#its heavy by itself but combined with weighted blanket?

[clownboy-yeehonk]

Ideal sleeping conditions

[asacredthebread]

The Art of Surrender

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Danny x F!Reader - 18+

𝙷𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐.

Warnings/Themes: Sub Danny, Unprotected Sex, Riding, Begging, Soft Danny

wc; 9105

taglist - @musicislove3389 @peaceloveunitygvf @jazzyfigz @sarahbethgvf @fleetingjake

You sat at the kitchen counter, cradling a steaming cup of tea in your hands, the warmth spreading through your fingers and enveloping you in a comforting embrace. The soft glow of the light above cast a gentle radiance around the room, illuminating the well-loved pages of the book that lay open in front of you. Words danced before your eyes like familiar friends, but time had begun to slip away, each sentence drawing you deeper into its comforting narrative. Despite your immersion, you couldn’t shake the thrill of anticipation that thrummed in your chest, building steadily with each tick of the clock.

With each minute that passed, your mind drifted back to Danny, recalling the way he had kissed you goodbye, his voice soft yet filled with an infectious excitement, promising he’d be back before you knew it. Those weeks apart felt elongated, every day stretching as you inhabited the space he’d filled, his laughter, his warmth. The nights had been the hardest, when the absence of his presence loomed large and the silence of the house wrapped around you like a heavy blanket. You remembered the way his energy had always made your home feel alive, each corner bustling with the remnants of laughter and light.

You occasionally glanced up from your book, listening intently to the sounds around the house. The creak of the floorboards, the quiet hum of the refrigerator, and the occasional rustle of the wind against the windows combined into a symphony of solitude. Each sound pulled you deeper into your thoughts, reflecting on how much you missed those spontaneous moments—his quirky dance moves in the kitchen and the way he’d brush his fingers along your arm as he passed by. Little reminders that built a life together, now seemingly distant but still close enough to touch in your mind.

Just as you were lost in a particularly vivid memory of the two of you, you heard it—the unmistakable creak of the front door opening. Your heart quickened, breath catching in your throat, and you looked up with anticipation. There he was, stepping inside, worn yet vibrant, the world outside seemingly melting away as he entered your shared sanctuary.

His long, curly brown hair framed his face, slightly tousled from travel, and the moment his tired brown eyes scanned the room, finding you, a wave of relief washed over him. You couldn’t contain the smile that broke across your face, an instinctual response to the sight of him. Your heart swelled, feeling as if a piece of you, lost in his absence, had finally returned home. His expression mirrored your own, relief flooding his gaze as if he were drinking in the familiar surroundings.

Danny shifted at the threshold, a hand running through his hair in that familiar way, and the warmth in the room surged. You noticed the slight weariness etched on his features, the silent testament to the journey he had just undertaken. But as he took a tentative step forward, that fatigue began to dissipate, overshadowed by the joy that cascaded between you. The darkness of the night outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, cocooned in your own little world.

In that suspended moment, the air sparked with unspoken tension, your eyes locking in a gaze that said more than words ever could. The weight of the distance fell away, dissolving into an energy that once again bound you together. Danny stepped further into the room, absorbing the essence of being back, the quiet safety of home wrapping itself around him like a warm blanket. It felt electric, the shift in the atmosphere, as if the very walls held their breath in anticipation.

You rose from your seat, the book forgotten, and stepped closer. In an instant, the space between you seemed to collapse as you drew him into a warm embrace. His arms circled around you, and you melted into him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, anchoring you both in this shared moment. The scent of him—faintly familiar yet tied to all the memories you cherished—washed over you, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, the culmination of emotions threatening to spill over.

“Hey,” he murmured into your hair, his voice deep and soothing.

“Hey, you,” you replied softly, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. The warmth of his smile ignited a spark within you, illuminating the shadows that had lingered during his absence. You could see the joy reflected in his eyes as he took in the sight of you, and you both laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet intimacy of the kitchen.

Everything that had felt fragmented during his time away began to coalesce into clarity. You could feel the pieces fitting back together, a puzzle reassembling itself bit by bit. In this little sanctuary enveloped in the soft glow of the kitchen light, the hum of your life resumed its natural rhythm. You found joy in the mundane things, in the way his fingers brushed against yours as he reached for a bowl, or the way he cracked a joke that made you laugh until you nearly cried.

As the warmth of the evening settled around you like a tender embrace, the comforting glow of the kitchen light cast a soft halo around Danny, illuminating the affection in his deep brown eyes. Each moment felt saturated with a sense of renewal and connection, a rekindling of a bond that had been stretched but never truly broken. You could feel the air between you crackle with a tangible energy, and drawing closer to him felt both natural and exhilarating.

With a mix of mischief and tenderness, you leaned in, your heart pounding in your chest as you pressed your lips to the warm, smooth skin of his neck. The taste of him lingered on your lips, rich and familiar, and you let the heat of the moment envelop you. Each gentle kiss was a thrill, a sublime exploration of longing that had been building for weeks apart. You focused on the way his skin responded to your touch, the way he shivered and leaned into you, a silent admission of how much he missed your closeness.

You could sense the way his body reacted to you—how the tension in his muscles coiled tighter with each gentle caress, and how his breaths grew deeper, more staggered, punctuated by soft gasps that made your heart race. It was intoxicating to witness the effect you were having on him, to feel his need for you rise and pulse in the warm air enveloping you both.

“God,” he murmured, the word slipping from his lips like a breath of prayer, laced with desperation that radiated from him. “You can’t do that to me and expect me not to… to want you.” His voice was deeper than usual, thick with the weight of his unfulfilled craving, and each syllable sent a tremor of excitement coursing through you.

You smiled against his skin, a wicked glint in your eye as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Do you remember what I told you?” you asked, your voice low and teasing, inviting him into a dance of playful tension. You watched as his eyes darkened with anticipation, silently pleading for clarity.

He nodded slowly, the admission hanging between you like a taut string ready to snap. There was vulnerability in his expression, and you loved how he didn’t shy away from it. “I haven’t touched myself at all,” he confessed, the admission falling from his lips as if he had been holding it back for far too long. “It was hard, but I did it for you.”

Your pulse quickened at his words—there was something so intimate about this confession, so raw. The anticipation that threaded through your veins made it feel like the walls of the kitchen were closing in, the world outside fading away until it was just the two of you, wrapped in a cocoon of desire.

“That’s so good of you,” you praised softly, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. The power dynamic intrigued you; knowing he had followed your instructions perfectly sent a rush of pleasure through your body. You edged closer once more, letting your lips brush against his neck, leaving soft, delicate kisses along the expanse of skin. Each gentle press felt like an incantation, awakening a yearning that had lain dormant during your weeks apart.

“Do you feel how much I’ve missed you?” you murmured between kisses, reveling in the way his breath hitched—each gasp igniting the fire in your own core. “You’ve been so patient, waiting for me. But now…” Your voice trailed off as you felt his body leaning toward you, a magnetic pull drawing you both closer. The simple act of kissing him felt like unwrapping a gift, layer by layer, revealing the deep layers of intimacy and connection that spiraled between you.

“Now, I want to see just how long you can hold out,” you teased, your breath warm against his ear. The way he shivered in response sent delicious sparks throughout your body, heightening the sense of anticipation that crackled in the dimly lit room. “Can you do that for me? Can you be good and not touch yourself?”

He swallowed, and his eyes darkened further with burgeoning desire—swimming in need and restraint. “I’ll try,” he stammered, but there was a hint of helplessness in his voice, a soft surrender to the moment. You could see the conflict within him; his body yearned for your touch, but you had laid the foundation for this delicate game, and he was willing to play along, to suffer a little longer for the pleasure of what was to come.

Feeling emboldened, you pressed your lips again to his neck, trailing lower, mapping the soft contours of his collarbone while reveling in each sigh that escaped his mouth. Your kisses were deliberate, slow, teasingly moving against his skin, lingering at the sensitive spots you knew drove him wild. You could feel his pulse quicken beneath your lips, a testament to the fire igniting between you.

“Just think about how good it will feel when we finally come together again,” you breathed, letting the words roll off your tongue like honey. You could see him react physically to the teasing promise—his shoulders tensed, and his breathing turned ragged.

You leaned back again, finally allowing your eyes to lock onto his, searching for that all-too-familiar spark of connection. "I want you to remember this feeling, every touch, every kiss, as a reminder of how much I’ve longed for you. Let this fire grow inside you, let it build… and just hold on." The weight of your words enveloped the air between you, thick with possibility and allure.

Danny’s gaze bore into yours, filled with a mix of need and longing that left you breathless. He held your gaze, a silent agreement pulsing between you—two hearts intertwining in the moonlit whisper of the moment, tethered by desire, but also by the tender promise of what was yet to come. You both stood at the brink of something beautiful, teetering on the edge of anticipation, poised to let the night unfurl its magic all around you.

As the moment thickened with unspoken promises and electric anticipation, you gently took Danny’s hand and led him to the couch. The soft fabric welcomed him as he sank into its embrace, his gaze never wavering from you. It was as though the world around you faded, leaving only the intoxicating intimacy of the two of you in this sacred space.

“Stay right there,” you instructed softly, a playful yet authoritative tone threading through your voice. He nodded obediently, anticipation shimmering in his eyes as you took a step back, allowing him to take in the entire breadth of the scene. There was something exhilarating about having him in this position, encouraged to simply watch. You could see the tension coiling in his muscles, a reflection of his eagerness and the sheer desire that swirled between you.

With deliberate slowness, you allowed a smile to creep onto your lips. “Now, I want you to keep your hands by your sides,” you said, layering your voice with a sweetness that only deepened the gravity of your request. The obedient glint in his eyes confirmed he understood, a silent promise passing between you.

Taking a deep breath, you centered yourself, feeling the confidence welling up from within. Step by step, you began to undress, each movement infused with a sense of purpose and awareness. You started with the hem of your shirt, drawing it slowly up your body, exposing your skin to the air and his hungry gaze. The fabric slid past your waist and fluttered to the floor, leaving you in just your bottoms.

You glanced at Danny’s face, eager to capture every nuanced expression that danced across it. His eyes darkened further as they roamed over your form, filled with a blend of desire, admiration, and a hint of disbelief. His breath hitched, and the way his lips parted slightly told you everything you needed to know; he was completely captivated.

Feeling emboldened, you transitioned into the next phase of your unveiling. You took your time, ensuring that every motion was deliberate, drawing out the tension in the air. You could almost see the way his mind raced as you moved—how he imagined what was still to come and the depth of his yearning intensified with each small reveal.

With a teasing tilt of your head, you let your fingers glide along the waistband of your bottoms, pausing for just a beat, savoring the moment. “Are you watching closely?” you asked, your voice dripping with playful challenge. He nodded vigorously, his eyes locked onto yours with a fervent intensity that made your heart race.

You slowly began to peel away the remaining fabric, the sensation of cool air meeting your skin awakening every nerve ending. You watched his expression morph into one of sheer hunger, the heat pooling in his gaze as you revealed more of yourself to him. It felt exhilarating to see how your actions stirred him—how the anticipation rolled off him like heat from a fire, igniting a shared connection that pulsed through the space between you.

As you stepped out of the last piece of clothing, you allowed yourself the moment to pause, holding his gaze as you stood before him, completely unveiled. The vulnerability mingled with power, and you relished the thrill of it. You could see the struggle within him; the sheer will it took for him to keep his hands obediently at his sides. Every muscle in his body seemed taut, ready to spring forth but restrained by your instructions.

“Look at me, Danny,” you breathed, your voice a gentle command that drew his focus back to your face. “What do you see?”

“Everything,” he replied, his voice low and thick with unfiltered longing. “You’re… beautiful.”

The compliment sent a shiver running through you, and you allowed yourself to bask in the warmth of his admiration. Each moment felt suspended in time, painted vividly with the colors of intimacy and desire. You were in control, but both of you were equally vulnerable, entwined in the dance of unspoken emotions that swirled around you.

Encouraged by his reaction, you moved closer, allowing your hands to trail lightly along your own skin, every caress a shared invitation for him to drink in the sight of you. As you did, the tension in the room escalated palpably, a rich tapestry woven from both your hearts beating as one. You could feel him leaning forward ever so slightly, as if he couldn't resist the pull of your essence, that magnetic force keeping him firmly tethered to the moment.

“Keep your eyes on me,” you urged softly, a hint of urgency woven within your words. Each motion was intentional; you wanted him to feel the weight of your presence, to etch every detail into his memory. You danced your fingers along your collarbone, letting them drift down your sides, showcasing every curve. When you caught his gaze shifting, eager to drink in every bit of you, you felt a surge of satisfaction.

“Good,” you murmured, watching him swallow, every fiber in his being focused on you, carefully observing, desperately wishing for more. His quiet longing acted like a spark, igniting the flames of your own desire—a delicious, heady warmth that spread through your body, leaving you aching for closer contact, yet fully aware of the power of this moment.

“Can you feel how much we’ve both missed this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The question hovered in the air, turning the silence into something tangible, something that hung between you like a sweet tension—ripe and waiting to be broken. The vulnerability shared in that moment was palpable, creating a bond that felt more intimate than skin-deep, interlacing your souls in the quiet solace of your surroundings.

With that, you let your hands fall to your sides, your expression softening as you gazed at him, letting the moment linger in the air, a luxurious pause before whatever came next. You knew you had drawn him to a precipice of yearning, and he waited—breathless and desperate—for the next chapter to unfold. And in that instant, you could feel the world fade away, leaving only the two of you as you held your breath, poised on the brink of an exquisite adventure yet to come.

The charged atmosphere enveloped you both as you slowly moved closer to him, your heart racing in rhythm with the pulsating energy that hung thick in the air. A silent understanding passed between you, and you could see the raw desire igniting in Danny's eyes as you approached the edge of the couch.

With a deliberate, enticing smile, you gently lowered yourself onto his lap, feeling the warmth radiate from his body beneath you. The moment you settled on him, a wave of heat washed over you, a delicious melding of body and spirit that made everything else fade away. You planted your knees on either side of him, positioning yourself just right, feeling how perfectly your forms connected.

And then, you began to move. Slowly at first, rolling your hips against his with a rhythm that felt as natural and instinctive as breathing. The sensation sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, igniting a fire deep within. You relished the way his eyes widened, the way his breath caught as he absorbed the sight and feel of you moving above him. Each gentle grind was a sultry invitation, weaving a spell that drew you both deeper into the moment.

With every undulation, you pressed into him, teasingly building tension as you let your kisses trail along his jawline. You started at the base of his neck, planting soft, lingering kisses that trailed upwards, celebrating the contours of his chin and the warmth of his skin. As you worked your way up toward his earlobe, you could feel his breath hitch, a stuttered sound that only fueled your desire to continue this wicked dance.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice heavy with awe and longing, a gentle tug at the edges of your heart. Your response was a gentle kiss along his neck, savoring the taste of him, feeding off the way his body responded so eagerly to your touch.

You maintained your rhythm, a slow grind that made the world outside your intimate bubble recede even further. You wanted to be intently aware of his reactions, of the way his body tensed beneath you, muscles shifting as he fought to control himself. You wanted him to feel every shift of your movements, every kiss upon his skin, to drown in the depths of this connection you were forging together.

But then, as you leaned in for a particularly teasing sweep of your lips against his neck, you felt Danny’s hands start to drift. His fingers grazed your waist, a subconscious movement fueled by the longing that surged through him. It was an instinctive reaction, a reflection of the need to pull you closer, to frame this exquisite closeness with the touch of his hands.

In a swift yet gentle motion, you caught his wrist before he could rest his hands on your body, holding it steady at his side. The shift in energy was palpable, accentuating the sweetness of your game. “Ah, ah,” you scolded softly, a playful tone lacing your words. “I told you to keep your hands by your sides.”

His gaze flickered with a mixture of disappointment and disbelief, but he complied without hesitation, clenching his jaw as if trying to hold back the urge to wrap his arms around you. The tension between you escalated, becoming electric, heightened by the small act of restraint. His open vulnerability made your heart race even faster, and you couldn’t help but lean closer, pressing your body into his as an added reminder of your presence.

“Good boy,” you encouraged him, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with a teasing edge that made his eyes gleam with renewed desire. “I want you to watch—this is just for you.” The words slipped from your lips, sweet and sultry, igniting a spark of possessiveness in the atmosphere between you.

As you resumed your movement, you increased the pressure of your grinding, feeling the heat radiate between the two of you. You maintained eye contact, savoring the flush that crept along his cheeks, the way his brows furrowed in concentration. Each movement drew moans from him, his breath racing faster as he struggled to contain the storm of sensations swirling within.

The atmosphere crackled with the anticipation of exploration, and you leaned in closer, letting your lips explore the curve of his jaw, trailing soft kisses and playful bites along the way. His scent enveloped you—an intoxicating blend of warmth and earthiness that sent shivers racing down your spine. You wanted more; you craved the deep, intimate connection that lay just below the surface of your playful game.

With each thrust of your hips, you inched closer to pleasure, the friction between you both stirring a wild fire in your core. His breathing quickened, matching the rhythm of your movements, the way he longed to touch you evident in the tension of his body. You delighted in his struggle, every sound he released, and every flare of heat in his gaze as you held him captive in this moment.

“Feel that?” you whispered, your breath warm against his ear as you leaned closer, sending a shiver through him. “Feel how much I want you? How much you want me?” Your words turned into a gentle challenge, digging deeper into the charged atmosphere enveloping you both.

His eyelashes fluttered, and he pressed his lips together, fighting the impulse to let his hands roam. The mere idea that he had to supress that desire was a delicious turn-on for you both. You could feel the tension build—a silent plea—and it drove you to grind your hips against him with even more urgency, each roll coaxing a low groan from his lips.

“Just stay with me, Danny,” you urged, your voice sultry and soft. “Keep your hands where they belong, and let me show you just how good this can feel.” The words were a promise, dripping with seduction, and as you continued to tease him, your kisses along his neck and jawline interspersed with whispers of heated encouragement, you knew this moment was only the beginning of a much deeper exploration.

Time seemed to stretch around you as you savored each sensation, each breath, each sound. The world outside melted into oblivion; it was just the two of you, caught in this luscious cocoon of desire, where every movement ignited the flames of longing and yearning. You leaned into this beautiful, intimate moment, the anticipation of what was to come stirring within both of you like a rising tide, holding the beauty and vulnerability of this connection close to your hearts. As you continued to grind against him, the intoxicating sensations flooded through Danny's body, pulling him further into a haze of desire and submission. The tension in the air was palpable, thickening with every teasing movement and whispered promise. You reveled in the way he surrendered to the moment, his vulnerability enhancing the connection between you.

With each roll of your hips, you felt him melt beneath you, his breath hitching as you moved with intoxicating rhythm. His head fell back against the couch, giving you access to the expanse of his neck, a vulnerable canvas waiting for the imprint of your desire. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his skin softly at first, testing the waters, gauging his reactions.

As your lips traveled along his neck, you began to let your kisses deepen, turning gentle pecks into playful bites. You watched hungrily as the blush of heat spread across his cheeks, a vivid contrast to his usual calm demeanor. Each mark you left felt like a claim, a possessive reminder of the beauty of this intimate moment. You took your time, savoring the sound of his breath hitching as you nibbled on the sensitive skin, tasting the saltiness of his excitement.

“Please… don’t stop,” he whimpered, the plea spilling from his lips in a throaty whisper, both desperate and filled with longing. Each sound he made resonated deep within you, weaving a spell that captivated your senses as surely as your actions captivated him. You could see the battle within him—the craving for closeness, the need to touch and hold you, shadowed by the reminder of your control over the situation.

“Patience, Danny,” you murmured against his skin, sending vibrations of warmth fluttering through him. “You’ve got to remember your place.” The slight scolding in your tone was playful yet firm, drawing out more whines of frustration from him. The contrast between the pleasure you gave him and the denial of touch only deepened his submission, leaving him utterly at your mercy.

You left your mark, suckling and kissing along the length of his neck, relishing in the soft gasps that escaped his lips. Each time you pulled your lips away, you revealed a new hickey, a rosy reminder of how completely he surrendered to you. You adored the sight of him—his eyes fluttering closed, mouth slightly parted, lost in the sensory overload you had created.

His moans grew louder, more desperate, each sound weaving a rich tapestry of need that enveloped you both. “I can’t… I can’t help it,” he gasped, fighting against the constraints you had placed upon him. The way his body curled toward you, straining against the invisible boundaries, was intoxicating. You were his world in that moment, and the heat radiating off him told you everything you needed to know about the depth of his submission.

“You’re doing so well,” you encouraged, your voice low and sultry. You met his gaze, and the intensity of his desire mirrored yours. “But remember, no touching. Just let me take care of you.” With confidence, you pressed another soft bite to the place just below his ear, and a shudder raced through his body, a physical testament to the control you had over his pleasure.

Danny’s submission was a sweet nectar, intoxicating in its purity. The way he let go of all hesitations, the way he surrendered completely to your ministrations, was a power unlike any you had known. You edged deeper into the exploration of his limits, more comfortable with the knowledge that he was becoming increasingly pliable beneath you.

The hickeys you left were like painted strokes on his canvas, a beautiful display of your shared intimacy. The skin beneath your lips bloomed warmly under your touch, and the more you marked him, the more visible evidence of your connection remained. He was no longer just Danny; he was yours, a willingly vulnerable creation molded by your hands and desires.

“Please,” he whimpered again, the sound threading through the air like a fragile thread connecting your worlds. “I want to touch you so badly.” His voice was strained, raw with yearning, and it sent shivers cascading through you. You could feel the pull of his desire, his desperate wish to claim some part of you as you were claiming him.

You responded tenderly, peppering another kiss along his neck, punctuating your movements with a teasing flick of your tongue. “I know, sweetheart,” you whispered, your words caressing his skin and echoing in his ears. “But you have to learn patience. It’ll only make it better when I finally let you.” There was a certain deliciousness in prolonging the anticipation, in drawing this moment out to its fullest extent.

With each kiss, you could see him growing more and more vulnerable, slipping deeper into the warm embrace of submission. The weight of the world faded, and the only thing that remained was the shared intimacy that flowed between you. He surrendered completely, letting go of all resistance, allowing himself to be lost in the pleasure you wove around him.

As you continued to leave your mark upon him, you found your own pleasure rising as well, an echo of the desperation he felt. The connection was potent and primal, and with every kiss, every bite, you layered on the intimacy, carving out a space where nothing else mattered. The deliciousness of the moment enveloped both of you, creating a sweet sanctuary hinged on trust, longing, and an unspoken promise of more to come.

“Just breathe for me,” you murmured softly, tracing your fingertips along the lines of his jaw, watching as he closed his eyes to escape into the sensations you created. You watched him, an exquisite masterpiece of longing bruised and softened by your touch, and in that moment, you knew you would savor every second as you danced together along the bounds of desire and submission.

In that gentle rhythm, you continued to kiss, to mark, to explore, fully aware of the power you held in your hands as he remained open and willing—an offering of his own free will. The delicious tension between pleasure and restraint sent ripples of excitement coursing through your veins, and you lost yourself in the dance, both of you teetering on the edge of ecstasy, bound by the intoxicating allure of what awaited in the depths of your connection.

The atmosphere pulsed with an electric charge, a heady mix of desire and anticipation that enveloped both of you, closing out the world outside. Danny’s breaths were quick and uneven, every ragged sigh echoing the depth of longing that had built between you over the last few moments. You could see the desperation in his eyes, reflecting the restraint you held over him—a tantalizing cocktail of authority and intimacy that made your pulse race.

Your movements grew more deliberate, teasingly slow as you felt the heat radiate from his body beneath you. “You want more, don’t you?” you asked softly, delighting in the way his gaze flickered with yearning. As you shifted your weight, you couldn’t help but lean closer, offering him the promise of fulfillment, the tantalizing prospect of crossing that final boundary.

