted up in knots and it wasn’t from the alcohol, it was because of you. He’d been avoiding you for weeks now. Dodging your calls and making excuses to not meet up and when that wasn’t enough he just stopped replying to you altogether. Radio silence.

He knew you didn’t deserve to be treated this way, and if it had been any other man treating you like this he would have offered to kick the shit out of them, but he couldn’t risk you seeing him this way. He had tried for so long to pretend that he had no feelings for you, to act as if you could just be friends, but ever since the night Uhtred had spoken his feelings out loud it was like a damn had burst and trying to bury his feelings now felt like trying to stop the tides with his bare hands.

 The crippling fear of losing you sent him into an avoidant survival state, he had never been shown a healthy way to navigate conflict or loss and so he did what that scared little boy had always done. He hid.

He sipped his brandy,enjoying the way it burned. The ‘what ifs’ swimming around in his mind. What if I were just honest with her? What if she turned her face away in disgust? What if she cast me aside? What if she couldn’t overlook his confession and ever be his friend again. Or, and his heart picked up speed, what if she felt the same?

He was pulled from his thoughts by a gentle knocking on his door, he was tempted to ignore it until the knocking progressively became more insistent.

Finally relenting he opened the door to see you before him, face a mixture of hurt and anger, and red eyes a dead give away that you had been crying.

“We need to talk,” you shook and Sihtric mindlessly stepped aside and allowed you to come in, but he remained frozen to his spot by the door when you reeled on him.

“I don’t understand Sihtric, you’ve been avoiding me for weeks now. You are my best friend and I feel like..I feel like I’m losing you, and I don’t know what I’ve done!” 

“Nothing!” Sihtric choked, shaking his head furiously “You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s me. I’m going through some shit and I just- I needed to deal with it alone.”

The anger softened from your face but the hurt remained, “You know you can talk to me Siht, so you don’t have to go through anything alone. You can tell me anything. Including- if you don’t want to be my friend anymore.”

He didn’t.

He didn’t want to be your friend anymore, he wanted to be so much more, but the fear of rejection kept him rooted to the spot. 

“I’m sorry,” he choked, voice wobbling. “I’m still learning how to communicate, I will try to do better for you I promise.” 

“Sihtric,” you cried crossing the floor and pulling him into a hug, “You don’t have to try. You just have to be you,” you muttered as your arms locked around his shaking form.

“I just really missed you,” you whispered into his hair, the smell of his apple scented shampoo that you loved filling your senses. 

“Gods, I missed you too,” he replied, shaking, but grasping on to you. 

And so things went back to some form of normality but the weight of two unspoken confessions were hanging over the friendship. 

You were officially invited to group outings again and you and Sihtric slipped back into a somewhat familiarity with each other. 

Except Sihtric felt like he was trapped in a snare. Every time you spoke, his eyes lingered on your lips imagining what they would feel like to kiss, what they would look like wrapped around his- he shook his head before his mind could even wander down that path. He was consumed with longing for you, day and night it was all he could think about, but fear of losing you always knocked whatever bravery he had within him to tell you the truth. 

Until the night he saw you across the dancefloor, dancing with another man, head thrown back in joy as he moved his body in time with yours to the beat and before he could even think straight he was marching across the floor and grasping your arm.

“Sihtric?” you questioned face full of worry.

“Please, I need to talk to you?” he begged and you followed him in an instant outside, completely ignoring the call of the man you had been dancing with moments ago.

Sihtric paced back and forward in front of you and you tried to reach out a hand to steady him but he swatted it away. 

“I have to tell you the truth,” he finally rushed “I can’t hold this in any longer. I’ve tried, believe me I’ve tried so hard to- but I can’t do it anymore.”

“Sihtric?”

"-I’m in love with you y/n. Painfully. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, and I’ve been avoiding you because I know you don’t feel the same and you just want us to be friends, but I can’t pretend anymore.”

You were silent for a moment, considering him, “Who said I just wanted to be friends?” you asked bewildered.

“What?” Sihtic reeled, mismatched eyes boring into yours in surprise.

“Sihtric Kjartansson," you sighed "It is you who wanted us to stay friends. I have always wanted to be more.”

“What? He repeated face scowling trying to understand.

“At Finan’s birthday last year, you took the forfeit over the dare to kiss me, because you said you didn’t want to kiss a friend. From that night on I tried to put my feelings to bed.”

Sihtric pinched the bridge of his nose in disbelief “I didn’t kiss you that night because once I kissed you I would never have been able to stop.”

“Then I really wish you had kissed me that night,” you smiled and took his hand “In fact I think you should kiss me now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice , he surged forward, cupping your face in his hands and kissed you.

You looked up at Sihtric through hooded eyes, his naked torso glistening with a sheen of sweat. His slender body and muscled arms looked like a god carved from marble in Ancient Greece and you were willing to get down on your knees and worship.

He placed his thumb on your bottom lip, sliding your lips open as he inspected your waiting form below him.

“So beautiful,” he mused, dark eyes raking over your body “So beautiful and mine.” 

You hmmd against his thumb, and he moved to hook his finger under your chin forcing you to look up into his eyes “Say it,” he commanded “Say that you’re mine.”

Your eyes fluttered with adoration and the hazy smile that crossed your face had Sihtric’s pulse racing “I’m yours Sihtric,” you promised, “Only yours.”

“Let me show you,” you begged and you moved with him towards the bed, where he sat looking unsure for a moment, until you pressed a gentle hand to his chest, motioning for him to lay back. Others who did not know Sihtric like you did might have expected a dominant, possessive lover but you knew him better than anyone else in the whole world.

What he needed was to be taken care of, to be shown he was worthy of love and given it freely, and reassured that you were going nowhere and now that you’d had this taste of him you truly would never leave him again.

You were lovedrunk as you kissed down along his neck, collarbones, his chest and followed down the length of his abdomen, before finally taking him in your mouth.

He was a whimpering, moaning mess beneath you and he surprised even himself when he eventually found the strength to stop you, picking you up and flipping you over before slipping inside you with a gasp.

He picked up a pace that had you gasping and grabbing at his strong back for something to hold on to. Something to stop you falling off the edge. When you could finally not hold on any longer, urged by Sihtric’s whispers for you to let go, you did, seeing stars as you gripped him through his own release. 

If there was one thing you had learned about Sihtric it was that he truly meant what he said when he told you that he would never have been able to stop with one kiss, the man was insatiable. His lips or hands were always on yours and you did not know where he found his stamina for in the bedroom but one thing was for sure, he had never felt this kind of love in his entire life and he was never letting it out of his grasp again. 

Tagging: @canyonmoon-2@sihtricfedaraaahvicius@whitedarkmoonflower@shamrockqueen@thenameswinter99@foxyanon@acdassenza@thatawkwardlittlefangirl @gemini-mama

[daughterofthequeen]

Things Aren’t Always What They Seem and Sometimes They Are

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x padawan!reader

Summary: You’re Anakin’s padawan and after your master has a close call you develop nightmares of his death. Every time you close your eyes you see it, so you decided staying awake is the best way to keep your mind at ease and keep your master safe.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, platonic relationship, crying, nightmares, reader uses she/her pronouns, small mention of blood, reader has at least shoulder length hair, description of throwing up, description of death, light description of head being cut off, detailing insomnia, I made my own cw battle, I think that’s it let me know if I missed anything

A/N: I just needed this. Either Anakin can be used, but both Anakin’s are the same to me. Also readers nickname is stub btw due to her stubborn nature(gimme Ik). In this storyline Ahsoka is Kenobi’s padawan, but Anakin still uses Snips for Ahsoka since they’re still always around each other due to Ahsoka being readers best friend and Kenobi also always being around. This is also longer than I planned, sorry.

No.

No, no, no, no, NO!

This is not happening. This is not happening! It’s impossible, he’s survived far worse than this, right? A building exploding with him still inside it was a piece of cake when it came to my master. So why isn’t he answering his comm, and why can’t I feel him?! His force signature is gone!

He’s dead.

That’s why I can’t feel him. Everything around me was basically nonexistent to me, all I could focus on was the rubble in front of me that had my master trapped. He couldn’t be dead, he just couldn’t be, and I refuse to believe that he is. I wanted to go search for him, to help get him out of there because he needs me, but I couldn’t move and all I could hear was my heart beating loudly in my ears. Until a louder noise snapped me out of it.

“COMMANDER!!!” Rex yelled as he grasped me by my shoulders and was roughly shaking me, which snapped me out of my shock. “Commander the tank lifters are here to remove the debris.”

“Hurry, Rex.” After Rex leaves to go give the orders I turn back to the rubble as I tried to dig deeper into the force to try and sense my master’s force signature. I came up empty handed until I felt a pull towards the other side of the destroyed building. I followed it until I heard a voice. Dooku. I know that slimy voice from anywhere. I hurriedly hid behind a large rock, that I could tell used to be a wall, as I listened to Dooku’s conversation.

“And you’ve found nothing?” Dooku voiced to a battle droid.

“Nothing. We’ve looked everywhere.”

“Hmm” Dooku wasn’t so sure, Skywalker wasn’t easily terminated, how ironic it would be for him to be taken out by a simple explosion. He closed his eyes to focus on any life signature, but the only ones he found were weak and they were all similar in some way, confirming they were just feeble clones. And he was about to call this a success until he felt a stronger force signature, and it wasn’t under the rubble, definitely a Jedi. Dooku opened his eyes and looked to his right, looking straight at the stone you were hiding behind, but before he could act his holoprojector went off. “Yes master?”

“Return to your castle, I have more important matters for you to tend to.” A blue tented hooded figure spoke.“Now.” The hooded figure quickly added sensing the hesitation his apprentice gave off.

