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sunshinespear · 2 years

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it’s midnight and i’m back to desperately wishing for the fanfic that goes like:

you’re tywin lannisters fourth child that he had (somehow) (also you dont have a mom bc plot) and you’re already an old maid by the court’s standards (20-something *shock and horror*) so you’re being pressured to marry by your house. so when your nameday gets near there’s a big week-long ball and everyone in the seven kingdoms is invited and you’re supposed to find the most dynastically advantageous husband out of them all but you hate them all---

then dorne pops up (who the fuck thought they were actually going to accept the invitation. they didn’t even rsvp) and everyone’s like oooo drama and you and prince oberyn meet and like he’s cute or whatever but he’s also annoying and your families hate each other so you two HAVE to hate each other but oh no he’s hot oh no he’s nice oh no he’s a really good dad oh no he’s so sweet and protective to his paramour ellaria (also really nice and sweet and hot and a great mom -- also you respect her so much even though you’re a lady from literally The Worst noble family and she’s “just” a Sand and that makes you ~different~ so they both like and respect you more) and then slowly over the course of the weeklong festivities you get into more scenarios where you turn from butting heads into getting to know them both better and slowly start to fall for each of them ---

but twyin is just a cunt and he’s like “you’re not allowed to be seen with them because they have a bad reputation, also here’s your not friendly reminder that you have to get married, you old hag. and yeah i know i said i would let you pick your husband-” (bc you argued for it bc the patriarchy cannot get you down even in medieval times, you are a boss bitch lioness so these bitches can hear you rawr and thats why you won the argument with tywin - you’re just that amazing and stubborn) “-so i know i said i would let you pick but i picked for you, go accept his proposal now” and you’re like “oh my god my life is over and i can never be with these people i truly care about and they’ll never want me because our houses are ~eNeMiEs~” or whatever

AND THEN the most shocking plot twist ever, prince oberyn likes you back and he’s like “nah fuck it. i’ll fight your dad, i’ll fight your brother, i’ll fight whoever the fuck this loser that thinks he’s gonna propose to you is. i’m fighting everybody, ok. what’s good?”

so you’re like in the great hall and literally in the middle of getting proposed to (today is finally the last day of the ball and also your official nameday) and he’s just like “I OBJECT” or something andddddd then there’s like some arguing or whatever but then homie just looks at this dude you’re supposed to be marrying and is like “i’m entitled to a fair duel with you for her. soooo if you really like her that much duel me and draw my blood first” and whoever that punk is is STUCK okay because tywin is terrifying but so is DUELING THE RED VIPER so anyway that dude just gives up. he’s like “no thank you, i like living, you can have her”

so, tywin is PISSED but what’s he gonna do? the man with the worst reputation at court just said he wants you and he’ll fight anybody about it. so now your reputation is kinda fucked by proxy and you don’t even care and you’re telling him in front of the whole court that you caught feelings too. what can tywin even do? he has to just accept it and try to leverage it later (that will not work, because he’s been abusive to you since you were a child and you’re finally with the one person who’s not afraid of him who is also a member of the one family he cannot touch).

so you get to marry prince oberyn in the end and be with him and ellaria in dorne making love and having babies for forever YAY.

also this is a blast from the past story so it’s before all the main events of the show. ellaria is pregnant in this and she’s just walking around looking like a goddess of fertility and beauty and flowers and love. actually as a matter of fact you spend the first few days wanting to punch oberyn but you and ellaria get along like you’ve known each other your whole lives and that drives him INSANE because at this point he’s still in denial that he likes your ass meanwhile you and the love of his life are just doing hot girl shit together. ellaria knows him well enough to know he likes you (beyond wanting to fuck you, which he absolutely does) and that he hasn’t realized it yet and she spends most of her time teasing him about it.

so anyway, tywin also tries to be really mean to you about ellaria at some point in this story like trying to insinuate that you’ll never matter to oberyn bc of her or he’ll try to bargain with oberyn that he has to give ellaria up in order to marry you and the three of y’all are like “...HA HA. anyways soooo... back to doing whatever tf we want” and then y’all all live happily ever after. the end.

oh also there’s like some sort of gift giving ceremony at some point early in the week and prince oberyn gives you this young dornish stallion that hasn’t been broken yet (IT’S A METAPHOR). so everyone who is dornish laughs and is like “yeah exactly, give the lannisters an unbroken stallion that’s gonna try to kill whoever rides it. haha yes. that will send a Message” and everyone that’s not dornish is like “oop time to brutally abuse this animal and try to break it” but of course they’re all dummies and you know 1) you’re gonna make this horse Your Horse, and that 2) abusing it to break it will never work. but the not-dornish court people literally try to abuse your new horse right in front of you

so you’re just like “i will literally stab anyone who touches my new horse” and everyone’s like *eyes emoji*, “wot,” but everyone leaves it alone and let’s you work with the horse while it tries to literally kill you. then over the course of the week while you’re falling in love with oberyn, the b-plot is that you’re slowly earning the trust of this horse that he gave you every day that you’re working with it and eventually by the morning of your nameday (just after tywin told you he picked you out a husband and you think you’re life is over) the horse finally likes you enough to let you ride it (which the dornish thought you never would be able to) without having to “break it” (as everyone else wanted you to). this fills you up with hope yknow bc you’re about to go accept this proposal you don’t want and you had almost lost hope but at the same time this spirited creature with almost as much stubbornness as you has finally let you in. and riding it feels like freedom and you’re kinda like “yknow what i’m always going to keep this horse with me to remind me to have an unbreakable spirit” so it’s actually very deep and meaningful okay bitch and you’re able to go into that court that morning with your head held high

SO THE HORSE METAPHOR: both you and the horse are unbroken by your evil awful family and also you slowly earned the horse’s trust and affection without forcing anything, keeping the horse unbroken, the same way you slowly earned prince oberyn’s (literal house words: unbowed, unbent, unbroken) trust and affection. so the narrative is kinda paralleled/foretold by what’s going on with the horse and both you and oberyn are represented by the horse in different ways. maybe the same morning the horse finally trusts you enough to let you ride it is the same morning oberyn realizes the full brunt of his feelings and decides to take action about it. maybe that’s too on the nose and i should stop with the horse metaphor.

also optional extra detail if you want: you’re different from the rest of your family because while they all have blond hair, you have a mane of black hair. symbolically and physically, you are the “black lioness” of the family (and the court may have nicknamed you as such). you are the one who is so wildly different from the rest and eventually leaves to find where you do belong because of it

And then I remember this fic only exists in my head and if i want to read i’m gonna have to WRITE. IT. ew.

#yes this is cringe and it is my happiness #this is literally the movie that plays in my head and on paper it sounds WACK #but in the big screen in my head *chef's kiss*#prince oberyn #oberyn x reader #ellaria x reader #oberyn x ellaria x reader #oberyn x you #ellaria x you #oberyn x ellaria x you #house martell #ellaria sand

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beowulf22121 · 2 years

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So. Workplace injury. I'm not "fine" but I'm going to survive.

Here's how well the American system works:

I spoke to my doctor about muscle pain. Was told to use over the counter pain stuff and got reassured it was normal.

Month later: Pain happens. Leave work 20 minutes in, and go directly to the hospital. X-ray, CAT scan, and 4 different drugs later, they say it's *THING*

Go to a specialist and get scheduled for more tests. I have damage beyond the muscle pain from earlier, and it's fresh.

Workers comp lady: We're denying your claim because you talked to your doctor about pain a month before this happened.

Me: That was clearly defined as standard muscle pain, this is deeper damage not in the muscle.

Workers comp lady: Yes. And we are turning down your claim, it sounds like you think this isn't fair, would you like to be the guy who fought his boss? You can try to fight your boss.

I don't have the resources for that, so I decline. I've kept insurance informed in case something goes sideways. I call them.

Me: Workers compensation denied this, am I still good for *PROCEDURE IN 5 DAYS*

Insurance lady: Yes, we did okay this procedure when the specialists office sent it in, incase it was turned down by Workers Comp, you're good to go.

Next morning get called from specialist.

Specialists phone representative: We sent this in to workers comp, this is a reminder your appointment is in 4 days.

Me: They say they're denying it, I spoke to insurance-

Her: Okay sir we're going to have to run all this past your insurance, just let me call them and get back to you.

Me: I gave you my insurance when I was in, and I just talked to them-

Her: Well we need to talk to them, I'll need to call, and with your appointment so soon I need to do it now.

Me: Let me talk. Just let me get this entire statement out and lsiten. I gave you my insurance, and your office, if not you specifically, already ran it. I spoke with them and they know. I've been given the okay and my appointment is covered.

Her: Okay, but we need to call it in and tell them.

Me: You did. I checked. If you need the record that you called, go ahead and call, I'm just letting you know that they're already in the loop.

Six minutes later she called to tell me she had apparently ran it past my insurance company on the day I first went to the specialist, and I was good to go. She never mentioned it was exactly like I said it was.

~~~~~

The real reason I tell that story is so I can tell another one and make a comparison.

One day, at *Fast food place* Wife and I order food to go. They've got a big sign for a new sandwich with breaded chicken, tomato, lettuce, and some kind of flavored sauce. Wife points at the sign with one thing on it, reads it off, and says "Yeah I'll have the *whatever it was*"

We get home, and her sandwich is literally a plain bit of chicken on a bun.

So I go back.

Dude at the counter asks whats wrong. I tell him "we ordered *Sandwich on sign* and got *this*"

Dude: So what's the problem?

Me: Sandwich on sign has lettuce, tomato, sauce, and the chicken is breaded.

Dude: (while holding a bun that contains just 1 unbreaded bit of chicken) Yeah?

Me: That's plain chicken on a bun.

Dude: (looking at it for the first time) Oh yeah! Let me fix that.

He was gone for a moment and came back with the right food. Still seemed confused as to why I was upset.

~~~~~

Comparison:

The fast food worker who conservatives argue should only make starvation wages, saw that I had something to say about my point and let me explain, saw what I meant, and addressed the issue, even apologized.

The specialists representative who makes full time hours with benefits spoke over me and had to be asked to let me finish talking before I could get my point across. Then she called me back, not to apologize or even acknowledge what I said, but to tell me that she called my insurance like she said she would.

Long and short of it: Fast food workers should make enough to live comfortably.

Also when I go back to the specialist I'm asking if he's willing to hire me as a front desk person in place of whoever called me.