With a sultry smile, you let your fingers trail down his abdomen, feeling the taut muscles beneath your touch. You paused just above the waistband of his jeans, savoring the way his body responded to every deliberate caress. “Let’s see just how much you’ve been waiting for this.”

As you expertly unzipped his jeans, the soft click of the zipper felt like a thousand silent promises whispered inside a crowded room. Parting the fabric slowly, you could already see the evidence of his desire—a pulse of excitement that quickened your own heartbeat. You watched as his face filled with anticipation, and you couldn’t resist the urge to tease him just a little longer.

With deliberate slowness, you pushed his jeans down just enough to expose him fully, a breathless moment where you both lingered, hearts racing. Taking the opportunity to gaze at the sight before you, your breath hitched at the intensity of it all. He was completely bare and vulnerable, and the sight only intensified your need for him.

“Please,” he croaked out, desperation lacing his voice as he shifted beneath you. “Let me touch you. I need to feel you.” There was a pleading note in his tone, one that ignited a spark of desire deep within your core. You loved the way he was unraveling beneath your touch, the way the sweet need for you flowed from his words like molten honey.

“Soon,” you whispered, your voice laced with a teasing promise. You perched higher on his lap, your body trembling with anticipation as you aligned yourself above him. “First, I want to feel you inside me.” You watched the instant spark of lust ignite in his eyes, the way his body instinctively tensed, ready and waiting for you to take that sweet plunge.

With a gentle push, you lowered yourself onto him, the sensation exquisite as you enveloped him in your warmth. The world melted away, leaving only the two of you and the intoxicating feeling of connection that surged deeply between your bodies. A low, primal groan escaped from him, an involuntary sound that echoed the pleasure blooming between you.

You paused for a moment, savoring the intoxicating feeling of him filling you, allowing yourself to get lost in the sensation—every inch of him igniting a wildfire of desire that spread through your body like an electric current. Your breath mingled with his, creating a sweet symphony of longing as you adjusted, letting the moment wash over you completely.

Then, without hesitation, you began to move, riding him slowly, deliberately. Each movement sent ripples of pleasure coursing through both of you, drawing out soft gasps and whimpers as you lost yourselves in the rhythm you created together. The sensation of him sliding within you was overwhelming, a heady mix of fullness and indescribable ecstasy that filled the space between you.

“Oh my God,” Danny breathed out, voice strained yet awash with a serene pleasure, “This feels so amazing.” You could see him struggling against the understanding of your earlier boundary, his hands twitching at his sides, longing to touch you—to trail his fingers along your skin, to feel the warmth radiate from your body.

“Please, I need to touch you,” he begged again, urgency coloring his every word, and the straining hope in his tone only made you want to tempt him further. You knew that the denial of that instinct, that sweet yearning, only fueled both of you. It was a dance of patience and unrestrained pleasure, and you intended to linger in this moment, letting him writhe in the tension of it all.

“Just a little longer,” you encouraged softly, entranced by his need for you. Each downward motion intensified the connection you shared, a magnetic pull that blurred the lines of your separate desires. “I want you to feel every second of this. The sweetness of anticipation is part of the pleasure.”

Your movements remained slow and tantalizing, drawing him deeper into the intoxicating ache of submission that you cultivated. The way his eyes brimmed with need only ignited your own hunger, and you wanted to keep that fire ablaze, to draw it out as long as possible.

As you rolled your hips, taking him deeper, the sounds that escaped from him grew more urgent—soft pleas and little whimpers flooding the air like music. The tension of restraint painted his features, so expressive and vulnerable, and you longed to touch him as much as he longed to touch you.

“Danny,” you breathed, leaning in closer, letting your body press against his, the intimacy of your closeness sending tremors through both of you. “Just feel this with me. Let it wash over you.” You cherished the way he strained to hold onto the moment, the way his body reacted to every flick of your hips, sending him spiraling deeper into pleasure.

“God, you’re driving me crazy,” he managed, and the confession ignited a thrill within you. The way he was losing himself in each motion was exhilarating, a reminder of the power your connection held. You loved that he felt this way—so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet so utterly captured by you.

“Let go, Danny.” The words were barely above a whisper, a mere suggestion hanging between you as you continued to ride him, and it seemed to strike a deep chord within him. He shifted beneath you, his breath hitching once again as your words encircled him like a coil, tugging him closer to that edge.

“Just let me touch you,” he pleaded one more time, the urgency climbing higher in his tone, and you could feel your own desire cresting painfully inside you. His restraint was a beautiful paradox—a magnetic force drawing you closer together as much as the pleasure itself.

“Soon, I promise,” you assured, giving his cheek a soft caress as you maintained your slow, deliberate movements. Each rise and fall felt exhilarating, connecting everything in that moment. In the dance of submission and desire, you found the harmony of exploration, deeply entwined in each other’s worlds.

The rhythm escalated, leaning toward a crescendo, yet you held back, savoring the taste of every glide, every kiss, and every tremor shared between your bodies. You could sense the abyss of ecstasy swirling just beyond your reach and hungered to dive in together, twined in a shared bliss that echoed with a deeper sense of connection than you had ever known.

“Just a little longer,” you whispered, your voice melting into the air, becoming part of the moment, the promise of what was to come flickering like a candle’s flame in the passion that consumed you both. Every second stretched, thickening the air with longing, and the delicious patience was intoxicating in its own right. You wanted this moment to last forever, to revel in the sweet lull of desire before the inevitable storm of release unfolded before you. The air between you crackled with anticipation, a silent promise hanging in the charged atmosphere that enveloped you both. Each slow roll of your hips was a tantalizing tease, every moment stretching into an eternity filled with pleasure and restraint. Danny's desperate pleas echoed in your mind, igniting a fire of longing and desire within you that was almost overwhelming.

With every flicker of his gaze, you felt the weight of his yearning, the need for touch that lay just beneath the surface, begging to be released. You could see the conflict dancing in his eyes—a battle between submission and the overwhelming desire to pull you closer, to connect in a way that transcended words. You knew it was time, time to let the boundaries dissolve completely, to allow him the freedom to touch you, to explore this connection fully.

“Okay,” you breathed, your voice tender and laced with excitement. “You can touch me now.” The words hung in the air between you, and in the instant they left your lips, the shift was palpable. You watched as his expression transformed, urgency sparking within him as he processed your permission.

In an instant, his hands shot up, finding their place on your hips, fingers curling possessively around you, pulling you closer in a desperate motion. The moment his warm hands made contact, a delightful shiver raced down your spine, igniting a rush of heat that pooled deep within you. There was something exquisitely thrilling about the way he enveloped you, how your bodies pressed together, merging into one rhythm, one heartbeat.

“God, yes,” he breathed, his voice thick with longing as he guided your movements. The urgency in his grip intensified, and you indulged in the sensation of his hands traveling across your skin, exploring the curves of your body, finding solace in your shared connection. You had relinquished control, and now he grasped the opportunity with fervor, his fingers exploring your waist, your hips, memorizing the outline of you beneath his touch.

Every pull and push of your bodies together sent waves of ecstasy ricocheting through you both, intertwining desire and intimacy like a beautifully woven tapestry. As he pulled you deeper against him, you felt every inch of him pressing into you, the heat radiating from where your bodies met sparking a scorching fire. You could sense his need pouring out of him, raw and unfiltered, and it fueled your own desires, taking you higher with each tender touch.

“Is this okay?” he asked breathlessly, his gaze burning into yours, filled with a mix of hunger and reverence. His fingers dug gently into your skin, as if he were afraid to break the fragile spell of the moment. You nodded, unable to form words as you felt the pull of his intentions, the need to savor every second of this revelation.

“Just like that,” you urged softly, encouraging him to explore, to let his instincts guide him as your bodies flowed together. His hands became your anchor, grounding you in the shared sensation of pleasure as they traversed the landscape of your hips, moving around to the small of your back, fingers tracing the outline of your figure, pulling you closer still.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers cascading through you. The desperation in his tone ignited something primal within you, an undeniable connection that deepened with every insistence of his hands, every intoxicating caress. You were both lost in the rhythm of exploration, the slow ascent to the heights of ecstasy.

Encouraged by your signals, he began to guide your movements with more confidence, rolling his hips up into you, matching the cadence of your rhythm. The tension mounted between you as he drew you in closer, the world around you fading into a blur of warmth and sensation. Each thrust was electric, sending jolts of pleasure spiraling through your core, forcing you to gasp and moan, releasing sounds of pure bliss into the air.

His fingers continued to explore, trailing across your skin with a gentle urgency, every brush feeling like a star igniting against the night sky. He pulled you tighter against him, and you could feel his heartbeat quickening, the way his body responded to yours, instinctively yearning to lose itself in the ecstasy you created together. Each movement brought a deep sense of intimacy, a shared understanding that transcended any previous boundaries.

“Please,” he breathed again, that burning need coloring his voice, “I want to feel you more.” The plea slipped from his lips like a mantra, igniting something wild within you. You could sense the desire bubbling just beneath the surface, an eager need that threatened to overflow.

“Then feel me,” you whispered, a hint of encouragement giving rise to that blaze of urgency in his eyes. “I want you to take this.” With those words, you allowed him to guide not just your movements, but your connection, trusting him to navigate the depths of this intimate moment while still relishing the taste of vulnerability.

His hands found their way to your thighs, pushing them apart slightly, encouraging you to settle into a rhythm that was intoxicatingly slow yet electric. The heat pooling where you connected intensified with every deliberate motion, and you could feel the pull of pleasure rising within you like a tide. The sounds escaping your lips were primal, each gasp and moan echoing the sweet urgency that hung thick in the air.

“I—” he began again, every word tumbling out in a rush, barely masking the heat of his desire. “I want to dive deeper with you.” There was a fierce need reflected in his eyes, a sincerity that made your heart race faster, making you ache to take the plunge alongside him.

The way he pulled you closer, the way his hands explored, made you want to lose yourself completely in the moment. It was exhilarating to feel him falling deeper into this connection, his touch becoming more sure, more desperate, fanning flames that had been kindled since your first kiss.

With every thrust of your bodies, you felt an exquisite harmony forming, every second stretching out into an eternity of shared bliss. The boundaries of your desires began to blur, intertwining as the urgency of your connection demanded to be fed, nourished by the taste of one another.

As his fingers journeyed back up to your waist, you could feel his strength, the way he cherished you—it pushed you even higher into the quest for connection. The sensation of his fingers digging lightly into your hips only intensified the urgency within you, merging the lines between pleasure and urgency into one intoxicating experience.

“Don’t stop,” you breathed, urging him on as a ripple of anticipation coursed through your body. The way he responded to your encouragement fueled the flames burning between you both, a primal dance of exploration that threatened to consume you whole. The sweet agony of your joined movements melded into a symphony of desire, every touch igniting more heat, entwining your souls in the elegance of each heartbeat.

Danny’s grip tightened around your waist, guiding your motions as he pushed you closer to him, losing himself in the shared rhythm that surged through both of you. This was a moment of pure adoration, a tapestry woven with threads of trust, intimacy, and longing, and you never wanted it to end.

In that dance of desperation and desire, you felt yourself spiraling closer to the precipice. With every heartbeat, every gasp, it became clearer just how far you had both come in willingly surrendering to this exquisite connection—as if time itself had slowed, devoting an eternity to simply exploring one another’s bodies, heart, and soul. And you knew you would ride this wave of ecstasy together, savoring every moment as you both continued to dive deeper into the bliss waiting just beyond the horizon.

The rhythm of your bodies crescendoed, weaving a tapestry of raw intimacy and shared pleasure that enveloped you both completely. Each push and pull tugged at the very fabric of your connection, driving you both closer to the edge, where euphoria awaited. As the heat mounted, the intensity of the moment took hold, intensifying every sound, every sigh, and every gasp that escaped your lips and echoed within the intimate space you created.

With every movement, you felt the world around you fading away, leaving only the two of you lost in this profound connection. The buildup within you tightened, coiling like a spring ready to unfurl, and you surrendered to the waves of ecstasy that washed over you, carrying you to heights you had yearned for. The sensations overwhelmed your senses, igniting a fire in every nerve ending.

Danny’s hands, ever steady on your hips, guided you as he thrust deeper, the delicious friction sending jolts of pleasure surging through you. You could see the flicker of determination and desire in his eyes, the embodiment of every plea, every whisper that had brought you to this moment. Each gasp that tumbled from his lips only spurred you on, their urgency urging both of you to give in to the sweet surrender that beckoned.

“Oh, yes,” you breathed, the words spilling out in a rush as the tension built higher within you. “Just like that, Danny. You’re doing so well.” The praise spilled from your lips without thought, and the warmth in his gaze told you just how much those words meant to him. They were a balm to his desire, a reward for his submission—a validation that fired up the longing in you, too.

“Please don’t stop,” he implored, his voice barely more than a whisper, thick with desire and the sweetness of vulnerability. Your heart swelled at his plea; the way his composure slipped and gave way to raw, yearning need deepened your desire. You moved together in a beautifully synchronized dance of bodies, surrendering to the rhythm of passion as if it were an art form being painted by the gentle strokes of your movements.

The crescendo approached, the delicious tension building, and you felt yourself spiraling into that exquisite abyss of release. “I’m so close, Danny,” you gasped, feeling the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing against you as you neared the peak of that euphoric mountain. “Feel me. Feel how much I want this.”

“Me too,” he breathed, eyes wide with an intensity that made your heart race. “I want you more than anything.”

And with the final thrust, everything shattered into a brilliant cascade of sensation. You succumbed to the blissful tide, ripping through you like lightning as waves of pleasure washed over, pulling you both under in the most euphoric embrace. The world exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations, and it felt as though time itself stood still while you cascaded together into the depths of shared ecstasy.

For those moments suspended in time, you were lost to everything but each other, intertwined in a glorious dance of passion that felt both timeless and achingly ephemeral. Each pulse of pleasure resonated deeply within you, a symphony of sensations that harmonized with the depth of your connection, binding you closer together even as you both surrendered to the bliss.

As the waves receded, you found yourself drifting back down, the euphoric high giving way to a blissful haze. You remained entwined, feeling the heaviness of your bodies melded together, both utterly spent yet exhilarated by the experience you had just shared. The beautiful afterglow settled around you like a soft blanket, cocooning you both in warmth and satiation.

With a tender smile, you brushed a few stray strands of hair from Danny's forehead, your heart swelling with love and satisfaction. Finally, you found your voice, soft yet filled with admiration. “Danny, you were incredible,” you praised, your tone filled with the sincerity that pulsed in your heart. “You were so well behaved for me.”

His eyes flickered with a mix of pride and exhaustion, a contented smile playing at the corners of his lips as he reveled in your words. The adoration in your gaze made him even more pliant, the satisfaction coursing through him amplifying the desire to please you in every way possible.

“I missed you so much,” you continued, each word a sweet caress that lingered in the air between you. “Every moment we were apart felt like an eternity, and I was counting down the seconds until I could have you like this again.”

His expression softened, vulnerability painting his features. “I missed you, too. You drive me crazy in the best ways.” He chuckled lightly, the sound warm and reverberating in the quiet space around you. But deep down, you could sense his submissive side shining through even brighter now—the part of him that wanted nothing more than to cater to your needs, to bask in the warmth of your approval.

“Do you know how much I love you?” you whispered, letting the words hang in the air for a moment, letting them settle deeply in his heart. The impact was immediate, and you watched as his skin flushed with a beautiful warmth, a shy smile breaking across his face as he soaked in the affection you showered upon him.

“I love you,” he replied softly, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. “More than I could ever say.” The words carried a weight that resonated deep within you—symbols of your bond, tangible and heartfelt, solidifying the connection that had drawn you together time and again.

You tightened your hold around him, savoring the moment, basking in the glow of your shared intimacy. “You deserve to know how well you did for me today. I’m so proud of you.” Your voice was a gentle murmur, sweet as honey, but your words held a gravity that pressed against the very edges of his heart. They caressed him like a balm, soothing the remnants of vulnerability laid bare in your presence.

He leaned into you, nuzzling against your shoulder, a smile on his face that revealed both satisfaction and contentment. The way his body relaxed against you said so much, as if he were finally letting go of all the reservations that had plagued him before. “I just want to make you happy,” he sighed, the weight of his words settling into the space between your bodies like a promise.

“You are making me happy,” you reassured him, your voice steady and full of warmth. You knew deep down that this was the essence of your connection—the ability to bare your souls to one another, to explore the depths of emotional and physical submission, to let love flow unfettered between your hearts.

As he nestled closer, you could feel him growing heavier against you, exhaustion settling in his bones. The satisfaction radiating from his body was palpable, a blend of vulnerability and sweetness that tugged at your heartstrings. It was a heady feeling, knowing that he had submitted to you so fully, that he had surrendered himself to the experience you crafted together.

In that quiet, tender moment, as he drifted into a gentle repose, you kept your fingers tracing little patterns against his skin, whispering soft words of devotion, letting him know how cherished he truly was. “You’re safe with me, Danny. Always remember that.” Each syllable was drenched in affection, echoing the depths of your feelings that only deepened with every shared heartbeat.

His eyelids fluttered slightly, a blissful smile lingering at the corners of his lips as he melded deeper into your embrace, exhaustion giving way to tranquility. You could see it—the way he relished the satisfaction of the moment, the embodiment of submission to your heart that made everything feel complete.

And as you held him like that, with the world falling quiet around you, you knew that this bond—this connection you shared—was something deeply special, something that transcended the physical plane. It was a beautiful intertwining of souls, a serene dance of love that promised the sweetness of forever. You reveled in the knowledge that each moment together would only serve to strengthen the ties that bound you as individuals who belonged together.

In that deep, affectionate silence, you both drifted further into relaxation, secure in the warmth of one another’s bodies, minds, and hearts—a perfect lullaby of love, connection, and harmony.

[grimoirey]

Grounding

Psychic Grounding Visualisations

Here are a variety of grounding visualizations designed to help you connect deeply with the Earth and anchor your energy. Grounding can make you feel stable, present, and energetically rooted.

These grounding visualizations help you connect with the Earth's energy and stabilize your mind, body, and spirit. You can adapt any of these to fit your personal practice or combine them with other grounding techniques you already use.

Tree Roots

Imagine strong roots growing from the soles of your feet deep into the Earth. As the roots expand, they connect you with the Earth’s core, drawing up stabilizing energy, and anchoring you firmly in place.

Mountain Grounding

Visualize yourself as a mountain, solid and unmovable. Your energy is deeply connected to the Earth, and no external force can shake your inner stability. The mountain’s strength flows through you, grounding you completely.

Earth Cord

Picture a thick cord extending from your Root Chakra down into the Earth. As the cord sinks deeper into the ground, it attaches itself to the Earth’s core, providing a direct line of grounding energy that keeps you stable and connected.

Weighted Blanket

Imagine a heavy, warm blanket draping over your body. The weight presses you gently into the ground, helping you feel secure, calm, and deeply rooted to the Earth beneath you.

Stone in the River

Visualize yourself as a large stone sitting at the bottom of a river. The water flows around you, but you remain solid and grounded in place, immovable as the current swirls past.

Root Chakra Crystal

Envision a deep red crystal glowing at your Root Chakra. As it shines brighter, it pulls your energy downward, connecting you with the stability and strength of the Earth, grounding your mind and body.

Sand Sink

Picture yourself standing on a beach, sinking slowly into the warm sand. The sand surrounds your feet and legs, anchoring you securely to the Earth, making you feel safe and rooted.

Tree of Life

Imagine yourself as the Tree of Life, with branches reaching up toward the sky and roots reaching deep into the Earth. Feel the energy of both the sky and the Earth flowing into your body, grounding you with the strength of the Earth’s energy.

Stone Pillar

Visualize a stone pillar growing up from the Earth beneath you, surrounding your body and grounding you with its weight and stability. The stone’s energy keeps you connected to the ground and unshakable.

Earth Embrace

Picture the Earth’s energy rising up from beneath you and wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. It holds you securely, keeping you grounded and connected to the energy of the planet.

Gravity Well

Visualize yourself standing in the center of a powerful gravity well. The force of gravity pulls your energy downward, anchoring you to the Earth so deeply that no amount of external force can lift you from your grounded state.

Mossy Forest Floor

Imagine walking barefoot through a forest. The cool, mossy ground beneath your feet connects you with the Earth’s energy, and each step you take grounds you more deeply, making you feel rooted and calm.

Earth Light Column

Picture a warm, glowing column of Earth energy rising from the ground and surrounding your body. As the light flows upward, it grounds your energy, pulling you down into alignment with the Earth.

Iron Roots

Envision iron roots growing from the soles of your feet or from your tailbone, sinking deep into the Earth. These roots are unbreakable, providing you with a sense of strength and unwavering stability.

Clay Sculpture

Visualize yourself as a sculpture made of clay, connected directly to the Earth. As you breathe, imagine the clay hardening, solidifying your connection to the Earth, and grounding your energy in place.

Boulder Visualization

Picture yourself sitting on a massive boulder. The boulder’s weight presses into the Earth, and as you sit on it, you feel that same weight grounding you, making you immovable and stable.

Root Chakra Magnet

Imagine a powerful magnet in your Root Chakra, pulling your energy downward into the ground. As the magnet draws energy from your body to the Earth, you feel deeply grounded, solid, and secure.

Crystal Cave Grounding

Picture yourself sitting inside a crystal cave deep within the Earth. The crystals around you radiate grounding energy that flows into your body, stabilizing your energy and connecting you with the Earth’s core.

Stone Circles

Visualize standing in the center of a stone circle. The ancient stones emit grounding energy, which pulls your own energy down into the Earth, helping you feel balanced, centered, and rooted.

Heavy Tree Trunk

Picture yourself as the trunk of a massive tree, so heavy and solid that no external force can move you. Your roots stretch deep into the Earth, providing you with a powerful, unshakable connection to the ground.

Mountain Stream

Imagine standing in a shallow mountain stream, the water cool and flowing around your legs. The energy of the Earth flows up through the water and into your body, grounding you to the rocks beneath you.

Gravity Anchor

Envision yourself dropping an anchor deep into the ground beneath you. The anchor pulls you down, securing you firmly in place and allowing all scattered energy to sink downward, grounding you completely.

Root Network

Picture yourself as part of a vast network of roots, extending deep into the Earth and connecting you to all the living things around you. This root system provides stability, balance, and a deep connection to the Earth’s energy.

Iron Core of the Earth

Visualize a line of energy extending from your Root Chakra down into the iron core of the Earth. As it connects with the core, you feel a strong pull that grounds your energy deeply into the planet’s heart.

Earth Magnetism

Imagine that the magnetic pull of the Earth is strengthening, and it’s drawing your energy downward. As your energy sinks into the ground, you feel more connected, stable, and grounded, with all external noise fading away.

[treetownconfessions]

I dont see people writing stories about fliqpy liking weighted blankets because its such an obscure and stupid thing to headcanon,

because if its important as you say then why arent people making fics and art and stuff about it?

Fuck you.

-

The nice thing about being able to do whatever he wanted, figuratively and literally, extended itself to transactional purposes. Nobody had the courage to stop him from making irresponsible purchases aside from his own host, lest they dig their grave ahead of time. They had the money, and he had the time, so it wasn't like it was going to waste.

His most recent purchase was not actually their first. Flippy had cheerfully presented him a weighted blanket he bought before, assuring him the extra pressure was cozy and nice. He had to experience it to believe it— it sounded restricting and uncomfortable, even wildly unnecessary given their regular blanket worked as intended. How nice it was, discovering Flippy was right! Yet equally surprising. He nearly felt betrayed he wasn’t introduced to it earlier, as if weighted blankets were some big secret Flippy withheld from him this whole time.

The issue did not derive from the fact Fliqpy liked it. The issue was he liked it too much, and one was simply not enough. He swiftly bought a second, expecting it to satiate this deep-rooted desire. It wasn’t until he got a third that Flippy kindly asked him to sleep on the couch, as he was the only one sleeping with these extra additions on his side of the bed, and was giving the mattress an uneven slant. He obliged.