“Yes, master.” The holoprojector cut off and Dooku called for all the battle droids to fall back, and they left taking their victory. And their victory? The termination of Anakin Skywalker.

I quickly ducked behind the destroyed wall before Dooku could see me, even though I was certain he could feel me. But to my luck he was called away, I waited for the last separatist ship to fly away and that’s when I left my hiding spot. I started looking around the same area Dooku was to try to find any sign of my master, but there was none. A sickly feeling washed over me, I was close to letting the breakfast I had this morning back up, but was able to keep it down. Though I couldn’t stop my eyes from welling up with tears.

“Master?” I whispered fearfully, my voice not able to speak any louder without cracking.

“Master.” I said a little louder, as the tears started rolling over at this point.

“MASTER! WHERE ARE YOU??!!!” I finally screamed, the tears are now unstoppable and so were the sobs. The cries broke free. I was sobbing uncontrollably, and soon found that my legs were not able to hold my weight anymore as I dropped to my knees. The pain from the rubble that was made up of stone and metal went unnoticed. Bracing my hands against the ground to keep myself up and grounded as much as I could. I started pleading to the force to give Anakin a few more strings of luck, so he could make it out of this alive. So caught up in my own pain, I didn’t even hear the stones moving to my far left, let alone the foot steps.

After Anakin no longer felt Dooku’s presence and when he was sure he wasn’t coming back he used the force to move the destroyed stones that were surrounding him and some of his troops away from them. And they started climbing their way out from the rubble. After he made it out and helped some of his men out as well he looked around making sure there was no danger as he was catching his breath. When he looked to his right, he spotted his padawan. His padawan who‘s supposed to be on the other side of the explosion sight. What is she doing here?! Dooku and his droids could’ve seen her and he wouldn’t of been able to get out from under the rubble in time. It’s like she does the complete opposite of what he says, to stress him out on purpose. He sighed and started his walk over to his padawan, and when he did he seen and heard the predicament she was in. She was crying? Why is she crying? He wondered if she was injured. She was clutching her hands to her chest, which made him worry even more. He hurried to her side, and as he dropped down next to her, he grasped her shoulders, turning her towards him to look her over.

“What is it? Where are you hurt?” Anakin’s heart was racing at this point as he panicked. All he knew is he needed to help her, but his padawan on the other hand had a different reaction upon seeing him. Regardless of his efforts to get her up she wasn’t moving, and she heard nothing he was saying. All she could do was stare. Her master was alive? How? His force signature was gone and that only means one thing. Death. So how was it her master was kneeling in front of her trying to make sure she was okay? For the second time that day she had to be shook harshly to snap her out of her shock. But it still did no good to help her understand what was going on.

“(Y/n)! What’s wrong?” Silence.

“(Y/n), talk to me!”

“Master?” Was all that she could whisper out.

“Where are you hurt? I can’t help if you don’t tell me.

“You’re alive.”

“Wha-? Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“The building- I mean you were still inside. Your signature was gone.” Having to explain what she thought happened only brought the tears back, unable to stomach the loss of her master, someone who’s like a father to her, and the closest she would get to having one. The thought of losing him was unbearable, and not to mention against the Jedi code. Attachment was forbidden, and she knew her attachment to Anakin was way more than it should be. She threw herself into him, much to Anakin’s shock. Her face buried in his neck, with her arms wrapped around it as well, as she let the rest of her tears out.

Anakin’s heart broke at the sound of her sobs, they sounded so broken. The original plan was to plant the bombs and get out of there which you were able to do successfully and get to the extraction point unscathed, but the separatists knew about their plan and next thing he knew hundreds of battle droids blocked them in. He was able to keep the ceiling from crushing him and his men around him, and was able to cloak his signature from Dooku. And that meant from everyone else as well, so he could see how that might have scared you. Wrapping his arms around his padawan, he made sure to keep a firm comforting grip, letting her know that he was here and not going anywhere. She cried harder at his promise, she could feel it, he was telling the truth.

𝟺 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝙻𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛:

It’s been 4 months since the incident, 4 months since I believed my master was dead, 4 months since I’ve had a good nights rest. Ever since the Battle of Aravion I haven’t been able to sleep. Every time I close my eyes my darkest fears come to life. So I do my best to stay awake as long as I can. Some would say that’s unhealthy or dangerous with me fighting in a war and all, but I’m doing fine . . . .mostly.

“Hellooo, Coruscant to Stubs.” I hear my master say as he comes into my line of sight, snapping his fingers in front of my face which I turns snaps me out of my daydream. “You with me?”

“Sorry, Master. What were you saying?” Shaking my head to clear and focus my thoughts.

“I said if you don’t focus you’re going to get stunned, and I’m sure you don’t want that to happen, right?”

“No, master. I’m sorry, master.”

“Sorry?” Anakin mumbled to himself, you never say sorry to anyone even when you are, unless it’s in front of the council or something, you show your apologies more so with actions, not words. And there’s usually a snappy comeback by now. What’s going on with you?

“It’s fine, what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.” I’ve might’ve said that a little too quickly. Oops.

“Stub, I know you. What’s wrong?” Anakin knows how to get me to crack. It’s just something about his soft voice that makes me feel like he could fix whatever’s going on with me. No matter how big or small. But not this time, my problems will go away on their own. I just hadn’t got the incident through my system is all. After all, part of becoming a Jedi is being able to let go of your personal feelings, and that’s not something that you can’t rely on people for, it’s a matter of you.

“There’s nothing wrong, I was just wondering when our next mission would be. We never stay here at the temple for very long. I guess I’m just a little anxious.”

“Yeah, I was like that too at the beginning of the war, but I just learned to relax whenever I’m given a peaceful moment. It keeps your head clear and it helps keep you balance.”

“I will try.” I took a deep breath as I turned away from my master and walked back to the where the 501 boys were waiting. I got into my starting position, lighting my lightsabers. I had to focus, that was the only way to get Anakin to believe me, so I had to last my usual time or he would know something was definitely up. I gave Rex a nod, letting him know that I was ready. He gave the signal, and for the next three minutes it was going well. Until I was hit in the back, then everything went dark.

BOOM!!!

I groan as I sit myself up. I must’ve been stunned about 5 or 6 times, my body isn’t usually this stiff after waking up due to growing a tolerance. But wait a minute. Stun shots don’t sound like explosions. I quickly stood up to scan my surroundings only to see I was in the middle of a battle field. I must’ve been hit with a blaster shot, but I didn’t feel any pain besides the stiffness. How did we get onto a battle field, we were just in a training room a few minutes ago.

BOOM!!!

I turned towards the front and could see nothing but fog. I lit my saber and started deflecting the blast that were coming my way. Maybe they couldn’t wait on me to wake up. What was the mission again? Wait. My master would never leave me behind, regardless of the mission, unless it was safer somehow. So where is he? I looked around again and heard a groan this time. I turned to my right to see a trooper. I quickly ran to help in any way I could.

“Trooper! Are you ok?!”

“I’m fine as I can be commander.” He groans.

“What battle is this? What was the mission?”

He coughs harshly. So harsh blood comes up. “The plan was to blow the factory. Groan. I suspect the others have made it there already.” He cuts himself off due to coughing more.

“Help will be here soon trooper stay awake.” I tried comforting him as I squeezed his hand. Trying to keep my emotions at bay.

“They knew we were coming. Gasp. We didn’t stand a chance. But you insisted we go on with the plan. General Skywalker agreed, trusting your judgment. Gasp. Half of us were wiped out. You walked us to our death.” All of a sudden the comms in his helmet we’re getting louder. I heard the screams of the troopers in pain. The yells of orders being thrown out by Rex. The explosion that seemed closer than it should’ve been in the comm, like it was right next to that poor trooper that was unlucky enough to get hit. I back down towards the trooper I was comforting only to see he was deadly still. And I knew he was. His eyes were staring straight up towards the sky. Like he embraced the call of death on his life. I heard the sobs and even looked around to see where they were coming from, but they were coming from me. I did this, all this was my fault. This was my mission, the troops were following my orders, I lead them to their deaths knowing it was a trap to begin with. I hurriedly stood up and started running forward. I moves as fast as I could until I could see the building and could hear the explosions more clear. I ran until I got to the front of the lines using my saber to block incoming blasts, and thankfully as always Rex was there.

“Rex!”

“Commander, you’re alright!”

“Yes. Where’s General Skywalker?!” I had to yell for him to be able to hear me over the sounds of battle.

“He went to set the bombs, he should be back by now.”

“I’ll go help!” But I was stopped, a hand gripping my arm.

“The bombs are about to detonate any second!”

“Anakin is still in there!”

“I’m sorry sir, but I can’t let you go in!” After that statement the building collapsed in a fiery blaze. We were far enough away to feel nothing but the strong wind the explosion put off.

“Rex, hurry and get the tank lifters here. I’m going to find Anakin.” And I took off regardless of Rex’s yells. I made it to the blast sight, but upon arrival Dooku and his mindless droids were there. I hid behind a large rock when I was struck with a hard case of deja vu. This has happened before, maybe the first time was just a vision. The force letting me know everything was going to be ok. I peaked around the corner seeing Dooku talking through a holoprojector to a cloaked figure. After their conversation ended, Dooku ordered all the droids to load up and evacuate. After he left I ran to where I was last time waiting for my master to unmask his signature. When he did I hurried to that area and helped with moving the debris that was around them. After getting him and the troops out safely I walked to my master to check and see if he was ok.

“Master, how are you feeling?” I was a lot calmer then last time, a little too calm. But he’s fine maybe for once things will actually go our way.

“I feel fine, but where were you stubs. We could’ve used your help.” He was out of breath, but still managed to be sarcastic. He was fine. I let out a light laugh.