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videogametako · 3 months

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steam next fest feb 2024: plushie from the sky

anime girl souls-like, cute. link here

https://store.steampowered.com/app/1679510/Plushie_from_the_Sky/

we're in tutorial land, a land of joy and whimsy

lowered graphics twice to reduce lag (laptop could not handle)

overview

so uh as the name implies we kinda just fall out of the sky and we go through the tutorial (see above screenshots)

when we're done with that we once again fall from the sky into

yeah, with how slow this loaded on my computer i died a few times immediately lol, it asks you to immediately learn to fly without pausing time (which i think devs should consider doing)

an enemy spawns right beside your save point too uh i'm not agreeing with some of the design decisions here ngl

the enemy isn't that hard though. i kinda like the weird enemy designs contrasted with the player character's whimsical joyous kid stuff. it's certainly quirky (as the devs put it) and having an anime girl fight a cactus monster with a monkey plush first thing is a neat way to set the game's atmosphere

mechanics

the controls feel like a bit of a mess, but maybe it's just because i'm not used to souls-likes? regardless, judge for yourself

dashing barely depletes stamina so all you basically have to manage is melee attacking and rolling. ideally. i say ideally because stamina never really felt like a problem. also you can kinda just blitz past enemies, though i wanted to feel how combat is and it's how i expected it. ranged attacks need ammo but cost no stamina and you engage from a distance, and melee attacks are pretty strong bc they seem to always stagger enemies? upon further inspection it's more like, as long as they aren't already attacking which makes more sense

chests and critters to collect, pretty standard

recovery mechanic, you get a cute bed like when you save. it charges when you melee combat, fair enough. though i didn't expect meeting a boss so soon after this, i was engaging a mob then suddenly the big cactus thing just rolls up in the background and there we are

weak point. i was mainly just jumping around and switching between melee and range attacks and it died. yippee

anyway right after i discovered that rolls have no cooldown between them, it's pretty fun to do and when you get the rabbit plush you move pretty fast. you can even practically fly with it. i tried getting screenshots but ended up turning on high contrast mode so i decided to get my thoughts of the game so far down first. so, uh, lemme try again

i think that's good enough. decided to map dodge to F so i could do this easier

oh yeah those collectible critters are apparently ammunition! you can do a charged shot in this game

i ended up lagging too much at a certain point (you'll see why) so it's time to conclude this post after this uh, anecdotal section

that one enemy

i ended up stopping early because one of the enemies (pictured) makes this really really annoying ringing sound and uh, it uh, summons other enemies.

a lot of enemies.

a LOT of enemies

i upped my stamina regen so i could basically infinitely roll + jump (not that hard) in the air but they chase you so like. i could not play. at all. my frames were probs below 10 throughout this entire ordeal and uh, honestly in it's own way it was kind of fun

closing thoughts

plushie from the sky felt like a casual soulslike experience (from someone who doesn't play so many soulslikes) and i thought it was interesting enough! there is a lot of polishing that needs to be done here. or maybe my device just couldn't handle it.

i can sorta see the vision the devs have for this game i think, and i respect that. it's definitely not my thing (at least not until i can run it properly). i'd also rather reserve judgement for a (1) demo that (2) i cannot run properly in (3) a genre i don't have much experience in (i just tried it out bc it looked cute). the later levels shown on the steam page look kinda cool and fun too

overall, i'm keeping my mind open to this game, will probs try it again when it releases and i hopefully have a better computer. wishlist it if it sounds like something you'd like, it helps the devs

#video games #plushie from the sky #fishwind #indie games #game review #next fest #steam next fest #demo

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nightcoremoon · 1 year

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more video games need to reject the dark souls control scheme and start incorporating its design philosophy

too many modern western RPGs particularly immsims have coddled the player. oh it’s okay baby, you horribly specced your stats and ruined your character build? you don’t have to worry, there’s always a way forward. six or seven in fact. you can fight, or you can hack, or you can explore, or you can use a speech check, or you can just throw your corpse at the problem over and over and over again and hope and pray that eventually the stars will align and you’ll get good RNG that hands you the win without you ever actually having to develop any skills. skyrim is the worst offender. save scumming is the bane of developing any actual skill or particular specialization. and skyrim rewards save scumming. skyrim rewards just ramming your skull into a brick wall for twenty minutes before moving on to the next pointless shallow radiant quest. skyrim can’t develop a chair so uncomfortable that it can kill you if you fuck up your stats hard enough.

dark souls was built around saying, ok look, sometimes you are not good enough to beat a boss first try. it will be atrociously difficult, so unless you’re already a master at the game you will not EVER beat the asylum demon with a broken straight sword. THE FIRST THING YOU DO IN THE GAME IS RUN AWAY FROM AN ENEMY YOU HAVE NO HOPE OF KILLING. and it’s not a scripted sequence. it’s not an invincible model of alduin here to ruin your day but not kill you because ~tHaT wOuLdNt bE fAiR~ dark souls slaps you in the face, kicks you in the junk, and says EXPLORATION BEFORE COMBAT. so you fully explore the area, you find your shit, you get an optional parry tutorial but it’s a trap and parrying is stupid & lame (I’ve beaten dark souls a dozen times and not parried a single time; I don’t even know how to parry but if you’re in parrying distance and not running a dagger build then your “build” is awful), then you get an environmental vantage point. suddenly holy shit the asylum demon is a cakewalk, BECAUSE YOU EXPLORED A LEVEL FIRST.

then upon going to firelink the average virgin skyrim player will say “ok now where do I go?”

they don’t talk to the crestfallen knight or listen to what he says. I mean oscar only told you to go ring the bell of awakening, and the crestfallen knight only tells you to go up to the church and down to blighttown, but hey there isn’t a blinky light on the compass telling you to get sued by aerosmith and WALK THIS WAY so of course you’re lost. nobody looks at their surroundings so they don’t see the clear and obvious path full of enemies you’ve already fought before and this would be well suited to your current skill level. they exterior collisions if smart and pick a direction if they’re dumb, and either end up fighting skeletons that take little if any damage but bonk you like a dump truck, or fighting ghosts that take zero damage at all. well gee, these don’t strike you as higher level areas? you’re used to games whose enemies scale up with your level rather than being x level in x area. like playing any mmorpg and being level 6 walking into the level 80 zone and slapping the ass of the nearest ogre berserker and he turns you into a bowl of grits and then being like WHAT THE FUCK, THIS GAME IS BULLSHIT.

so when you finally either a) pay attention b) complete the exterior collisions or c) whine until chat holds your hand to the HIGHLY VISIBLE PATH TO THE FUCKING AQUEDUCT then you make your way through the burg. skyrim players take 2 hours to get to this point. so look. before I go any further down that point, I do need to say that I did skip a step. but don’t worry I did it for a reason. see, the cemetery is technically right next to firelink. but it is not firelink. no music, no NPCs, no lights no music just anger (and skeletons). still, there’s some pretty nice loot in there. a decent starter spear, a shield, oh yeah and THE BEST STANDARD WEAPON IN THE GAME? AH FRAU ZWEIHANDER, DAST IS MEIN LEIB…stein? anyway the zweihander is dark souls’ easy mode, and it also is a reward for understanding possibly the single most important skill that young new players can learn. the suicide run. not the corpse run, the corpse run is not a new mechanic invented by demons souls, stop fucking calling it the goddamn dark souls corpse run if you do it. but the suicide run. see, what do you lose when you die? your humanity status. that’s it. you die hollow, nothing happens. you die human, you turn hollow. that’s it. you don’t lose anything by dying. anything you drop can be easily picked back up again. but your items and gear all stay. so you can easily run into the graveyard; pick up an item, die, repeat until you have everything that you need. you get stronger without fighting because you increase your options. this is a test of exploring not environment but mechanics. it’s not NECESSARY to win, but it sure does make things much more achievable in less time. because that’s the beauty of dark souls. it’s not hard, you just have to apply yourself and obtain the skill. no different from any other video game. FPS? learn to aim. fighter? memorize your combos. rhythm? get good at timing. this is just character action with extra stats.

so if you make it through the burg without exploring and collecting anything, you die repeatedly and rage out and break your controller and punch a whole in the wall and yell at twitch chat and walk away from the computer for a few minutes before ending stream to play stardew or slime rancher or something in total silence, fuming, the bullshit game didn’t hand you the win. you get tilted and spend all your time learning to fight the basic mooks with your +0 broadsword and two hours later you’ve grinded up enough souls to be ready for O&S before the taurus fight. you fought mobs instead of breeding the chocobo so you can punch the sea monster in the face. but if you’d just bred the damn chocobos you’d already be to fucking wutai by now but NOOOOO the way the game was designed isn’t good enough for you, you’re so cool and awesome and badass and so much smarter than the entirety of square enix circa 1997, you don’t need to play by the rules. you’ve wasted your time getting so stupidly overpowered you can kill anything in one shot that by the time you make it to a boss that takes actual skill and strategy to beat DYNE KICKS YOUR DAMN FOOL ASS SO HARD YOU ACCIDENTALLY LOAD YOUR SAVE FROM THE SHINRA BUILDING AND THEN ACCIDENTALLY SAVE OVER THE FILE YOU WERE JUST PLAYING AND YOU LOSE SEVERAL DOZEN HOURS OF PROGRESS IN ONE FELL SWOOP AND THEN NEVER PLAY THE GAME AGAIN FOR TEN YEARS. what do you mean my experiences are not universal? well anyway I know by personal experience ok? explore the fucking burg. realize that the black knights are not beatable by you right now. grab the gold pine resin, use it (or not) with a plunging attack (or not) and kill the Taurus demon and move on to the bridge drake. and try to kill it. and fail. because you still haven’t learned your goddamn lesson yet. EXPLORE THE AREA FULLY BEFORE FIGHTING THE DAMN BOSS, AND ONLY CHALLENGE IT WHEN YOURE STRONGER.

dark souls is so so easy if you just pay the fuck attention.

dark souls isn’t hard, YOU JUST SUCK.

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zodiakuroo · 3 years

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Cupid’s Bullet

Dabi comes home with a very special Valentine’s Day surprise for you.

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Contains: dubcon/noncon, mentions of death, unhealthy relationship, gun play, fear play, forced orgasms, squirting, mindbreak, angst (if you squint?), quirk usage, one slap but it’s a hard one :3, overstimulation, creampie

Word count: 5.3k

Notes: pls this title is so cringe but it's like bullet instead of arrow cause... ya know but anyways happy valentine’s day from scumbag boyfie!dabi

Dating a villain meant that your relationship was unconventional to say the least. For one, public dates were out of the question, unless you wanted it to end in destruction of public property and some scorched heroes. You also always had to have some kind of flimsy excuse for your family and friends when they asked to meet your elusive boyfriend. In addition, you had to accept the fact that he would have to disappear sometimes for weeks on end to do his boss’ bidding.

There was also the small matter of arson, murder and theft and a multitude of other crimes that you’d prefer not to know about. And while you weren’t necessarily okay with a lot of what Dabi did, you loved him. You loved him so much that turning a blind eye was so easy it made you question your own morality. He didn’t scare you either. Not in the slightest, because you knew in his own special way, he loved you too.

In fact it ran much deeper than that. On his worst days, Dabi could set the world ablaze until nothing was left because in the end he didn’t care about anyone or anything, not even himself. Until he met you, he says. He tells you that in you, he’s found something to tether him to this existence.

Ok so maybe he didn’t use those words exactly, but he doesn’t have to. You know that’s what he means when he spoils you with expensive, stolen clothes and jewellery, when he offers to burn alive any person who makes you even the tiniest bit upset and when he comes home to you bloodied and beaten, trusting you to take care of him.

In summary, your relationship forced you to give up on having any “normal couple” experiences. That included, celebrating anniversaries and silly holidays like Valentine’s Day so you never bothered to keep track of them. It could hardly be considered a sacrifice when you compared those things to what you actually got from your relationship.

Dabi had been gone for close to a month now and you didn’t expect him back anytime soon, not knowing where he was or what he was doing. In fact the very last thing you expected was for him to creep into your bedroom in the middle of night and rouse you from your peaceful sleep with a soft kiss on your temple.

You don’t jump out of bed in a panic, like any sane person would. Instead you let out a satisfied hum, surrounded by the scent of burnt flesh, ash and menthol, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. It should be unpleasant but its Dabi’s scent and you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. You pick your phone up from your night stand, squinting your eyes at the bright light that makes them sting.

Sunday 14 February, 2:43am

“Welcome home.” You mumble groggily, trying your best to fight off your tired body urging you to go back to sleep.

Instead of replying, he greets you by pressing his mouth to yours. You let out a quiet gasp, startled by the sudden display of affection. His lips are chapped but that doesn’t matter, your tongue darts out to moisten them before your lips lock into a gentle kiss.

You reach up, weaving your hands through his dark hair in an attempt to draw him closer but he retreats, opting instead to turn on the bedside lamp but keeping his other hand behind his back. “Sit up doll. Got a surprise for ya.”

Any thoughts of sleep were long forgotten as soon as his lips met yours but now he’s really piqued your interest. You push yourself up against the headboard and sit cross-legged. You look up at Dabi expectantly. Your boyfriend is smiling wide, skin pulled so taut you think one of his staples might give out. He reveals to you what he has hidden behind his back. A square black box, wrapped in a cobalt satin ribbon.

It’s so cliché you can’t help but let out a small snort. “What is it?”