He slept with three weighted blankets, stacked on top of each other as neatly as pages in a book. He took an odd amount of comfort in knowing he could push it all off by his own hand whenever he wanted, when such an amount of external pressure would normally make him panic. Fliqpy didn't know of the origin—not yet, anyway, but he did know he wanted more, and shook Flippy awake in the middle of the night to request he sleep on top of Fliqpy. The other bear groggily (and a little confusedly) accepted, much to Fliqpy's delight. The situation was becoming more of an experiment to find out when he'd cross the line between comfortable-and-uncomfortable rather than napping purposes, but he was okay with that.

Before they settled down in their silly log house, in their comfy bed, where Fliqpy had the luxury of sleeping with multiple weighted blankets atop him and the time to waste with it, the blankets given to them at camps and fronts were, at best, uncomfortable. They captured the stark difference between being heavy and awkward to put around yourself, or the thickness that could rival a napkin; there was no middleground. It wasn't the coziest, but it got the job done. That was all he knew for a while, and it came as a shock when discovering they could have blankets for comfort, and not just efficiency. But laying under the extra weight like this when it was achingly similar to the blankets back in the military was making him wonder if he genuinely liked it, or if it was out of nostalgia.

He wanted to try sleeping on the floor with the blankets, to really capture the uncomfortable-cot feeling and heavy blanket combination to test his theory. Flippy shut that down fast, telling him he wanted him to sleep restfully while they had the privilege of doing so.

Fliqpy couldn’t argue with that.

Though, nostalgia for a time he hadn’t even liked in hindsight sounded, and was, ridiculous. Perhaps the simplicity of his understanding back then was what drove this feeling— but even he knew that was a lie. The thought both relaxed him further into the cushions and made him want to impulsively rip it all off. He hated when his mind was torn between two things; it'd be simpler if he had one feeling and stuck to it. That was too convenient for him.

"I didn't ask to like it this much. I don’t even know why." he flopped down on the couch, frustrated, and gave his host a mild glare to go with it. "You make it sound like I'm doing it deliberately."

Flippy popped a melatonin: he did everynight, it was routine. He slept better than Fliqpy; he didn't stir at every sound like he did and he was satisfied as long as he had something cozy to press up to. He met Fliqpy's eyes with an exasperated look, but it was nothing malicious. "You wanted three of them."

He bought a fourth the next night, and tucked it over both of them. Four weighted blankets and Flippy on top of him. Like laying under rubble, and he reminded himself he could undo all of it anytime he wanted to avoid creeping panic. He could feel Flippy's lazy purring on him even through all the thick fabric, and he listened keenly to every creak and settle in the house. He wasn't laying on the floor, but it was reminiscent of how he used to sleep in the military anyway, and Fliqpy found himself hating it. A profound sense of disappointment washed over him when the fourth addition had not kept him yearning for more: it subdued it. It angered him when he didn’t like it, and then he was angry over his anger of not liking it. He felt empty knowing he was satisfied with this amount, that anymore would cross the line of comfortable like he wanted initially.

Had he liked the chase more than the end result? It wouldn't be the first time it happened to him, but it sounded stupid to compare that to his weighted blanket dilemma. He slept with the regular blanket that night. The weight was gone—though he was tempted to ask Flippy to lay on him again because the feeling was nice—and that earlier dread was replaced with fulfillment. It was airier and easy to snooze in; he just couldn't shake his changing sleeping habits.

It was cut short when he tried to buy a coverlet, with Flippy’s quiet intervention. "I'll knit you something cozy," he'd said with a sigh, "so you don't have to switch between blankets all the time, okay?"

anon you have watered my fucking crops and healed me

[saiacross]

Bonds Unveiled

Supernatural FanFic : 2022 Words : First Work : OC

 Chapter 1:

The Meeting

Eminence, Missouri

Nestled several miles away from the nearest town, a factory stands as a silent sentinel, abandoned. Rising several stories high, its walls now bear the scars of weathering and neglect. Faded patches hint at the vibrant signage that once proudly displayed the factory's name; and windows once gleaming with clarity, are now clouded with layers of dirt and grime. The once bustling parking lot now lies empty, overgrown with weeds and tangled vegetation. The asphalt now cracked and broken; and the distant sound of wildlife serves as a stark reminder of the factory's lost production.

As one approaches stepping through the factory's entrance, a cavernous space opens up, revealing the remnants of a once bustling production floor. The air hangs heavy with stillness, interrupted only by the faint rustling of papers and the occasional creek of metal elsewhere. Blanketed in shadows the factory floor stretches into the distance, beams of light from the clouded windows above providing only minimal viability. A labyrinth of conveyor belts, frozen in time, wind their way through the space, their motionless gears and rollers covered in a thick layer of dust. Abandoned machinery & assembly lines, once the heartbeat of production, now sits idle and forgotten.

As the evening sun cast a warm golden hue across the landscape, a cloud of dust rises in the distance. The rhythmic rumble of a powerful engine reverberates through the air, announcing the arrival of a classic beauty; effortlessly navigating the winding gravel road leading to the factor. Its sleek curves cut through the forested atmosphere. A symbol of timeless Americana. As it pulls closer, the crunch of gravel beneath its tires echoes through the stillness, intertwining with the whispering breeze. The dust settles in its wake, leaving a trail that marks its journey. Each turn of the wheels resonates with purpose and determination as if it itself possesses an unyielding spirit; Thee Black Impala.

As the Impala glides to a stop, the engine's growl tapers off, replaced by an expectant silence. The weight of the moment hangs in the air as the Impala's doors swing open, releasing a burst of energy. Two figures emerge, their steps purposeful and confident. The soft thud of boots hitting the ground marks their arrival. With the factory looming before them, the Impala remains a symbol of their shared journey, a steadfast companion in this unknown territory, a vessel that has carried the duo through countless trials and tribulations. It radiates a sense of familiarity and trust, a sanctuary a midst the unknown.

Two brothers, seasoned hunters; their expressions reflect a unique combination of focused determination and battle-hardened experience. Together, the they share a silent understanding, a nonverbal communication built upon years of hunting side by side. With cautious steps, they approach the entrance of the factory; one pausing on each side of the door, double-check their weapons. With silver bullets loaded & knives at the hips the brothers exchange a brief nod before entering.

______________________________________________________________

Inside the dimly lit factory, shadows dance a midst abandoned machinery. A figure in clad worn jeans and jacket grips a silver dagger tightly in their hand. Its polished blade reflects the glimmers of light that seep through the dirty windows, emphasizing its lethal potential. Their eyes, fierce and unyielding, lock onto the monster before them.

A werewolf, towering and menacing, lunges forward with feral intensity. Its snarls ring through the desolate factory, echoing off the ruined walls. But the dagger wielding  warrior refuses to be swayed by fear, channeling their resolve into every movement. Dodging the werewolf's ferocious strikes with agility and elegance; reflexes honed through countless battles. Each movement is precise, calculated, as they maneuver with the grace as those a predator themselves. The clang of metal against claws echos as the silver dagger meets the werewolf's strike.

With unwavering determination, the warrior seizes an opening, their movements swift and deliberate. In a swift motion, the silver dagger is plunged deep into the werewolf's chest, aiming unerringly for its heart. The beast recoils, a guttural howl escaping as the silver's searing effect courses through its veins. As the werewolf stumbles backward, it’s killer stands firm, watching as the transformation fades, leaving behind the battered form of a defeated creature.

Sun rays filters through the factory windows as clouds pass, casting an ethereal glow upon the solemn scene. A woman emerged victorious, overcoming the fierce threat; her heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and triumph. Taking a moment to catch her breath; her chest rising and falling with exhaustion, she gazes upon the fallen werewolf.

______________________________________________________________

Slipping into the abandoned factory with silent footsteps, the brothers’ presences are cloaked by the shadows. Peering from a concealed vantage point, they observe the valiant struggle between two silhouettes. Their eyes, trained by years of hunting, keenly follow each fluid movement, tracking the ebb and flow of the intense battle.

One brother, taller then the other, furrows brow slightly as his analytical mind works to assess the situation. He notes one figure as a woman with impeccable technique, recognizing the signs of a seasoned fighter. His gaze flickers towards the silver dagger clutched in her hand much like the one he too has brought.

“Who is that?” He would whisper but never looked away.

The other brother has his jaw clenched in quiet determination, watching with a mixture of confusion and concern. His fingers instinctively adjusting around the pistol he holds to his side as he eagerly watches the back and forth between his target and the unknown woman.

“No idea.” His voice low and rough.

As the climactic moment unfolds, the brother’s eyes lock onto the crucial instant when the woman strikes with precision, plunging the silver dagger into the werewolf's heart. Their breath catches in unison as the beast's defeated form crumples to the ground. With only a glance to one another they share a wordless exchange, a silent question amidst the darkness. Despite knowing that they obviously had a shared purpose; an uncertainty still stood. Was this woman friend or foe?

Standing over the body of her pray the woman wipes away it’s blood from her silver blade using her jacket before sliding it back into its sheath that lay against her back; tucked into her jean’s waist band. A subtle shift in the atmosphere catches her attention. A lingering unease prickles at the back of her neck, and she turns her gaze toward the shadows, searching for the source. To her surprise, she locks eyes with two men, standing just beyond the edge of the dusty streams of sunlight. Their presence, revealed in that moment, shatters the tranquility of the scene. Ones empathetic gaze meets hers, while the other’s expression reflects a mixture of curiosity and caution.

A flicker of realization passes across the woman's face as she processes the significance of their presence. Her thoughts race, contemplating their identities and intentions. But before the brothers can calmly approach and initiate a conversation, a sense of urgency and fear grips the woman. Her instincts kick into overdrive, and without hesitation, she takes off, her footsteps echoing through the factory's abandoned halls. The adrenaline-fueled rush compels her to escape, to distance herself from the duo. She navigates the labyrinthine corridors, her heart pounding in her chest once again, as she seeks an exit, a path to freedom.

The men exchange a swift glance, their shared understanding urging them to give chase. With determined resolve, they pursue the woman, their strides purposeful and swift. The clatter of their footsteps mixing in the empty space with the woman’s.

“Wait!” The younger brother called out as they gave chase, navigating the twists and turns of the factory with a with skill. As the woman pushes forward, hurdling over discarded machinery and debris. With each passing moment, the chase intensifies; the woman’s figure fleeting, echoes of her footsteps taunting, and the brother’s pace quickening.

As the chase pushes deeper into the factory's labyrinth, the woman spots a glimmer of hope—an old, rusted door at the far end of the hallway. She channels every ounce of her remaining strength, propelling herself toward it with a renewed surge of energy.

The brothers, undeterred by the obstacles in their path, driven by a shared resolve to bridge the gap between them. Their voices call out, their words laced with a plea for understanding and a desire to help.

Reaching the weathered door the woman’s trembling hands wrestle with the rusted handle as her desperation fuels her. Closing in the brothers footsteps echo loudly as the old brother pulls ahead, reaching out to grab the woman.

Within moments of the door clattering opening, swinging hard enough to hit the side of the building, and the woman stepping foot out into brightly lit outdoors.

“Hold It!” A rash voice commanded. A hand firmly closes around her upper arm. Stopping her in her tracks as the two of the slid to a full stop.

“DEAN!” The woman heard another voice call out, filled with urgency, warning, and caution before she had even turned to face her captor.

“Dean?” She would question as her head snapped around to face the man holding her in place. Her expression one of surprise.

“Yeah?” The shorter of the two brothers answered, his brow creased as he leaned back slightly; taken by the sudden interest as he looked to the other man now standing next to him.

“And Sam? Winechester?” The woman looked to the taller man now standing next to Dean.

“Uhh, Yeah?” Sam answered though it sounded more like a question itself seeing as this is not how he expected the questioning to pan out.

“Great, so you know who we are but who are you, what are you doing here, and where’d you learn to fight like that?” Dean demanded answers more then requested them.

The woman frowned at Dean’s insistence as she sighed and pulled her arm out of his gasp.

“The name is Saia; I came here to stop that werewolf. Same as you right?” She would ask, raising an eye brow and  resting her hands on her hips as she moved her gaze from Dean to Sam.

“So, you’re a hunter?” Sam would ask, motioning to her with his hand as he spoke.

Saia nodded her head but before their conversation could continue the moment was abruptly shattered by the distant wail of police sirens. The urgent sound slices through the air, carrying with it the threat of imminent discovery. The trio exchanges a quick glance, the unspoken agreement forged in their eyes. Without wasting another second, Sam, Dean, and Saia rush towards the side of the building, gravel crunching beneath their rushed foot steps. The pressing need to evade the approaching authorities motivating their movements.

In a seamless motion, Sam produces the keys to the Impala, tossing them to Dean before he takes the passenger seat. Dean slides into the driver's seat, his practiced hands swiftly inserting the key into the ignition. The engine roars to life, a powerful beast ready to devour the miles between them and the approaching police. Saia settles into the backseat, pulse racing as the Impala surges forward, tires spewing gravel as it hurtles away from the factory, leaving behind the encroaching sirens in its wake.

As they speed through the winding roads, the trio exchanges glances. Dean's hands grip the steering wheel with unwavering determination, his focus unyielding. He navigates the roads, his familiarity with the Impala evident in every precise maneuver. Sam leans forward, offering Saia a comforting smile, assuring her that where they are heading is safe.

As the Impala roars into the distance, they leave the abandoned factory and its secrets behind. With each passing mile, the trio becomes a formidable force, bound together not only by the pursuit of justice but by the bonds of friendship and the shared weight of their chosen path. The road stretches out before them, a canvas for the battles they will face and the victories they will claim as they embark on a new chapter in their intertwined destinies.

End Chapter.

[thebandcampdiaries]

Fever Moon has released a new studio album: “God’s Heart”

Six songs that offer a deep dive into the sound of classic alternative rock.

Fever Moon, has just released its highly anticipated mini-album titled “God’s Heart”, which features six songs. The tracks capture the raw edge of the 90s sound, while embracing the immediacy of the contemporary alternative rock scene.

The album was released on May 5th and has been receiving positive praise from fans of alternative rock and indie music alike. Fever Moon’s signature sound is reminiscent of bands like Husker Du, Sebadoh, Armchair Martian, Dead Rituals, Cloud Nothings and Dinosaur Jr., making it a must-listen for aficionados of these groups, and more. 

Although many of the songs are adorned with blankets of heavily distorted guitars, the melody is still an essential aspect of this release. The contrast between the raw tone of the songs and the genuine twist of the vocals allows for more emotional depth and range to be conveyed through the music. The album is a perfect example of how catchy songs don't need to be overly slick and that making music sound more "human" still highlights the true weight of the feelings behind each track. This approach makes for a sense of unity between the music and the lyrics, allowing for a more cohesive listening experience.

The album opener, which happens to be the title track itself, is a perfect introduction. It features a fuzzy, huge soundscape, which swiftly sets the tone for the entire track. The second song, "Old Ghost Ruin," juxtaposes strummed acoustic guitars with distorted electric rhythms and dynamic drumming, adding to the overall energy and intensity of the track. The third track, "Parasitic Sympathy," happens to be a more introspective moment on the album. The vocals are raw and passionate, complementing the instrumental arrangement in a more personal way. The song "Foolin'" shows a different side, with a stronger focus on soothing yet upbeat acoustic melodies. The song's structure is well-crafted, with effective use of big acoustic guitar parts and sparse drums to build an engaging rhythm, while highlighting the personable and poetic lyricism. "The Lost Boys" is a return to the band's fuzzier format, and it immediately stands out with a heavy palm-muted riff that accompanies the vocal melody to perfection. Fuzz is the perfect type of distortion for a song like this because it enhances the complexity of the chords with some harmonic overtones that turn a relatively straight-forward strumming pattern into a more layered wall of sound. 

Last but not least, the song "If I Lose" is a minimalistic outro to this mini-album. 

This is an acoustic track that feels more intimate and personal, offering a deeper insight into Fever Moon's ability to combine gritty indie aesthetics with a more vulnerable and earnest approach to songwriting.

In addition, the artwork is really spot-on as well, as it is reminiscent of the work of greats like Raymond Pettibon, known for his visuals for bands such as Sonic Youth and Black Flag, among others. The use of a highly contrasting black-and-white palette creates a sense of urgency and immediacy that works with the dynamics of the music. The image conveys the emotions and themes behind the songs.

To conclude, this album serves as a great introduction to Fever Moon's blend of indie rock, punk, and alternative rock. It creates a very immersive and energetic musical experience with its back-to-basics yet meticulously well-crafted sound. Throughout the mini-album, the guitar work is particularly impressive with its well-orchestrated chaos, consisting of distorted and fuzz-heavy parts that still retain a lot of melody. In much the same way, the drums and bass provide a solid foundation for the guitar to shine, and the overall production gives the album a 90s throwback feel that adds to its charm. It is safe to say that people who enjoy listening to classic and contemporary alternative rock will appreciate the raw and unpolished sound of "God's Heart."

Find out more about Fever Moon and listen to this release on your favorite digital streaming services.

https://open.spotify.com/album/4uAH4hBuJ1EQeeniYQLeB0

https://www.youtube.com/@fevermoon1134/videos

https://www.instagram.com/mysterycuts/

https://twitter.com/mysterycuts

[moongoddessmox]

Plums in Bucharest | Chapter Six

Warning: 18+, angst, violence, mentions of death, fighting, blood, weapons. Some language.

Word Count: 5,111

Pairing: CW!Bucky x Plus Size!Reader

Summary: Bucky, Steve, and Reader confront Tony. Zemo stirs up deadly trouble.

A/N: This loosely follows Civil War, I did change some things to fit my story, but it's still rooted in CW with real dialogue. Going strong, there will be another part! Crossposted on mox-writes for notification purposes!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Mox-Writes

1:27 AM.

The red digital clock illuminated the dark wood of the nightstand it sat on, its dim light reaching the mattress just enough to see the edge covered halfway with a messy blanket. The dark room was cold, the air felt like the dull sting of a winter breeze being inhaled through sensitive nostrils, begging for warm relief. You watched the ceiling, the spinning shadow of the ceiling fan being cast across it by the light of the clock. The only other light in the room was the flashing green bulb of the smoke alarm on the ceiling. You listened to your surroundings; it was quiet, too quiet. It was missing the soft breathing of your partner, the rustling of his moving body in the bed, the peaceful sounds of the man you loved more than life itself–the man you begged to see every day. Begged the sky, your heart, the universe, the voice in your head, him in every letter you wrote but couldn’t send. Begged no one in particular and everyone at the same time.

The weight on your mind kept you in bed, staring at the shadows dancing across the ceiling, feeling the hurt creep across every inch of your skin. You felt numb, you didn’t have any thoughts, and tears couldn’t be produced anymore; you felt like a zombie just dragging through your mandatory daily tasks. You weren’t sure when the last time you cleaned was, or the last time you did laundry–you did know you were running out of clothes to put on, showing up to work in less and less fashionable combinations as the days passed. You weren’t even sure if you had eaten in the last three days. It didn’t feel like it. Your stomach churned as it shot sharp pains throughout your abdomen, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t move. Letting your body feel the pain of hunger because it was the only thing you could feel anymore.

Your heavy eyelids dragged down, feeling as if they were being pulled by anchors, the dryness of your eyes stinging as your lids covered them. The only way you slept was from pure exhaustion. Your body physically fought against your mind to allow some rest, although it was never a relief. You never felt rejuvenated, just less exhausted, just enough to manage through work. You didn’t talk to anyone anymore, your transactions were silent and cold. The people at the market missed the warmth of your smile as you greeted them, the kids stopped hanging around, just dropped off their notes and art in hopes that you’d eventually see them. You never did. Not finding joy in the love of the town anymore. You felt like a ghost of yourself in the busy Bucharest crowd. A wanderer lost on the way to nowhere, standing in the middle of a sea of people but not being seen.

As the darkness crept into your mind, you were filled with your final thoughts of him. Another reason you couldn’t sleep, seeing his face in your dreams felt like a nightmare more than a blessing. The pain on his face, the sparking of his arm, the cry that fell from your lips that could shake the earth to its core. Maybe it was his cry. His eyes blurred from the waterfall of tears as he watched you fall to the ground. You couldn’t tell anymore, your screams blurred together until all you heard was anguish.

–One Month Earlier–

The gun in your hand was held steady and extended out in front of you, ready to fire at the first sign of danger as you traversed the concrete building. Bucky stood by your side, one eye occasionally looking through the scope of his rifle as you followed Steve, who had his shield up and made sure the coast was clear. The journey to this moment was less than ideal, an explosive fight at an airport that left more than a few of Steve’s “superfriends”, as you called them, bloodied and jailed. You had only gotten away from the fight with the help of the only familiar face, Nat, although Bucky protested you coming with him. He and Steve were supersoldiers, they could handle a group of genetically modified individuals. You, on the other hand, were just a normal human. No serum, no super strength, just an impressive skill set that didn’t help much to prevent you from being crushed to death by the muscle of the people you were looking for there. Clearly, Bucky didn’t know you well enough to know that his protests were falling on deaf ears.

Siberia was cold and snowy, which left a trail of wet footprints from the three of you. Unfortunately, Zemo had a long enough headstart that his prints were dried, leaving you to rely on the sounds echoing through the facility. Bucky would periodically look over to you, your quiet figure so stealthy he needed to check that you were still beside him. It gave him a weird feeling, seeing you in your full gear, weapons and all. It was a stark difference from Bucharest. He knew from your scar-littered body that you had a past, one that was a struggle to discuss, but he never imagined it’d be this. An assassin. So similar to him, yet so out-of-place for the woman he thought he knew. He wasn’t complaining, it was nice that he could feel some sort of relief in the shared occupation, but it also worried him. His love for you would never waver, but he wondered how much you’d done, who you were before, if you were still active, if you felt remorse like he did. You still had your things, but did you still take contracts? Who did you work for? He was insatiably curious and just wanted this whole Zemo thing to be over with so he could finally sit down and discuss things with you. This wasn’t how he wanted to find out about your past, and it wasn’t how he wanted to tell you about his.

You looked at Bucky too. Not to check if he was there, the whirring of his metal arm was a comfortable reminder that he was still with you, but you watched him in this new manner. In Romania, he was soft, gentle, kind, and timid. Here he was hard, scared, and on edge. Seeing him with his arm exposed, gun in hand, made your heart hurt for him. Sure, he always seemed like he wanted more than a quiet little orchard life, but he didn’t want this. Guns and fighting. You didn’t know how much of this life he wanted, but you knew he still wanted you. You could see it in his eye, and it relieved you.

A loud thud echoed in the room from behind you, prompting the three of you to whip around, guns ready. Steve got in front of you with his shield and knelt down as you aimed just over his shoulder. Bucky was behind you on a step, his rifle next to your arm and the warmth of his body gliding over your back. No one moved as you listened to the door creak, someone on the other side finding their way through the metal. You held your breath as the door began to part, waiting for the danger to come through. You weren’t sure if you were hoping it was Zemo or the other Winter Soldiers, both had their pros and cons. Bucky and Steve still didn’t know about your connection to Zemo, it was one piece of information you preferred to keep to yourself. However, you weren’t sure how you were going to handle it when you did come face-to-face with him. He was your boss, your mentor since you were a child; he trained you and practically raised you. You felt loyal to him even despite your hatred for this life.

You heard Bucky tighten his grip on the handle of his gun, the leather on his flesh hand squeaking softly as it rubbed against it. The seam of the door was pushed open allowing a bright light to shine through. You watched as red metal hands pried the metal apart and Tony Stark in his Iron Man suit stepped into the room. You and Bucky stayed firm in your positions, not trusting Stark after the all-out war you just had at the airport, which left you with more than a few bruises. Steve, however, lowered his shield and stood up, taking a few steps toward Tony.

“You seem a little defensive,” Stark said after opening his helmet to reveal his bruised face.