“Come on master, let’s get you back to the transports so we can get you checked for any brain damage. Well, more than usual.” I smirk and turned to walk off, but felt he wasn’t following, so I turned only to see him standing really stiff.

“Master, what’s wrong?” I was so close to him. My hands were on his shoulders just in case he might fall. Suddenly, a red light pierced through my masters chest and would’ve passed through the top of my head if I hadn’t of moved just in time. Only to realize it wasn’t just a light, it was a lightsaber!

“NO!!!”

As my master dropped to the ground Dooku was standing right there over him. The color of his lightsaber reflecting on his wrinkled face. I paid him no attention though, I ran to my master hoping by some miracle he was still breathing. I lifted him up and moved myself behind him, so he could lean on me, hoping it would give him some kind of comfort. But maybe it was just to comfort myself.

“Master! Master, get up! Get up!” I was trying to pull him up, help him stand, so we could get out of here, but the only response my master gave was falling to the side, hitting the ground. “No! Master, get up. No, no, no, no. Let’s go. Please, let’s go.” Rows of heavy tears rolled down my closed eyes as I was sitting on my knees praying that this wouldn’t be true. I grabbed my masters ungloved hand, still warm though it has only been a couple minutes since it happened. It felt like hours. Dooku didn’t even have the courage to give my master a fighting chance. What coward stabs someone in the back, and calls it a honorable victory. Falling forward, I hugged my masters dead body as I sobbed so loud the stars could hear me across galaxies. My voice coming out in squeaks as I try to tell him how sorry I am, how sorry I was of failing him, how I didn’t see Dooku coming, hoping he would believe me, or at least hear me in the afterlife.

“Feeble child.” Hearing his voice only made me angry. I gripped my sabers and ignited them, quickly turning around striking Dooku down where he stood. And of course he was able to keep himself up, all he did was drop to his knees. But what I planned next no one could walk away from. I slowly stood, and walked towards him tauntingly, I wanted him to know what was coming. Before he could even attempt at grabbing his saber, I made sure to cut through his useless hands. I then lifted my sabers, crossing them at his neck as I looked him in the eyes, pulling my sabers apart. The body dropped and I watched as the severed ball rolled in the opposite direction. I looked down and seen a red lightsaber, but it wasn’t Dooku’s. I looked over to my other saber seeing that they were identical. The red I was seeing was coming from my lightsabers, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. And unbeknownst to me, my eyes reflected the damage I’ve done as well. A piercing yellow with red rimings, the eyes of a sith.

I gasped as I quickly sat up, looking around. I was able to slow my heart enough and calm my raging brain to notice I was in my room. How’d I get here? Was everything that just happened a dream? There’s was only one way to find out, find Anakin. Fearfully, I got up and walked out of my room, cautiously but quickly searching for my master, too riled and unfocused to use the force. I walked straight across the hallway to his quarters and knocked. It went unanswered, taking it upon myself to open the door, only to find he wasn’t there. Everything left untouched his messy bed from yesterday still in the same state it was, saying he’ll fix it later. I took off to the training room, still nothing. Then to the cafeteria. Nothing. At this point I was starting to worry. I didn’t want the grand masters to see me like this knowing they would sense my fear and unease, but this was Anakin, I’ll risk it. I went to the council room, also empty. This sickly feeling washed over me, and I ran to the closest bathroom. Passing Obi-Wan and Anakin padawan in the process.

“Stub?”

“I thought you said she was resting?” Obi-Wan crossed his arms at his former padawan’s ability to keep up with his own padawan.

“She was. Why is she up this late?” He mumbled, his confused frown deepening as well. Even if she was up, why was she running through the halls? Either her and Ahsoka were sneaking around in the pantries again or something was wrong. Without so much as a warning to Obi-Wan, Anakin took off to follow his padawan. He caught up to her only to see her burst into the women’s restroom.

“She had to use the bathroom.” Obi-Wan stated the obvious.

“Why not just use the one in her room? I think somethings wrong master. She’s been acting strange lately.”

“Anakin, your padawan is your responsibility. You should know why she’s been acting differently.” He scolds.

“I know that, Master. But-”

“But what?”

“She usually comes to me when she’s ready, so I don’t push it.”

“Anything could be going on with her Anakin, whether she wants to or not it’s your job to find out what’s causing her trouble.”

“That’ll just push her further away. I know Stubs, if I push to hard it’ll just delay the progress of her telling me. I know because I’m the same way.”

“You’ve never been that way with me.”

“That’s because I knew you years before I even became your padawan. Stubs and I are only a year in.”

“And you both are already so much alike that you would think the two of you share the same brain.” Anakin rolled his eyes at his masters comment and walked up to the women’s bathroom door, but when he did he could sense waves of fear going through you. He almost walked into the room, turning towards Obi-Wan seeing if he would stop him. It’s not like anyone else was in there, they only felt her.

“I’ll keep watch to make sure nobody else goes in. Go.” Anakin nods, closing his eyes as he walked into the bathroom just in case you were actually using it.

“Stub?” He calls out softly, his voice echoing throughout the walls. His only reply though was the sound of soft gagging. “Stubs?!” He called again this time his eyes are open as he ran and found the stall you were in. It wasn’t even locked. He found you on your knees, head above the toilet dry heaving into it, while also trying to catch your breath. He went to get some paper towels from the dispenser, wet them, then came back to keep your hair out of your face. Once he was sure you were done, he knelt down in front of you and turned you towards him, brushing your hair behind your ears to keep it out the way and started cleaning your face. He was worried, yes, but he knew you didn’t needed him playing 20 questions right now.

“Can you stand?” He spoked as softly as he could.

The whole time you didn’t know who was helping you, you barely noticed someone was there helping you at all. But when your eyes focused as you looked up, a small gasp came from you.

“Master.” A sense of deja vu washed over him.

“Are you able to get up?” He started to panic because tears started rolling over your cheeks. He was about to ask what was wrong but your body slamming into his stopped him, again. Confused? Way more than he was before. Worried? Even more so. Anakin maneuvered you so he was able to pick you up, and carry you out of the bathroom, simultaneously throwing away the paper towels. The door opened and he came face to face with Obi-Wan. Who only gave him a ‘take my advice’ kind of look. Receiving a tired sigh from Anakin.

“I know. I’ll see you tomorrow Master. Good night.” To which Kenobi responded back with a good night of his own.

He made his way back to your room as he constantly looked down at you to check and make sure you were ok. Your eyes were barley open, you looked exhausted, as your head laid in his chest. You should be, he wondered how long it was going to take you to break after not sleeping for months. He was hoping his heartbeat would’ve put you to sleep by now. He knew you thought you were keeping it a well kept secret. That’s the whole reason you both haven’t been on a mission yet, he asked the council to give the both of you a few days off, refusing to let you put yourself in anymore unnecessary danger. He was surprised the council agreed, chalking it up to Obi-Wan putting in a word for him. He could’ve just banned you from coming on missions until you told him what was wrong, but that would’ve just made you retreat and hide your restlessness better. This was the best choice. Making it to your room, the door slid open, and he gently laid you down on your bed. He was about to let you rest and get to the bottom of this in the morning, but your hand quickly grabbed his, keeping him from leaving.

“Don’t go.” You whimpered, breaking his heart of what felt like the thousandth time that night. He complied and released a heavy sigh.

“You have to tell me what’s going on with you Stubs. I’ve given you enough time to figure this all out and tell me what’s going on, but this has gone to far.” He kept his voice low to let her know he wasn’t upset with her just worried. You sat up regardless of him trying to lay you back down but true to your nickname, you’re just stubborn. He stayed where he was kneeling in front of you, letting you have the height of the conversation, physically and metaphorically.

I couldn’t look him in the eye knowing that I would start crying again.

“I just had a bad dream, that’s all.” Trying to play it off as nothing.

“Yeah. One among the many for the past few months, right?” That caused me to lift my head involuntarily. How did he know?

“How-“

“Look Stubs, I understand what it’s like to have constant nightmares, ok? I just don’t understand why you won’t tell me about them.” He chuckled, an unamused one with a confused frown on his face.

Looking back down towards my bare feet, trying to keep the tears at bay. But failing at that too, a breathless sob breaks out.

“I just- I just don’t understand why they keep coming back! I mean I’m starting to think-” I cut myself off not wanting to speak into existence. Instead, I shoved my face into my hands. I’m not sure I can keep going with these nightmares, they keep getting worse.

“You’re starting to the think they’re visions.” To which I nodded to. “Are they the same dream or is it a different one every time?”

“It’s a different one ever time, but they always have the same outcome. You said you’ve had nightmares before. How did you stop them?

“Tell you what, if I tell you about my dreams, will you feel comfortable enough to tell me about yours?” Anakin didn’t like sharing his past with anybody, but for the sake of getting his padawan to trust him completely, he would do anything. You gave him a nod, to which he nodded back.

“It wasn’t that long ago actually. It was around the very beginning of the clone wars. They were about my mother.”

“Master-“

“And how she died. I didn’t understand it at the time, but they weren’t nightmares. They were visions.”

“I’m sorry, master.”

“I’m not telling you this so you could feel sorry for me. I told you so you would understand when things like this happen you should talk about it to someone not hold it in, because one day you might be able to save a life.”

“But if it is a vision. . .I fail.”

“Not all visions are set in stone. And they can be almost impossible to understand by yourself.” As he explains he reaches out to gently grab her hands giving them a gentle squeeze.

“They’re about you.” Going back to looking down at my feet.

“What about me?”

“You die. And I’m always to slow to save you.” Looking up to see his expression, he doesn’t look scared if anything he looks amused. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask confused.

“Is it ok if I see it?”

“How can you do that?”