“It’s a gift. You know… for Valentine’s Day?” He says as though it should be obvious to you.

Your heart swells at the gesture. It really was a surprise. Not in a bad way, you just knew he wasn’t your average boyfriend and that was okay. You didn’t want him to be.

“Well now I feel awful. I didn’t get you anything.” You pout as he props the box onto your lap.

“’S like a toy… so it’s technically for you but kinda for both of us.” It’s unusual to see Dabi this excited. The way he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes filled with mirth makes you all the more curious.

“Like a sex toy?” A giggle escapes you as you undo the bow.

“Are we playing fuckin’ 20 questions? Just open it.” He presses you.

You huff at his impatience but you don’t comment, not wanting to wait any longer either. You remove the lid of the box only to find something wildly unexpected.

A revolver?

You look up at your boyfriend with confusion etched on your face but his gleeful grin doesn’t falter. You’ve never seen a sex toy like this so you pick up the article to test its weight. It’s definitely the real deal.

“Dabi, this isn’t a toy.” You state matter-of-factly.

He merely rolls his eyes and says “Doll, when you can incinerate someone with a flick of your wrist, that little thing is definitely considered a toy?”

“O-okay? What do you want to do with it?” You ask, placing offending object onto your nightstand, not really wanting to hold on to it anymore, the metallic smell making you feel queasy.

“Ever heard of Russian Roulette?” Dabi, picks up the abandoned item, looking down at it with pride.

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows as nervousness starts to creep into your system and you instinctively move to back away from him but Dabi is quick to pull you back.

“It’s real easy doll. No need to look so scared.” He crawls on top of you, caging you in with his limbs. “6 chambers. 1 bullet. All you have to do is be a good girl for me. If not, I pull the trigger and we see what happens.”

The look on his face is positively demented. Azure eyes wide and bright, patchwork face contorted into a a sinister smile, white teeth and silver staples gleaming in the dim light.

“Baby,” you hope the pet name will placate him. It usually does. “I don’t know about thi-“

CLICK

You let out a shriek as your body jolts in fear but you’re unable to move with his weight pressing on top of you.

“You see now doll?” He clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “You’ve gone and wasted a shot.”

Dabi climbs off of you and you’re left lying there with your heart hammering violently in your chest, body trembling, still reeling from the shock of what just happened. Reeling from the shock of what is happening

“You gonna listen now? Gonna be good?” Dabi prompts, rolling the gun around in his hand.

All you can do is nod as your eyes being to water. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only grows worse as your mind races with the possible things Dabi has in store for you.

“Good. Now strip.” He command and like a good girl, you obey.

Your arms feel like they’re made of lead, moving rigidly to take off your shirt (one of Dabi’s old ones). You can’t stop the tears from falling as you pull down your panties, fat droplets roll down your cheeks, desperately trying to swallow the sounds of your sobbing.

This can’t be happening. It’s Dabi. He wouldn’t hurt you. He promised you that.

“Oh cut the fuckin’ waterworks.” He snaps. “As long as you listen, you’ll be fine.”

You try to calm yourself with deep breaths, not wanting to irritate him any further.

When you turn to face him, he’s leaning back on his haunches, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily gripping the revolver. “Fair warning, I’m more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kinda guy. But you know that already.” He thumbs the cylinder, making it spin. “Now, touch yourself for me.”

Breathing is difficult. No matter how much you try, it’s like you can’t get enough air into your lungs. Thinking only of gun in your boyfriend’s hand, you still you bring your own hand between your legs, but you can’t concentrate, what with the dread taking over your body making it tough to have any control of your body. Your movements are stiff and apparently not up to Dabi’s standards.

He only scoffs before-

CLICK

You scream again, body nearly flying off the bed before you curl yourself up into a ball. The fright is enough to stop your heart. For a second you believe it has.

“Doll,” Dabi’s gruff voice brings you back to earth, reminding you that you’re very much alive and whether or not you stay that way is entirely up to him. “You’re ruining my surprise. Got it ‘specially for you and now you’re being a brat.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge.

“So-sorry.-“ your voice breaks. “I’ll be good.”

You’re still struggling to comprehend how any of this is real. You thought you knew him. You thought he loved you. And here he is, treating your life like it’s a game. You can’t help but think that this is your own fault. You thought you were above everyone else, the exception to your boyfriend’s villain behaviour.

“Yeah?” His voice drops to a whisper. “Then show me.” He challenges you. Dabi slips off his t-shirt and moves between your legs to get a better view, pressing on your knees to split them apart.

Self-preservation kicks in. There is one way out of this alive and that’s doing what he says. You spread yourself even wider, showing him all of you. Your hands, glide over your smooth thighs, kneading the pudgy flesh as you get closer and closer your sex, teasing yourself the way he would. Your fingers find your clit and just a little pressure makes your eyes melt shut. Probably for best anyway. It makes it easier to imagine anything but this. You drag those fingers through your delicate folds, letting out breathy sighs as heat begins to bloom between your thighs.

You pretend, its Dabi’s touch. In your mind’s eye you see the two of you, limbs tangled with Dabi on top, resting his forehead against yours. It’s one of those nights where he wants to go slow. So slow that the sensation of his cock dragging in and out of is you bordering on torturous. It’s one of those nights where he wants to lay his head on your chest, mouthing at your breasts, laving your nipples with his wet tongue while you tell him, in that sensual voice that you love him, that he’s perfect, that he’s yours. Because it’s one of those nights, where everything feels like too much for him and the only person that he really has on his side is you.

It’s not long before you’re leaking. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice chastising you for being so easy for him… even now. There’s almost no resistance as two of your fingers, press into your entrance. Your fingers are no match for Dabi’s, they never hit all those deep, hidden spots that make you see stars but still, you start to move them slowly, brushing your thumb over your clit every so often.

“Look at me.” You feel his breath waft over your pussy.

Eyelids fluttering open and you meet his gaze. It stuns you a little and your hands come to a standstill. He is handsome, breathtakingly so, even though he thinks you’re lying whenever you when you tell him that. The way he stares at you, with love and adoration in his eyes, it’s almost like the fantasy you were just imagining. Almost like the fantasy you’ve been living in this whole time. It’s enough to make you forget the situation you’re in. Then the muzzle of the gun is pressed to your clit, snapping you back to reality fast enough to give you whiplash.

“Fucking slut.” He growls and smacks your hand away from your pussy.

You jerk as he starts to move it the gun circles over your sensitive nub and then dipping down to your tight slit to gather up your juices.

“All those fuckin’ tears but look how wet you are.” He says more to himself than you as he admires the way your slick leaves a sheen on the barrel. With his eyes trained directly on yours, his perfectly pink tongue pokes out to lick it clean, groaning at the taste.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapped around your legs, guiding them over his broad shoulders. He kisses you on your mons before his tongue begins greedily lapping at your hole. “Tastes so good doll.” He mutters with his nose pressed against your clit. He slips the wet muscle inside of you making you whine. You reflexively grab onto his black hair, tugging on the stands and he lets out a groan of approval. He moves up to your clit, circling it with his tongue before suckling on it. While he brushes just the tip of a finger over your cunt, making it clench around nothing while you desperately buck your hips, in an attempt to have it inside you.

The way he’s eating you out is almost romantic?

Or it would be, if it weren’t for the metal digging into your flesh.

“Doll,” He places a sloppy kiss on your clit, lighting dragging his teeth over the hood. “Want you to squirt for me.”

A lump forms in your throat. You can count on one hand the amount of times that has happened. You’re not sure of the odds that you’d be able to right now and it’s not a gamble you’re willing to take. “Dabi, I don’t think I can….”

CLICK

You thrash, screaming so loud it makes your throat burn.

Dabi still holds you open, keeping you in place. “I wasn’t asking.” He makes sure to maintain eye contact as he drops a fat glob of spit right on to your clit before diving face first into your cunt once again.

He pushes 2 of his long, lithe fingers into your tight entrance. It’s unexpected and you wince. He drags his right hand (the one holding the gun) up your torso, resting the muzzle underneath your breast, right over your racing heart. A reminder of what’s at stake. He envelopes your sensitive clit with his lips, moving his fingers in tandem with the suction. You’re consumed by desire as Dabi brings you so close to the edge.

“Dee-Deeper please.” Your pant out.

He smiles against your mound before complying with your request. “Right here?” His fingers press against that squishy patch deep inside you and your eyes roll back.

“Nnnggg yeah.” You’re barely able to mewl out. You dig your heels into his back and grind against his face, chasing your high. Dabi keeps hitting that spot with astonishing precision but you hold off for as long as you can, letting the pleasurable sensation build until the pressure in your core becomes unbearable. When it finally snaps because you can’t hold it anymore, your eyes squeeze shut, hands flying to his biceps and you dig your nails into the sinewy muscle. You gush around his fingers and all over his face. Dabi doesn’t move though, flicking your clit with his tongue repeatedly until you’re trembling and whimpering, pushing him away from your pussy. He finally relents, a pop echoing around the room as he lets go of you.

He gives you a predatory look, scared face and chest wet with the remnants of your orgasm. “You made such a mess baby but I’m glad you’re finally having fun.” He’s just as out of breath as you are but far more composed.

Your head is still fuzzy and limbs are still twitching but your boyfriend doesn’t let you recover. “C’mon, doll. My turn.” He begins to undo his belt, silver buckle clinking as he rushes to drag it through the loops of his jeans

You pull yourself on to all fours, now eye level with his crotch. He pulls down his pants and boxers in one go, his erection almost hitting you in the face.

“You’ve been lucky so far.” He taps the bulbous head of his cock on your lips, smearing your lips with the pre that dribbles out of it. “But I wouldn’t test it if I were you. Open.”

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him. So long, thick and veiny. It’s disgusting actually, this Pavlovian response. He fucks you deeper, stretches you wider and makes you feel better than anyone ever had. You wonder briefly, if anyone ever could fuck you as good as Dabi.

You stick out your tongue and he slides himself between your lips, groaning as he pushes into your mouth, slowly, inch by inch. He fills your mouth completely and you shut your eyes, savouring the salty taste of him but you feel the muzzle press against your temple and making them shoot open. “Atta girl. Lemme see those pretty eyes.” He grunts as he plunges into your throat. You bob your head up and down his shaft, the hand at the back of your head setting a brutal pace. The room is filled with the sounds of you gagging and his hefty sac smacking against your chin.

“So good to me baby.” He tilts his head back, losing himself in the pleasure. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him while your saliva leaks out, dripping down his balls. Dabi is big and heavy, stretching you so wide and making you jaw ache from the weight of him. You’re already lightheaded from the lack of air, no matter how much you try breathing through your nose. You don’t dare to complain though.

He pulls out of your mouth slowly, stretching a string of saliva from the head of his dick to your tongue that’s hanging out of your mouth. You pant like a bitch attempting to catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time before he’s in your throat again, back to fucking your face.

“I love you so much. You love me?” He sounds so sweet, totally blissed out.

He stops thrusting and tilts your head up to look at him, blinking tear-clumped lashes. You try utter a ‘Yes, I love you.’ but with his shaft gagging you, it comes out all garbled. The muscles in your throat convulse around the deep intrusion. “You’d do anything for me right?” He asks, jabbing the muzzle even harder into your temple, finger resting lightly on the trigger. You nod, watching Dabi lose his composure bit by bit. “Yeah. That’s why you’re my girl.” He pushes himself even deeper inside you, making you finally take all of him, until your nose meets his pubic hair and holding you there. “Fuck.”

CLICK

“Hmmhhhhngggh” You squeal around him but you can’t pull off because of the grip he has on your scalp. When he lets you go you’re choking and coughing up a lewd mixture of spit and pre-cum.

“Wh- Why” You blubber, voice hoarse. You don’t understand. You were doing exactly what he asked. You were being good.