“It’s been a long day,” Steve responded, eyeing Tony to anticipate his next move. Bucky moved to stand in front of you, acting as a shield for your normal-human body. You let out a small huff in protest, despite being weaker and more prone to death, you still wanted to protect Bucky and that meant you’d take a bullet for him if it came down to it. Bucky exhaled deeply in response, an unspoken argument about who would protect who. Tony looked up at the two of you with your guns still on him, ready to make a split-second decision. Your blood was boiling more than anyone there knew. According to Zemo, Tony was still trying to kill Bucky, and you still had your assignment to assassinate Stark. You couldn’t do it there, not in front of Steve and Bucky, especially when Tony didn’t give you a reason to fire. But you knew that you’d have to do it eventually.

“At ease soldier, I’m not currently after you,” Tony directed his voice to Bucky, who only squinted and steadied his gun. On the jet to Siberia, Steve gave you the story of how this whole mess of a situation started. Zemo, or “the Doctor” as they only knew him, had blown up the UN to flush Bucky out of hiding. That’s why he was talking to him at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre, he wanted information about the other Winter Soldiers that were created after Bucky. That’s why you were in Siberia, you needed to find the soldiers before Zemo could control them to do his bidding. It made sense to you, super-soldiers would make incredible assassins for Zemo’s business. He always wanted the best in the world to take out people who thought they were so high above everyone else they could do whatever they wanted. He hated people in power who abused it, that’s why all of your missions were people with an insane amount of power and all the wrong intentions.

But it was because of Zemo’s plan that Bucky was on the radar for Tony, he thought he was responsible for the deaths of all the people at the UN. At the fight at the airport, Steve tried to convince Stark that it wasn’t him, but he wouldn’t listen, he wouldn’t give up until he had Bucky taken in, dead or alive. And that’s what kept you fueled to complete your mission. You were willing to let it go, but Stark wasn’t. Little did he know, he was signing his death certificate because of his pride.

You still had your gun aimed at Tony, both you and Bucky were unmoved until he motioned to the two of you standing there like predators.

“You guys can relax, there’s a truce here,” he rolled his eyes. Steve motioned for you to lower your weapons and you did so reluctantly, and only after Bucky had lowered his, trusting Steve more than you did. After deciding to find Zemo together, the four of you continued to explore the large building. You hung in the back to keep an eye on Tony, plotting when you would take your chance to kill him, deciding how to do it, wondering if Bucky would ever forgive you.

You entered a large room with several cryostasis chambers. As Tony scanned the room, he registered only one heat signature, despite the various chambers filled with the super-soldiers. Walking around the room, you looked at each person whose tanks were now lit and illuminated their dead bodies. Shit. Zemo didn’t want to use the soldiers, he wanted them dead. Knowing him, that meant bad news for the three men you were with.

“If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep.” Zemo’s voice echoed through the room, prompting everyone to look around for him. As he walked, Bucky reached out one hand down beside him, motioning for you to stay close to him. You brushed your hip against his outstretched fingers until he hummed softly, feeling your cold body close to him. He put his hand back on his rifle and slowly inched through the room, making sure to keep you safe. You stayed by his side, not knowing what Zemo could do next, and not trusting Stark.

“Did you really think I wanted more of you?” Zemo’s voice echoed again. A light switched on at the end of the room, revealing Zemo’s form standing behind a window. Steve instinctively threw his shield at him, hoping to stop whatever he was planning but Zemo just chuckled.

“Please, Captain. The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets,” he explained through his speaker. You and Bucky hung back, watching Steve walk straight toward Zemo’s window and Tony circling around, guns ready to fire.

“I guess I should explain why you are here, hm?” his voice was cocky like his plan was falling perfectly into place. It felt like your heart was going to beat right out of your chest in fear of what he was going to say, the anticipation of your real plan being revealed had your stomach-turning. Steve stood right in front of Zemo, watching him like a hawk, waiting for his next words and analyzing the situation to figure out how to get to him.

“I was a Baron in Sokovia. Though, I had business all over the world,” Zemo flashed his eyes to you which made you tense up, gritting your teeth together and hoping he wouldn’t mention your name, “Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. But–” he paused, swallowing hard at the next words.

“You lost someone?” Steve interrupted, eyes softening the slightest bit in remorse and pity.

“I lost everyone.” Zemo corrected, trying desperately to suppress the tears that tried to well up in his brown eyes. “And so will you.” A nearby computer turned on, playing a video of a street cam. The four of you gathered to the screen and watched it. Tony immediately recognized the street, yelling for an explanation. As soon as Bucky saw the video play, he dropped his head, stepping back from the group and holding back tears of his own. You watched him shrink into himself, Bucky cowering under the exterior of the Winter Soldier as his past was being brought to life on video. Furrowing your brows, you took a step toward him which only made him step back again. Just like the night of your party when he met your friends. He became small and panicked, emotions running wild as he tried to keep his composure. You wanted to comfort him but he wouldn’t let you.

In the video, a car crashed and a man on a motorcycle circled back around it before picking up the driver from the ground and punching him until he was dead. You flinched as you watched it, normally you wouldn’t, you’d killed your fair share of people in much worse ways, but this was different. This was Bucky. He went around to the passenger side, choking the woman inside the car until she lay lifeless against the dashboard.

Tony immediately lunged at Bucky, his emotions running wild as he witnessed the murder of his parents. You lifted your gun and aimed it at him, ready to shoot on the spot. Bucky flinched back, raising his rifle reluctantly as Steve stopped Tony from going any further. As Cap tried to reason with him, Bucky glanced at you. Shame riddled his face as tears slipped from his eyes. God, what you must think of him. It hurt him more than anything to have you witness what he’d done, seeing him with no remorse and no hesitation on that video. He felt like a monster and could only imagine that you viewed him as one. But you didn’t. You knew that wasn’t him, that wasn’t the Bucky you built a relationship with, that wasn’t who he was; that was the Winter Soldier.

Tony stepped back, processing the moment but no one let their guard down. You all knew he wouldn’t let it go, and he didn’t, he immediately shot at Bucky, pushing Steve away and putting his helmet back on. You dodged out of the way as Tony blasted more beams from his repulsors, trying to kill Bucky in a rage. You rolled on the cold ground, getting behind Stark and shooting into his back. His suit made it impossible to stop him, you quickly found out it was bulletproof and would need to find another way to slow him down.

The shots to his back made him turn around to face you, blasting another ray in your direction, not caring who he killed. One shot from his repulsor and you’d be dead–all the more reason to disable it somehow. You yelled out as you jumped from its path, tucking and rolling out of sight as you hid behind an old control panel. Zemo still stood behind his window, watching the chaos ensue with a smirk. You furrowed your brows at him, hurt that he didn’t care who survived in the room, namely you. Steve threw his shield at Tony and it bounced off of him, knocking him back. The shield made its way back to Steve’s grasp and was followed by another deadly blast from Stark.

“Tony, stop! You’re going to kill someone,” Steve pleaded, quickly glancing at you then Bucky, who was gathering himself from being knocked down.

“He killed my mom, you’re going to have to kill me to stop me, Rogers,” Tony seethed, momentarily pausing his attacks. Zemo tsked, drawing their attention to his smirking face.

“Ah, but you don’t have it in you to kill, do you, Captain? That’s why she’s here.” Zemo’s thick accent ran chills across your skin as he looked you dead in the eyes, standing from your hiding spot, gun in hand and jaw clenched. The three men in the room with you all turned to face you, each with different expressions. Steve looked like a confused puppy, disbelief spread across his face as he was told your connection to Zemo. Tony just looked angry and upset, realizing just how much more of an enemy you were to him. But Bucky, Bucky was crushed. His heart raced a million miles a second as he became flooded with more emotions than he thought possible. He didn’t know what to think, he didn’t know what to say, or how to process the information. Were you really just there to kill them? Was all of it a lie? Why didn’t you tell him about Zemo?

“Buck…” you spoke softly, not caring about the other two men. Bucky choked back another sob, shaking his head slightly and blinking away tears. “It’s not what you think, I promise,”

“You’re working for him?” Steve questioned, his voice stern and confused.

“Not-not necessarily,” you didn’t know how to explain it. You didn’t have time to go over the whole story, not that it would matter much anyway, they wouldn’t believe you, and based on the events of the night, you’d still be eliminating Tony if he didn’t stop his attack on Bucky.

“Nice friends you got here, Rogers,” Stark broke the silence and sent a blast directly to Steve. He blocked it with his shield and looked at you, but you had run off after Tony.

Bucky was caught in Stark’s grasp, being dragged across the ground as he desperately tried to fight him off. You leaped onto his back, wrapping an arm around his throat, and attempted to pull him back. Tony stumbled and released Bucky before throwing you across the room and being knocked away himself by Steve’s shield. Bucky got up, rushing over to you worried about your condition. The truth coming out didn’t stop him caring about you, and he knew all about circumstances needing explanations. You’d stuck by him through everything, the least he could do was give you the benefit of the doubt.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a panic as you groaned, your head starting to bleed from where it made contact with a pole. You just shook your head yes, slowly getting up and holding onto Bucky. Steve kept Tony busy while you ran away to the exit. The debris of the crumbling building swept through the air, stinging your eyes with dust and making you cough as you tried to find your way through it. Zemo was long gone, not wanting to stay behind to see the aftermath of his plan. Trusting that you’d still kill Tony, and Tony would kill both Steve and Bucky.

“Can you jump?” Bucky asked as he opened the large hatch on the ceiling. You looked up at the tall platforms leading to the roof–to the outside. Shit. You sighed, it was a long way to the top.

“Yeah, I can get up there,” you unhooked a small device from your belt. A mini grappling hook with enough strength to pull your body up to each platform. Bucky watched as you latched onto the first tier and flew through the air until you flipped onto the metal grate. The corner of his mouth twitched with a smile as he watched you effortlessly fling yourself to another platform.

A blast from Tony shook Bucky from his thoughts, dodging out of the way as he jumped and climbed the platforms himself. Steve was right behind Stark, trying desperately to fight him off and slow him down so that the two of you could escape but Tony blasted the shield away, leaving Steve with just his strength. Tony, now struggling with a damaged suit, aimed to fire at Bucky who was nearing you at the top of the room. His targeting system was too damaged to lock onto Bucky’s moving form, allowing him to reach the roof with you. You sat on the ledge, reaching your hand out to Bucky to grab to hoist himself up, but just as he reached for you, a single blast came flying through the air and made contact with the open hatch. Bucky grabbed your body and cradled it as you fell with the destroyed structure, now trapped inside.

You fell down a few platforms, grunting as you slammed into Bucky’s body that made contact with the metal floor. He lost his grasp on you and you rolled away, almost off the edge before catching yourself. Bucky groaned and immediately got eyes on you to make sure you were okay, which you were, you were a hell of a lot tougher than he thought. As you collected yourself, Tony flew up to your platform and tried attacking Bucky, who swung a pole at him. You jumped on Stark’s back and unsheathed your knife, stabbing into the creases of his suit to try and sever something. You heard him groan through his helmet and as you pulled the knife from the groove of his shoulder, it was covered in blood. You stabbed through again, and again, until he was too distracted to shoot at Bucky. Tony tried shaking you off, flinging your body from side to side in an attempt to get you to let go, but you held on, driving the knife further into his shoulder. Finally, Tony grabbed a hold of Bucky and let himself fall down the tall shaft. Steve jumped onto the three of you and pulled your weight faster, crashing you down hard to the concrete floor.

You yelled out in pain as your hip slammed the ground. Yup, definitely broken, fuck. You rolled to try and get some relief, unable to focus on anything but the sharp shattering pain shooting through your body. Bucky had rolled down further than you and laid there for a moment to collect himself. Meanwhile, Steve had resumed fighting Tony and was pinned underneath him as the suited-man threw punches. The new location was freezing, arches in the building led to the outside and brought in the snowy breeze, chilling your body to its core. You tried to focus on anything but your leg, but the pain of the cold felt just as bad. The sounds of the men fighting made you crawl to the edge of the floor, you were a little higher up than them and watched as Steve and Bucky traded the shield back and forth, trying desperately to knock Tony down.

Despite your hip, you couldn’t lay there and watch, you had to do something. You took a deep breath and swung your legs to the edge, sliding down the steep platform before crying out in pain when your heels hit the ground, jolting your hip. You reached into your boot and pulled out a small device in the shape of a star, with the press of a button it lit up and you tossed it onto Stark’s right arm. Immediately it zapped and shut down all systems in his arm making it unusable. He whipped his head around to look at you and Bucky took the chance to pin him against the wall, clawing at the arc reactor in his chest in an attempt to disable him. You tried to stand up, feeling like your hip would shatter even more under the pressure but needing to help Bucky.

As you slowly limped over, Tony blasted a beam from his chest, shooting off Bucky’s metal arm, leaving behind burnt sizzling wires. You screamed, falling to your knees beside him as he gasped for air. Despite the arm being metal, he could feel every single thing that happened to it, which made your heart ache for him that much more.

“Bucky? Bucky, hey, look at me,” you held his face as blood poured down his cheeks, the light going out in his eyes as he struggled to stay awake, “listen to me, I need you to stay awake okay? I love you so much, Bucky, please stay awake for me. I’m so sorry, god, I’m so sorry,” your tears dripped down onto his face, streaking through the blood. Bucky’s eyes were on you, he never let go of your gaze but he couldn’t speak, the pain was too overwhelming for him to manage words.

“I need you to know I never meant for this to happen, I thought I was just doing a job, I didn’t want this. He-he said Tony was going to hurt you, Buck, I didn’t want back in this life. I just want you, I just want to take you back to Bucharest, pick plums with you again, remember the market? We could run the stand together, Buck,” you were trying so hard to keep his attention, keep his eyes open and on you. You weren’t even aware of your surroundings anymore, it was just you and Bucky. All of the sudden, you felt a sharp pain in your ribs. It took you by surprise, the adrenaline of your panic over Bucky numbed it for a moment, until you looked down to see Bucky’s eyes wide with horror as a beam of light ripped through your ribcage.

“Buck?” you couldn’t even scream. The pain was so overwhelming that you could only manage his name before you fell over, lying unconscious next to Bucky. Bucky’s scream of anguish ripped through your subconscious as he watched you pass out. He thought you died. Your lifeless body lay on the cold ground with a searing hole through one side of your ribs.

That was the last thing you remembered. When you woke up, you were laid up in a hospital bed, thick bandages wrapped tightly around your ribcage as you struggled to breathe. The soft beeping of your monitor was the only sound you could hear as you groggily shifted in bed. No one was around, not even a nurse. You heard the monitor’s beep pick up pace as you remembered Bucky, concern for him replaced every feeling you felt for yourself. You were frantic to find him, find out what happened to him.

A doctor finally came into the room and calmed you down, telling you to take it easy so you don’t open your sutures. You calmed down enough to notice that she wasn’t a regular doctor, her attire was odd. A lab coat with a tech logo on it, glasses that you could see had a camera right in the middle of the frames, and on her clipboard were blueprints and mechanics to some sort of device. Before you had time to question her, she handed you a small card.

“Someone left this for you,” she motioned to a bouquet of flowers sitting on the bedside table. You opened the card, weakly thumbing over the scribbled ink as you tried to adjust your eyes to read it.

He’s gone. Take care of yourself, Y/N. -Steve.

You felt your heart fall to the floor, tears immediately pouring from your eyes as you uncontrollably sobbed. The sutures ripped open, causing you to bleed onto your mattress but you didn’t care. Bucky was gone. Your Bucky was gone. Zemo was right. Tony Stark was going to kill him and you failed your mission to protect him.

–Present Day–

1:27 AM.

Your eyes dragged closed, finally allowing the exhaustion to take over your body. The soft clack of the ceiling fan chains rhythmically lulled you to sleep, darkening your mind as the nothingness washed over you. Slumber, sweet, sweet, sleep. Your breathing calmed down as you fell into the black void of your unconscious. A few moments passed as you rested, mind on nothing, no dreams ever visited you anymore, just the images of Bucky lying on the ground with no arm, screaming out to you as you fell to the ground. As the first flash of Bucky’s pain-filled face appeared in your mind, you shot your eyes open, jolting up from the bed and sitting up in the dark in realization.

Gone.

Gone. Not dead. He said gone.

[on-stained-glass-wings]

Kaitlyn for Malenia

Dylan for Miquella

KAITLYN: does your muse considers themselves a leader ? would they easily step into that position in a crisis ? 

Absolutely. Even if Malenia hadn't emerged from the womb a screaming, type A combatant, she'd have taken the burden of leadership without hesitation for Miquella's sake. The Goddess of Decay is of the opinion that if you want something done right, then to just do it yourself, and she has no qualms about ordering her men around to achieve her goals.

Aside from being a military leader? Well, one of the many reasons she fled Leyndell in her teenage-hood was to loose the shackles tying her to the Golden Throne, but the Kingdom of the Haligtree is a completely different beast. She has never once wavered in her dedication to their people, and if Miquella ever needs a break from kinghood, she's kneeling to take the figurative weight before he even gets the chance to ask. She prefers being the Protector of the Haligtree to its queen, but...not even her dazzling brother can do it all alone, and so long as she draws breath, never will he be.

- - -

DYLAN: does your muse get anxious in social situations or are they comfortable in them ? would they describe themselves as sarcastic or immature ? additionally, would they say they’re good at making possibly life-changing snap decisions ? 

As someone who spent his early life in Leyndell being the equivalent of Marika's tiny purse dog at parties, Miquella knows his way around a formal scenario. Whether it's bemusing guests at a gala with his wit and humor or selecting the correct utensils at a formal dinner, Miquella talks the talk and walks the walk of one who was destined from birth to be the heir to Marika's throne. He can charm the bloomers off off countesses and delight dukes with vicarious tales of his sister's military success. With such charisma--combined with his innocent, angelic looks and eternal childhood--Miquella can easily ply the secrets from even the tightest of lips, and he has found such secrets to be more than beneficial in establishing his own kingdom.

Of all the lessons Marika tried to teach him when growing up, the one Miquella internalized more than any other was the notion that 'knowledge can be more powerful than the Elden Beast itself'. He has never been able to heft a sword or draw a bow, so he weaves the air about him with incantations, and he laces his words with the poison of frittered secrets.

(This doesn't mean that Miquella loves such social situations, however; he often spends at least half of the following day asleep, and he'll hiss like a half-drowned cat if anyone but Malenia dares to disturb his blanket cocoon.)

Don't let Miquella's angelic looks and deceptively sweet tongue fool you, however; this kid is definitely far more on the sarcastic side. While he does have his immature moments (because he can't escape being an eternal child with an eternal child brain), he only willingly shows such a side to his sister. You'd have to get him very cranky and tired to even have a chance at glimpsing his immaturity in public.

In terms of life-changing snap decisions, Miquella isn't as good at them as one would expect. While he's very strategic in his thinking, the God of Abundance prefers to actually have enough time to do so, and he will take a long con over a short game any day of the week. He will make a snap decision if forced, but that doesn't mean he likes it, and it especially doesn't mean he never looks back on his decisions with a hindsight heavy with regret.

(See: the decision to send Malenia to Caelid while he entered hibernation. Really, really regrets that one.)

[mox-writes]

Plums in Bucharest | Chapter Six

Warning: 18+, angst, violence, mentions of death, fighting, blood, weapons. Some language.

Word Count: 5,111

Pairing: CW!Bucky x Plus Size!Reader

Summary: Bucky, Steve, and Reader confront Tony. Zemo stirs up deadly trouble.

A/N: This loosely follows Civil War, I did change some things to fit my story, but it's still rooted in CW with real dialogue. Going strong, there will be another part! Crossposted on moongoddessmox!

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven

1:27 AM.

The red digital clock illuminated the dark wood of the nightstand it sat on, its dim light reaching the mattress just enough to see the edge covered halfway with a messy blanket. The dark room was cold, the air felt like the dull sting of a winter breeze being inhaled through sensitive nostrils, begging for warm relief. You watched the ceiling, the spinning shadow of the ceiling fan being cast across it by the light of the clock. The only other light in the room was the flashing green bulb of the smoke alarm on the ceiling. You listened to your surroundings; it was quiet, too quiet. It was missing the soft breathing of your partner, the rustling of his moving body in the bed, the peaceful sounds of the man you loved more than life itself–the man you begged to see every day. Begged the sky, your heart, the universe, the voice in your head, him in every letter you wrote but couldn’t send. Begged no one in particular and everyone at the same time.

The weight on your mind kept you in bed, staring at the shadows dancing across the ceiling, feeling the hurt creep across every inch of your skin. You felt numb, you didn’t have any thoughts, and tears couldn’t be produced anymore; you felt like a zombie just dragging through your mandatory daily tasks. You weren’t sure when the last time you cleaned was, or the last time you did laundry–you did know you were running out of clothes to put on, showing up to work in less and less fashionable combinations as the days passed. You weren’t even sure if you had eaten in the last three days. It didn’t feel like it. Your stomach churned as it shot sharp pains throughout your abdomen, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t move. Letting your body feel the pain of hunger because it was the only thing you could feel anymore.

Your heavy eyelids dragged down, feeling as if they were being pulled by anchors, the dryness of your eyes stinging as your lids covered them. The only way you slept was from pure exhaustion. Your body physically fought against your mind to allow some rest, although it was never a relief. You never felt rejuvenated, just less exhausted, just enough to manage through work. You didn’t talk to anyone anymore, your transactions were silent and cold. The people at the market missed the warmth of your smile as you greeted them, the kids stopped hanging around, just dropped off their notes and art in hopes that you’d eventually see them. You never did. Not finding joy in the love of the town anymore. You felt like a ghost of yourself in the busy Bucharest crowd. A wanderer lost on the way to nowhere, standing in the middle of a sea of people but not being seen.

As the darkness crept into your mind, you were filled with your final thoughts of him. Another reason you couldn’t sleep, seeing his face in your dreams felt like a nightmare more than a blessing. The pain on his face, the sparking of his arm, the cry that fell from your lips that could shake the earth to its core. Maybe it was his cry. His eyes blurred from the waterfall of tears as he watched you fall to the ground. You couldn’t tell anymore, your screams blurred together until all you heard was anguish.

–One Month Earlier–

The gun in your hand was held steady and extended out in front of you, ready to fire at the first sign of danger as you traversed the concrete building. Bucky stood by your side, one eye occasionally looking through the scope of his rifle as you followed Steve, who had his shield up and made sure the coast was clear. The journey to this moment was less than ideal, an explosive fight at an airport that left more than a few of Steve’s “superfriends”, as you called them, bloodied and jailed. You had only gotten away from the fight with the help of the only familiar face, Nat, although Bucky protested you coming with him. He and Steve were super-soldiers, they could handle a group of genetically modified individuals. You, on the other hand, were just a normal human. No serum, no super strength, just an impressive skill set that didn’t help much to prevent you from being crushed to death by the muscle of the people you were looking for there. Clearly, Bucky didn’t know you well enough to know that his protests were falling on deaf ears.

Siberia was cold and snowy, which left a trail of wet footprints from the three of you. Unfortunately, Zemo had a long enough headstart that his prints were dried, leaving you to rely on the sounds echoing through the facility. Bucky would periodically look over to you, your quiet figure so stealthy he needed to check that you were still beside him. It gave him a weird feeling, seeing you in your full gear, weapons and all. It was a stark difference from Bucharest. He knew from your scar-littered body that you had a past, one that was a struggle to discuss, but he never imagined it’d be this. An assassin. So similar to him, yet so out-of-place for the woman he thought he knew. He wasn’t complaining, it was nice that he could feel some sort of relief in the shared occupation, but it also worried him. His love for you would never waver, but he wondered how much you’d done, who you were before, if you were still active, if you felt remorse like he did. You still had your things, but did you still take contracts? Who did you work for? He was insatiably curious and just wanted this whole Zemo thing to be over with so he could finally sit down and discuss things with you. This wasn’t how he wanted to find out about your past, and it wasn’t how he wanted to tell you about his.