“Easy. Hold still.” After he says that his hands move to the side of my head, our eyes closed , and our foreheads laying on one another’s as he searches for the memories. When he finds them they suck him in deep, so deep he has to take a deep breath to keep himself grounded. Your fear, your pain, your anger. But right before he pulled away, he was able to see where they all started. Guilt flooded through him. He didn’t realize how much he scared you. He pulled away and moved to sit next to you on the bed. He paused for a moment trying to figure out the best way to reassure you.

“Listen, Stubs. I’m not going anywhere. And I’m sorry I frightened you. Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I was afraid. Everything I was feeling, everything I am feeling is forbidden for a Jedi to feel. And I didn’t want you to look at me any different.” I replied, looking the opposite way shamefully.

“Stub. I am the last person to judge you. I have your back, just like I’m sure you have mine. Whatever I can do to help you, I will do. But I can promise you, I’m not going anywhere. And you don’t have to be scared of that happening anytime soon, or at all for that matter. Understand?”

“Yes, master.” Not giving him time to reply. I threw myself into his side, wrapping my arms tightly around him. He returned the gesture, pulling me into him even more.

“Bed time.” He pulled away, lightly pushing me to lay down, and pulled the blanket over me.

“Master? When’s our next mission?”

“We don’t have any, and we won’t until you’re well rested.”

“Huh?”

“Oh yeah, you don’t know. We won’t be completing any assignments for a while. I requested to take some time off, due to my padawan deciding it’s ok to go into battles with little to no sleep.” He smirked knowingly.

“You knew.”

“Of course I did. Now get some sleep, please.” He replied as he turned to leave.

“Master?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

His playful smirked turned into a soft smile. “Good night, Stubs.”

“Good night, master.” I responded as I laid down already half asleep, ready to catch up on all the months that were missed.

A/N: The longest fic I’ve completed, but it had to be done🫡. Proofread, just let me know if I missed an error, I hope you guys enjooyyy.

[kommandonuovidiavoli]

How did we get here...?

Nigel's parents died allegedly in a car accident when he was 14. When the news reached the spaceship he was on, he requested to be sent back on Earth immediately, and he was let go from the GKND.

Since he was still a minor, Father, or rather, Ben took him in and strangely... things were starting to get good. Maybe it was the fact the man realized he lost more than he wanted to admit, but he started treating Nigel as a kid of his own, arriving to reprimand the Delightfuls if they tried to play tricks on him.

The day the high school principal called Ben to school, because of Nigel being a distraction and cause of unsettling for being gay, Ben threatened to cut funds to the school if they dared to expel him because of that.

"The boy has every right to be happy, no matter who he wants to his side. And if that causes problems around school, I suggest you educate your students better on the matter. They are the real problem."

Fact is, that after two years of living with him, Nigel not only was starting to trust Ben, but also... care for him. He saw him as an adult he maybe could trust.

But then, he turned 16. Or better... 18.

Father knew Nigel could have his same powers hidden inside him. The only way to awaken them was for the person to be an adult. And Father already waited two long years, so he decided to cut times a bit. He built a machine, starting from the faulty delightfulizing one, that would advance Nigel's age by two years and awaken those powers he wanted to bad.

On the day of Nigel's 16 birthday, breaking that trust the boy slowly was building, he dragged him into that machine and started the plan he'd been working on for years at this point.

Everything turned out as planned.

Nigel now had those dark powers, raw and powerful, and he would use them as he wanted. If only he didn't miscalculate a little thing...

Nigel didn't want that. And now there was a furious batter inside him to take control, two forces battling, resulting into a body out of control, that would attack anything and anyone around himself.

Even Father.

He didn't know the kid was actually that strong, and with a single strike he left Father grasping for life. And he was still battling and losing, apparently, not being able to control that dark, terrible power.

Luckily for him, his friends realized something was off when they couldn't hear from him for the whole night, so they decided to go check on him. They found the Delightful Children running to them and asking for help, because it was not what they wanted!

When they got to Nigel, they couldn't recognize him at all. They needed to get him back to normal before the KND would know that another kind like Father was around, or they would lock him in forever!

Cue POWER OF FRIENDSHIP, they tried and hugged him all together, trying to reassure him everything would be okay.

It worked. Nigel calmed down and was left a crying mess in his friend's arms.

Numbuh 2-2 was the Soopreme Leader at the time, and he managed to help them hide what happened so that Nigel could think about getting better only. He would stay at Abby's, so that she and Simon could keep an eye on him better.

After the ordeal, Father and the Delightfuls would disappear for a year. No one heard from them since.

Nigel took time to get back from the shock of now somehow being two years older, a legal adult, with powers he didn't want and with one last piece of his heart missing.

Since he was an adult, he was able to get his parent's house back. He decided to finish school so he could stay closer to his friends, and was given CODE 0010 RED.

Since the house was inhabited again, the KND could finally claim the Treehouse above and reestablish a new Sector V.

And from there, the Teen AU starts.

[patroxlos]

home base . ch4

"friends who sleep on call with each other" - 2.4k words

ultraman: rising (2024). kenji sato x reader

master post. ao3 link.

previous: ch3. "friends who believe in mpreg"

next: ch5. "friends who fuck things up"

With his dad back to help him with the Baby, Ken needs to call you to check if you are okay.

You nearly fall back into old habits. ---

Ring…

Ring…

One thing Ken loves likes appreciates about you is that no matter the timezone or how busy you are, you always pick up the phone for him.

Ring…

Ring…

Sorry, your call is not—

Okay, so he exaggerates sometimes.

Ken flops on his bed post-shower, hair still damp as he throws his phone to the side. Mina flits around nearby to ensure that he finally sleeps tonight while his dad watches over the baby in the basement. And he is trying his best to. His joints are begging him to succumb to his fatigue, and he can barely keep his eyes open. Yet, he still lay awake. He knows what he needs.

Mina worries like a mother hen, hovering over the bed. “If you would like, I can run one of the simulations instead if she won’t answer,” she offers.

“No Mina, it still makes me feel a little creepy,” he grumbles.

Her mechanical whirring grows a bit louder. “It would just be for a few minutes. No one has to know.”

Okay, tempting. “...Can you run a quick one?”

Before Mina could start up the projector, his phone lights up with a familiar ring tone. He never dove so fast to answer a call.

His phone nearly slips out of his grasp as he fumbles to press the green button—

You are greeted by a freshly showered Ken Sato through the video call. You sit up straighter on your bed as you blink, bleary.

“Hey,” his relief leaks through your phone speaker. Though it is a bit dim in his room, his camera still caught the crinkle of his eyes as he saw you. “You’re okay. I saw in the news you got picked up by a—”

“You ever heard of a shirt?” You cut him off.

“You know I don’t sleeping with one.” He chuckles when he sees you roll your eyes.

“Whore. No wonder you’re knocked up.”

“Think about who you are slutshaming.” You see him ease into his bed, hearing his soft yawn as he lies down on his left side. “Stress isn’t good for our baby.”

“You know, you don’t have to baby trap me into staying, as the gossip mag claimed. Our fight at the Yakisoba place last night wasn’t the end of the world.” That fight felt worlds away now given all that happened to you in the past few hours.

Ken laughs nervously. “Honestly, I was scared that the article ruined our friendship even further.”

You  lie down on your right side and put your face close to the camera, eyebrows scrunching. “Worse things have been written about us.”

“Never a pregnancy though.”

“That one article about me, claiming I was double-timing you and Yuzu, was a lot worse.”

“I still don’t get what you saw in him,” he grunts. “And will you stop calling him Yuzu? He publicly broke up with you.”

You aren’t stupid. You know exactly why Ken hated your most recent former boyfriend, Yuzuru Hanyu. Hell, Ken used to respect the guy so much as a fellow athlete until you started dating him. He does not have to say it out loud for you to know the reason. He knows you know. Neither of you have ever addressed it.

“It’s been a year, it was mutual, and he’s still my friend,” you point out as you adjust your covers over your left shoulder, a flash of deep red seen briefly.

“Yeah well you tell him— woah wait, hold the phone up to your arm.” The sudden urgency of his request nearly jolts you awake.

You bury yourself into the covers a bit more. “It’s fine. Doesn’t really hurt.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“I thought this was a sleep call, since the last time you asked for one was three weeks ago. You look like you haven’t had a good night’s—”

“Can you stop changing the subject and show me your arm?” He snaps, his fatigue making him irritable. A drop of water from his damp hair hits his camera, which he promptly wipes away. “I called you because I heard you were grabbed by a kaiju.”

“So you don’t want me to help you sleep? You always tell me you pass out like a baby when I help.” You try to lift the mood but he wasn’t having it.

“Arm. Now,” He scolds, like you are a dog.

You scoff at his tone, but you brought your left arm from out under the covers. You use your mouth to tug up your sleeve as you held your phone with the other hand to show him the fresh, angry bruisings imprinted on your skin.

“Oh god—”

“It’s just from when that tiny kaiju picked me up. It squeezed me a little bit but I’m just glad its claws didn’t scratch me.” You push your sleeve back down.

“I’m so sorry.” For some reason, his apology sounds so personal.

“It’ll be fine,” you try to soothe him through the call. If you two were together in person, you would have reached forward to squeeze his arm. “It is going to fade away in a week. I got it checked too before I went home, nothing was broken. I’m still here.”

He mumbles something to himself, and you strain your ears to hear a guilt-filled this is all my fault. You don’t really understand what he means by it, but perhaps it is just grief making him say strange things. It is hard when those you cared for get taken too soon by a monster. A multitude of families all across Tokyo struggle to cope with the losses they have sustained, and the entire city lives in fear that it will happen to them.

“Kenji? Are you alright?” You ask slowly. His face is blank, save for the misery that shone in the crease of his forehead.