“Sorry baby. Felt so good, my finger slipped.” He doesn’t even try to hide his mischievous smirk. The fucker is definitely not sorry.

You want to beg him to stop this ridiculous game because you see now there’s no way you can win because Dabi doesn’t play fair.

He doesn’t give you the chance though, already shuffling off his bottoms all the way and propping himself up against the headboard. “C’mon pretty baby.” He tugs on your ankle. Wanna see you bounce on my dick.”

You clumsily position yourself atop his lap quickly, before you can even think about it. You know he doesn’t need a reason to pull that trigger but still, you don’t want to give him one.

He grinds his tip along your heat, piercings dragging across your clit over and over again. It’s something he does whenever you have sex, to rile you up. And just like all those other times, it’s working. Circumstances be damned. “Needa feel this hot little pussy. Give it to me doll.” He murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You nod as you lift yourself off of him to hover your dripping wet hole over his hard dick. You slowly squat down on onto him, the fat head stretching you out, burning with every inch you take. You mewl, making futile attempts to blink away tears. You get halfway before you have to stop, resting your hands on his shoulders trying to gain leverage. You’re outright crying now, wet droplets landing on Dabi’s chest.

“’S matter doll.”

I’m terrified. You yell in your head but stay silent, choosing to focus on relaxing your ever-tightening hole in order to take more of him.

“Oh, I know.” He coos, voice dripping with condescension. “’S too big for your tiny cunny.” He leans forward to kiss away the salty tears. “But you can take it. I know you can.” He cups your jaw, stroking your cheek with a calloused thumb. “You can do it for me”

You start to move slowly up and down, using gravity to force more of his monstrous cock inside you with shallow movements. You really are trying your best but that’s apparently not good enough for Dabi and he lets you know that by pressing the barrel of the gun into your stomach. You freeze, horrified, more tears start falling from your eyes. You open your mouth to beg him to just give you a little time. You’re trying.

“Quit being a baby and just take it.” He says before you even get the chance.

“I’m trying Dabi, please just-“

CLICK

He cuts off your plea. He’s not interested in your excuses.

The rotation of the cylinder sends vibrations through your abdomen. Amidst the shock, you release your grip on his shoulders and impale yourself on his shaft by mistake. The combination of the searing stretch and the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix is so overwhelming that you collapse forward, head falling on to your boyfriend’s chest. You feel the rumbles of his chuckles while he’s quite literally splitting you open.

“See? Knew you could. Just needed a little scare. Isn’t that right.” He rubs your back as if to comfort you. He lets out a low whistle. “But looks like you’re all out of chances doll. Now bounce.” He gives you a spank with an inhumanly warm hand, making you squeal and leaving your cheek tender.

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again. Dabi’s sapphire eyes are practically glowing, daring you to be stupid enough to defy him one more time.

You pull off almost entirely, keeping just his tip inside of you, before spearing his shaft into you again.

“Good girl.” When he praises you with that raspy voice makes you keen and desperate for more of it.

His hand snakes its way up your torso to cup one of your breasts. Your back arches, pushing into his scorching hot touch, forgetting momentarily about his other hand and what he’s holding in it. He gropes your chest, tweaks and twists at your nipples, leaving red, inflamed hand prints in his wake. You’re practically delirious with pleasure, babbling out incoherent streams of his name along with “yes” and “more”. All the while, he murmurs praises about how good you are and how much he loves you. It’s confusing and you can’t process any of it.

“Who owns this perfect pussy?”

“Dabi. Fuck. Dabi.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth in the most obscene way, drooling down your chin. Your plush walls pulse around him as he hits that sensitive spot every time you sink down on him.

“That’s right it’s all fuckin mine. My pretty baby.” Dabi’s eyes are focus on where your two bodies are connected watching the translucent ring of your cream appear and disappear as you ride him.

“Preeeettyyy.” You slur and he laughs at how fucked out you are, brain completely jumbled between the fear, the pain and the bliss all combined into ecstasy.

“Doll.” He groans. “I feel ya squeezin’ me. You gonna cum?”

He’s right. You nod as you feel that coil tightening again, threatening to snap at any second. The man finally starts putting in work, pounding into you every time you pull off of him. Dabi abandons the gun in favour of playing with your clit, rubbing quick sloppy circles. “Yeah? Gonna cream and gush around me? Want you to baby.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, sucking, biting and licking while he assaults your sopping wet pussy. “C’mon doll, please.”

With that you orgasm. He grabs your hips pulling you flush against his thighs, fucking you through your orgasm, rolling his hips up into you until your high finally subsides.

He doesn’t let you catch your breath before he’s got the revolver pressed hard underneath your chin. “Now make me cum.” You almost collapse but the harsh grip he has on your hair suspends you upright.

Your mind is so foggy and Dabi gives you a small smile, appreciating the perplexed look in your droopy eyes. But he’s not done with you yet.

“Hey.” You’re ripped from your daze, when he slaps you across the face, sending your head swinging to the side. “Don’t pass out on me now.”

“So-sorry! ‘M sorry!” You grovel as you slam your tired body down on his dick once again, trying to ignore the throbbing on your cheek, the ringing in your ears, and the ache in your battered cunt. You’re so sensitive from your last orgasm but you don’t have a choice and you don’t dare deny him anything. Your thighs are quaking and burning with every movement but your boyfriend is unimpressed.

“You can do better than that doll.” He lets out a bitter laugh, enjoying every second of tormenting you. “It’s like you want your brains splattered on the ceiling.”

You start crying again, shaking your head frantically. In the time that you’ve been with Dabi, you’ve learned certain tricks, you know he likes it, but in this panic/lust induced frenzy, you can’t remember any of them. Instead, you bounce, mindlessly on him while your gummy walls clench tighter around him every time he nudges at your a-spot. Your legs are going numb from all the effort and you plop down, limp onto his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Dabi tsks at you, reminding you that you can’t rest just yet. You swivel your hips, grinding your pelvis against his while he’s buried deep in your wet heat. You pray to whatever deity is listening that he’s getting close, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“If I don’t bust in the next 5 seconds.” His hand finds your clit again, you grind across his fingers has you rock against him. “Bang!” He emphasises the word by bringing a heated palm down on your ass.

A choked sob bubbles at the back of your throat, making him snicker

Hands pressed to his chest, you ride him like a woman possessed, the last bits of adrenaline kicking in. Your sloppy cunt squelches every time you drive yourself down on his cock just motivating you to fuck him harder.

“Five.” He grits out.

“Dabi, please!” But you’re met with icy, apathetic eyes staring back at you, feeling the terror that the rest of the city does when they so much as hear his name.

“Four.” He rubs your already raw clit, faster and you can feel another orgasm building, much quicker than your last two.

Your body feels so heavy but you can’t stop moving, not unless you want him to- “Please cum!” You beg. “Need your cum.”

“Three.”

He starts to fuck up into you again with unforgiving force.

“Wh-Why?!” is all you can manage as your mind starts to fog up again, the need to come becoming all the more urgent.

“Two.” He ignores your question, transfixed on your tits bounce in his face. You’re getting close to your third orgasm of the night and it seems Dabi is determined to get you there.

You still can’t believe this is real. You never thought that Dabi would treat you like this. You were supposed to be special.

Or at least that’s what he told you.

Moreover, you can’t believe how your own body is betraying you. You can’t believe you’re actually going to cum. Again.

“One.”

You cry out his name one last time, unsure if it’s out of fear or pleasure. You dig your nails into his arms again, in a feeble attempt to ground yourself as you cum around him. The orgasm that rips through you makes it difficult for you to be sure of anything.

What you are sure of is the fact that there was no bang or bullet.

Just one last CLICK (practically drowned out by your screaming) and the sensation of Dabi’s hot cum flooding your womb. He has a bruising grip on your hips, gun now discarded, and he ruts up into to making sure to stuff your cunt absolutely full of him. He begins to laugh as he softens inside you.

Your head is still spinning but once you’re able to push yourself off of him, you can finally make sense of what just happened.

He was fucking with you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, using weak and quivering arms to throw pillows at him while you cry so hard it makes you dry heave.

Your asshole of a boyfriend starts cackling, clutching his abdomen as if he just pulled the world’s funniest prank while your heart is beating so hard and fast you think it might break through your ribcage.

“You should have seen your face. You were so fuckin’ scared.”

You become nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat as you come to a sickening realisation.

This is not your Dabi. This is the Dabi that the rest of the world gets to see.

Evil, sadistic, merciless. This is the real Dabi.

You attempt to scramble off of the bed to get away from him, feeling overwhelmed by the humiliation. But Dabi grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms. A gesture you used to treasure but now it just made your skin crawl. “C’mon Doll you didn’t think I was being serious did you?”

You writhe in his hold, hitting against his hard, toned chest with pathetic fists. “Don’t be such a crybaby. It was just a joke.” He strokes your hair oh so tenderly. But you won’t fall for that again. Dabi is a villain through and through. You know that now.

It’s no use fighting him off though, all the fight in you is used up. You don’t know what else to do. So you do the easy thing: nuzzle your head into his chest, tremors rocking your body as you hiccup, while he holds you. That way you can pretend that you feel safe with him, just like you used to.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, doll. I love you.”

#dabi is just the worst huh #sorry about the angst i honestly don’t know how that happened #dark content #dark fic #mha smut #tw dubcon #bnha imagines #bnha smut #dabi imagine #dabi smut #dabi x reader #mha x reader #tw slapping #tw noncon #tw unhealthy relationship #tw gunplay #tw death mention

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even-after-a-millennia · 3 years

Text

Falling into a New Life

For @nilefreemanweek2021 and the alternative prompt Canon Divergent AU! Andy doesn’t get to the base in time, and Nile is on the plane to Germany and tests. When she dreams Andy calling Booker, what happens when Nile calls the same number? You can read it below or over on my ao3 account here. Gen | Rated T | ~2.1k

“Corporal Freeman,” the soldier’s voice cut through her music and brief moment of peace. “Been looking for you. Wheels up on your ride.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

She felt a tightening in her gut, one that got worse as she flew away from base towards Germany. Towards more tests. Something was rubbing her the wrong way about all of this.

She hadn’t slept well since waking up in that hospital bed, so despite her nerves, she began to doze as the hours ticked by.

“She’s just a baby,” she heard a woman say, looking down at a sketch of Nile’s own face.

“Damn it!” A fist crashing into the side of a Humvee as a plane, the plane Nile was on right now, took off into the sky.

Numbers were being punched into the phone, then dialing. “Book, I didn’t get here in time. Word is she is being sent for more testing and you know what they will find. You have to cut them off. Get to her before they find out.”

The man closed his flip phone, turning to the other two men on the train.

“We need to get to Germany,” he said.

The plane rattled side to side and Nile woke, looking around frantically.

What was that? A dream? A vision?

She scrambled through her pockets, grabbing her notepad and writing down the numbers before she could forget them. Pulling out her phone, she looked furtively around the vast open area, but aside from her, the only other people on the plane were the two soldiers who had escorted her to the plane, sitting near the cockpit, and the pilots.

If she called this number and someone picked up, she would know she wasn’t crazy. And if no one did… then maybe it was a good thing that she was being carted off for testing.

Nile hit dial before she could stop herself.

It rang twice before a slightly accented voice answered, “Hello? Who is this?”

“What the fuck…” she whispered, pulling the phone away to stare at it. The call had connected, the seconds ticking by. She pressed it back against her ear, shaking her head slowly.

“Is this the Marine?” the man continued.

“Yeah,” she answered, her voice rough.

There was a rustle, then a different voice was speaking, “Can you tell us your name?”

A voice in the back of her mind was yelling about strangers and danger, but she didn’t think that the talks adults gave her as a child ever could have anticipated this.

“Nile,” she forced herself to say. “Corporal Nile Freeman. Who are you?”

“We’re like you, Nile,” a heavier accented voice said. “We want to help you, but first, you have to help yourself. You cannot get tested by those men. It will lead to something much worse.”