You looked at Bucky too. Not to check if he was there, the whirring of his metal arm was a comfortable reminder that he was still with you, but you watched him in this new manner. In Romania, he was soft, gentle, kind, and timid. Here he was hard, scared, and on edge. Seeing him with his arm exposed, gun in hand, made your heart hurt for him. Sure, he always seemed like he wanted more than a quiet little orchard life, but he didn’t want this. Guns and fighting. You didn’t know how much of this life he wanted, but you knew he still wanted you. You could see it in his eye, and it relieved you.

A loud thud echoed in the room from behind you, prompting the three of you to whip around, guns ready. Steve got in front of you with his shield and knelt down as you aimed just over his shoulder. Bucky was behind you on a step, his rifle next to your arm and the warmth of his body gliding over your back. No one moved as you listened to the door creak, someone on the other side finding their way through the metal. You held your breath as the door began to part, waiting for the danger to come through. You weren’t sure if you were hoping it was Zemo or the other Winter Soldiers, both had their pros and cons. Bucky and Steve still didn’t know about your connection to Zemo, it was one piece of information you preferred to keep to yourself. However, you weren’t sure how you were going to handle it when you did come face-to-face with him. He was your boss, your mentor since you were a child; he trained you and practically raised you. You felt loyal to him even despite your hatred for this life.

You heard Bucky tighten his grip on the handle of his gun, the leather on his flesh hand squeaking softly as it rubbed against it. The seam of the door was pushed open allowing a bright light to shine through. You watched as red metal hands pried the metal apart and Tony Stark in his Iron Man suit stepped into the room. You and Bucky stayed firm in your positions, not trusting Stark after the all-out war you just had at the airport, which left you with more than a few bruises. Steve, however, lowered his shield and stood up, taking a few steps toward Tony.

“You seem a little defensive,” Stark said after opening his helmet to reveal his bruised face.

“It’s been a long day,” Steve responded, eyeing Tony to anticipate his next move. Bucky moved to stand in front of you, acting as a shield for your normal-human body. You let out a small huff in protest, despite being weaker and more prone to death, you still wanted to protect Bucky and that meant you’d take a bullet for him if it came down to it. Bucky exhaled deeply in response, an unspoken argument about who would protect who. Tony looked up at the two of you with your guns still on him, ready to make a split-second decision. Your blood was boiling more than anyone there knew. According to Zemo, Tony was still trying to kill Bucky, and you still had your assignment to assassinate Stark. You couldn’t do it there, not in front of Steve and Bucky, especially when Tony didn’t give you a reason to fire. But you knew that you’d have to do it eventually.

“At ease soldier, I’m not currently after you,” Tony directed his voice to Bucky, who only squinted and steadied his gun. On the jet to Siberia, Steve gave you the story of how this whole mess of a situation started. Zemo, or “the Doctor” as they only knew him, had blown up the UN to flush Bucky out of hiding. That’s why he was talking to him at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre, he wanted information about the other Winter Soldiers that were created after Bucky. That’s why you were in Siberia, you needed to find the soldiers before Zemo could control them to do his bidding. It made sense to you, super-soldiers would make incredible assassins for Zemo’s business. He always wanted the best in the world to take out people who thought they were so high above everyone else they could do whatever they wanted. He hated people in power who abused it, that’s why all of your missions were people with an insane amount of power and all the wrong intentions.

But it was because of Zemo’s plan that Bucky was on the radar for Tony, he thought he was responsible for the deaths of all the people at the UN. At the fight at the airport, Steve tried to convince Stark that it wasn’t him, but he wouldn’t listen, he wouldn’t give up until he had Bucky taken in, dead or alive. And that’s what kept you fueled to complete your mission. You were willing to let it go, but Stark wasn’t. Little did he know, he was signing his death certificate because of his pride.

You still had your gun aimed at Tony, both you and Bucky were unmoved until he motioned to the two of you standing there like predators.

“You guys can relax, there’s a truce here,” he rolled his eyes. Steve motioned for you to lower your weapons and you did so reluctantly, and only after Bucky had lowered his, trusting Steve more than you did. After deciding to find Zemo together, the four of you continued to explore the large building. You hung in the back to keep an eye on Tony, plotting when you would take your chance to kill him, deciding how to do it, wondering if Bucky would ever forgive you.

You entered a large room with several cryostasis chambers. As Tony scanned the room, he registered only one heat signature, despite the various chambers filled with the super-soldiers. Walking around the room, you looked at each person whose tanks were now lit and illuminated their dead bodies. Shit. Zemo didn’t want to use the soldiers, he wanted them dead. Knowing him, that meant bad news for the three men you were with.

“If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep.” Zemo’s voice echoed through the room, prompting everyone to look around for him. As he walked, Bucky reached out one hand down beside him, motioning for you to stay close to him. You brushed your hip against his outstretched fingers until he hummed softly, feeling your cold body close to him. He put his hand back on his rifle and slowly inched through the room, making sure to keep you safe. You stayed by his side, not knowing what Zemo could do next, and not trusting Stark.

“Did you really think I wanted more of you?” Zemo’s voice echoed again. A light switched on at the end of the room, revealing Zemo’s form standing behind a window. Steve instinctively threw his shield at him, hoping to stop whatever he was planning but Zemo just chuckled.

“Please, Captain. The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets,” he explained through his speaker. You and Bucky hung back, watching Steve walk straight toward Zemo’s window and Tony circling around, guns ready to fire.

“I guess I should explain why you are here, hm?” his voice was cocky like his plan was falling perfectly into place. It felt like your heart was going to beat right out of your chest in fear of what he was going to say, the anticipation of your real plan being revealed had your stomach-turning. Steve stood right in front of Zemo, watching him like a hawk, waiting for his next words and analyzing the situation to figure out how to get to him.

“I was a Baron in Sokovia. Though, I had business all over the world,” Zemo flashed his eyes to you which made you tense up, gritting your teeth together and hoping he wouldn’t mention your name, “Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. But–” he paused, swallowing hard at the next words.

“You lost someone?” Steve interrupted, eyes softening the slightest bit in remorse and pity.

“I lost everyone.” Zemo corrected, trying desperately to suppress the tears that tried to well up in his brown eyes. “And so will you.” A nearby computer turned on, playing a video of a street cam. The four of you gathered to the screen and watched it. Tony immediately recognized the street, yelling for an explanation. As soon as Bucky saw the video play, he dropped his head, stepping back from the group and holding back tears of his own. You watched him shrink into himself, Bucky cowering under the exterior of the Winter Soldier as his past was being brought to life on video. Furrowing your brows, you took a step toward him which only made him step back again. Just like the night of your party when he met your friends. He became small and panicked, emotions running wild as he tried to keep his composure. You wanted to comfort him but he wouldn’t let you.

In the video, a car crashed and a man on a motorcycle circled back around it before picking up the driver from the ground and punching him until he was dead. You flinched as you watched it, normally you wouldn’t, you’d killed your fair share of people in much worse ways, but this was different. This was Bucky. He went around to the passenger side, choking the woman inside the car until she lay lifeless against the dashboard.

Tony immediately lunged at Bucky, his emotions running wild as he witnessed the murder of his parents. You lifted your gun and aimed it at him, ready to shoot on the spot. Bucky flinched back, raising his rifle reluctantly as Steve stopped Tony from going any further. As Cap tried to reason with him, Bucky glanced at you. Shame riddled his face as tears slipped from his eyes. God, what you must think of him. It hurt him more than anything to have you witness what he’d done, seeing him with no remorse and no hesitation on that video. He felt like a monster and could only imagine that you viewed him as one. But you didn’t. You knew that wasn’t him, that wasn’t the Bucky you built a relationship with, that wasn’t who he was; that was the Winter Soldier.

Tony stepped back, processing the moment but no one let their guard down. You all knew he wouldn’t let it go, and he didn’t, he immediately shot at Bucky, pushing Steve away and putting his helmet back on. You dodged out of the way as Tony blasted more beams from his repulsors, trying to kill Bucky in a rage. You rolled on the cold ground, getting behind Stark and shooting into his back. His suit made it impossible to stop him, you quickly found out it was bulletproof and would need to find another way to slow him down.

The shots to his back made him turn around to face you, blasting another ray in your direction, not caring who he killed. One shot from his repulsor and you’d be dead–all the more reason to disable it somehow. You yelled out as you jumped from its path, tucking and rolling out of sight as you hid behind an old control panel. Zemo still stood behind his window, watching the chaos ensue with a smirk. You furrowed your brows at him, hurt that he didn’t care who survived in the room, namely you. Steve threw his shield at Tony and it bounced off of him, knocking him back. The shield made its way back to Steve’s grasp and was followed by another deadly blast from Stark.

“Tony, stop! You’re going to kill someone,” Steve pleaded, quickly glancing at you then Bucky, who was gathering himself from being knocked down.

“He killed my mom, you’re going to have to kill me to stop me, Rogers,” Tony seethed, momentarily pausing his attacks. Zemo tsked, drawing their attention to his smirking face.

“Ah, but you don’t have it in you to kill, do you, Captain? That’s why she’s here.” Zemo’s thick accent ran chills across your skin as he looked you dead in the eyes, standing from your hiding spot, gun in hand and jaw clenched. The three men in the room with you all turned to face you, each with different expressions. Steve looked like a confused puppy, disbelief spread across his face as he was told your connection to Zemo. Tony just looked angry and upset, realizing just how much more of an enemy you were to him. But Bucky, Bucky was crushed. His heart raced a million miles a second as he became flooded with more emotions than he thought possible. He didn’t know what to think, he didn’t know what to say, or how to process the information. Were you really just there to kill them? Was all of it a lie? Why didn’t you tell him about Zemo?

“Buck…” you spoke softly, not caring about the other two men. Bucky choked back another sob, shaking his head slightly and blinking away tears. “It’s not what you think, I promise,”

“You’re working for him?” Steve questioned, his voice stern and confused.

“Not-not necessarily,” you didn’t know how to explain it. You didn’t have time to go over the whole story, not that it would matter much anyway, they wouldn’t believe you, and based on the events of the night, you’d still be eliminating Tony if he didn’t stop his attack on Bucky.

“Nice friends you got here, Rogers,” Stark broke the silence and sent a blast directly to Steve. He blocked it with his shield and looked at you, but you had run off after Tony.

Bucky was caught in Stark’s grasp, being dragged across the ground as he desperately tried to fight him off. You leaped onto his back, wrapping an arm around his throat, and attempted to pull him back. Tony stumbled and released Bucky before throwing you across the room and being knocked away himself by Steve’s shield. Bucky got up, rushing over to you worried about your condition. The truth coming out didn’t stop him caring about you, and he knew all about circumstances needing explanations. You’d stuck by him through everything, the least he could do was give you the benefit of the doubt.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a panic as you groaned, your head starting to bleed from where it made contact with a pole. You just shook your head yes, slowly getting up and holding onto Bucky. Steve kept Tony busy while you ran away to the exit. The debris of the crumbling building swept through the air, stinging your eyes with dust and making you cough as you tried to find your way through it. Zemo was long gone, not wanting to stay behind to see the aftermath of his plan. Trusting that you’d still kill Tony, and Tony would kill both Steve and Bucky.

“Can you jump?” Bucky asked as he opened the large hatch on the ceiling. You looked up at the tall platforms leading to the roof–to the outside. Shit. You sighed, it was a long way to the top.

“Yeah, I can get up there,” you unhooked a small device from your belt. A mini grappling hook with enough strength to pull your body up to each platform. Bucky watched as you latched onto the first tier and flew through the air until you flipped onto the metal grate. The corner of his mouth twitched with a smile as he watched you effortlessly fling yourself to another platform.

A blast from Tony shook Bucky from his thoughts, dodging out of the way as he jumped and climbed the platforms himself. Steve was right behind Stark, trying desperately to fight him off and slow him down so that the two of you could escape but Tony blasted the shield away, leaving Steve with just his strength. Tony, now struggling with a damaged suit, aimed to fire at Bucky who was nearing you at the top of the room. His targeting system was too damaged to lock onto Bucky’s moving form, allowing him to reach the roof with you. You sat on the ledge, reaching your hand out to Bucky to grab to hoist himself up, but just as he reached for you, a single blast came flying through the air and made contact with the open hatch. Bucky grabbed your body and cradled it as you fell with the destroyed structure, now trapped inside.

You fell down a few platforms, grunting as you slammed into Bucky’s body that made contact with the metal floor. He lost his grasp on you and you rolled away, almost off the edge before catching yourself. Bucky groaned and immediately got eyes on you to make sure you were okay, which you were, you were a hell of a lot tougher than he thought. As you collected yourself, Tony flew up to your platform and tried attacking Bucky, who swung a pole at him. You jumped on Stark’s back and unsheathed your knife, stabbing into the creases of his suit to try and sever something. You heard him groan through his helmet and as you pulled the knife from the groove of his shoulder, it was covered in blood. You stabbed through again, and again, until he was too distracted to shoot at Bucky. Tony tried shaking you off, flinging your body from side to side in an attempt to get you to let go, but you held on, driving the knife further into his shoulder. Finally, Tony grabbed a hold of Bucky and let himself fall down the tall shaft. Steve jumped onto the three of you and pulled your weight faster, crashing you down hard to the concrete floor.

You yelled out in pain as your hip slammed the ground. Yup, definitely broken, fuck. You rolled to try and get some relief, unable to focus on anything but the sharp shattering pain shooting through your body. Bucky had rolled down further than you and laid there for a moment to collect himself. Meanwhile, Steve had resumed fighting Tony and was pinned underneath him as the suited-man threw punches. The new location was freezing, arches in the building led to the outside and brought in the snowy breeze, chilling your body to its core. You tried to focus on anything but your leg, but the pain of the cold felt just as bad. The sounds of the men fighting made you crawl to the edge of the floor, you were a little higher up than them and watched as Steve and Bucky traded the shield back and forth, trying desperately to knock Tony down.

Despite your hip, you couldn’t lay there and watch, you had to do something. You took a deep breath and swung your legs to the edge, sliding down the steep platform before crying out in pain when your heels hit the ground, jolting your hip. You reached into your boot and pulled out a small device in the shape of a star, with the press of a button it lit up and you tossed it onto Stark’s right arm. Immediately it zapped and shut down all systems in his arm making it unusable. He whipped his head around to look at you and Bucky took the chance to pin him against the wall, clawing at the arc reactor in his chest in an attempt to disable him. You tried to stand up, feeling like your hip would shatter even more under the pressure but needing to help Bucky.

As you slowly limped over, Tony blasted a beam from his chest, shooting off Bucky’s metal arm, leaving behind burnt sizzling wires. You screamed, falling to your knees beside him as he gasped for air. Despite the arm being metal, he could feel every single thing that happened to it, which made your heart ache for him that much more.

“Bucky? Bucky, hey, look at me,” you held his face as blood poured down his cheeks, the light going out in his eyes as he struggled to stay awake, “listen to me, I need you to stay awake okay? I love you so much, Bucky, please stay awake for me. I’m so sorry, god, I’m so sorry,” your tears dripped down onto his face, streaking through the blood. Bucky’s eyes were on you, he never let go of your gaze but he couldn’t speak, the pain was too overwhelming for him to manage words.

“I need you to know I never meant for this to happen, I thought I was just doing a job, I didn’t want this. He-he said Tony was going to hurt you, Buck, I didn’t want back in this life. I just want you, I just want to take you back to Bucharest, pick plums with you again, remember the market? We could run the stand together, Buck,” you were trying so hard to keep his attention, keep his eyes open and on you. You weren’t even aware of your surroundings anymore, it was just you and Bucky. All of the sudden, you felt a sharp pain in your ribs. It took you by surprise, the adrenaline of your panic over Bucky numbed it for a moment, until you looked down to see Bucky’s eyes wide with horror as a beam of light ripped through your ribcage.

“Buck?” you couldn’t even scream. The pain was so overwhelming that you could only manage his name before you fell over, lying unconscious next to Bucky. Bucky’s scream of anguish ripped through your subconscious as he watched you pass out. He thought you died. Your lifeless body lay on the cold ground with a searing hole through one side of your ribs.

That was the last thing you remembered. When you woke up, you were laid up in a hospital bed, thick bandages wrapped tightly around your ribcage as you struggled to breathe. The soft beeping of your monitor was the only sound you could hear as you groggily shifted in bed. No one was around, not even a nurse. You heard the monitor’s beep pick up pace as you remembered Bucky, concern for him replaced every feeling you felt for yourself. You were frantic to find him, find out what happened to him.

A doctor finally came into the room and calmed you down, telling you to take it easy so you don’t open your sutures. You calmed down enough to notice that she wasn’t a regular doctor, her attire was odd. A lab coat with a tech logo on it, glasses that you could see had a camera right in the middle of the frames, and on her clipboard were blueprints and mechanics to some sort of device. Before you had time to question her, she handed you a small card.

“Someone left this for you,” she motioned to a bouquet of flowers sitting on the bedside table. You opened the card, weakly thumbing over the scribbled ink as you tried to adjust your eyes to read it.

He’s gone. Take care of yourself, Y/N. -Steve.

You felt your heart fall to the floor, tears immediately pouring from your eyes as you uncontrollably sobbed. The sutures ripped open, causing you to bleed onto your mattress but you didn’t care. Bucky was gone. Your Bucky was gone. Zemo was right. Tony Stark was going to kill him and you failed your mission to protect him.

–Present Day–

1:27 AM.

Your eyes dragged closed, finally allowing the exhaustion to take over your body. The soft clack of the ceiling fan chains rhythmically lulled you to sleep, darkening your mind as the nothingness washed over you. Slumber, sweet, sweet, sleep. Your breathing calmed down as you fell into the black void of your unconscious. A few moments passed as you rested, mind on nothing, no dreams ever visited you anymore, just the images of Bucky lying on the ground with no arm, screaming out to you as you fell to the ground. As the first flash of Bucky’s pain-filled face appeared in your mind, you shot your eyes open, jolting up from the bed and sitting up in the dark in realization.

Gone.

Gone. Not dead. He said gone.

[redrobbingabank]

Prison Break

Tw: lots of violence, blood

The white pastry box in her hands was heavy with the weight of the pie. Niki walked down the prime path the way she always did, smiling softly, sweater sleeves covering her hands. It had been a long time since she truly felt the way. She wasn’t sure when it had become a disguise, but it had, and everyone believed it without batting an eye. Beneath it, rage burned, hot but controlled. Always controlled. Her best weapon, she knew, was how she was perceived. Patience would pay off. Nothing but pain was coming for the people who’d locked her friend away.

She found Sam outside the museum. He leaned against the pillar, turning an unlit cigarette over and over in his fingers. He glanced up at her footsteps, then pushed himself off the pillar and pocketed the cigarette.

Niki smiled brightly. “Sam! I was just looking for you.” She hurried up the steps and under the awning outside the museum. The light rain a few feet away droned on. 

“Hey, Niki.” Sam sounded tired. He looked it, too. Purple bags under his eyes were made starker by the unhealthy pallor of his face. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Are you okay?” she asked, arranging her features into a concerned look. “You look exhausted.”

Sam blinked a few times. “Yeah, I’m good. Just all the stuff that’s happened around the prison. Tommy, you know?”

No mention of Techno. Nothing about the lies, about how he and Quackity had pulled him away from his damn birthday party to lure him in. Niki nodded understandingly. “I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end,” she said. Then she held out the box. “I made you a pie. Felt like you might need a pick me up on guard duty so often.”

A small smile appeared on Sam’s face. “Thanks, Niki. I really appreciate that.” He took the box, opening it to find a pumpkin pie and cutlery taped to the side. “Pumpkin! My favorite.”

“I was hoping I remembered right.” Niki smiled again. There was a chance it wouldn’t work, she knew. That Sam would set it aside for later. But he had a parentlike streak. Niki had seen it in his interactions with Tommy. So she tweaked her gaze, made it subtly more hopeful and excited. Sam noticed, and freed the fork from the side of the box. He relaxed a little at the first bite of the comfort food and immediately ate more. “It’s good?” Niki asked sweetly.

Sam nodded. “It’s amazing. Thank you, Niki, really. I needed this.” He swallowed another bite, and two things that would oppose each other happened. First, his eyes widened with panic. Then they began turning glassy. “What…” his knees buckled, and he slowly slid down the pillar before falling sideways. 

It had worked. Niki and Jack had been playing around for a while. Mixing potions together, testing the effects. They’d found a combination Jack had named Aurora’s Poison. Weakness, slowness, the scantest drop of harming, and a ground up petal from a wither rose. Death without stillness.

Sam’s face had taken on a bluish tinge, but his chest still moved up and down. His eyes were half open. “Niki… ” he mumbled, “help.”

Finally, the facade could fall. Niki’s smile turned into a cold smirk. She squatted beside him, strands of pink hair falling into her face. “Oh, Sam.” His lighter had fallen from his pocket. She picked it up and sparked it, studying the flame before looking back at him. “You don’t deserve my help.”

There was the faintest glimmer of realization in his eyes before they closed for good. “Sweet dreams, Warden. The Syndicate sends its regards,” Niki murmured. She stood. Let Quackity try to wake him. He was a living corpse.

She stepped back into the rain, her boots the only sound on the prime path as she returned to the underground bunker Techno had left in his instructions. Phil and Ranboo were already inside and suited up. There were two more pairs of netherite armor on stands against the back wall. One was for her. The second was for Techno.

“How’d it go?” Phil asked. 

“Perfectly,” she replied, tying the straps of the chestplate. Phil’s armor had two bumps on the back, designed specifically to accommodate his wings. He had his sword in hand, shield leaning against his wall. A crossbow and quiver were slung across his back, and Techno’s sword hung from his belt. “Didn’t know what hit him.”

Ranboo looked the calmest Niki had ever seen him. Normally, he fidgeted constantly. Now, his hands were still, aside from the way they drifted to his axe handle. His face was set determinedly, and his crown hung from his armor stand, swapped out for a helmet. He’d been the one to get them the armor. It shone with the best enchantment the server could offer. Niki had known he was rich, but she hadn’t realized exactly how much he’d been sitting on. Her jaw had nearly dropped when, before they set out, he passed a totem to each of them.

“Need help?” he asked, taking half a step towards her when she started struggling with her gauntlets.

“I’ve got it.” Ranboo returned to the wall. He began tracing the blade of his axe lightly with his finger.

When she’d finally gotten all her armor in place, Niki crossed to the rack of weapons. She seized her bow and a quiver of harming arrows, slinging them across her back. She and Phil were the contingency plans if they were somehow pursued. Finally, she picked up her own axe. Its enchantments hummed, sending thrills up her arm. “Ready.”

“Ranboo?” Phil asked. The teenager nodded. “Alright, then.” He flicked the lever by the door. The sound of breaking glass filled the air as potion bottles broke. Niki felt the difference immediately, her bones strengthening with the magic. “Let’s go.”

-

Phil had known anger before. His life had been too long not to. There had been a time, before Techno, before Wilbur, that he let it consume him. Then Techno had arrived, and it was like impulse control had been installed. They were still formidable, of course, but Phil didn’t seek war anymore. 

He knew grief, too. He knew the way it moved, the way it played with you until you wanted to sink beneath its waves and drown. It had consumed him after Wil’s death. He could hardly bring himself to clean his sword before he fell into a stupor in front of the fireplace. It had been Techno, again, who pulled him out of it. Who’d given him a new sword and convinced him to play war games until the sight of blood didn’t send him vomiting to the bathroom. There would be no Techno to pull him out if this went wrong. Phil might as well be dead too. 

Ranboo and Niki followed him out of the bunker. The streets were empty as they silently made their way to the prison. 