He closes his eyes, trying to relax his face. “...Can you just keep talking…”

“You wanna sleep?” You start thinking about what to talk about this time. Often, he likes hearing about your day the most. However, not much has happened to you today save for the incident.

He nods.

“Okay.” You talk about the company and the work you have been doing— how often times it feels like a 24/7 shift. You know he only wants to lie down and listen, so you warm up to give a lengthy discussion about numbers and recent data points in market research that you found interesting— maybe it will bore him to sleep. His even, measured breathing tells you that he is close to. While there is so much for you to talk about your work, you begin to start running out of things you actually want to discuss. You are also getting sleepy, and you even have to rest your hand holding your phone on the pillow since your fingers are getting too tired to secure it in your grip. You are about to draw a blank, but your mind wanders to when you were stumbling on the roof of a building earlier that evening.

Oh, you think. Maybe he will find it a little funny. Haven’t messed with him in a while.

“Also, is it just me or has Ultraman gotten hot?”

You startle when his eyes suddenly shoot open. “I’m sorry— who?!”

“The 40-meter superhero?”

“Him?!” His voice is alert but hoarse, his throat pushing out words amidst his drowsiness.

You laugh freely at his reaction, bringing up your thumb to your mouth to bite a little on your nail as you explain yourself. “I dunno, he… I never really thought about him like that, being a giant and all but maybe it is because I never came close or spoken to him before…he saved me earlier from that kaiju and I kinda found it hot? Just being so tiny in his palms—”

“Please stop talking.” You have never seen such a conflicted face on him before.

“Why? You jealous he has a killer waist?”

“I can tell you that that is the furthest thing I am feeling right now.”

“You know he knew my name too,” you continue, failing to notice the way he freezes. “Do you know the theory that Ultraman is like a human guy when there aren’t any monsters? I bet he knows me from the internet or something,” you giggle.

“Yeah, of course he knows who you are…Who wouldn’t?” You mistake his nervousness as sarcasm.

Can’t he just let you have a little celebrity crush? “Kenji, it’s not like I’m going to fuck him. He’s all smooth down there and I don’t even know if his mouth works like that.”

“Can we talk about anything else? Please, I can’t fall asleep to this…” He grumbles with half of his face buried in his pillow, strands of hair sticking to his forehead.

“Maybe you can’t sleep because your pillow is all wet from your hair. Should I come over and teach you how to dry it properly?” You joke.

“Yeah?” He rasps, eyes heavy. “You wanna come over?”

He is nearly about to pass out, fatigue causing his mental filters to lower. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

That does not stop your throat from going a bit dry.

You were quiet for a bit too long. “Kidding,” he mumbles.

You let out the breath you were holding, looking away from the screen.

“Too much stuff is going on,” he continues. “My dad is here and I’m struggling to adjust to the fact that he might stay with me for a while.”

“You’re speaking to Professor Sato again?” While you are hopeful that this will be a step toward the right direction for the father and son, you worry about what exactly is happening in Kenji’s life that he cannot tell you. You cannot imagine what would bring him to ignore his closest friend in favor of confiding to his estranged father. Perhaps it was a personal family matter.

He sighs, signalling that he is not in the mood to talk about it–he never is–and you let it go.

“I know you said that you can’t put in the effort right now to maintain our friendship, but,” you pause, unsure if what you will say will help. “I miss you.”

His shoulders shake as he laughs. It fills your bedroom. “Fuck you have no idea.”

“It’s just been some time since you have called me for sleep help.”

He does not respond immediately, but you clearly see how deep his eyebags are— or actually, have been, the past few months. “You told me…to call you when I need someone. I really…really need you… I wish you were here…”

The call falls silent. It strikes you suddenly how your bed feels emptier than normal.

You wonder if it is worth the risk to fill it with one more body.

.

..

…

“Come over.”

His breath hitches.

You decide to say it a bit clearer, surer. “Come over. It…It doesn’t have to mean anything. We can just cuddle. I think…I think you need it.”

“I…” He clears his throat. “I thought you said—”

“It’s just one night.” You have no idea who you are trying to convince, but a dull ache begins to rise in your abdomen.

He slightly narrows his eyes, a little distrusting. “I don’t want to do this if you’re only doing it to make me feel better.”

“Kenji, I miss you.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“I can send a car to pick you up if you’re too tired to bike here. I’ll let you go by the morning,” you try to entice him further. “Kenji…do you need me to tell you how much I need you? Because I do.”

He swallows loud.

“I need you.”

“Fuck— okay, I’ll be there.” he places down the phone so you are met with the view of his ceiling. You hear frantic movements in the background, a jingle of a belt buckle as he hurries to put on his pants.

“I’ll send the car—”

“Not fast enough. I’m awake enough to bike.” 

You couldn’t stop the grin from forming on your face. “This is such a bad idea.”

“Hey, no take-backs,” he barks to the phone from a distance. “We’ll deal with it in the morning.”

Once he finally picks it up again, you see he is dressed in a white shirt and leather jacket. The chain around his neck catches in the light. You slightly nibble on your bottom lip.

“I’m just coming over to inspect your bruises,” he gruffly justifies.

“Mmhm.”

“And I want to make it up to you for how MIA I’ve been the past few months.”

“Just how will you do that?” You let your voice drop slightly, and he groans at the tone.

“Nothing like what you’re thinking, perv. You said a cuddle is fine, and I’m too banged up for anything else.”

You giggle. “I did. I won’t stop you though if you wander a bit.”

“And I will stop you if you so much as touch—”

A crash was heard at the end of his line. You bolt up as you see him stumble and fall as if an earthquake rocked his house. The phone flies from his hand and the camera meets with the floor. More crashing was heard, and you hear a robotic voice which you recognize as his AI, Mina, enter the vicinity.

“Professor Sato needs help with—”

“I got it, I got it!” You hear Ken snap. He picks up the phone again, and his face is contorted with exasperation. From behind him, Mina floats in view.

“Hey, Mina…” You weakly greet her.

She greets you back. “Apologies, that Ken cannot go to you—”

“Now who decided that?!” He interjects, frustration exploding. “Can’t he handle it alone? Like I have for the past—”

Another loud bang is heard through the call. You wonder whether this was what he has been dealing with all this time. It definitely sounds…occupying. You struggle to temper your disappointment. “It’s okay, Ken. I understand.”

He grinds his teeth, but nods. “I am so sorry.”

“We know that it is a bad idea anyway,” you murmur back. “You coming here. Maybe this is a sign we shouldn’t…go back to old habits.”

His face is unreadable. “Good night. Call you soon.”

“I’ll tell my assistant to wait for your email…about my schedule,” you recall your previous conversation.

“I miss you,” he simply says.

“I miss you too.”

[hiemaldesirae]

this is such a radiostatic coded poem and actually i think i know a way to make it worse. walk with me okay just. we're all familiar with hanahaki right.

imagine a hanahaki au where vox develops it after a messy radiostatic fallout. at first its bad- so bad in fact that rosie, who he'd done his best to cut contact with following the fallout, seemed to have noticed and sent him condolences and advice for 'getting rid of it' by simply confessing and letting out his feelings. not that he had a way to contact alastor at the time, thanks to the man's disappearance, but... deep down, he knew she had a point.

because really, theres actually quite a simple fix for hanahaki: simply confess your feelings for the object of your affection and no matter the response, the flowers slowly taking over you will slow their ascent. but vox doesn't want to. he tells himself its for alastor- tells himself that he knows alastor would only feel more disgusted with him, that it would sever the last remaining bonds between them and form an everlasting distrust on alastors mind... but in part, its also because- well.

when he feels the itch in his throat come up again, when he feels the need to run to the bathroom and hide himself away until the blood and the petals stop coming up and over and down all over the floor, when he feels himself slowly wasting away, cold and alone and unloved by the only person he's ever wanted... the tiny flowers, forget me nots and periwinkle stain the floor alongside his sinners blood. theyre the only thing left of alastor he has, now. and deep down, vox knows, its the only thing he'll ever have of alastor. theyre both too prideful to ever go back to what they had before, and even if they could.... well. would alastor even want to?

so he keeps it to himself. vel and val are the only ones other than his assistants to know- and in theory, that could work against him, seeing as while he has his contractees under lock and key, the same does not apply for his friends... but, well. it's nice to not be alone in this. nice to know that he won't be alone when he goes. nice to know that when he passes out from a particularly bad episode that he'll wake up swaddled in layers of blankets and soft quilts, that warm english tea velvette introduced to him waiting by his bedside along with the newest indulgent, trashy romance book val selected for him. it's nice. and he almost thinks he can bear with it like this-

that is, until the princess invites him to her hotel. and invites him to play friendly with alastor once more, to stay in the same vicinity as the other overlord without either of them trading sharp barbs and words with each other. and- and it's- it's nice. it's so good, to no longer be at each others throats. so nice to finally sit and talk with al, get to hear his voice without having to sneakily tune into a broadcast.

it's so nice that he almost forgets he's living on borrowed time. but of course, as all things do, life- and death, too- work their course.

it happens when he's visiting the hotel. not really the place he'd wanted to be when it happened- vox had hoped- well. he's not sure what he'd hoped. but... he'd hoped to be with velvette and valentino when it happened. to at least have the two people who understood by his side when he eventually succumbed to his own weakness. instead, it's alastor who notices first as vox's frequency goes slightly off tune, eyes widening as the flowers and the blood come up. it's alastor who sprints to vox's side first, immediately scooping the other up into a gentle hold as his shadow summons come to vox's aide. it's alastor, who grasps his hand tight as vox continues coughing, gasping and choking for breath, dribbling red blood and flower petals falling from his mouth.

alastor recognises those flowers. of course he does, he was the one who had shown them to vox.

in his delirium, with desperate hands clutching him tightly and begging him to hold on, please, please, i can't lose you when i've just gotten you back--

vox smiles.

a hand reaches out blindly, fumbling for a moment before he finds what he's looking for. bloodstained claws reach up, shaking hard as they tuck two flowers behind alastor's antlers.

i'm sorry i could never tell you, al, he laughs. it's weak. he's growing weaker, and by the panicked look on alastor's face, he can tell, too. i- i was scared. didn't- didn't wanna lose-- the last bit of you i had left. at least this way... i got to keep this part of you.

he smiles again, wider. it probably looks disgusting, with the flowers and the blood everywhere. he probably looks like a mess. but it's fine. he has to say this.

i hope you enjoy this last part of me, too.

and with that, alastor is left in the bloodstained foyer of the hazbin hotel, clutching a still body to his chest.