“I don’t understand,” she murmured, keeping her voice low to avoid the other soldiers hearing.

“You have to get off that plane, Nile,” the second voice said. “We will come and find you, we swear.”

“That’s insane,” she hissed.

“Welcome to the world of coming back from the dead,” the first voice said sardonically.

Holy shit.

That’s what had happened, wasn’t it? She had felt herself die. Dizzy had seen it. Everyone thought she was gone. They had even taken her dog tags to send to her family.

But then she had come back.

“Shit,” she whispered.

She looked around the plane and spotted the jump door and parachutes.

“No, this isn’t happening. This is some bullshit. Is this hazing or something? Is this fun for you?” Nile demanded.

“Nile, please,” the heavily accented voice said. There was so much emotion in his tone she stopped. “Please, you are not safe. I know you are scared and alone. But they will do horrible things if they discover you can regenerate. A jump off a plane is much better than an eternity in a cage.”

“I can’t go AWOL,” Nile said. “My family- I can’t do that to them.”

“Corporal Freeman!” One of the men who had brought her to the plane said, approaching. “I need to take your phone.”

She lowered it without hanging up, alarms ringing in her head. “What, why?”

“Protocol for testing. Could interfere with the machines.”

And he could be telling the truth, but the voices on the other end of the phone were getting desperate even though she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“Are we that close?” she asked, buying time.

He shrugged. “Somewhere over Ukraine.”

“I’d like to give it to you closer to Germany, sir,” she said, trying to toe the line of defiance and deference.

“Orders are orders,” he said, reaching for it and this didn’t feel right, something was so wrong about this whole thing.

“NILE!” the voices on the phone shouted all at once, loud enough it reached her ear.

She ducked his grab and undid her seatbelt, sliding away from him.

He looked at her, considering. “C’mon, kid. Don’t make me break out the restraints.”

She stared at him. “What the fuck?!” she finally said, putting her phone in her back pocket. “Nah, nope. Come and get it.”

He swung at her and she ducked it and hit him in the ribs. He let out a grunt and bent over. She grabbed the back of his head and slammed his face into her knee, hearing a crack as he groaned in pain. He stayed down, clutching his nose.

“Hey!” The other guard had gotten up from his seat at the struggle and she turned to face him, trying to keep one eye on the other man.

The man took out his gun and pointed it at her. “You are under arrest for assaulting a superior officer.”

She raised her hands slowly. “In fairness, he started it,” she felt compelled to say.

He didn’t think she was funny.

“Stay still,” he said, taking a pair of cuffs out of his tac belt.

Nile looked at them apprehensively, because those were not standard to have for soldiers in her division, and so why the hell did he have them?!

She stood still, weighing her options. He holstered his gun, holding the cuffs in his other hand. She watched him until he was close enough to strike. She knocked the cuffs out of his hand and they flew down the plane. He tried to punch her but she parried it and went to dislocate his shoulder, but he kicked out and caught her in the knee. There was a crack and a searing pain, and she cried out, but kept fighting.

He drew his gun again and they grappled over it. She knew that she was losing the battle with one leg out of the game and pain fogging her mind.

His finger reached the trigger.

She felt the bullet go through her side and her whole body went momentarily numb as it was overloaded with pain. Nile fell to the ground, clutching her side.

The guard holstered his weapon and went to check on his buddy and get the cuffs. Nile breathed through the pain and then paused.

Something was going on with her leg.

She looked down as much as she could without using her stomach muscles that were still screaming and watched as her knee popped back into place, no longer inverted.

Her side started to hurt less, and she lifted her shirt to see the skin that the bullet had torn through slowly knit back together.

Regenerate. That’s what the man on the phone had called it.

Shit.

She pulled out her phone and spoke over the voices on the other side, “I’m jumping. We’re somewhere over Ukraine. I have your number.”

Then she hung up and put her phone in her zippered pocket, got up and ran at the parachutes and hit the button that opened the jump door.

“Corporal! Don’t do it!”

She looked back as she shouldered the parachute and clamped it into place. The soldiers were reaching out to her, trying to get to her in time.

Nile jumped.

She fell, waiting until she was well away from the plane to pull the pin to activate the parachute.

Nothing happened.

“Shit!” she said, trying to pull the backup, but it didn’t budge.

Had they purposefully put dud parachutes in the plane? Was this some kind of test? Or had this been a terrible coincidence?

She kept falling, spreading her arms and legs to slow her descent as much as possible. She forced herself to look down, scope out the area below her. There was a lake in the middle of a field, and she angled herself towards it, gritting her teeth. Neither option was good, but with no trees in sight to cushion her fall, she would splat either way. At least the water would eventually mask her blood.

Nile really hoped that she could actually come back from the dead, cause it didn’t look like she was going to survive this.

The water got closer and she forced her feet below her so at least she wouldn’t meet it head first. She tucked her arms close to her sides and felt herself shoot downwards faster than before.

She concluded, just before she hit the water, that any fall where she could think about how long she had been falling was too damn long.

Then everything was black.

The three men hopped off the train.

“She’s off the plane, haven’t heard anything since,” the blond said over the phone. “Said she was somewhere over Ukraine.”

The woman sighed on the other end. “Fine. We’ll meet in the middle and find her. Deal?”

“See you soon, boss,” the man said, hanging up.

“At least we will be able to keep Copley off our tail,” the man with a head of curls said.

“We will still need to go after him eventually,” the blond said. “He knows about us.”

“Nile first,” the man with the heavy accent and kind eyes said.

Nile gasped awake and immediately coughed up water. She was floating on top of the lake now, the waters around her red. She groaned as her body slowly knitted itself back together again, bones and organs recovering from hitting water so fast it felt like concrete.

“Ow,” she concluded once the last shift was done.

She turned her head, looking for the closest bit of shore, and starting off towards it.

It took a lot of effort to drag her waterlogged body onto the sand. She lay on her back, staring up at the sky for a moment.

Then she reached for her phone, only to find it cracked and even more waterlogged than she was.

“Shit!”

She pocketed it anyway, because she might still be able to recover the memory chip, even if the rest of it was worthless now.

Okay. Priorities.

Nile was still wearing her uniform, as wet and bloodstained as it was. She shucked off the long sleeve shirt of her uniform and surveyed the damage to the short sleeve brown shirt beneath. The cold water of the lake had washed away much of the blood that had been saturated in it, but she took it off and scrubbed a bit more, just to get as much as she could out.

There was still a hole where she had been shot, but she would deal with that if it came to it.

She found a large rock and tied her shirt around it.

Then paused. Rested her head against the rock and the uniform she was about to toss away.

She had been a Marine, like her dad before her. It hadn’t been an easy decision to join, not with how it had ended for her dad, the imperialism that was steeped into the US military, or the fact that she was a black woman and that would affect her entire experience. But it had been her life, her brothers and sisters in arms had been her family, and she felt like once she heaved this rock into the water, she would be irreversibly throwing that part of her life away too.

She breathed. Then she lifted the rock and with a grunt, sent it flying through the air. There was a large splash and it sank, taking her uniform with it.

Nile watched it go, her throat burning with emotions she couldn’t even name.

Then she turned to find the others who could regenerate like her.

#nile freeman #nileweek2021 #the old guard #canon divergent au #fanfic #my fic

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prof-peach · 3 years

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Hey- I have a sylveon I raise from when she was just an eevee, I love her very much but she is particularly aggressive towards dragons. So much so that she can barely resist a fight against one if they are far too strong for her. Is this just a fairy consistency or is this a different issue? Any suggestions on how to help her become friends with her dragon teammate and not maim them? Thanks!💖

This is incredibly unkind and hostile behaviour towards any dragons they come across, and as I, and many other dragon users can attest to, not all of them are battle minded, aggressive, or interested in being hurt when not in an active battle. This will be a big issue should you meet a dragon on the street, or in a built up area, and can lead to people and pokemon being hurt. This behaviour MUST be changed, to ensure the safety of your other team mates, who i’m sure are very unsettled and uncomfortable right now, plus mistrusting of you for allowing this aggression to go on. Not to mention the danger this poses to strangers and their team mates, who don’t want anything to do with you or an aggressive fairy pokemon. If this was the other way around, and you had a notoriously mean looking idk, Salamance or something, and it was behaving this way, your pokemon would be removed from your care SO fast. The industry likes to demonise big toothy species, and ignore the same issues within smaller more soft looking pokemon. Double standards if you ask me.

First things first, this is not a fairy thing, this is an aggression issue, fairy pokemon aren't inherently drawn towards dragon types in unkind ways, they can live beside them in peace a lot of the time, and even have great friendships with dragon pokemon, realising they have strengths that they do not possess themselves.

The biggest issue is that you've no doubt told your partner to NOT attack a dragon type, and she has ignored you. You are not the leader in this situation, and your partner has not got enough respect for you to listen and follow a command. This is where danger arises, as we trainers give commands to ensure our partners safety and the wellbeing of those around us.

I’m concerned that your pokemon is actively seeking battles, it sounds like they need more routine exercise, a tired pokemon will not fuss with another battle. try to expend as much of their energy as you can, and focus their attention on learning how to work beside your other pokemon. You said you have dragon types, those poor things are no doubt afraid of your Sylveon, that fear is because they know you cant stop your own partner from attacking them effectively. You need to show them that a team effort is better than fighting alone. Sylveon thinks they're above every dragon they come across, and one day they'll bite off way more than they can chew and get seriously hurt. Instead focus on team battles, work your dragons and your fairy types together, combining moves and attacks will show your Sylveon that theres more strength in working with them than against them. A pokemon like yours needs to learn respect for others, as a team, they could be unstoppable, but instead she’s hellbent on being the best alone.

SO first things first, you need to reestablish that you're the boss, Feeding time, you eat first, sit, have your lunch, your breakfast, whatever, and once you've done, give the others their meal. With regards to walking, the pokemon does not lead you, you lead them, walk ahead of them, and get them to follow behind, it’s a more submissive position. If they cant do this, then back in the ball, which isn't as fun and they’ll get the hint. Make sure when you ask for something, they do it, and if they do, they get a reward. Praise is given when they do the right thing, not just for existing. Discipline then affection, in that order, always.

Get the basics back in place and then see how she does. She has to respect you, and in turn she will get your respect and trust. Sounds like right now she’s running riot, and this is dangerous.

This is not unheard of, retraining a pokemon is time consuming, tough, and may seem harsh, but if you don’t, someone or something will get hurt. Its very easy to let things slip, especially with age old partners, i know, i’ve had to do this to several pokemon of my own over the years, and let me tell you its never easy, but it has to be done or you'll have your partner removed from your care for endangering the public. You’re not alone, we’ve all been there one way or another, look for training classes local to you, and test your leadership in safe and secure areas, where others cannot stray into the area and get hurt.

Be tough but fair. Good luck.

#pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks

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the-last-kenobi · 3 years

Text

I... I wrote a thing... goddamnit...

Based on this post

All credit and love to @latenightsomewhere and @americankimchi for the idea!

(keep in mind this is not canon compliant. I have aged Obi-Wan down to ten, for one thing. I wanted smolbi-wan💕 and dammit, that’s what I wrote.)

___

It was supposed to be a simple mission.

Then again, that was something that could be said after all missions. “It was supposed to be simple,” Jedi would say, shaking their heads ruefully. “Simple.”

They had known they were walking into unpleasant territory.

The Outer Rim was safe for no one — least of all Force-sensitives.

Least of all, Qui-Gon reflected, gripping the hilt of his lightsaber so tightly that he could feel the ridges carving lines into his palms, least of all young Jedi Padawans. Who had training. Who had skills. Who carried kyber in their sabers.

Like Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon hadn’t quite realized what had happened— not at first — not with his head ringing with the force of the blunt instrument someone had slammed against his head during the scuffle. He had dragged himself to his knees, first, heaving for breath, then slowly rose to his feet, breathing deeply to chase away the nausea.