They didn’t bother to ring the bell. The three of them stood in the portal until reality straightened itself out. Phil had Techno’s will clutched in his hand. The bundle of papers had been empty, at first, until a few days ago. Writing had begun appearing, in Dream’s messy, spiked scrawl. Sam was a fool, Phil thought. He couldn’t take away Techno’s knowledge of spells.

He strode to the corner of the little room they were in. A loose tile was there, easily unnoticeable if you weren’t looking for it. Phil lifted it and threw it to the side. There was a loud crack when it hit the wall. He flipped the lever beneath it. “Thirty seconds before it resets,” he said, returning to the portal. Niki and Ranboo followed suit, and the prison constructed itself around them.

It was all so darkly decorated. Alright, edgelord, Phil thought sarcastically. They bypassed the waver on its lectern and the lockers to the side. Phil flicked the levers according to the code Techno had written. A door opened, and they took the tunnel  Sam used into the next room. 

Their way through the prison was marked by similar proceedings, and Phil’s mind was left to go on autopilot. 

Techno knew it was a trap. He’d told him so a week ago, standing in the snow outside their houses. The moment he was out of sight, Phil had opened the will. He’d thought the message of the empty papers was clear: do what you want, lol. 

So he’d gone to the stasis chambers and waited by the levers. Three days, he gave himself. Then he’d hit the lever, and Techno would be home safe. 

Then it was four days, and Phil wasn’t sure why he’d waited longer. The pearls were a safety blanket. Using them would make things better. Unless what they revealed made it worse.

Then, on the fifth day, he’d woken up to a scratchy, crinkly noise from the will. Scrambling out of bed, he’d turned the pages over, and found the ink still wet. And what had Techno written, first thing? 

PHIL, DON’T USE THE PEARLS. I NEED THE VIEWS FROM A COOL ESCAPE.

 The dramatic little shit. But Techno had lain out his plan, and like always, it was smart. Phil had gathered the Syndicate, and they’d been ready. 

A hint of nerves appeared in Ranboo’s eyes when they passed the iron door into the main cell area. Phil understood it. When they’d hung out, Ranboo told him how it was the point of no return, in a way. They all remembered what happened to Tommy. But Ranboo had three lives, Phil assured himself, and hoped the teen remembered too. He’d be fine. So would Niki. And Techno.

They travelled through the respawn checkpoints and extra rooms until they were in front of the lava wall. Ranboo glanced at the bed. “Should we set our spawn here?”

Phil shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to be spawn-trapped in here, but if you want to, go ahead.” Ranboo looked at the ground. Remorse tugged at Phil. “Sorry. Just a joke,” he said. Ranboo nodded.

Waiting for the lava to come down would take too long. Phil threw a few potions of fire resistance down on them and flipped the lever so the bridge would be safe when they returned. Then, with Ranboo and Niki standing on the bridge, he flipped the lever. He ran and leapt onto the bridge with the help of the jump boost pots from earlier. 

The flames surrounded them in orange light. They couldn’t see each other. The lava tickled, almost, drying them off from the rain outside.

They came out the other side with a few blocks between them and the cell. Phil blinked a few times, readjusting to the low light, and froze. He hadn’t expected to be greeted by what was there.

-

Ranboo worried. It was in his nature. So of course, when he’d heard the plan, he took precautions for failure. 

Tubbo was back in Snowchester with Jack by his request. They were in the control room, with a nuke armed and ready to hit the prison. Michael would be there too. Ranboo had made Tubbo promise not to let him out of his sight. Ranboo had never been more grateful for his husband’s habit of not asking questions.

His comms had been burning a hole in his pocket the whole way here. One message and it would all go up. 

Now, though, he forgot all about the nukes as the bridge came to a stop at the cell block. Anger took its place. “Quackity,” he said in a near growl, “what are you doing.” 

The scene before them looked like a horror movie. Blood, dry and fresh, coated the floor of the cell. Dream –– Dream –– was curled in the corner, shaking. Quackity stood in the middle of the room with a sword in his hand, grinning. And Techno. 

Ranboo’s friend was standing by the back wall. His cape was torn. He was bleeding, too, but Ranboo couldn’t tell from where. He did, however, see the way Techno was just barely leaning against the wall behind him. His heart clenched.

“Oh, hey guys,” Techno said. Despite everything, his voice still came out strong and unbothered. “Nice timing.”

“Hey, guys.” Quackity flipped the sword in his grip so the point was against the ground, then leaned on the hilt. “Surprise seeing you here.” His easy grin didn’t reach his eye. 

Ranboo vaguely remembered a day in old L’Manburg. He and Quackity had shared a pot of coffee and talked about Ranboo’s thoughts on people versus sides. He’d felt like Quackity understood. He’d thought he’d befriended someone who wouldn’t betray him. “Quackity,” he repeated, lifting his axe, “what are you doing.” 

Behind him, Niki and Phil were moving. He didn’t pay attention to their movements, just trusting them to be ready.

“Ranboo,” Quackity said. “I get you’re probably mad. I saw you at Techno’s party, you two are friends. So first, I’m sorry you had to see this.” I bet you are, Ranboo thought. “Second, I’m only doing it because Techno’s a threat. I can’t let him be out in the world, causing problems.” 

“You. Are. Torturing. Him,” Ranboo said. “Both of them!” 

“Eh, Dream’s had it worse,” Techno shrugged.

“Shut up,” Quackity snapped. Ranboo’s temper snapped.

Of all the people in the room, Quackity probably hadn’t expected Ranboo to make the first move. It took him two steps to reach him, three more to shove him back against the wall. He held his axe to Quackity’s throat. “Who’s next on your list, huh?” he snarled. “Who’s the next ‘threat’ you’re gonna take out?”

Quackity’s eyes flashed. “Well, I hadn’t been thinking on it much,” he grinned, “but Tubbo and that outpost aren’t exactly making me feel comfortable.”

A furious scream built in Ranboo’s throat. He drew back his axe, to do what he didn’t know ––

“Ranboo?” It was Dream, looking up at him. For a moment, Ranboo was thrown into chaos. He couldn’t tell if it was really Dream, or all in his head. A small blade pierced the chink in his armor. He stumbled back, blinking, and the time it took for him to rip the cork from a Regen pot and pour it over the spot was all Quackity needed to ruin his advantage. 

He launched himself at Ranboo. Phil intercepted him, netherite screaming as their swords collided. Niki was by Techno, offering him Healing and Regen while he leaned more heavily on the wall.

The moment the prickling in his gut subsided, Ranboo threw himself into the fight. Phil was quickly left out, which he seemed alright with. From the corner of his eye Ranboo saw him kneeling by Techno as well. 

He hadn’t expected the fight to be so short, for his part. Anger fueled him, and something else. The Enderwalk, rising up in his unsteady mental state and giving him strength he didn’t know he had.

Cuts opened on Quackity’s limbs. His laughter turned to panting in the confined space. “This all you’ve got?” he yelled, out of breath. He tripped, stumbled, and fell against the wall near the lava. 

Ranboo stood over him, axe in hand and red with blood. The natural course from here was to end it, right? Kill Quackity, kick him into lava? But the day in L’Manberg wouldn’t leave his head.

“You can’t do it, can you?” Quackity said. Somehow he managed to look relaxed, leaning against the obsidian as blood soaked his clothes. “I remember being that weak. It was awful. Really, Ranboo, don’t mess with me. The house always wins. You don’t want to start this.”

“Oh, shut up.” Ranboo swung his axe, and the handle collided with Quackity’s head. He slumped against the wall, eyes closed. Blood trickled from beneath his hair, but his chest still rose and fell. Ranboo left him there and returned to his friends.

Niki and Phil had taken care of most of Techno’s injuries, though he had his arms around their shoulders. “I can walk by myself, guys, seriously,” he said, but was immediately cut off by the two of them saying “bullshit” in unison. “Well, one of you needs to get Dream,” he said.

They paused. “Dream?” Niki asked incredulously. 

“Yeah. Look at him, Quackity’s been giving him hell.” He glanced at Ranboo. “But hey, Syndicate rules, remember? You guys don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna. You can go ahead on the bridge and send it back to us.”

Ranboo and Niki shared a glance. They had both been citizens of L’Manberg. They had both been victims of Dream in some way. Ranboo knew Phil had helped destroy L’Manberg like it was a business deal, but he would agree with Techno. They wouldn’t follow Dream, but they’d help him. And as pathetic as the man looked in the corner of the cell, Ranboo couldn’t bring himself to do the same.

He looked Techno in the eye. “This doesn’t change my loyalty to the Syndicate. I just can’t justify helping Dream. I’ll still stand with you in other matters.”

“Got it.” Techno grinned. “Just don’t trap us in here again.”

Ranboo returned the smile, stepping onto the bridge. Niki followed him. “Sorry, Techno,” she said. “But I agree with Ranboo. He’s done too much to hurt me.”

Techno nodded. Niki knocked an arrow and shot it across the now empty pit. It hit the button on the other side, and the bridge began moving. When they reached the other side, Niki removed it from the button before hitting it once more.

“You can go ahead,” Ranboo said. “I’ll bring them back.”

Niki smiled at him. “Thanks. You fought well, Ranboo. See you at the next meeting.” She disappeared back into Sam’s tunnels, which Phil had left open.

Ranboo waited until Phil and Techno were safely on the bridge, Dream draped between them, to press the button one final time. Before it had reached full speed, he was traversing the tunnels himself, moving back towards Snowchester and his family. Quackity would find a way out of the prison, he knew. Tubbo and he would need to be ready.

[lxghtbound]

Dash Game! - REPOST, don’t reblog!

Describe your muses’s light! What makes it unique to them?

Mint-5.

What energies do they use? Void & Arc Light.

What are their opinions on any energies they don’t use? If they use all three, do they have a preference for one of them? Oh, he love, love, LOVES Solar. Probably one of the reasons he liked Tangle and Prose so much at first was because they picked up Solar. Since Mint had trouble regulating temperature, which is particularly bad with the cold since if he gets too warm he can at least cool himself down with Void, he loves cuddling up to a Solar wielder, even if it takes him a while to admit he does need the help and comfort. Plus Solar just feels so nice -- it’s like the delights of a beautiful Autumn day with the sun shining down on all those sunset shades of leaves, but instead it emanates from a person instead.

What does their Light feel like? (warm, cold, welcoming, etc.) Mint uses his Light purposefully to keep people away usually, so at first it is very cold, and has a heavy, unwelcoming feel to it. As soon as you get closer to him though, it’s like a weighted blanket perfectly suited to you whenever he’s around, because he really like enveloping people with his Light to show them they’re safe and protected with him, almost like your own personal Ward of Dawn.

Do they share their Light openly, or keep it to themselves? Mint is very, very good at keeping his true feelings a secret, so while he may seem like he’s sharing his Light fairly openly, it’s usually only whatever he wants you to see.

Are they willing to turn their Light onto another Guardian, with the aim to truly hurt them? Yes. Mint has and still will permanently kill Lightbearers if they hurt his pack, though he does his very best to avoid it. Sometimes Ghosts just made the wrong choice, and he prefers to give them a second chance to either reform their Guardian, or find someone new. But sometimes emotions get the better of him...

Does your muse’s Light present itself in any unique ways? (Anything non-standard that hasn’t been seen in the game like odd supers etc.) Mint uses a lot of combinations of Light, both Hunter stuff and other stuff. He also likes to experiment a lot, figure out new stuff, hence how his Void is able to almost change its state of being. He can use it to drown people, as brutal as that sounds, shit like that. His Arc is a lot more standard, purely because he’s focused his time on the Void instead.

tagged by: taken from @/destinyresources tagging: steal ittttttt

[gukeobi]

home is where the heart is

pairing: werewolf!jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst (jeongguk really wants pups 😔)

words: 1.5k 

an: i finally finished the last of my finals!! im so glad to be back to writing again and hope this tiny nb drabble makes up for my absence lol 

----------

The sun was warm on your skin as it blazed from above, the absence of the shaded treeline you had grown used to in the time that has passed proved itself a bigger nuisance that you had initially anticipated. It left your already thin shirt sticking uncomfortably against the growing dampness coating your flesh, the obnoxious heat of the body currently crowded around you not doing much to help combat the discomfort. 

“Guk,” you whispered, threading your fingers through the sweaty tresses of his midnight hair. The man in question hummed lowly against your throat in response to your sudden acknowledgement, continuing his combination of biting and kissing at the exposed skin as the taste of salt clouded his senses. “we have to get back to work.” 

Despite your words you tilted your head to give the lycan more room to venture, the occasional feeling of his extended incisors peeking past the softness of his lips and scraping the sensitive expanse of your throat making you shiver in delight. You knew the both of you were only wasting time by getting inadvertently sidetracked -- the unfinished structure behind you proving that statement true -- though once he started, it was difficult to break free from his intoxicating and comforting hold. 

Tightening your fingers in Jeongguk’s hair, you pulled him away from your bruised flesh, albeit reluctantly on both of your parts, ignoring the whines of dissatisfaction and protest coming from his mouth as you pulled him up to view. You could finally see the dazed look shrouding the glowing red hue of his lidded eyes and the thin sheen of sweat coating his flushed face, a soft pout tugging at the seams of his lips that tugged at your heart almost painfully. 

“Mmm,” Jeongguk responded quietly, closing his eyes once again as he captured your mouth with his. It was a distraction tactic, you knew it was, but that didn’t stop you from giving into his advances for your own selfish desire. “Just a bit longer, y/n.” 

“You said that five minutes ago,” you chuckled against him, a soft smile working its way onto your face as you attempted to reason with the lycan.  “If we keep taking breaks, we’ll never finish on time.” 

Jeongguk’s face dropped as he took in your words, his hands moving to rest on your hips as he leaned into the warmth of your palm cupping his cheek gently. He knew you were right, the two of you have been working on this project for far too long because of his tendency to get distracted by the feeling of your skin beneath his claws and the taste of your skin on his tongue, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you and the pleasant lingering feeling it left behind. 

“I know.” the lycan responded, closing his eyes briefly at the feeling of your thumb stroking the slightly sunken skin of the scar that was there. It made his stomach feel fluttery, an overwhelming feeling of love and adoration filling his chest as he gazed at you smiling back at him. “You know i can’t help it.”

With a sigh you moved to run your hand down Jeongguk’s back soothingly, the exposed flesh soft beneath your touch as your fingers dipped with his flexed shoulder blades before traveling to the curve of his lower back. His head dropped into the crook of your neck in response, sighs of pleasure leaving his lips before it shifted to the gentle caress of lips on the raised scar marring your skin. 

 Mating season was fastly approaching, the months shifting from the sweltering warmth of summer to the frigid embrace of winter quicker than you had time to prepare for. In the years before, you and Jeongguk would spend the entire duration in the pack house without much consequence or disturbance, but this year, after many long conversations both in the depths of night and under the early morning sky, plans have changed. 

The home both of you were currently building was placed near the shoreline of the lake Jeongguk used to take you to every morning at the beginnings of your relationship, relatively secluded for the sake of your privacy but not too far from the pack house or your cabin. It was going to be for the both of you, for your future family. 

Although you weren’t surprised by his desire to conceive pups, something he had no issue with expressing to you in the heat of the moment, what startled you the most was the gentle hand he’d rest on your stomach each night and the longing looks to other pack’s young on the rare occasion you would visit for territorial and alliance discussions. 

It terrified you more than you like to admit. 

The feeling of Jeongguk’s hand creeping beneath your shirt brought you out of your thoughts, a wide palm resting just below your navel and rubbing the soft skin there gently. It was somehow comforting and wrong at the same time, the implications of such a miniscule action making you shift in uneasiness. 

“Come on, Guk,” you whispered with a small smile, wrapping your hand around his wrist to tug it back from where it managed to snake itself under your clothes. “back to work, my love.” 

With a soft groan Jeongguk complied, pulling back enough to let you hop down from where you were previously seated on what will eventually be the porch of your future home. The warmth of his palms was welcomed as he held your hands in his own much larger ones, a wide smile tugging at his cheeks as he tugged you forward to walk with him. 

“What would I do without you, my little wolf?” Jeongguk beamed, a playful tone coating his words. He was still walking backwards and pulling you forward by the grip on your hands, the softness of the overgrown fauna brushing at your bare ankles and making you giggle at the ticklish sensation. 

His hair was slightly overgrown and falling into his eyes, muscles shining with sweat underneath the afternoon sun and rippling with each movement as he gazed at you with so much love you weren’t even sure this was real, if he was real. 

You never knew it was possible to love someone as much as you did Jeongguk. 

----- 

With the sun finally setting back into the horizon it was significantly more cool than it was earlier, a gentle breeze traveling past you and making the flora you were currently lying in sway and tickle against your exposed skin. The sky above you was currently painted a quiet shade of pink and blue, the pastels bleeding into each other until they blended at the seams. 

You could hear the scurry of tiny animals behind you as they sought cover in the forest, the crunch of fallen leaves and quickly approaching heavy breathing the only real disturbance in the quickly fading night. What welcomed you was a cold, wet touch on your cheek, a large mass of black entering your vision as the wolf rubbed his face against yours in greeting. 

Jeongguk had left into the forest a few hours prior to cool off and blow off some steam, his movements lethargic and slow all day while he worked as his body was not designed to handle such high temperatures. You imagined he felt much better under the brisk night cover, the wind rustling his inky coat and his body less weighed down than it was before. 

“Hey,” you spoke quietly, lifting a hand to comb through the fur of what would be his cheek, slightly cold to the touch. The wolf pushed his head further into your touch in response, a low rumble sounding deep in his chest as he moved to rest his forehead against yours briefly. 

You watched with lidded eyes as the lycan shifted to lay partially on top of you, the weight heavy and nearly winding you in the process before it settled into a comfortable blanket of warmth. Jeongguk’s large head was resting on your stomach, snout pressed in the space between your breasts as he stared at you with lidded red eyes. 

“Feel better?” The wolf huffed in response to your question, closing his eyes and relaxing as the soft fur of his tail brushed against your hoodie covered arm. Your hand was dwarfed impressively in comparison to his frame, fingers getting lost in the inky darkness of the fur on his back as you pet him gently. 

Jeongguk let out one last long sigh before nestling further into you, content enough as the cool night sky brushed through his coat. There was a nagging thought in the back of his mind as he nuzzled your stomach, a whine getting caught in his throat as he attempted to suppress the feeling of disappointment he could sense was beginning to brew in his chest. 

If he concentrates hard enough, he almost believes he can hear the gentle heartbeat of his pups growing inside of you. 

[dirty-holy-things]

The Space Between (your heart & mine)

Chapter 20 has been posted to Ao3, and below to Tumblr.

Catch up on chapters 1-19 on Ao3.

Notes: This fic is exclusively 18+ and explicit. This chapter includes references to, and descriptions of, abuse from a parent. It is no more extreme or explicit than any other chapters, but please exercise caution.

Words: 5.2k update, 98.1k total.

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You pushed yourself up from the bunk, feeling the woolen blanket scratching against you as your body shifted. Your legs wobbled unsteadily at your weight, having grown accustomed to the comfort of the bed; but you straightened your spine as you crossed the cabin of the ship to the man you loved, the man who was still avoiding your gaze. The floor was freezing cold against your bare feet, but the chill only made you more alert and aware of your body and the space around you. Each step felt progressively more confident than the last, until you were standing mere inches away from him. He continued to gaze above and away from you, not affording you the illusion of eye contact through the blackness of his visor, but you were undeterred. You loved him, and you had hurt him, and you wanted to make things right.

You extended your arms slowly, just as you had many nights ago, on your first night in the ship. You thought back to how you had once moved with such trepidation, such nervousness, wondering if he would allow you to show him kindness. He had chosen to let you hold him then, and you hoped that he would make that choice again; you hoped he would make that choice every day.

Your hands landed on his waist, and he didn’t retreat or push you away. You drew closer to him, your breaths staying focused and steady; and he allowed you to wrap your arms around him, moving underneath the beskar, as you needed to feel closer to him. You pulled his body into yours with a bit of force, and you could feel the exhale of his chest as he pressed into you. He didn’t pull away, just as he hadn’t pulled away that first night, and you were just as grateful now as you had been then.

"I think I could stand anything, any suffering, only to be able to say and to repeat to myself every moment, 'I exist.' In thousands of agonies - I exist. I'm tormented on the rack - but I exist! Though I sit alone in a pillar - I  exist! I see the sun, and if I don't see the sun, I know it's there. And there's a whole life in that, in knowing that the sun is there." - Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

You blinked your eyes, and as they opened to the sights around you, you came to the realization that you were sitting on a beach; coarse sand shifting against your body, a whipping breeze moving through your hair, and navy blue waves crashing against the shores, setting off a cascade of ivory foam that exploded around you like fireworks. Yes, you were unmistakably by an ocean. You weren’t sure how you had gotten here — wherever here was — so you looked around for any clues that you could find.

You were in the same clothes you had been in on Nevarro. They were dirty — was that sand, or dust? What were those dark stains?

Dragging your palms through the coarse grey sands beneath you, you discovered there was nothing within your immediate grasp that would offer any clues; but you could feel stinging pinpricks across your body as the salty air blew against you. Looking around, your head swiveling, there was a sharp ache in your neck — but you pushed that pain away, needing focus on finding something that would give you some insight about where you were and what was happening.

Looking onwards, you saw that there were fearsome navy storm clouds rapidly approaching the shoreline you were seated at, and your eyes scanned the horizon nervously; you anxiously listened as the waves roared, almost like you had heard Din roar many times before.

Din.

Where was Din?

Your curiosity and worry was momentarily diminished as you felt something unexpected and wet fall against your warm cheek. Looking up, you understood that you were not crying, that the wetness on your face was not of your own doing. The roiling, dark clouds above you had now unleashed their freezing torrent, and the raindrops fell onto you with a steadily growing frequency that threatened to soak you through to the core within minutes.

You pushed yourself up from the sandy beach, brushing your stinging palm onto your pants to try and clean them off, before turning to try and find something in this unfamiliar landscape around you that may offer shelter. You had weathered many a storm, and knew of the aching cold that it would bring to those who were left exposed.

The landscape turned out to be not entirely unfamiliar — there were certainly many things out of place, but simultaneously recognizable in an irrefutable way. In the distance, through the fog of the rain, you could see what appeared to be your childhood home. The stone house was nothing spectacular or impressive, and it was quite small, but you would’ve recognized the pattern of those dark, moss-covered stones anywhere. You had spent many hours being forced to stare at the stone wall, after making the cat levitate, or talking to the pretty stranger woman in the marketplace who spoke a language that nobody else could understand. Somehow, you had come back to this place, to a home that was never really home.

As you shivered, the freezing rain running in rivulets down your body, you understood that you were being forced to make a choice. Sit here in the torrential downpour of rain, endure nature’s impersonal barrage; or seek shelter in the one place that had never truly been a shelter as it should have been.

You felt your heartbeat pick up speed with every fat raindrop that landed against you, their impact becoming steadily more and more forceful. Your thin jacket wasn’t holding up against the power of the storm, and with a shaking breath, you took a step towards the stone house. After all of these years, surely it was empty. Surely the inhabitants had changed, despite the resilience and timelessness of stone. This wasn’t really even your home planet — it was some amalgamation of memories and dreams from Eadu and Chandrila; it simply had to be.

The path to the house was a familiar one, although you knew that the home had never been close to an ocean — this absolutely must be some sort of dream, to bring together this combination of gorgeously torturous imagery — and as you drew closer towards the door with every step, you said a quiet prayer to whatever gods or Force that may accompany you, that the house from your memories would be empty. Your hand connected with the weathered and damp grey wood of the door, and you pushed your whole body weight against it, recalling how the door always stuck against the frame whenever it rained — which was often.

The door gave way as a particularly strong gust of wind blew against you, and you tumbled into an achingly familiar scene. The hearth across the room held a dying fire and red-black coals; the cots positioned around it were covered in the same green and grey blankets you had once wrapped yourself in; and the chest full of family valuables and heirlooms was tucked away in the corner, protecting the assorted quilts, books, and ceramic items that had been collected and protected throughout the years.