[lizardlicks]

Momo surprise

“I’m a little worried about Momo,” Aang said to his friends as they gathered around the morning campfire and started preparing for their day. “He’s been acting kind of off lately.”

The lemur in question was fussily nosing around Aang's abandoned bedroll in tight circles. As the group of teens watched, he laid down in a curl, chirped unhappily then got up and resumed tugging and scratching at the bedding. “How can you tell?” Sokka asked. He was by no means a lemur behavior expert. To him all of Momo’s actions were strange. It was possible that Aang's Avatar-ness gave him some kind of spirit connection to flying lemurs. Unlikely, but still possible.

“He doesn’t have as much energy, even though he’s sleeping more.” Aang explained, frowning. “You don’t think he’s sick, do you?”

“Maybe it’s the climate?” Katara offered helpfully. She wasn’t a lemur expert either, but she and Sokka had struggled the first few weeks with adjusting to the Earth Kingdom’s warmer weather. As far as she or anybody else knew, Momo has lived his entire life in the towering, windswept peaks around the Southern Air Temple, so maybe the sudden change had affected him too, she reasoned. 

“It’s because you’ve been giving him too many treats,” Sokka told Aang matter-of-factly. Lemurs were outside of his wheelhouse, but he'd helped the older boys with conditioning the polar dogs for sled pulling every fall. Spoiled pups turned lazy and fat, a hard lesson to learn for the littler children who only wanted to express their love.

“You think so?” Aang looked contrite.

“Yup,” Sokka said as he reached to snag a piece of star berry off the board Katara was using to prepare their breakfast. He snatched his hand back with a squawk when she smacked him.

“He is looking a little pudgy, Aang,” Katara said without taking her eyes off the food. Poaching brothers were too wily to be given that kind of an opening.

“Monkey feathers. I just can’t resist him when he gives me The Eyes.”

“I know,” Katara agreed. “He’s weaponized his cuteness.” “You’re going to have to.” Sokka nimbly dodged a sister elbow, but he still didn’t quite manage to snag any tidbits from Katara’s pile of fruit. “It’s for his own good.”

Momo, apparently noticing he was being talked about, finally abandoned the bedding to perch on Katara’s knee. “No, bad lemur!” She snatched her cutting board up and held it over her head. “No more extras for you!”

Sokka whooped in victory as he snagged a slice of moon peach and popped it into his mouth before Katara could adjust her defenses. “You’re on a diet, mister,” he informed the lemur as he sucked the juice from his fingers.

Momo chittered and pinned his ears back.

“Sorry, buddy,” Aang said regretfully as he scooped Momo up and tucked him into the crook of his elbow. “I already gave you a big handful of lychee nuts when you woke me up, you’re gonna have to wait until lunch time for more food.”

Aang could never quite tell just how much human speech Momo understood, but the lemur appeared to grasp something about the situation. He curled his tail around and grasped it anxiously, cooing at Aang with all the force of The Eyes that one tiny flying mammal could muster.

Aang held strong. For all of three seconds. “Okay... well. Maybe a couple berries wouldn’t hurt?”

--------

“AAAAAANG!”

The young monk bolted upright in his bedroll at the sound of his name, startled out of a sound sleep. Sokka was loud. Loud and very upset.

“What!? What is it?” He blinked several times, then rubbed at his face, trying to get his eyes to focus on anything distinct before he realized the reason he couldn't see anything was because dawn was still hours away. The moon hung in the sky, a crescent barely thicker than a thumbnail, with no light to offer. Hedgegoosebumps broke out across his arms. Aang hugged himself as the night pressed in, suddenly no longer a sheltering veil, but full of hidden threat from enemies he couldn’t see. 

The sleeping lump to his right rustled and shifted as Katara sat up in her bed roll. “Sokka-haaah,” her voice stuttered, breaking off with a yawn. “What's wrong?”

“What's wrong? What’s wrong!?” Sokka was rapidly climbing in pitch with each repetition. “Why don’t you look at this situation and tell me, huh?”

“Uhh.” Aang squinted into the dark and tried to make sense of their camp. Appa was still peacefully snoring several yards away, completely oblivious to the sudden chaos. Katara was wiggling and shuffling her way out of her sleeping bag, growling unflattering things at Sokka under her breath, and Sokka. Sokka was standing in the middle of their sleeping circle. He looked like he was holding something, but Aang could not for the life of him see what it was.

“We can't see anything without light, Sokka,” Katara groused. She finally won her struggle with her sleeping roll and started patting around for her bag. “You couldn't have lit a fire before you started yelling loud enough to alert the Fire Lord himself?”

“Oh, gee, why didn't I think of that! Could it possibly be because I'm dealing with Aang's mess over here!?”

Aang didn't remember leaving a mess. In fact he'd been careful to pack up everything before turning in for the night just in case they had to make a quick getaway. A few too many lost supplies had trained him quickly.

“What are you talking about?” He asked while stretching, less alarmed now that he knew Sokka was just. Well, being Sokka. They weren't being attacked, there was no life or death situation he had to fight through in the pitch dark.

Katara, having retrieved some kindling from her pack, scooted over to their banked campfire and began to poke the coals awake. She had apparently given up any hope of going back to sleep until her brother was sorted out. Even Appa was starting to rumble awake with the commotion.

“You said Momo was a boy!” Sokka hissed. 

Aang. Blinked. “Yeah?” he said, uncertainty clouding his mind. He must still be dreaming, why would Sokka wake up the whole camp to debate their pet’s gender?

“Then explain this!” Sokka shoved his cupped hands out, away from the protective shield of his body, just as the fire flared with a pop and Katara's satisfied grunt.

Cradled in between his palms, fur still sodden and sticking, was the teeniest, tiniest lemur Aang had ever seen.

[relicunth]

JayVik firefighter AU marriage proposal ficlet

I am obsessed with JayVik marriage proposals, so I’m typing this up because I got the idea randomly. Timeline-wise, this would take place after a while, when Jayce and Viktor would finally get their heads out of their asses and confess they can’t be apart from each other.

Jayce had never seen Vander quite as livid as he was at that very moment. He would have felt sorry for the young, recently-married couple that were catching the full force of his yelling, if he had not agreed with his chief.

They had gotten the call from Viktor. Someone had called in that an outdoor wedding was using torches for atmosphere, during the hottest and driest July rural Piltover had ever seen.

“You’re kidding me,” Jayce had said, covering his face in disbelief as he heard Viktor’s voice on the other line. They had been officially together for about two months now, after years upon years of dating and breaking up, but never being quite capable of letting the other go fully.

“I wish I was, lásko. Never underestimate the stupidity of the masses.” Viktor’s voice from the other line still made Jayce’s spine tingle, the loving term of endearment giving him goosebumps. “No fire has started as of yet, but take out one truck to be certain. Maybe you could use to hose to blast some sense into them.”

“Now that would be something. Don’t think I’d ever get the chief’s permission.”

Just as Viktor was about to respond to that, a voice from his side of the call interrupted. Hushed voices spoke, before Viktor became the sole speaker again.

“Change of plans, lásko. One of the torches has caused a fire. You’ll have to take every truck available, in case the fire spreads across the forest.”

Jayce was shocked. It would only have been a matter of time, but he had hoped he would prevent a real fire from happening. He turned as Caitlyn rushed past him to get her equipment. “I have to go, mi vida. Could I ask-“

He was cut off by Viktor. “I’ll pick up Ellie after school, my sweet. Just come home safely.”

Even though Viktor had accepted that Jayce could never give up being a firefighter, he was still sick with worry every time Jayce got called. Jayce knew that, and tried to calm him down as much as possible. Oddly enough, that predominately worked when he was as realistic as possible. Having a real grasp of the situation calmed Viktor down. Supposedly it was because he knew Jayce’s skill level and as such could gauge his probability of survival. He truly was the smartest man Jayce had ever known.

The fire itself had been contained just in time, but not without any dangers. Ekko had become stuck beneath a tree trunk on his way to save a civilian. A grandmother of the bride who could not get to safety in time.

Granted, Ekko had been forbidden by Vander from taking that path. It would be to dangerous and the fire had almost been under control. Ekko had scoffed and disobeyed orders, because he had been thinking for some time now that his chief was deliberately trying to keep him out of harm’s way as a favor to his best friend Benzo, who also happened to be Ekko’s father.

Jayce did not blame Ekko. It was risky, but an elderly lady like that could not have lasted much more. Thankfully, she had survived. Ekko would be fine, too, but he had some nasty burns around his torso. “Battle scars,” he had called them.

Jayce was shaken from his thoughts right as Vander stopped yelling. The couple was distraught, the bride crying her eyes out while the groom was still shaking. He doubted they consciously registered anything Vander was saying.

This one had been a shocking one, Jayce could not lie. It put things into perspective for him. Maybe it was the fact that they had to save a wedding, what should have been the happiest day of the couple’s life. Maybe it was him still living in domestic bliss with Viktor, finally committed to making it work, coparenting Ellie and spending all of their free time together. Maybe it was seeing Ekko under that tree. It was likely a combination of all three. Whatever the case, Jayce was rattled a little. He wanted to go home to his little girl and the man he loved. Kiss them both and tell them he was safe.