And then he had discovered he was alone.

Completely alone.

The slavers were gone, and so was his ten-year-old apprentice—

They took him, he thought, stunned. They took him right from under me, where he should have been safest. I didn’t leave him alone on the ship for a reason, but they took him—

As he reeled, flashes of memory started to filter back through the confusion.

Obi-Wan had been behind him, shielded — and then they were unexpectedly surrounded, outnumbered by what was clearly more than a roving pack of criminals — Obi-Wan had ignited his saber and fought back — Qui-Gon had dropped with a blow to the head, and he heard — shouting —

— a startled cry, a thin and high-pitched voice — a muffled scream, a child’s scared voice —

“Master!”

And a powerful fury rose up inside Qui-Gon, both focused and wild, and he did not feel inclined to subdue it.

•

“It’s not natural, is it,” complained one of the group, a young nautolan with grey skin. “Look at him.”

“Shut up,” one of the others said, shooting a slightly wary look in the direction the first was gesturing.

“He’s a kid,” a third said dismissively. This was easily the most eye-catching of the group, an enormous burly Besalisk that was even taller than Master Krell. “And he’s drugged. He can’t do anything. Forget him.”

“He’s a fucking menace is what he is,” the first muttered.

Obi-Wan grinned at them, a slightly manic expression. This was not helped by the blood streaked through his ginger-blonde hair, or the gag they had tied tightly around his mouth.

He said something to them, muffled by the cloth.

“What?” the Besalisk suddenly turned from dismissive to angry.

“Leave him, he’s just being—” one of the others began, but the enormous reptilian humanoid shook his head violently, stalking towards their captive.

“I asked what you said,” he repeated.

Obi-Wan actually rolled his eyes, gesturing towards the gag with his bound hands. The nautolan looked gobsmacked at his nerve.

The Besalisk rumbled low in his throat and jerked the cloth roughly out of the boy’s mouth, catching painfully on his lower lip as he did.

Obi-Wan winced and blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if to clear it.

“What did you say?” his antagonist repeated.

“I said,” Obi-Wan answered, staring plaintively up at the much taller creature, “you’re going to be very sorry when my Master catches up with you.”

The Besalisk laughed, but it was not a happy sound. One by one the others all joined in, although some more hesitantly than others.

“Your Master didn’t put up much of a fight,” the kidnapper goaded him. “And even if he could, he’d have to put in a lot of work to find you. I don’t think he’ll bother, do you?” He leered. “He’s a Jedi. He’s got a job on his hands, and you come second.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered.

Then he smiled. “I was wondering something earlier, but you just answered my question for me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan said, mocking the elder’s drawling accent. “You made it obvious that yes, you are exactly as stupid as you look.”

Several of the slavers gaped.

“Or even stupider,” Obi-Wan added.

There was a bellow of rage, and an enormous fist collided with the boy’s face, leaving grooves up his cheek and forehead that were none too shallow. The gag was forced back into his mouth.

Obi-Wan went back to smiling manically at anyone who looked his way.

•

It took Qui-Gon three and a half standard days to find who had taken his apprentice and where they had gone.

Every minute of those three and half days were spent utterly focused; healthy amounts of sleep were sacrificed in exchange for tracking down information and planning his rescue.

And every minute was also spent with quiet thoughts murmuring in the back of his mind, where not even Jedi calm could quiet them.

They could have moved him again.

They could have had a buyer waiting for the next Force-sensitive they managed to catch.

They’re hurting him. They’re hurting him right now and you’re nowhere near enough to help.

And, perhaps the most quiet, most desperate truth in his heart — If I lose this one, there will be no coming back for me.

•

Obi-Wan bit the hand in front of his face.

The slaver yelped, somehow not expecting the attack despite what Obi-Wan considered fair warning in the form of a venomous glare before the gag had been removed.

“Little brat!” the slaver hissed, shaking his damaged hand that the apprentice was a little pleased to see was bleeding.

“Get him up,” one of the others snapped. “We’re taking him to the deep market tonight, and he needs his attitude fixed first.”

“Not likely,” the ten-year-old said cheerfully. “I was an incorrigible child and my mentor is not exactly—”

He was struck again.

“That’s getting kind of repetitive,” complained Obi-Wan, kicking his bound feet a bit where they hung a foot off the floor, trying to get the blood flowing. “And the same side every time, too. I’m going to get permanent damage and then how much will I be worth?”

“He’s gotta point,” said the newcomer unhelpfully.

The one who had been bitten scowled mightily, then sneered down at his captive, a mean little gleam in his eyes that the boy did not like the look of.

A moment later, a hand closed tight around the boy’s throat, right above the thin collar that had been set there, rigged to blow if he managed to flee.

Obi-Wan choked and began to struggle.

The hand squeezed tighter. “The punishment should fit the crime,” the male mused aloud. “And it’s your back talk that’s going to get you in trouble with your new master, and lower your value on the auction block. Seems fair to get rid of your voice, then.”

The other slaver watched appraisingly. “Just don’t kill ‘im, Frid.”

“Course not,” said the man who was evidently Frid, watching with vindictive pleasure as Obi-Wan writhed weakly, his face turning white and then blue.

Obi-Wan was dropped.

He gasped, his breath rattling in his constricted throat, and kept his head down this time.

This is why Master always says I need to redirect that urge to talk back, he reflected, feeling a little queasy. He’s not going to be happy about my injuries at this rate.

•

Qui-Gon was no stranger to bypassing the local authorities on the planets he visited. He was notorious for it, in fact.

This time, he had chosen to work with the authorities — and then ditched them at the last minute.

Now everything was as legal and tidy as he cared to make it, and the government would be able to arrest and shut down the entire operation, over the course of mere weeks if they were focused about it.

...After Qui-Gon had gone in after his apprentice.

He was quiet and careful about his approach, stealing his way into the underground warehouse that was the gateway to the infamous black market of the planet, a place where spice and banned items were passed from hand to hand — and sentient beings, too.

He could sense his Padawan, albeit barely.

Drugged, most likely.

Sustained exposure to Force suppressants could kill him.

Shaking off the intrusive thoughts, Jinn followed his instincts down several flights of stairs and down a hallway, listening intently.

Bang.

A door flew open to his left, and he melted into the shadows as two figures emerged, one a hulking Besalisk with a permanent scowl and the other a gangly human male with very scruffy hair.

“—not my responsibility,” the human was complaining. “I didn’t sign up for dealing with him. I didn’t even catch him.”

“I did,” the Besalisk grunted. “Little whelp. Squirmed around like a worm on a hook and wouldn’t stop fucking screaming. He would’ve alerted the whole neighborhood just moving him from where we picked him up to the truck.”

“Why didn’t you just gag him?” the human laughed.

“Didn’t have anything to do it with,” the other shrugged. “Tried using my hand and the brat damn near snapped his own neck trying to scream anyways.”

They chuckled a bit.

Qui-Gon held his breath, both wanting and not at all wanting them to be discussing who he thought they were—

“What do the bosses expect us to do, work miracles?” the human went back to complaining. “I hear he’s a spitfire. And they want him ready for sale, in what, three hours?”

The Besalisk grinned. “Three hours is plenty of time. Frid told me that smacking the kid around doesn’t do much good, but he half-strangled him earlier and that shut him up. Jedi whelp.”

And there it was.

It was all the evidence Qui-Gon needed.

The two slavers turned around in alarm when they heard the distinctive hiss-snap of a lightsaber igniting.

All they caught a glimpse of was a towering figure seemingly appearing out of thin air, his expression serene but his eyes blazing, an emerald blade glowing in his hands, and then they were down for the count.

•

Obi-Wan decided that lying facedown on the floor was the better part of valor for the moment.

He was sore and bruised and scratched, and his throat was swollen while his neck chafed against the collar, and he could no longer tell if the nausea was caused by the drugs in his system or from being mistreated.

They had forgone the cloth gag in favor of sealing his lips shut with tape, which Obi-Wan considered a compliment to his ability to annoy them, but it also hindered his ability to breathe.

The slaver standing over him was dusting his hands off rather gleefully.

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut and wished very very hard, knowing that even without being able to touch it, the Force was with him—

And like a miracle, the door swung open, and there was his wish.

The slaver didn’t stand a chance. He only had time to let out an undignified squawk of surprise before he was flying into the ceiling, smacking into a rafter with undue force and then dropping neatly onto a nearby cot that rattled under his weight.

Obi-Wan sighed and let his eyes drift closed.

The man in the doorway was at his side in an instant.

A warm hand touched his shoulder, then slid upwards to touch his neck, looking for signs of life, examining his damaged throat.

Then, very carefully, the tape was peeled away from his mouth.

Obi-Wan smiled into the cold flooring and forced himself to open his eyes again.

“Hullo, Master,” he murmured.

•

Qui-Gon had thought, for one heart-stopping moment, when he had reached Obi-Wan just in time to watch him close his eyes and go limp—

But he was awake, now, those enormous bright blue eyes twinkling up at him out of a battered face.

“Hullo, Master,” said a very small, hoarse voice.

“Hello, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said softly, running his hand up and down the boy’s back, unnerved by how chilled he was to the touch. “How does a warm shower and some proper sleep sound?”

Obi-Wan pretended to think about it, and Qui-Gon had to fight down a laugh at his antics, even now. “Do I have to see healers first?”

“Yes,” answered the Master. “But I believe I can manage to have them release you quickly. We’re leaving for Coruscant tonight; we can sleep on the ship.”

“Oh, all right,” said Obi-Wan, but he didn’t move.

“Can you stand?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Possibly.”

There was another pause, then: “...not really.”

Without another word, Qui-Gon stood, scooping the boy into his arms as he did, cradling his head against one shoulder. Obi-Wan murmured something that he didn’t quite catch.

They moved out of the room and into the hallway, then began to make their way back out of the warehouse. Qui-Gon was stepping over bodies as he went... most of them merely unconscious.

He spotted the scruffy-haired man who had been laughing about the screaming Jedi whelp, and didn’t begrudge himself for trodding accidentally on the man’s outstretched fingers as he passed.

“I... am sorry, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said heavily. “I should have protected you better.”

The ginger head shifted; the boy murmured something vague into his tunics again and then said softly, “It wasn’t your fault, Master. Besides...” he winced as they crossed beneath a bright light that threw the injuries on his face into glaring relief that made Qui-Gon’s stomach clench with self-recrimination. “...I knew you would come for me.”

And those seven little words did a great deal to ease the rage and guilt still swirling inside the tired Jedi Master.

“Always, Padawan,” he said quietly. “Always.”

Obi-Wan was asleep in his arms by the time they emerged into the twilight, surrounded by the movement of law enforcement as they swarmed upon the compound, and therefore he didn’t know it when Qui-Gon, near-shaking as the adrenaline of the past several, stressful days began to fade, murmured: “Thank the Force for you, little one.” And pressed a soft kiss to the sleeping head.

#star wars #my writing #not my idea #smolbi wan #tiny bean #my baby #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #obi wan and qui gon #star wars au #tw child harm #tw strangulation #dad qui is Not Happy #little obi is just giving vibing and waiting on his dad #i love them your honor #somebody hug him

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crvluz · 3 years

Text

✰𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 || 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 ✰

𝟏𝟖+!! 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧, 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮.. 𝐓𝐖: 𝐆𝐮𝐧𝐬, 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐆𝐮𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

Dating a criminal meant that your relationship was unconventional to say the least. For one, public dates were out of the question, unless you wanted it to end in destruction of public property and some dead cops. You also always had to have some kind of flimsy excuse for your family and friends when they asked to meet your elusive boyfriend. In addition, you had to accept the fact that he would have to disappear sometimes for weeks on end to do his boss' bidding.