A sense of unease and comfort settled upon you simultaneously, almost as if the weight of a still-damp blanket had beed draped across your shoulders. Heavy, possibly well intentioned, and yet still unwanted.

It seemed to be blessedly empty, this memory of the house you had once known, and you were exceptionally grateful for that. The thought of a reunion with anyone from your past life, whether you were dreaming or awake, made your stomach clench in fear. Stepping through the entryway of the small house, you saw your father’s coat hanging by the door; it was weatherproof, as he worked endless hours on this rainy, desolate planet, and you were certain that if you were to pick it up it would still smell like him. Strong soap, a hint of tobacco, and an earthiness that could never be scrubbed out of the fibers, or the soul.

This isn’t real, you reminded yourself. This scene wasn’t really real, but the sensations felt as though they were, so you forced yourself to reach out for the jacket that would offer you warmth and protection from the storm. You felt tears prick your eyes as you shrugged the oversized coat onto your small frame; it was exactly as you had remembered it; and somehow it almost felt as though it were still warm. Retreating further into its protection and coverage, you stepped back out into the storm that was bettering the coast; your previous worlds of Eadu and Chandrila merging into one.

As you surveyed this unnatural scene, continually trying to rationalize and remind yourself it was a dream, you saw a familiar glint of silver — a glint of beskar. A scream tore itself from your throat as you bounced on your tiptoes, trying desperately to catch Din’s attention through the swirling debris that the powerful winds had whipped up. You could just barely see the thin line of the visor turn in your direction before your attention then turned to the small green toddler that was clambering across the sand dunes, the duo making their way towards you through the ceaseless rain.

You felt your heart leap at the sight of these two, the odd duo that you had come to love more than anything in this galaxy. You tried to run towards them, but as your muscles strained you felt as if there were an impossibly heavy weight cemented to you, holding you back from reconnecting with your true family. You fought harder and harder against the weights that held you down — and as your body fought back against this unseen power, you watched as Din and Grogu somehow begin to move even further away from you.

Arms reaching out desperately, you cried and clambered your way towards them, but for every step you took, you were dragged back threefold. Your muscles screamed in agony and exhaustion, your throat was raw from screaming their names — and yet they were still receding into the horizon, bodies eventually disappearing entirely behind the grey dunes and their grasses. This was a dream, but watching your family disappear could only be described as a nightmare.

And then out of nowhere, as you cried out for your companions, a wrinkled hand came swinging towards you at full force, landing across your face with a startlingly familiar impact that stung and smarted in a way that you hadn’t experienced in years. And yet, despite the respite from violence that Din had given you, you would’ve recognized those hateful hands anywhere.

You looked up into the aging face of your mother, hateful and wild, terror in her eyes — it held the same look that you had seen on the day you had run away; and your heart seized up in a paralyzing mix of fear and sadness, the same way it had the last time that you had seen her. All these years later, and you would still run from your mother. For all the growth, all the talents, all the forgiveness, all the skills you had developed — the instinct that had been beaten into you won out, and you felt adrenaline course through your bloodstream like gasoline to a fire, telling you to run like hell as you had once before.

As the fear and grief churned within you, the storm around you began to worsen as well. The crests of the waves grew taller, crashing with increasing ferocity; the stinging rain was now mixed with hail that threatened to break skin; and the winds that whipped around you threatened to knock you clear off of your feet.

“Well would you look at that,” your mother hissed, stepping away from you. “Ever the disaster, even now. All you bring is destruction!”

You shook your head, knowing this was a dream, knowing that what she said wasn’t true. This wasn’t real, this wasn’t right. You were only dreaming — you were really at home in the ship, wrapped securely in Din’s arms. This too will pass, you reminded yourself.

Though you knew it was only a dream, you wondered why did the sands and her words still sting, as the wind blew them into you? How could it still burn, knowing that no true pain was inflicted upon you?

Your mother looked towards the same horizon that Din and Grogu had disappeared behind, and you followed her gaze. “And of course, you’ve run off with whatever man gives you the slightest bit of attention — you clearly haven’t learned your lesson, stupid girl — wonder how long it’ll be before he has to start beating you like Orron did. Like I did.”

Her impossibly cruel and hateful words hit you with a breathtaking force, and you felt a concerningly familiar hatred and anger boiling within you, just as it had when you killed Bragant. Yes, you had killed Bragant — that truth could not be denied. You panicked at this sudden surge in emotions — you needed to control this, you needed to be in control, you didn’t want to lose yourself to that terrifying, encompassing darkness ever again —

And the very world around you began to violently shake as you fought back against the darkness, as you fought back against that thick, black, boiling hatred — you threw every ounce of yourself into pushing it away, wrenching your eyes shut in concentration, shutting out the painful image of your mother and her stinging, cruel hands. This evil, choking darkness felt as heavy and overwhelming as it had on Nevarro, but this time you fought it just as hard as you had fought for Din’s life on Bardotta. You were not going to let it win, you were not going to let it overtake you and drown out the humanity and love that you had so carefully cultivated. You could feel yourself screaming though the unyielding pressure and weight of the darkness, but as you clung to the smallest thread of light, you felt the vitriol and violence slowly begin to recede.

And then you saw Din and Grogu, reappearing on the storming horizon, fighting to cross over the shifting grey dunes to you.

They had fought to come back to you, despite the hurricane that you had created here.

Somewhere deep down inside, you had truly come to believe in their love and their dedication to you; and you had let go of the ideas of your mother, that you were nothing more than a source of pain and destruction. These two were living proof that you were capable of good things, that you were worthy of being loved, that you were capable of creating love and light, and growing something worth fighting for.

The thunder and crashing waves began to quiet, as the hint of a smile quirked your lips upwards. Your mother continued to stare in horror and disgust; you saw her mouth moving with hateful words, but you could no longer hear her voice. The torrential rain slowed around you, until it was barely a mist that settled across the landscape before you, and you felt the weight that had held you frozen in place slowly begin to lift. You stepped forward tentatively, your gaze moving past your still-screaming mother, to rest on the two that were now climbing down the last grey, rain-spattered dune.

You continued to step forward with rapidly growing confidence, until you were running at a breakneck pace, leaving your old cobblestone home behind — your heart was moving at lightspeed as you approached Din and Grogu, and as you came closer, you practically launched yourself into Din’s arms, colliding with the ice cold beskar with no regard for the bruises it would inadvertently press into your skin. As you wrapped your body around his, tears streaming down your face, the two of you somehow slipped — bodies tumbling, you landed on top of him in the sand, a laugh coming up from your chest to join the tears that had been brought to the surface.

You pressed your face into the cool beskar breastplate, your chest heaving with emotion; something was pressing into your arm, and you looked up to see that Grogu had climbed up onto the tangled pile of limbs, coming to rest between you, and he was making happy gurgling sounds that warmed your heart. This was your true family, these were the ones that you loved unconditionally, the ones that loved you back just the same.

The sound of the waves eventually disappeared, a silence settling around you; the winds slowly ceased to blow, and the sand that the three of you laid on disappeared beneath you, as the scene around you was wiped away and replaced with the scene of your true home — the Razor Crest.

***

You felt two strong and familiar hands on your shoulders, their grip insistent as they shook you from your sleep, as they shook off the dream that you had found yourself in just moments ago. Your eyes opened slowly, working to focus on the thin black visor that was in front of you — but something prevented you from focusing fully, and as you continued to blink you felt tears escaping from your eyes, rolling hotly down your cheeks. Your eyes flitted back and forth across the visor, as if you could see anything behind it, and you touched a shaking hand to your warm and swollen face that was covered with the dampness of tears. You must’ve been crying.

Din pulled you in close to him, sitting you up in the small bunk as your frame rested against his chest; he ran his hands through your hair, breathing deeply as he held onto you. “Are you alright? You were — you were crying, in your sleep. I couldn’t get you to wake up from it.” He sounded breathless, worried, nervous.

You nodded, your cheek brushing against the side of his freezing helmet as you worked to quiet the whimpering that was coming forth from you, and steady your shaking breaths. “It was just a dream,” you whispered, distantly recalling the storm that you had fought back against.

Din remained quiet as he continued to hold onto you; after all of the turmoil and upheaval of the past ... however many days, the two of you clung to each other even tighter, having experienced a taste of the devastation and terror that would accompany any separation.

Your breaths and heart rate slowed and became more steady; the ship was just as it had been before you and Din had fallen asleep against one another. You were safe, you were home. You pulled away from him slightly, wanting to reassure him that everything was alright. Your hand rose from your side to rest against the sharply angled beskar helmet. “I’m okay, Din, I promise. It was just a...”

Your voice faded off as you saw the utility jacket that dwarfed you. Your eyes widened in incredulity as you slowly extended your arms in front of you, seeing the sturdy weatherproof material move as your body moved within it.

“Just a dream,” you whispered, not wanting to scare Din, or have to try and explain something that you had no explanation for. You would address this new mystery at another time. You pushed this newfound mystery and worry to the side, focusing on the man in front of you who had remained by your side through all of the chaos.

Chaos, that could not remain unspoken. “Din,” you started, shifting to face him better. “I know what happened... with Bragant.”

His sigh crackled through the modulator as he moved to bring you back into his chest, but you resisted. The truth of this couldn’t be denied any longer, and you would have to confront this reality and assess how it would affect your future.

“Bragant was a bounty. He was a criminal. You won’t be in any... trouble, for what happened. Karga offered to... pay. If you want.”

You inhaled deeply, trying to wrap your mind around this information, trying to wrap your mind around everything that felt both insurmountable and invisible at the same time. “I hadn’t — hadn’t even thought about any legal consequences.”

“The Marshall assured me that you wouldn’t face any.”

You nodded, feeling grateful that this piece had been resolved before you even had time to worry about it. “It’s not only that, Din — when I was there, in that alley — he said things to me, awful things,” you paused, as you noticed your voice was shaking, and you fought back against the tears that rushed to your eyes and the heat that was rising in your throat. “When he said those things, I got... I got so angry. Angrier than I had ever been, angrier than I ever knew I could get. And I... I lost control.”

“You defended yourself against a violent criminal.” Din’s voice droned through the modulator. He was stating a fact, but this fact didn’t cover the whole truth of the matter. There was more to it than he wanted to acknowledge, but you had to.

“Din,” you spoke up, your voice holding an insistent edge that quieted the protests of the historically stubborn man. “Din, I killed someone. When I didn’t mean to. I lost control, back there, in that alley — I understand that killing may not seem significant to you, but it does to me, that was a lifethat I took —“

Din pulled away from you abruptly, a bit harshly. “You think that killing others doesn’t affect me? Is that what you really think of me?” His voice was louder than you had ever heard it before, and it cracked with strain and frustration; you could hear the hurt through the modulator. “Do you think that I enjoy it, like some sadistic bastard? Do you think that I don’t carry the weight of every single life I’ve ended?”

You cowed at his brazen display of pain and frustration, and an instinctual part of yourself pulled away from him, your legs and arms retracting inwards to protect yourself. You felt a hot wave of tears crashing into you, and you buried your head in the crook of your elbow, not wanting to upset him, not wanting to make this worse than it had to be.

“No, Din, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” You whispered, your voice breaking; you weren’t sure if he even heard you as your face was hidden from view, buried within your arms. You screwed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for whatever fury may follow.

It stayed silent for several moments, the tension and emotion rolling thickly off of the both of you; the air felt heavier, and each breath required more effort to draw the weighted air into your lungs. As you slowly came to the realization that nothing horrible was going to happen, came to the realization that Din was nothing like the ones who had come before, you lifted your head up from your arms to confront this emotional scene... but without violence. You had never experienced conflict without violence before; you didn’t know how to handle it, but you knew that you loved Din and trusted him.

He was now standing in the cabin rather than seated directly next to you; his body was facing yours, and yet his head was turned away. This was an intentional choice on his part; his body language spoke volumes, and he knew that every inch of positioning was intentional. And despite all of the beskar, despite all of the weapons, and despite all of the mental walls that he threw up against you — you could still feel how your careless words had cut him deeply. You had hurt Din, and you had to confront that. You had to acknowledge that, and work towards repairing this.

You pushed yourself up from the bunk, feeling the woolen blanket scratching against you as your body shifted. Your legs wobbled unsteadily at your weight, having grown accustomed to the comfort of the bed; but you straightened your spine as you crossed the cabin of the ship to the man you loved, the man who was still avoiding your gaze. The floor was freezing cold against your bare feet, but the chill only made you more alert and aware of your body and the space around you. Each step felt progressively more confident than the last, until you were standing mere inches away from him. He continued to gaze above and away from you, not affording you the illusion of eye contact through the blackness of his visor, but you were undeterred. You loved him, and you had hurt him, and you wanted to make things right.

You extended your arms slowly, just as you had many nights ago, on your first night in the ship. You thought back to how you had once moved with such trepidation, such nervousness, wondering if he would allow you to show him kindness. He had chosen to let you hold him then, and you hoped that he would make that choice again; you hoped he would make that choice every day.

Your hands landed on his waist, and he didn’t retreat or push you away. You drew closer to him, your breaths staying focused and steady; and he allowed you to wrap your arms around him, moving underneath the beskar, as you needed to feel closer to him. You pulled his body into yours with a bit of force, and you could feel the exhale of his chest as he pressed into you. He didn’t pull away, just as he hadn’t pulled away that first night, and you were just as grateful now as you had been then.

As you rested your head against the unyielding, cold steel of his breastplate, you pressed your hands even deeper into him, trying to convey all of your love and sorrow through touch alone; you hated that you hurt him, that you ever caused him a single moment of doubt. “Din, I’m so sorry,” you sighed. “I was — I wasn’t thinking, when I said what I said before. It was crass, and careless, and completely untrue. You’re a good man, Din Djarin. The best man I’ve ever known, and I’ve never even for a moment thought you were anything less than that.”

“Your measure for good men is concerning.”

You couldn’t tell through the warping of the modulator if he was being sarcastic, and making a joke; or if he was still smarting from your earlier words.

You pursed your lips, nodding against him. “You’re right. My gauge for a moral compass is a bit broken, a bit biased. But you have been the brightest spot in my life, the brightest star in my sky, and I want you to know that I think you are a better man than you give yourself credit for.”

You could sense a change in the beat of his heart, could hear it echoing against the beskar you were resting against. His posture shifted as his arms came to wrap themselves around you, drawing you into the familiar lines and curves of his body. You sighed in relief, melting into him, trusting that he had accepted your apology and forgiven you.

“I love you,” he whispered, so quietly that the modulator only barely altered the true sound of his voice. “I know that... what happened, was hard for you. You’re sweet, and kind, and that’s... one of the many things I love about you.” He was quiet for a moment as he pulled you in tighter, nearly lifting your now-freezing feet off of the ground. “I want to do whatever I can to help you.”

You nodded against him, a few tears escaping as you knew that you had his understanding and his support; and that was all you needed to trust that you would be able to navigate this uncharted territory together. You weren’t alone in this; you had Din and Grogu, and the three of you would find your way through this new challenge, as you had found your way through many before. You pulled away from his strong grasp, trying to gaze into the black and blank visor, needing at least some illusion of contact and connection. “I just... Din, I don’t know where to go from here. I’ve read books from at least 10 different planets, from 100 different cultures, and I haven’t got a single clue about how to manage this or what I can do to be better.”

Din stayed silent, as he often did, but you could feel the way that his fingers pressed more deeply into your body, imparting a sort of comfort that only he could give. You could feel his concentration as he contemplated what to say next; he had never been rash or rushed with his words, and it was one of the many things that you loved and appreciated about him.

“When I was traveling with Grogu, we crossed paths with a… Jedi. Ahsoka Tano.” Din paused, understanding the weight of the information that he was sharing with you. “She... said she couldn’t train Grogu, because he was too attached to me.”

Your lips quirked up in a smile, a small laugh coming from your chest. “She wouldn’t want anything to do with me, then.”

You heard Din chuckle quietly, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you as you knew he was not holding any grudges. “No, she wouldn’t train you either. But she told me that there is a planet, that has a... rock, that is important to the Force. Or to the Jedi. She said that by sitting on it, Grogu may be able to connect with other Jedi in the galaxy.”

An eyebrow raised up in suspicion at the story he shared. “Sitting on a rock will help us find another Jedi?”

Din shrugged, and you could imagine a clueless and befuddled look existed behind the beskar. “I don’t know. All of that magic — sorry, Force — stuff seems impossible to me. And yet I’ve seen it.” He gently tucked away the strands of hair that had fallen into your face, his hand coming to rest at your chin, lifting your gaze back to his anonymous one. “It seems too simple, just going to this rock — but it may be the best option we have.”

You nodded, resting your head in his large hand, enjoying the warmth of the contact. “I want to talk to Grogu first, though. I want to make sure this is something he wants too.”

Din nodded in understanding. “I’ll give you some space to clean up, and then we can meet Karga and the Marshall in town. They’ve been looking after the kid. We can talk about the bounty pay, and then set a course for Tython.”

You reached up to squeeze his gloved hand gently before turning to retreat to the fresher, to try and wash away some of the stress and the pain of the past several days. Your head felt as though it was swimming, or spinning, or both, with all of the upheaval that you had experienced; and as you shrugged yourself out of the weathered, industrial jacket that had somehow made its way onto your frame, you felt even more disoriented. You gripped the edge of the steel sink tightly, taking deep and slow breaths until you felt steady enough on your feet to turn on the water of the shower. You shrugged out of the rest of your clothes, your muscles still aching with exhaustion.

The blistering hot water rolled down your skin, and you worked to clear your mind and return to the meditative state that Ixxith had once taught you. Your body went through the motions of cleaning, your mind going peacefully blank and quiet. You couldn’t solve any of your problems or overcome the complexities while in the shower; so you saved that stress for another, more appropriate time.

When you had finally scrubbed away the last of the grit and grime that clung to you, feeling like a new and whole person, you dressed yourself and met Din outside of the ship that you had been encapsulated and recovering in for days. The sunlight felt harsh on your skin, but you welcomed the sensation that you had gone so long without. Stretching your limbs out into the open air, you smiled confidently over at Din, hoping that the confidence and bravado that you projected would eventually sink in and become more real.

He placed his gloved hand onto the small of your back, and you could feel the pads of his fingers pressing into the vertebrae of your spine, holding you up and encouraging you forward, just as he had so many times before. It was a quiet kind of support, but the weighted silence and intentional touches spoke more than any texts or volumes could, and his love and confidence made you stronger and more empowered than any Force training could.

Whatever happened next, on Nevarro, on Tython, on any other far-fetched planet in this galaxy, you knew without a doubt that you would face it together. You would face it with the kind of love that could only have grown in the quiet places of the ship, in the cold of hyperspace, between those who had been denied love and yet held an extraordinary capacity for it.

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[bondsmagii]

anonymous submitted:

Let's talk about sleep paralysis! I have some wild theories, feel free to believe them or not, but this has been my gatherings after over 15 years of experiences. So - after years of Slffering from it, I've slowly learned how to control my sleep paralysis. I can morph them into cool/interesting incidences now, and have even begun using it as a jumpoff for lucid dreaming. (Disclaimer: Not reccomended if you can't control it yet, please don't try to induce SP unleash you're TOTALLY prepared for it. I don't want anybody to get hurt. And still, I cannot guarantee my own results. This took YEARS of practice.) Anyway, I've found that if you're able to force one small body part to move or jerk your head (repeatedly til it works), you can break out of patalysis at will. It takes some high focus, and becoming conscious of your physical body vs your sleeping self. You CAN move, it's just difficult. Jerk your head, snap your eyes open, or set an alarm if this planned. You'll feel intense heaviness upon waking and a strange desire to fall right back to sleep, but you'll need to sit up straight and fully wake yourself up to end it, otherwise you'll just resume it as soon as you fall asleep again. There's probably a reason for that, actually. What I may have learned through these trials is that sleep paralysis might just be the nightly beginning of the sleep cycle that we aren't meant to be conscious for. Let me run my theory by you. There was a point in my life where sleep paralysis would occur every single time I slept. Every night, it'd start with a buzzing hum that I'd kind of "melt" into, like tinnitus slowly washing over til it's all you can hear. And suddenly, I can't move. Horrific entities bearing down on me.I don't need to go into detail, you've been there. I didn't understand why, until I slowly realized I'd been conscious of the entire business of falling asleep - and that it was a several-step process. Body falls asleep first, mind follows. That's why most people don't remember the act of falling asleep and just seem to become conscious in dreams once they've already begun without you. You're paralyzed because your body is dreaming and you aren't supposed to be conscious yet. It's perhaps a REM stage that's supposed to be painless, nothing. I tested this theory by forcing myself to be calm through my nightly episodes. They would happen regardless, so I may as well try to make them less horrific, right? I would slow my heart rate using breathing exercises. I observed what was happening rather than panicking, and noticed that crushing weight on my chest slowly shift into this peaceful, almost pleasant sinking-down feeling. Like heavy water pulling you down, like a cool blanket of static coccooning around you. And sink down I did - right through this strange buzzing dark haze and directly into dreams. Most of them starting lucid. I was completely conscious of them, sometimed even seeing the dream world "load in" and fill in textures and buildings and skyline. It was surreal. I tested this over and over, and every time got the same result. If I "survived" the paralysis and just calmed, I'd drop into dreams. Sometimes I'd litrrally feel myself sink into my bed, going "below" consciousness. Soon I mapped out the enitirety of the process. Waking, pre-sleep imaginings, those imaginings getting surreal as my brain drifted, static hum overtaking, the ordeal of paralysis, and then I'd sink into what I began calling "The Platform". It was this shifting midpoint between dream-awake where it'd allow me to choose my own dreams. Sometimes I'd see dreams floating movie-like in bubbles at the edge of a void, sometimes I'd see a hall of doors, sometimes I'd literally land on a platform and build dreams from nothing, sometimes I'd fall straight through the void and start the dream flying. Now, as an aside, I am someone who experiences chronic nightmares. Almost all of my dreams have some "horror" element to them, to the point where I've learned to forcibly wake myself up by snapping my "real" physically eyes open. Now I'm overall

able to exert control over them, and overall more conscious of the state of dreaming. I can enjoy them like first-person horror movies and nope the hell out when shit gets too Sideways. The only ones that get me bad now are ones that feel real enough to hurt (real world fears like loved oned dying) ordered ones that deal with a specific phobia that makes me lose my shit. A lot of the method seems to do with "feeling" your real body outside of the dream and understanding that your dream/metaphysical(?) self is a separate entity. I wish I could describe how to do that better - its sort of how you center your body during grounding excersises. Forcing myself awake from nightmares and yanking myself out of sleep paralysis feel extremely similar. I've given myself a sort of Eject Button. Anyhow - I began talking to my SP entities and exerting some gentle control over the whole scene. Changing the power dynamic, de-escalating scary situations by joking with the entities, standing up for myself or catching them off guard. I still get terrifying incidents where I'm attacked or forced to view esoteric horrors, but, well.. I'm a horror movie fan. Sometimes creepy imagery is cool and enjoyable, and now I can cut it off if I want to. I'll even sass them if they get rude. I think I differ in beliefs with you in that I do believe that SP has a spiritual aspect (the same way that dreams do), but I recognize the psychological element as well. I think they go hand in hand, and in finding this I've been able to turn something that was deeply traumatizing into something pretty neat. Thanks for listening, friend. I'm sure this is long and rambling, but I felt like I needed to tell someone, and you seemed like the right person to tell. Be well, I hope you have pleasant dreams, or at least that your nightmares are very cool.

this is actually very impressive, because yeah. this is exactly how and why sleep paralysis happens! I always find it interesting when people arrive at a theory through their own investigation, and it adds up with official findings -- if the time and the place had been a little different, you would have been the person to pioneer the theory! but essentially yes, this is precisely why it happens and why it can be used as a platform for lucid dreaming. when you sleep, your body enters a natural state of paralysis to ensure that you don't injure yourself while sleeping. sometimes this goes wrong, but the usual failure is seen in sleepwalking -- the paralysis stops, the body wakes, the mind does not, and the person wanders around acting out their dreams or perhaps going about their usual morning routine on autopilot.

sometimes, though, it's the other way around. your brain is still awake, but your body is asleep. your dreams translate as vivid hallucinations, you can't move because of the natural paralysis (and this feeling translates itself as a heaviness, especially on the chest, resulting in the all-too-common description sleep paralysis has become known for: the feeling of something sitting or pressing on your chest) and the feeling of dread is likely because of the realisation somewhere deep down that something is very wrong; that you're not supposed to be experiencing this. some people theorise that's why sleep paralysis is overwhelmingly a terrifying event -- rarely do you hear stories of pleasant hallucinations, and this is likely because of the fact we're terrified on some level, aware that something is very unusual. combine this with the fact that sleep paralysis happens to most people only rarely -- once or twice in their lives -- and it's clear that many people don't have the opportunity to understand what happened and become familiar with it.

you're also correct in your observation that moving a small part of the body can snap you out of it. generally it's better to focus on a small part -- moving all of you is too much, but focusing on a small part like a finger or toe is much more effective. it takes a lot of effort, but the effect on the paralysis is instantaneous. the dread and the heavy feeling may take a while to pass, though. another trick to minimise how unpleasant sleep paralysis is is to keep your eyes closed. you can still sense things, and some people might hear things, but overwhelmingly the worst hallucinations are visual. keeping your eyes closed means you at least don't have to see what's crawling up your bed!