His shift was done by the time they returned to the station, so Jayce took a quick shower in the changing rooms. He tried to get clean before going home as often as possible. He knew Ellie would become scared when he was covered in sooth and smelling like fire. She did not fully grasp what it meant that her father was a firefighter and he did not care to bother her with that until she was older.

“What’s gotten into you, Golden Boy?” his sister, Caitlyn, said to him as he got out of the shower, a towel draped across his waist. Changing rooms were not separated by gender, only the showers were. Not that she would have cared if she had seen him naked. Personal boundaries had a been a thing of the past for years, with Caitlyn being a lesbian. Jayce was still bisexual, but he had not once thought of Caitlyn as anything more than a little sister.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been quiet. You’re the most high energy guy I know. When you grow quiet like this, somethings’s wrong. And chances are, it’s about Viktor.”

Jayce chuckled. “Not just him, also Ellie. It all felt like too close a call. What if I had been where Ekko was? It’s all put things in perspective.”

“Put what in perspective?”

“I think… I want Viktor to formally adopt Ellie. And I think I want to marry him.” Saying those things out loud, only confirmed his feelings. He wanted nothing more desperately.

“Marry him? Jayce, I think you might be losing your mind. You’ve been dating for like two months!”

“Two months since our last break-up. Viktor and I have been together basically since we were 16. Even when we were apart, there was an invisible string holding us together. I want this. Maybe he does too?” In truth, Jayce had been entertaining the idea for a while now, but after the rough call they had just returned from, he was convinced he needed to talk to Viktor as soon as possible.

Caitlyn smiled. As annoyed as she usually was when he complained to her about Viktor, she ultimately was still rooting for them. They were perfect together, horrible apart. Jayce went to prison arguably because he was so heartbroken after Viktor left him that he stopped valuing his own life. He hardly ever stopped smiling when they were with each other, talked about him constantly.

Jayce knew he was ready for this.

As he drove his pick-up into his driveway, the door opened and his Ellie ran outside.

“Papa!” she screamed as she rushed into Jayce’s arms, her black hair in cute pigtails that bounced around as much as she did. His baby girl was truly a ball of energy.

“Mija! Am I happy to see you! Did you have fun with Viktor?”

“Yes! Papa Viktor took me out for ice cream!” Ellie calling his Viktor her papa gave Jayce a warm, fuzzy feeling. He had been as much almost all her life, which is why Jayce wanted to ask him to adopt her in the first place.

Jayce carried her in his arms as he entered his house, being greeted by Viktor in one of his shirts on top of his own casual slacks. He was holding a mug of tea, ever the lover of hot drinks even in this heat.

“Thank you, mi vida,” he greeted his love, kissing him softly.

Viktor only smiled. “She’s been a dream, like always. Welcome home, lásko. I’m glad you are safe.”

Jayce was as well. He breathed in deeply. Time to do this. Jayce put his daughter on the ground and told her to go play. “Me and papa Viktor have to talk about something important.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow as he handed Jayce a mug of tea of his own. They sat on the couch. “Am I in trouble?”

Jayce was suddenly very nervous. “N-No! But maybe… I am?”

Viktor leaned forward, a faint glimmer of nerves in his eyes. Viktor was good at keeping his facial expression neutral, but Jayce could read him like no other. He wanted Viktor to not be nervous, so he decided to just come out and ask.

“I… I love you. And Ellie does, too. You love her, and you love me. I hope.” He chuckled, but continued when Viktor only chuckled nervously. “I wanted to ask you if you would… maybe be open to formally adopting Ellie?”

He kept fidgeting nervously, but looked Viktor in the eyes as he posed his question, eager to hear his response. Viktor’s mouth hung open. He put his and Jayce’s mug on the table in front of them and turned to fully face him.

“Jayce… I would be…” He turned his face away to wipe away what looked like a tear. “Well, I suppose ‘honored’ is too small a word. I love your daughter, Jayce. It would mean the world to me if she could officially become my daughter as well.”

Jayce, releasing a breath he did not realize he was holding in relief, lunged forward and enveloped Viktor in a hug. “I love you, mi vida. Thank you!”

Viktor kissed his temple, before pulling back. “But only if Ellie wants this as well. I know she is only five, but she deserves to get a say in this.”

Jayce grinned. “Of course, but I doubt she’ll disagree.”

They called her and asked her to sit with them. She climbed onto the couch and promptly put herself in between them. “What is it, papa?”

“Well, Viktor and I have been talking. We were wondering how you would feel about Viktor maybe becoming your papa as well?”

Ellie looked at them confused. “What do you mean?”

Viktor chuckled. “Well, you know I am not your father by blood. But your daddy and I were thinking that maybe we could go to the mayor and ask him if he could make a new law that says I get to be your father as well. Would you like that?”

Jayce smiled. Viktor was so incredibly good with Ellie. He was still a realist, still tended to be serious. But the way his voice softened when he spoke to her, never unkindly, warmed Jayce’s heart. Even the clunky way he tried to make difficult topics digestible for a child caused his love to spread all throughout his chest.

Ellie, for her part, was still confused. “But you already are my papa, right? You have always loved me just like daddy! Even when you and daddy were no longer in love!”

Viktor chuckled. “There is your answer, then. Let’s get this arranged as soon as possible. Thank you, Jayce. I cannot put into words how much this means to me.” Warmth radiated from his eyes. He seemed truly happy.

“But daddy, does that mean you’ll marry papa Viktor?”

Viktor, who had reached to grab his mug of tea, choked on his drink. Jayce wanted to laugh at her question, but the fact that he had actually been thinking the same thing - and worrying about Viktor’s response - caused him to only chuckle politely.

“Well, mija… That was actually going to be my next question to your papa.” He looked up and locked eyes with Viktor, who had turned a deep crimson.

“Excuse me?”

“Well…” Jayce started. “I don’t have a ring yet. But I had a rough day at work today and it made me think about some stuff. I have been an idiot, V. For years and years, not daring to commit to you. Scared of what would happen if I didn’t come home. But now that we’re finally together, I don’t ever want want to let you go. You’re my world, Viktor. And hers, too. I know we’ve only officially dated for two months now, but it feels as if we’ve been together since high school. I’m ready for this, V. I can only hope that you are, too.”

Viktor tended to pride himself on his ability to keep his composure at all times, but Jayce could see the shock in his eyes, surprise clear on his face. “It boggles the mind how you think. No ring, nothing prepared. And here I thought romance was dead.”

Jayce blushed. “I know, I know. I’m going to do things properly after I get a ring. But I wanted to know first if you were open to the idea.” He stood up, a wave of confidence deciding his next step.

He went down on one knee in front of Viktor, smiling at the way Ellie giggled. She had no idea what was happening, but she knew it was important. He took Viktor’s hand in his. “Viktor, will you please marry me?”

Viktor shook his head, chuckling to himself. “You are impossible, Talis. Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

Jayce, once again feeling an overwhelming sense of relief, jumped up and enveloped his love in a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, mi vida!”

They kissed each other fondly, eyes shut as they both relished in the feeling of just having gotten engaged.

Ellie made a gagging sound. “Daddies, stop, that’s gross!”

They both laughed as they pulled her into their hug. She giggled as they showered her with kisses.

“Mija, it turns out papa Viktor and I are going to be married.”

This made the little girl jump, screeching in joy. “My papas are going to he husbands!”

As she jumped up and down on the couch, Viktor trying his best to try and catch her if she were to fall. Jayce leaned back. The exhaustion he had felt after his day at work had been completely washed away.

When he looked at his family. His unique, loving, family. He could not help but smile.

Once he had gotten his head out of his ass, Jayce had become the happiest man alive.

He could not wait to see what the future was going to have in store for them.

[skulkiee]

So i have been writing a story about Epic where Polites lives. Kinda. And its about the sirens because i like getting ramdom characters and making them relevant. How i wrote the characters probably aren't accurate in any way, probably most of it isnt accurate actually, but im enjoying writing this so that doesnt matter to me. Um, its got four chapters so far, and i have done no planning really but here you go i guess. Anyways yeah.

Thankyou @ant-nikki your little comment about wanting to see this was one of the things that actually gave me confidence to put this here :D

Echoing where my ghosts all used to be (oh my, oh my)

Polites wakes slowly.

And then his brain catches up with the fact he is waking up at all, and that he can feel a heartbeat in his chest, and he panics.

Because he died.

-(Arms wrapped around his body, scooping him up. He lent his head against their chest, and he could hear a heartbeat much stronger than his failing one.)-

Polites snaps his eyes open, and comes face to face with another person. Their eyes light up when they see him, and a bright grin crosses their face, "They're awake!"

-(He had grinned up at Eury, and his friend's eyes had widened then, too, "He's alive!" He had shouted at someone Polites couldn't see. Polites had reached up for his face then, despite the pain radiating through his whole body.)-

Polites lashes out at the person, and they jerk backwards before his hand can come into contact with their face.

"Woah! Buddy, calm down-" they yell, "Help!"

Polites feels another person grab him from behind, "Got him!" They shout back, pinning his arms against his sides, and he thrashes in their grasp until he can't anymore.

"Are they okay?" A third voice joins in.

Polites tries to breathe to calm his nerves and just gets a mouthful of water, and that doesn't help at all, because suddenly he's drowning again- hes drowning again-

-(Polites had gasped and coughed while he tried to speak to Eury, but he could barely breathe past the blood in his lungs, let alone speak.)-

"Of course they're not okay, Alope, they must have just died to be here! And from the looks of it it wasn't a very nice death." A fourth voice mutters.