There was also the small matter of arson, murder and theft and a multitude of other crimes that you'd prefer not to know about. And while you weren't necessarily okay with a lot of what Jean did, you loved him. You loved him so much that turning a blind eye was so easy it made you question your own morality. He didn't scare you either. Not in the slightest, because you knew in his own special way, he loved you too.

In fact it ran much deeper than that. On his worst days, Jean could set the world ablaze until nothing was left because in the end he didn't care about anyone or anything, not even himself. Until he met you, he says. He tells you that in you, he's found something to tether him to this existence.

Maybe he didn't use those words exactly, but he doesn't have to. You know that's what he means when he spoils you with expensive clothes and jewelry, when he offers to kill any person who makes you even the tiniest bit upset and when he comes home to you bloodied and beaten, trusting you to take care of him.

In summary, your relationship forced you to give up on having any "normal couple" experiences. That included, celebrating anniversaries and silly holidays like Valentine's Day so you never bothered to keep track of them. It could hardly be considered a sacrifice when you compared those things to what you actually got from your relationship.

Jean had been gone for close to a month now and you didn't expect him back anytime soon, not knowing where he was or what he was doing. In fact the very last thing you expected was for him to creep into your bedroom in the middle of night and rouse you from your peaceful sleep with a soft kiss on your temple.

You don't jump out of bed in a panic, like any sane person would. Instead you let out a satisfied hum, surrounded by the scent of the Creed Aventus cologne, gunpowder and menthol, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. It should be unpleasant but its Jean's scent and you've missed it. You've missed him. You pick your phone up from your night stand, squinting your eyes at the bright light that makes them sting.

Sunday 14 February, 2:43am

"Welcome home." You mumble groggily, trying your best to fight off your tired body urging you to go back to sleep.

Instead of replying, he greets you by pressing his mouth to yours. You let out a quiet gasp, startled by the sudden display of affection. His lips are chapped but that doesn't matter, your tongue darts out to moisten them before your lips lock into a gentle kiss.

You reach up, weaving your hands through his light hair in an attempt to draw him closer but he retreats, opting instead to turn on the bedside lamp but keeping his other hand behind his back. "Sit up, darling. I got a surprise for you."

Any thoughts of sleep were long forgotten as soon as his lips met yours but now he's really piqued your interest. You push yourself up against the headboard and sit cross-legged. You look up at Jean expectantly. He reveals to you what he has hidden behind his back. A square black box, wrapped in a cobalt satin ribbon.

It's so cliché you can't help but let out a small snort. "What is it?"

"It's a gift. You know... for Valentine's Day?" He says as though it should be obvious to you.

Your heart swells at the gesture. It really was a surprise. Not in a bad way, you just knew he wasn't your average boyfriend and that was okay. You didn't want him to be.

"Well now I feel awful. I didn't get you anything." You pout as he props the box onto your lap.

"It's like a toy... so it's technically for you, but kind of for both of us." It's unusual to see Jean this excited. Eyes filled with mirth makes you all the more curious.

"Like a sex toy?" A giggle escapes you as you undo the bow.

"Are we playing fucking 20 questions? Just open it." He presses you.

You huff at his impatience but you don't comment, not wanting to wait any longer either. You remove the lid of the box only to find something wildly unexpected.

A revolver?

You look up at your boyfriend with confusion etched on your face but his gleeful grin doesn't falter. You've never seen a sex toy like this so you pick up the article to test its weight. It's definitely the real deal.

"Jean, this isn't a toy." You state matter-of-factly.

He merely rolls his eyes and says "Princess, when you can incinerate someone with a flick of your wrist, that little thing is definitely considered a toy?"

"O-okay? What do you want to do with it?" You ask, placing the offending object onto your nightstand, not really wanting to hold on to it anymore, the metallic smell making you feel queasy.

"Ever heard of Russian Roulette?" Jean, picks up the abandoned item, looking down at it with pride.

"What?" You furrow your eyebrows as nervousness starts to creep into your system and you instinctively move to back away from him but Jean is quick to pull you back.

"It's really easy, darling. No need to look so scared." He crawls on top of you, caging you in with his limbs. "6 chambers. 1 bullet. All you have to do is be a good girl for me. If not, I pull the trigger and we see what happens."

The look on his face is positively demented. Sage eyes wide and bright, his face contorted into a sinister smile, white teeth and the silver tongue piercing gleaming in the dim light.

"Baby," you hope the pet name will placate him. It usually does. "I don't know about thi-"

CLICK

You let out a shriek as your body jolts in fear but you're unable to move with his weight pressing on top of you.

"You see now darling?" He clicks his tongue behind his teeth. "You've gone and wasted a shot."

Jean climbs off of you and you're left lying there with your heart hammering violently in your chest, body trembling, still reeling from the shock of what just happened. Reeling from the shock of what is happening

"You gonna listen now? Gonna be good?" Jean prompts, rolling the gun around in his hand.

All you can do is nod as your eyes begin to water. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only grows worse as your mind races with the possible things Jean has in store for you.

"Good. Now strip." He commanded and like a good girl, you obeyed.

Your arms feel like they're made of lead, moving rigidly to take off your shirt (one of Jean's old ones). You can't stop the tears from falling as you pull down your panties, fat droplets roll down your cheeks, desperately trying to swallow the sounds of your sobbing.

This can't be happening. It's Jean. He wouldn't hurt you. He promised you that.

"Oh cut the fucking waterworks." He snaps. "As long as you listen, you'll be fine."

You try to calm yourself with deep breaths, not wanting to irritate him any further.

When you turn to face him, he's leaning back on his haunches, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily gripping the revolver. "Fair warning, I'm more of a 'shoot first, ask questions later' kind of guy. But you know that already." He thumbs the cylinder, making it spin. "Now, touch yourself for me."

Breathing is difficult. No matter how much you try, it's like you can't get enough air into your lungs. Thinking only of the gun in your boyfriend's hand, you still bring your own hand between your legs, but you can't concentrate, what with the dread taking over your body making it tough to have any control of your body. Your movements are stiff and apparently not up to Jean's standards.

He only scoffs before-

CLICK

You gasp again, body nearly flying off the bed before you curl yourself up into a ball. The fright is enough to stop your heart. For a second you believe it has.

"Princess," Jean's gruff voice brings you back to earth, reminding you that you're very much alive and whether or not you stay that way is entirely up to him. "You're ruining my surprise. Got it 'specially for you and now you're being a brat." He querched an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge.

"So-sorry.-" your voice breaks. "I'll be good."

You're still struggling to comprehend how any of this is real. You thought you knew him. You thought he loved you. And here he is, treating your life like it's a game. You can't help but think that this is your own fault. You thought you were above everyone else, the exception to your boyfriend's villain behavior.

"Yeah?" His voice drops to a whisper. "Then show me." He challenges you. Jean slips off his t-shirt and moves between your legs to get a better view, pressing on your knees to split them apart.

Self-preservation kicks in. There is one way out of this alive and that's doing what he says. You spread yourself even wider, showing him all of you. Your hands, glide over your smooth thighs, kneading the pudgy flesh as you get closer and closer your sex, teasing yourself the way he would. Your fingers find your clit and just a little pressure makes your eyes melt shut. Probably for the best anyway. It makes it easier to imagine anything but this. You drag those fingers through your delicate folds, letting out breathy sighs as heat begins to bloom between your thighs.

You pretend, it's Jean's touch. In your mind's eye you see the two of you, limbs tangled with Jean on top, resting his forehead against yours. It's one of those nights where he wants to go slow. So slow that the sensation of his cock dragging in and out of is you bordering on torturous. It's one of those nights where he wants to lay his head on your chest, mouthing at your breasts, leaving your nipples with his wet tongue while you tell him, in that sensual voice that you love him, that he's perfect, that he's yours. Because it's one of those nights, where everything feels like too much for him and the only person that he really has on his side is you.

It's not long before you're leaking. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, there's a voice chastising you for being so easy for him... even now. There's almost no resistance as two of your fingers, press into your entrance. Your fingers are no match for Jean's; they never hit all those deep, hidden spots that make you see stars but still, you start to move them slowly, brushing your thumb over your clit every so often.

"Look at me." You feel his breath waft over your pussy.

Eyelids fluttering open and you meet his gaze. It stuns you a little and your hands come to a standstill. He is handsome, breathtakingly so, even though he thinks you're lying whenever you when you tell him that. The way he stares at you, with love and adoration in his eyes, it's almost like the fantasy you were just imagining. Almost like the fantasy you've been living in this whole time. It's enough to make you forget the situation you're in. Then the muzzle of the gun is pressed to your clit, snapping you back to reality fast enough to give you whiplash.

"Fucking slut." He growls and smacks your hand away from your pussy.

You jerk as he starts to move it, the gun circles over your sensitive nub and then dipping down to your tight slit to gather up your juices.

"All those fucking tears but look how wet you are." He says more to himself than you as he admires the way your slick leaves a sheen on the barrel. With his eyes trained directly on yours, his perfectly pink tongue pokes out to lick it clean, groaning at the taste.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapped around your legs, guiding them over his broad shoulders. He kisses you on your mons before his tongue begins greedily lapping at your hole. "Tastes so good, princess." He mutters with his nose pressed against your clit. He slips the wet muscle inside of you making you whine. You reflexively grab onto his light ash-brown hair, tugging on the stands and he lets out a groan of approval. He moves up to your clit, circling it with his tongue piercing before suckling on it. While he brushes just the tip of a finger over your pussy, making it clench around nothing while you desperately buck your hips, in an attempt to have it inside you.

The way he's eating you out is almost romantic?

Or it would be, if it weren't for the metal digging into your flesh.

"Darling," He places a sloppy kiss on your clit, lighting dragging his teeth over the hood. "I want you to squirt for me."

A lump forms in your throat. You can count on one hand the amount of times that has happened. You're not sure of the odds that you'd be able to right now and it's not a gamble you're willing to take. "Jean, I don't think I can...."

CLICK

You thrash, gasp so loud it makes your throat burn.

Jean still holds you open, keeping you in place. "I wasn't asking." He makes sure to maintain eye contact as he drops a fat glob of spit right on to your clit before diving face first into your cunt once again.

He pushes two of his long, lithe fingers into your tight entrance. It's unexpected and you wince. He drags his right hand, the one he held the gun with up your torso, resting the muzzle underneath your breast, right over your racing heart. A reminder of what's at stake. He envelopes your sensitive clit with his lips, moving his fingers in tandem with the suction. You're consumed by desire as Jean brings you so close to the edge.

"D...Deeper please." You pant out.

He smiles against your mound before complying with your request. "Right here?" His fingers press against that squishy patch deep inside you and your eyes roll back.

"Y...yeah." You're barely able to mewl out. You dig your heels into his back and grind against his face, chasing your high. Jean keeps hitting that spot with astonishing precision but you hold off for as long as you can, letting the pleasurable sensation build until the pressure in your core becomes unbearable. When it finally snaps because you can't hold it anymore, your eyes squeeze shut, hands flying to his biceps and you dig your nails into the sinewy muscle. You gush around his fingers and all over his face. Jean doesn't move though, flicking your clit with his tongue repeatedly until you're trembling and whimpering, pushing him away from your pussy. He finally relents, a pop echoing around the room as he lets go of you.

He gives you a predatory look, scared face and chest wet with the remnants of your orgasm. "You made such a mess baby, but I'm glad you're finally having fun." He's just as out of breath as you are but far more composed.

Your head is still fuzzy and limbs are still twitching but your boyfriend doesn't let you recover. "Come on, princess. My turn." He begins to undo his belt, silver buckle clinking as he rushes to drag it through the loops of his jeans.

You pull yourself onto all fours, now eye level with his crotch. He pulls down his pants and boxers in one go, his erection almost hitting you in the face.

"You've been lucky so far." He taps the bulbous head of his cock on your lips, smearing your lips with the pre that dribbles out of it. "But I wouldn't test it if I were you. Open."