I'm like you in the way that I enjoy horror, and I also find sleep paralysis fascinating. now that I know what it is and how to get out of it, I very often just let it run its course -- at least until things get too repetitive or spooky, and then I snap myself out of it. it's absolutely incredible to see what tricks the human mind can play. the hallucinations are so incredibly real, and it's a brilliant opportunity to observe while being in no real danger. only a couple of times have I come across something genuinely paranormal during a sleep paralysis episode -- or what I thought was one, anyway. thankfully it doesn't mimic it exactly, so I can continue to enjoy watching the wild shit my brain comes up with in relative peace.

[timextoxhajima]

HOSTIS, Chapter IX: Phtonos, The God of Jealousy

Previous Chapter (VIII: Invidia)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): SMUT

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“breaking you is no longer a problem for me.”

he releases your south, but his teeth start grazing into your neck. the pressure exerted wasn’t enough to hurt you, but the friction he was creating was so subtly sensual and triggering. 

you hear the sound of his belt coming undone, yet the back of your thighs were still touching the material of his pants. 

eros pulls your lids open to watch the situation unfold in the mirror, and your hands were clutching onto his arm around your collarbone. red marks were being left on the muscles of his forearm, the ruthless sucking and kissing on your neck only making you even wetter. 

your eyes catch the dim view of his button coming undone, and you barely see the tentage in his boxers before he yanks it low enough. 

“do you need your safe word or are you too horny to even remember you have one?”

the nerves throughout your body begin to shut down one by one upon his query, and the word doesn’t even sink into your bones. all you could think of was how good he made you feel, even if it was against your will. 

never did the word once cross your mind, and it definitely won’t now. 

not when he was prodding at your entrance, like he was begging to bury himself in you; but that was merely your imagination. 

there was no way he was going to beg; you were.

a scoff washes into your neck and leans you forward, lifting your arms and running his fingers over yours onto the rim of the mirror. your heart was already palpitating mindlessly in your chest, and the little edges of the top of his pants were annoyingly tapping everywhere on your south. 

“just as i thought.”

all your energy flushes into your hands around the mirror when he shoves himself into you. the pain that was expected was instantly replaced with pleasure with all your wetness swallowing him easily. 

he starts thrusting extremely slowly, literally taking seconds to pull out completely, leaving only his tip inside you, and pushes back in with the same amount of time taken. 

your head begins to hang in shame again, heavy pants beginning to exit and enter your lungs when your legs start to tremor with the lack of speed. 

either way, you would’ve been losing energy in them anyway. 

“i wonder if eric can taste me on your tongue the next time he kisses you.”

the lack of sound from behind knocks it into your head and body that on top of how disgustingly wet you were, he was going at a speed that was forcing all the tears out around to your lids. 

“oh, do tell, tiger,” the rate he pushes in makes you feel the vein on his shaft on your left wall. “what were you expecting to happen with eric?”

he drags himself out like he was afraid to hurt you, but the pace was crushing you even more than if he wasn’t.

"were you hoping that he'll take you out on a date? or did you think he'll invite you over to his place and fuck you on the kitchen counter before he cooks you dinner?"

your waist gets wrapped with his palms, and he buries himself inside you inch by second. 

the tears finally push through your tightly shut lids, a drop or two falling to the ground. your breathing becomes louder and even more laboured when he stops moving and plants his lips on your spine instead.

a sniffle escapes your nose and the gulp that pushed down your throat was so loud, it incites a harsh suck on your lower back. 

“do you think eric can make you cry like i do?”

the noise that seethed through your teeth was a mixture of a wince, a whimper and a moan, and even you couldn’t decipher was noise that was. all you wanted for him to do was to start moving and to stop being such a pesky little piece of shit. 

“answer me, darling,” the command licks itself over your spine again, and having him buried so deeply inside you was doing nothing except whitening your knuckles around the edge of the mirror. 

“will eric ever be able to make you feel like this?”

your head drops in shame again, your fists beginning to shiver when he twitches inside you. 

“tell me, tiger, or we’ll stay like this for as long as i want you to stay like this.”

time literally freezes, and you feel nothing but his breath on the skin of your back. his palm was pressed against your stomach under you, and the occasional twitching inside you was searching for an edge to push you over. 

eros wins again, and ares starts to wear away, and it becomes a wonder if he’s ever going to be the same again. 

“...no, he can’t.”

“who can’t what?”

“...eric... can’t... make me feel like this...”

your legs were already being torn apart by shivers and small spasms; if it wasn’t for his hand on your stomach supporting you, you would’ve been on the floor by now. the aura that blanketed him significantly got less threatening, though not anywhere near safe, when he leans his chest against your back.

“very good, you’re learning,” he kisses your right shoulder blade, and the light contact sends your insides into a frenzy. “what else, darling?”

if it’s anything the last session taught you, it’s that he was true to his word: if you didn’t say what he wanted to hear, there was not going to be an end to this.

“only you... can make me feel like this, hyunjae.”

the weight of that confession starts to nip, tear, cut and slice its way through your gut. if you had to choose the most humiliating thing you’ve ever had to do in your life, it would be saying this line. 

his kisses become sloppy along your back, oozing with lust and arrogance while he smiles into your skin.

“you should start to realise that breaking you is no longer a problem for me, so i suggest you think twice before you challenge me.”

tears start to run off your face profusely, and you could already feel the weight and drying lines of mascara and liner tracing your cheekbones and your jaw. 

“but you’ve been such a good kitten, and i’m a man of my word.”

with that last line, he pulls away and he pulls himself out, the sudden emptiness causing you to gasp. but your dripping core invites him back in, this time with so much force that your entire body jerked forwards, and the mirror shifted along with the impact. 

he pulls you up by your arms, and he starts thrusting against the flesh of your ass. your wrists were held next to his hips where you could feel the end of his belt thumping against the side of your ass, and his left hand fondles recklessly with your chest. his nose dips into your neck again and your head tilts to the side to grant him access, and your eyes open for a second when you feel your high inching closer with every thrust he pushes into you.

the mirror was just large enough to show you every spot where you were combined, and the darkness of his pants around his legs in contrast to your complete nudity was making you feel so torn apart. 

eros was starting to convince you that you liked him having power over you, and the worst part of it was that you were buying it.

he hips jerk into you like his life depended on it, and your head throws back into his shoulder when his tip starts knocking on the door of your climax. your lips fall apart to let all the lewd sounds escape your lungs, and just when the pitch hits its high, he stops.

chills run through your body when your high starts to fade away, and he pulls out of you with a soft ‘pop’. your teeth bare themselves through a soft whine while he pulls you away from the mirror. 

your chest comes into contact with his, and your waist receives the extreme heat his hands were giving off. 

“not yet, tiger,” the huff lands on your lips before he kisses you, hands fumbling around his hips to remove his pants. “not yet.”

the beer coming off his tongue was slowly diluting onto yours, and when the taste began to fade completely, that’s when you realised you were giving yourself to him.

willingly.

he walks you backwards and the back of your knees hit the seat of a sofa. goosebumps erupt all over you when he lays you down by your waist into the seat, and he breaks away to turn you around on your knees.

the kisses he was leaving all over your shoulder and back really wasn’t doing much besides push out gentle mewls and moans. your elbows rest on the top of the backrest, and his soaked shaft slides back into you with one slow push. 

air gets sucked into your chest as your eyes flutter shut, and you bite on your bottom lip in attempt to stifle all the moans that were piling up in the back of your throat. his weight comes down on your back with his hands interlocking with yours, stretched out over the backrest. 

the span of his shoulders rest over yours, and you could barely see anything of the ceiling in your peripheral vision. the warmth from his chest seeps into the pores of your back atop the heat in your south, and you thought about how small you looked under him while he pushed into and pulled out of you.

you thought about how lewd the sight was, but it only made it easier for your body to swallow him.

grunts and low groans begin to pollute the air around your ears, and your eyes fixate themselves on the veins along his arms and marks you left on his skin from before. his entire body jerks with every thrust, and your skin ripples along with the movement. 

his tongue finds the edge of your ear and he starts kissing your skin like it was glass, the sensation pouring waves of pleasure over you. 

every thrust pushes out a whimper from you; there was nothing in your head besides the kissing and the amount of satisfaction he was providing you. tears gather in your eyes again when you feel your high getting closer, a high-pitched whimper running through your teeth while your fists clenched with his fingers between yours. 

but he recognised that pitch, and so he stops, again.

“hyunjae...”

“mm, kitten?”

his hands wrap around your waist once more, and he flips you back while pulling you downwards, your legs raised off the sofa and your ass resting on the edge. 

your head gets thrown back into the backrest when you realise what he was waiting for. 

sealing your eyes shut squeezed out the tears already collected along the surface, and your thighs get pushed up into the air. the movement slaps some pinch of consciousness into you, and looking down to see him dipping his nose into your core sends all of you into a violent mess. 

“wait, hyunjae-- hng--”

the train of thought gets shoved off its track by eros when you see hyunjae stick his tongue into you, and his thumb begins drawing circles on your swollen, sensitive nub. 

his hair gets tangled in your fingers while your hip anchors into the sofa by his strength. the overwhelming pleasure pulls your chin to the ceiling, your eyes rolling back so far into your head, you felt a second of headache. 

loud moans start to trickle down the corners of your lips, and the tears begin to run off the sides of your face when he replaces his tongue with his fingers. 

your grip on his hair loosens and tightens over and over again with every small nerve he hits. your calves start to weigh down and he lets you rest them over his shoulder, your toes still curled up inside your boots. 

the incessant sucking on your skin starts to rip you apart, his tongue flicking against you and the thinner, yet pleasurable, feeling of his fingers inside you was enough to help you find your edge for the third time. 

the mewls and whimpers gradually hit a pitch that he recognised now, and the agony you felt inside when you realised what he would do if you didn’t say anything was too difficult to contain. 

“hyunjae,” the name rolls off your tongue and towards the ceiling, your trembling hands still gripping to his hair. “let me-- please--”

one harsh suck on you wasn’t enough to push you into bliss, so he stops and the disappearing climax starts to piss you off. 

his thumb cleans the corner of his lips as he gets up, and the sweat was sticking his fringe to his forehead. the definition of his torso starts to eat away at you, and your head falls to the side with a loss of dignity when he walks away. 

your eyes flutter shut, already extremely frustrated that he’s denied you your bliss three times now. but your lids fly open instantly when his footsteps return before you, and his fingers stroke your jaw to make you look at him. 

the napkin with the number on it was dangling between the index finger and thumb of his free hand.

for a split second, your sexual needs vanished and ares kicks you in the gut, forcing out angry groan. 

“i’d offer you the chance to rip it apart yourself so i can ruin you without doing anything,” the edge of the napkin gets slowly torn apart. “but i decided to take your advice and do something for myself.”

and the soft shred of the napkin tears it into half. 

your heart drops, but your body wants nothing but him.

he stacks the two halves and rips it into four, and he repeats it over and over until the each piece was smaller than his fingernail. his lips were pursed as he carried out the task, and you watch with spent effort.

the little pieces get balled in his fist and thrown behind over his shoulder, the shredded napkin falling to the ground like snow as he lands both his arms next to your shoulders against the backrest.

“now that that’s out of the way...” his fingers pull on the zipper around your ankles and he pushes your shoes off. “let’s see how loud you can get while i make you come.”

he pulls your hips to his groin and slams in loudly, the sudden contact piercing through the air with a loud smack. the inappropriate noises start to budge their way through your gritted teeth, but he shoves his tongue against yours, allowing himself to drink all your pleasure. 

breaking away to let you catch your breath, your neck becomes the target of his attention. his arms find its way around your waist as he locks you against his, chest pressed against his and his flexed toned stomach from the position was making you lose all sense of reality. 

your nails start to dig into his back muscles when he manages to go deeper with each thrust, and the lewd sounds were going into his ears like music. 

“fuck-- hyunjae, i’m--”

“come for me, kitten.”

kitten.

that last thrust really did it, and your spine shakes up your entire body within his hold. every shiver and every tremor tears through your nerves and muscular system, and the inhumane growl that escaped your throat gets muffled with his lips coming between yours. 

the aggressive thumping in your chest starts to calm when your climax comes down from its high, and you were expecting him to pull out and release all over you with the least bit of respect.

but not only does he not release on you, he doesn’t release at all.

the look in his eyes was so proud and blatant, your eyes widen in surprise when he looked like he didn’t just screw you over.

he emptily plants a kiss between your lips again before picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, your arms circling around his shoulders instinctively for support. 

if he wasn’t holding you so close to his chest like a baby, your spent legs would given up and dropped yourself to the ground. 

still panting, he lets you rest your head in his collar as he walks up the stairs, leaving all your clothes and that little puddle of shredded napkin in living room. 

you could feel your wetness and the aftermath of your high trickling down your inner thighs with each step he took, and it wasn’t long before a door was opened behind you and he drops you into a bed. 

the scent of the room was nothing short of smelling like him; the scent of his cologne and whatever products he used in his hair or whatever, made you feel so intoxicated. 

why the hell are you here?

your tired eyes shut when he kisses you again, the soft squelch of your tongues against each other sounding like both lust and hatred, but you couldn’t tell which of the two you were feeling anymore. your fingers start to run up his nape and into his hair on the back of his head when he harshly sucks on your neck, and this time round, you were sure he was going to leave marks. 

his warm palm start to fumble with your chest, but his left hand travels south. 

it wasn’t long before you feel him prodding at your wet-again core, and having the tip of him slide up and down your entrance was pushing you towards your mindless needs again.

“i hope you don’t think you’re done, kitten... because i’m not.”

both his palms start to play with your chest as his pelvis anchors forward, your walls stretching out for him all over again. 

the nerves in your hands were contracting themselves around in his hair and your eyes flutter shut when his lips wrap around the tips of your breasts.

your back arcs off the mattress, and he shoves you back down with his force pressing into your hips. 

the thrusts were slower, and you feel all the lines and veins on his shaft each time he drags out of you. you were starting to feel sore between your legs, but just picturing him disappearing inside you was unfortunately redeeming.

the smell of his hair starts to linger in your nose over the smell of your fluids trickling out of you. your tongue hits the roof of your mouth and your skin starts to burn with every kiss, suck, mark, he leaves on you.

your diminishing energy wasn’t doing you the favour of keeping your mouth shut, for the lewd sounds return to the atmosphere in whimpers and moans, every now and then his name rolling off your tongue with your eyes closed. 

your voice becomes airy as it gradually increases its pitch, and you could feel his sweat starting to drip onto your chest with a smirk wrapped around the flesh of your breast.

“since you wanted to come so badly, let’s see how many times i can make you come.”

he really needs to shut the fuck up.

the climax races through you without warning, and you just now realise you were crying again. the mixture of dried mascara and liner felt thick and messy around your face; for a moment, you worried if you stained his bedsheet.

but before that thought could ride itself out, your entire body doesn’t stop jerking with the thrusts he was providing you. 

the orgasm doesn’t stop, and it instead becomes overwhelmingly overstimulating.

not only that, he pulls away and starts to rub harsh circles on your nub right where you were already sore from the merciless fucking. 

the tears become uncontrollable when the immense sensation peels your nerves apart, your legs already extremely spent from all that he was doing to you. 

“hyunjae... oh, fuck-- hyunjae-- oh, my god--”

your chin tilts to the ceiling and the crown of your head presses into the cushion.

“oh, shi-- hyunjae-- hyunjae!”

“third time’s the charm, kitten.”

it shouldn’t have been possible, but you come again on top of another climax. 

the bedsheet was balled in your hands while your entire body goes into harsh spasms, and he holds your hips down again, chasing his own high with a few more violent thrusts.

the vein on his neck looked like it was about to burst, and there were more surfacing on his arms which he used the last hour or so destroying the hell out of you. 

a low -- almost painful -- groan runs through his throat when he pulls out, and the load that landed on the floor looked close to unnatural. 

the room was nothing short of the scent of sex and sweat and aggressive panting. 

your half hooded eyes were on the verge of closing, a muscle somewhere inside you still freezing up like a cramp every few seconds. 

the sweat on your forehead and his sweat on your chest comes off when he returns with a warm towel, which you don’t even recall seeing him move off to get it.

your legs were pulled apart and the rough material of the cloth gets dragged around your soreness and thighs.

a beep sounded somewhere in the room, and cool air starts to blast down on your legs, but you were so exhausted from the ruthless sex that not a single nerve responds to the sudden change in temperature.

your consciousness was already beginning to flit in and out of blackness, and it returns momentarily for you to realise that you were covered in a blanket now.

a blanket that smelled like him.

a rustle holds your attention for just a second, but the light shutting off hurls you into complete unconsciousness. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter X: Medium Duorum

A/N: i need holy fucking water...

[scarabbai]

Devourer of Delightful Dreams

Relationships: Albedo & Klee, Albedo & Durin

Word count: 1200

Summary:

Even the sweetest of dreams can be fouled by spirits that linger and cling to their kin.

In which Albedo and Klee spend a day together that’s perfect... until it’s not.

AO3 Link

When Albedo opens his eyes, a lush meadow unfolds and blankets the world before him with colorful wildflowers and vibrant grass glowing with life. He tilts his head and feels the caress of a refreshing spring breeze against his cheek, the wind playfully running through his hair. The skies are clear and blue with not a single cloud in sight, and the temperature is just right in its warmth: idyllic, perfect for a day as fine as this.

Among all this is a familiar weight in his lap, and when the figure in his arms shifts and turns her head to look up at him, Albedo cannot help but return the smile Klee beams at him. She is pure joy in the smallest of packages, her enthusiasm brighter than the sun. Albedo holds her closer as she returns to the half formed flower crown in her hands. Her face is surely scrunched up in concentration, her tongue probably sticking out while she puts in her best efforts to tie the stems together. She is precious, a treasure meaning more than Mondstadt itself.

Albedo would do anything to protect her. Even the unthinkable.

He brushes the thought aside. For now, there is no need to ponder such things. Instead, he watches with mild amusement as Klee huffs and kicks out her feet in frustration, the flowers of her failed attempt reduced to a heap in her lap. As expected, her lips are turned downward in a firm pout when Albedo leans forward to look at her face. His own mouth curls upward into a doting smile in response.

Klee, unhappy? No, that simply won’t do.

Calling forth his alchemical abilities, his hand glows with the ancient power of Khemia. He holds his palm out in front of her, and, just like that, a glittering crystalfly bursts forth.

It is a being conjured from nothing, life at his fingertips. By all means, it is against the laws of nature. This is the forbidden art that led to the fall of the people Albedo was created to avenge so many centuries ago.

Klee, not knowing any of this, does not pay it any mind at all.

As the crystalfly spreads its wings, she stares at it with eyes wide open, big and round in her curiosity. She grins and claps when it gives them an experimental flap, outright cheering when the little creature finally leaves Albedo’s palm and takes off into the air. Seeing Klee happy again puts Albedo’s heart at ease, and he relaxes his hold on her for a moment.

That proves to be a mistake.

In her excitement and his momentary gap in attention, Klee manages to wriggle out of Albedo’s arms and back onto her feet, giving chase to the little gift of alchemy. Something ugly inside him seizes with cold and dread the moment she leaves his side, and he’s scrambling to his feet in no time to catch up to her rapidly retreating form, the flowers trampled and forgotten in his wake. He cries out her name as he sprints after her, but she offers him no response apart from gleeful giggles that ring in his ears like a death knell. Somehow, despite his longer legs and superior endurance, she eludes him. She grows farther and farther away from him despite all logic saying it shouldn’t be possible, following the artificial glow of an equally false creation of alchemy.

He doesn’t know why he’s so stricken with fear at the thought of Klee not safely in his grasp. He doesn’t know why it fills him with such despair that his hand, reaching out desperately to a Klee who only becomes smaller and smaller in his vision, comes up empty every time. He doesn’t know why protectiveness so suddenly surges and burns within his chest, screaming at him to shelter her from the incoming danger, the looming threat, the rapidly approaching shadow that blots out the sky, oh Archons, it’s coming, it’s coming for—

Klee jumps into the air like a spring, a triumphant cry bursting from her lips as her tiny fist finally closes around the winged bait.

Then the enormous shadow dives down and opens its gaping maw, and little Klee disappears with a resounding snap of the black dragon’s jaws.

Albedo screams.

He wakes with a ragged gasp clawing out of his throat, his body shaking, tears in his eyes and all over his face. Gripping the sheets as he sits up, he counts from one to ten and back down again to steady his heavy and uneven breathing. With a shaking sigh, he buries his head in his hands and assesses the situation.

It is currently the dead of the night. He is at home, in bed, back from his lengthy trip in Dragonspine and settled in Mondstadt for the first time in weeks. In strong contrast to his emotional state, nothing is wrong with his vitals. Whatever it is he has in place of a heart beats calmer now, and he is not covered in sweat from his panic because his body does not normally produce it. For all intents and purposes, Albedo is fine. Klee is sleeping peacefully a few doors down in her own room, and she is fine as well. Everything is good and right in the world. It was just a dream, a nightmare. Nothing to worry about.

Resolving to forget the matter and go back to sleep, he lies down again. The weight of the covers is a comforting one, and the combined efforts of his bed and the cool nighttimes of spring serve well to soothe him back to the brink of sleep.

However, before he can drift off, he feels something unsettling coil in his stomach and knows he’s forgotten something. The realization leaves him gasping again when he remembers he had planned on going to Windrise with Klee first thing in the morning.

The image of Klee being devoured by the dragon is too fresh in Albedo’s mind. Come morning light, he and Klee will spend the day indoors.

Decision made, Albedo pulls the covers tighter around himself and wills the uneasy feelings festering within him to leave. As he closes his eyes, he tries very hard not to think of wings large enough to turn the sky black, of a pulsing heart hidden away in a valley of bones and snow, of the voice in Dragonspine that often creeps into the back of his head and rasps, like a ghost, in his ears: Brother...

Durin haunts him, Albedo knows this. He knows he cannot escape his fate, that he is destined someday to sprout his own dark wings and fangs and follow in his deceased brother’s wingbeats.

But he still has time before he succumbs, and he will spend that time as best as he can with the members of his family who still walk the earth. He will spend his waking moments with his friends, with acquaintances, and with enemies all the same.

For now, he still has time.

Durin will never take Klee, not as long as Albedo still lives.

And for Klee, Albedo would do anything.

Even and especially the unthinkable.