"Hey, 'Troclus, you got here the most recent, you see if you know them." The second voice snaps, their voice much too close to Polites' ear for his liking.

"They also wouldn't be okay because they just got turned into a siren, Alope." The fourth voice continues.

Polites snaps his eyes back open at that, and yes, he does not have legs. He has a dark, rusty-red -(like the blood that covered the flowers in the clearing when the boar got Odysseus, like the colour that has haunted him for the past ten years, like the colour that covered his whole body just moments ago)- tail with jagged fins and nasty almost-gold scars. Everything only makes him panic more.

"Shut up, Cleito." A new voice that Polites feels he should recognise, but in his panicked state, he can't, "Hey, hey, can you look at me?"

Polites does, and he gasps (inhaling water again), "Patroclus? How-"

"Shh." His old friend from the war cuts him off, pulling him into a tight hug, "This might look terrible, but i promise you're safe now."

"So you know them?" The second voice asks again, and their voice sounds commanding.

"Yes. We're friends." Patroclus- is he a siren too? -confirms, and the owner of the second voice lets go of him finally. Polites clings to his friend that he saw die.

But then didn't he die too?

Did the other, what, four people here die too?

"So what's your name then? I'm Alope!" The chirpy little voice that had asked him if he was okay speaks again.

Polites lifts his head slightly and looks at the small figure next to him. She has pale skin and freckles and long blond hair and bright blue and turquoise scales and fins and eyes and a bright grin.

"Alope, give them a moment to recover," it's the fourth voice, the one that had been saying all the reasons why he wouldn't be okay. She's large, with darker skin and purplish- pinkish scales and intelligent eyes. She ruffles Alope's hair, "I am Cleito."

Polites smiles and gives the pair a little wave.

"And i'm Hyacinthus!" It's the first person who spoke, his voice incredibly enthusiastic, his bright lilac scales matching his bubbly personality perfectly.

Polites recognises his name, even if he wasn't raised in a family that constantly told tales of what happened to the mortals who got too entwined with the Gods, he would think that most people would know the name of the person who got caught between an Olympian and a Titan's son.

"And obviously you know me." Patroclus offers him a smile, before pointing behind him to a siren with red hair and even redder scales, "That's Epolenep, she's the eldest of us and our leader."

Epolenep folds her arms across her chest, "Welcome to the pod, newbie." She grins, though it's more of a bearing of her fangs. Polites shivers.

"Polites." He says, answering her unspoken question, "My name's Polites."

"How'd you die?" Alope asks merrily, "I drowned, ironic, isn't it?"

"And i was killed by a God! I know, cool aren't I?" Hyacinthus joins in.

Epolenep sighs, "You two maniacs." She mutters fondly, "Of course, Polites, you do not have to say, but it would be useful to know."

Patroclus nods, "How we died affects how we live now, Alope, for example, drowned, and sometimes now, she has trouble breathing, or wakes up in a panic over the water in her lungs." He pauses, "Those scars along your tail don't look too nice, and personally, i would like to know what happened after you left Troy. I would have thought you Ithacans would be the first home, with how much Odysseus talked about his Penelope."

Penelope. Polites wonders what his sister will think when his friends get home without him. He hopes she won't miss him too much. He hopes none of his family will miss him too much. He knows they will. Especially Eury and Elpenor and Penny.

"Cyclops." He says quietly. Theres a round of murmurs from the people around him, "We left Troy, and the Gods sent up a storm and we got lost and ran out of food." He says, for Patroclus, "I found an island. Me and Ody went ashore, and then we got told about a cave. I persuaded him to go there-"

Polites pauses when a realisation hits him. -(He lay in Eury's arms, and tried to block out the screams of his comrades. Tried not to look over Eury's shoulder at Odysseus' shocked, frozen form as his men cried for his orders, for his help. As the men, the friends, that Polites had dragged here, died around them.)-

"Gods, how many of them did i get killed?"

I guess i'll put the next bit here tomorow?

(please someone tell me your thoughts on this)

Also i will welcome any tips or ideas please :D

[flamingskull28]

The running of water and gritting of teeth echoed through the room as 4 grabbed another scoup of water and splashed it on her face.

"Still there... w-why is it still there?" Her voice cracked and her hands roughly grasped the area near her eyes.

Grey, horriblely thick, marks ripped around her face like cracks in her skin. Reminders of her failure and helplessness. She glanced at the cause.

A silver mask with deep red eyes, sat shattered in several sharp pieces across the floor. Bits of wiring poked out the bits where 4 had ripped it apart. No matter how many times she smashed it, it still sat mocking her for not stopping Order. 8 went through so much pain trying to save her and fix the mess she couldn't stop...

4 hissed at her own reflection, seeing the tainted image that looked back, enraged her more than any ranked losing streak.

Another fistful of water splashed her face, starting to sting from how much she'd done it, but the wounds still didn't fade; not even slight. 4 felt like clawing at her face, ripping the scars off and hurting the pathetic wearer of them.

But it didn't matter if she did, the scars where there to stay.. No amount of water, clawing, pleading or tears wild change that.

She would always have to look at a failure in the mirror.

Her fist flew through the area, logic nor reason halted it's rage fuled purpulsion till it crashed into the tainted image in the mirror.

4 grasped her hand by the wrist and sucked in a breath. Warm ink poured out the freshly opened wound and traveled down her arm like a flowing river.

She yanked the shard poking out the hand, gritting her beak hard, then sloppy poured disinfectant on. Hissing more at the buring feeling then grabbing bandages and beginning to wrap it up. Covering it like she wish she could do her face.

"F-Four?" A shocked and scared voice called from the now ajar door, where 3 stood, her jaw wide open and eyes in pained shock. She knelt down to where 4 sat and gently grasped her injured arm before 4 could spout any explanation.

4 let herself breath as 3 took a look, the warmth of their touch bringing her back to reality. Only now did 4 realize she'd been crying.

"It..." 3 paused trying to find the words. "The cut should be fine, you.. did a good job treating it." 3 gently let 4's arm down then turned to look at 4's wet face, stained with tears and sink water. A glint of somber realization flashed into her eyes.

"The scars.... you were trying to get rid of them, weren't you?" 3's sanitized eye glower slightly, 4 recalled that happened when. 3 was deeply upset.

4 looked to the ground and nodded. Her crimson eyes desperately avoiding 3.

3 weakly smiled and pulled up her bangs, showing a healed gash on her forehead. "I headbutted the mirror after mine would wash off..." 3 added with a slight tone of humor.

"The scars pain or shame.. it's only temporary, you are stronger for having them 4." 3 didn't try to speak as captain, she spoke as a friend understanding a struggle.

"B-But.. how? I only got these damned marks from... failing and 8 got hurt because of it! So many got hurt because I couldn't stop that cod damn AI!" 4 only noticed her shouting, and trembling hands when 3 tightly wrapped their arms around her.

"They'll never go away 4, not the memory's nor the scars. Washing, scrubbing, covering, or anything else won't remove them. Sometimes the best thing you can do... is to wear it with pride. It's proof you can survive." 3 brought her hand to 4's eyes and traced the Grey marks.

4's eyes averted their gaze "How... a-are you sure?"

3 moved 4's head to met her gaze again "Because you told me that.. and you were right."

---A few years prior---

"Heya 3! What are you doing all the way out here?" 4 asked, taking a seat next to 3 who was curled against her knees with the usual grumpy face that 4 knew all to well.

Though it was different this time, sadness was buried in her eyes. Unnoticeable unless you knew 3.

3 grunted in response to 4 and turned away. Her hands where clenched tightly enough to have left a mark where she gripped her knees.

4 carefully inched closer "Whats wrong..?"

"Nothing.." 3 growled in a tone that would scare most away but 4 knew better. She only talked like that when she was scared. Like when 3 faced hypnotized Callie while 4 was out with a broken arm or when just meeting 4.

4 smiled gently and slid closer. "You're a terrible liar, good thing 8 handleds infiltration. A shame though you'd fit right in, undercover among grouchy octolings who definitely don't sleep enough."

A small smile escaped 3's iron clad persona. Which let 4 notice a faint glow formerly covered by 3's overgrown bangs.

"Oh..." 4 exclaimed before she thought better, 3's uncovered half of her face jolted and she quickly turned inward again, a wave of shame washing over her.

"I-I didn't mean to be rude!" 4 scrambled, leaning over to 3 who shrunk further back the closer 4 got. "3.."

"Just.. go. It's better for everyone that way." 3 growled again. Trying so hard to stonewall again.

4 sighed, sympathy wouldn't work with 3 but there was something they would... hopefully.

"3.." 4's tone switched to a more commanding and stern version. "Look at me and lift your bangs."

3's expression shifted uncomfortably with a hint of surprise. "No.. I- just go."

"3, that's an order."

"I outrank you by experience..." 3 mumbled losing the fire in her voice.

4 gave a glare and hoped 3 couldn't tell how forced it was "My number is higher, stop being so stubborn and show me your damn face." She knew that made no sense but she cared a lot about 3 but 4 was at her limit with the brick wall game, and 3 never refused a direct order for long.

"Fine!" 3 spun to her and shoved her bangs up. Two broken, sad eyes stared at 4 past the rage, the sanitized one glowing brightly "Happy?" 3 tried to let the bang fall back but 4 grabbed it.

"I'm not happy till you stop hiding. These marks should make you proud."

3's face contorted in confusion "Proud!? Of reminders that I failed? That I was weak?!"

"That you survived despite everything and that you won't go down easy."

3's breath hitched in her suddenly dry throat. No witty comeback or denial cane up because 4 was right. Despite everything, she'd survived.

This revelation poured out through tears, 4 stayed by her side to wipe them up.