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him. So long, thick and veiny. He fucks you deeper, stretches you wider and makes you feel better than anyone ever had. You wonder briefly, if anyone ever could fuck you as good as Jean.

You stick out your tongue and he slides himself between your lips, groaning as he pushes into your mouth, slowly, inch by inch. He fills your mouth completely and you shut your eyes, savoring the taste of him but you feel the muzzle press against your temple and making them shoot open. "Atta girl. Lemme see those pretty eyes." He grunts as he plunges into your throat. You bob your head up and down his dick, the hand at the back of your head setting a brutal pace. The room is filled with the sounds of you gagging.

"So good to me princess." He tilts his head back, losing himself in the pleasure. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him while your saliva leaks out, dripping down his balls. Jean is big and heavy, stretching you so wide and making you jaw ache from the weight of him. You're already lightheaded from the lack of air, no matter how much you try breathing through your nose. You don't dare to complain though.

He pulls out of your mouth slowly, stretching a string of saliva from the head of his dick to your tongue that's hanging out of your mouth. You pant like a bitch attempting to catch your breath. He doesn't give you much time before he's in your throat again, back to fucking your face.

"I love you so much. You love me?" He sounds so sweet, totally blissed out.

He stops thrusting and tilts your head up to look at him, blinking tear-clumped lashes. You try to utter a 'Yes, I love you.' but with his dick gagging you, it comes out all garbled. The muscles in your throat convulse around the deep intrusion. "You'd do anything for me right?" He asks, jabbing the muzzle even harder into your temple, finger resting lightly on the trigger. You nod, watching Jean lose his composure bit by bit. "Yeah. That's why you're my girl." He pushes himself even deeper inside you, making you finally take all of him, until your nose meets his hair and holding you there. "Fuck."

CLICK

"Mmmhhh" You squeal around him but you can't pull off because of the grip he has on your scalp.

"Wh- Why" You blubber, voice hoarse. You don't understand. You were doing exactly what he asked. You were being good.

"Sorry princess. Felt so good, my finger slipped." He doesn't even try to hide his mischievous smirk. The fucker is definitely not sorry.

You want to beg him to stop this ridiculous game because you see now there's no way you can win because Jean doesn't play fair.

He doesn't give you the chance though, already shuffling off his bottoms all the way and propping himself up against the headboard. "C'mon pretty princess." He tugs on your ankle. I want to see you bounce on my dick."

You clumsily position yourself atop his lap quickly, before you can even think about it. You know he doesn't need a reason to pull that trigger but still, you don't want to give him one.

He grinds his tip along your heat, piercings dragging across your clit over and over again. It's something he does whenever you have sex, to rile you up. And just like all those other times, it's working. Circumstances be damned. "I need to feel this hot little pussy. Give it to me baby." He murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You nod as you lift yourself off of him to hover your dripping wet hole over his hard dick. You slowly squat down onto him, the fat head stretching you out, burning with every inch you take. You mewl, making futile attempts to blink away tears. You get halfway before you have to stop, resting your hands on his shoulders trying to gain leverage. You're outright crying now, wet droplets landing on Jean's chest.

"What's the matter darling?"

I'm terrified. You yell in your head but stay silent, choosing to focus on relaxing your ever-tightening hole in order to take more of him.

"Oh, I know." He coos, voice dripping with condescension. "'I'm too big for your tiny cunny." He leans forward to kiss away the salty tears. "But you can take it. I know you can." He cups your jaw, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "You can do it for me"

You start to move slowly up and down, using gravity to force more of his monstrous cock inside you with shallow movements. You really are trying your best but that's apparently not good enough for Jean and he lets you know that by pressing the barrel of the gun into your stomach. You freeze, horrified, more tears start falling from your eyes. You open your mouth to beg him to just give you a little time. You're trying.

"Quit being a baby and just take it." He says before you even get the chance.

"I'm trying Jean, please just-"

CLICK

He cuts off your plea. He's not interested in your excuses.

The rotation of the cylinder sends vibrations through your abdomen. Amidst the shock, you release your grip on his shoulders and impale yourself on his dick by mistake. The combination of the searing stretch and the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix is so overwhelming that you collapse forward, head falling onto your boyfriend's chest. You feel the rumbles of his chuckles while he's quite literally splitting you open.

"See? Knew you could. Just needed a little scare. Isn't that right." He rubs your back as if to comfort you. He lets out a low whistle. "But looks like you're all out of chances princess. Now bounce." He gives you a spank with an inhumanly warm hand, making you squeal and leaving your cheek tender.

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again. Jean's brown eyes are practically glowing, daring you to be stupid enough to defy him one more time.

You pull off almost entirely, keeping just his tip inside of you, before spearing his shaft into you again.

"Good girl." When he praises you with that raspy voice makes you keen and desperate for more of it.

His hand snakes its way up your torso to cup one of your breasts. Your back arches, pushing into his scorching hot touch, forgetting momentarily about his other hand and what he's holding in it. He gropes your chest, tweaks and twists at your nipples, leaving red, inflamed hand prints in his wake. You're practically delirious with pleasure, babbling out incoherent streams of his name along with "yes" and "more". All the while, he murmurs praises about how good you are and how much he loves you. It's confusing and you can't process any of it.

"Who owns this perfect pussy?"

"Jean. Fuck. Jean." Your tongue lolls out of your mouth in the most obscene way, drooling down your chin. Your plush walls pulse around him as he hits that sensitive spot every time you sink down on him.

"That's right it's all fuckin mine. My pretty baby." Jean's eyes are focused on where your two bodies are connected watching the translucent ring of your cream appear and disappear as you ride him.

You slur and he laughs at how fucked out you are, your brain completely jumbled between the fear, the pain and the bliss all combined into ecstasy.

"Darling" He groans. "I feel you squeezing me. You gonna cum?"

He's right. You nod as you feel that coil tightening again, threatening to snap at any second. The man finally starts putting in work, pounding into you every time you pull off of him. Jean abandons the gun in favour of playing with your clit, rubbing quick sloppy circles. "Yeah? Gonna cream and gush around me? I want you to baby." He buries his head in the crook of your neck, sucking, biting and licking while he assaults your sopping wet pussy. "C'mon doll, please."

With that you orgasm. He grabs your hips pulling you flush against his thighs, fucking you through your orgasm, rolling his hips up into you until your high finally subsides.

He doesn't let you catch your breath before he's got the revolver pressed hard underneath your chin. "Now make me cum." You almost collapse but the harsh grip he has on your hair suspends you upright.

Your mind is so foggy and Jean gives you a small smile, appreciating the perplexed look in your droopy eyes. But he's not done with you yet.

"Hey." You're ripped from your daze, when he slaps you across the face, sending your head swinging to the side. "Don't pass out on me now."

"So-sorry! 'M sorry!" You grovel as you slam your tired body down on his dick once again, trying to ignore the throbbing on your cheek, the ringing in your ears, and the ache in your battered cunt. You're so sensitive from your last orgasm but you don't have a choice and you don't dare deny him anything. Your thighs are quaking and burning with every movement but your boyfriend is unimpressed.

"You can do better than that doll." He lets out a bitter laugh, enjoying every second of tormenting you. "It's like you want your brains splattered on the ceiling."

You start crying again, shaking your head frantically. In the time that you've been with Jean, you've learned certain tricks, you know he likes it, but in this panic/lust induced frenzy, you can't remember any of them. Instead, you bounce, mindlessly on him while your gummy walls clench tighter around him every time he nudges at your a-spot. Your legs are going numb from all the effort and you plop down, limp onto his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Jean tsks at you, reminding you that you can't rest just yet. You swivel your hips, grinding your pelvis against his while he's buried deep in your wet heat. You pray to whatever deity is listening that he's getting close, you're not sure how much more you can take.

"If I don't bust in the next 5 seconds." His hand finds your clit again, you grind across his fingers has you rock against him. "Bang!" He emphasises the word by bringing a heated palm down on your ass.

A choked sob bubbles at the back of your throat, making him snicker

"Five." He grits out.

"Jean, please!" But you're met with icy, apathetic eyes staring back at you, feeling the terror that the rest of the city does when they so much as hear his name.

"Four." He rubs your already raw clit, faster and you can feel another orgasm building, much quicker than your last two.

Your body feels so heavy but you can't stop moving, not unless you want him to- "Please cum!" You beg. "Need your cum."

"Three."

He starts to fuck up into you again with unforgiving force.

"Wh-Why?!" is all you can manage as your mind starts to fog up again, the need to come becoming all the more urgent.

"Two." He ignores your question, transfixes on your tits bounce in his face. You're getting close to your third orgasm of the night and it seems Jean is determined to get you there.

You still can't believe this is real. You never thought that Jean would treat you like this. You were supposed to be special.

Or at least that's what he told you.

Moreover, you can't believe how your own body is betraying you. You can't believe you're actually going to cum. Again.

"One."

You cry out his name one last time, unsure if it's out of fear or pleasure. You dig your nails into his arms again, in a feeble attempt to ground yourself as you cum around him. The orgasm that rips through you makes it difficult for you to be sure of anything.

What you are sure of is the fact that there was no bang or bullet.

Just one last CLICK and the sensation of Jean's hot cum flooding your womb. He has a bruising grip on your hips, gun now discarded, and he rusts up to make sure to stuff your cunt absolutely full of him. He begins to laugh as he softens inside you.

Your head is still spinning but once you're able to push yourself off of him, you can finally make sense of what just happened.

He was fucking with you.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" You yell, using weak and quivering arms to throw pillows at him while you cry so hard it makes you dry heave.

Your asshole of a boyfriend starts cackling, clutching his abdomen as if he just pulled the world's funniest prank while your heart is beating so hard and fast you think it might break through your ribcage.

"You should have seen your face. You were so fucking scared."

You become nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat as you come to a sickening realisation.

This is not your Jean. This is the Jean that the rest of the world gets to see.

Evil, sadistic, merciless. This is the real Jean.

You attempt to scramble off of the bed to get away from him, feeling overwhelmed by the humiliation. But Jean grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms. A gesture you used to treasure but now it just made your skin crawl. "C'mon princess, you didn't think I was being serious did you?"

You writhe in his hold, hitting against his hard, toned chest with pathetic fists. "Don't be such a crybaby. It was just a joke." He strokes your back oh so tenderly. But you won't fall for that again. Jean is a villain through and through. You know that now.

It's no use fighting him off though, all the fight in you is used up. You don't know what else to do. So you do the easy thing: nuzzle your head into his chest, tremors rocking your body as you hiccup, while he holds you. That way you can pretend that you feel safe with him, just like you used to.

"Happy Valentine's Day, baby. I love you."

#jean #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein smut #smut #intense smut #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #aot x reader #jean kirstein #gunplay #degrading kink

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 3 years

Text

Raise the Stakes, Part 11

Let's mainline some angst, shall we?

(Don't forget to check the Master List for previous segments)

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC x Jay White

Word count: 1,483

Content advisory: language and some toxic relationship stuff that some might find disturbing/ upsetting

You smack your arm on the corner of a crate of equipment as you pass. It hurts and it’s probably going to leave a bruise but you don’t care. There are other people around but you hardly see them. If any of them is trying to talk to you, you can’t hear them because the blood pounding in your ears blocks everything else out. You’re on a mission. You’re going to kill the son of a bitch.

It occurs to you that maybe you should grab something so that you might look a little threatening. If there wasn’t still action going on in the ring, you’d run out and see what was stashed under it. That’s where all the potential weapons are kept, right?

You keep replaying the backstage scene in your head. One minute Juice and David are there, pumped from winning their match and talking about challenging for the tag titles again and then they’re just ambushed, a coward’s attack.

Son of a bitch. You’re going to murder him when you find him.

His voice gives him away, always too loud because he wants to make it impossible to focus on anyone but him. And although you can’t hear much of the sound around you, that voice cuts right through. You find him sitting with Chris Bey, of course, the two of them laughing and carrying on. He turns to face you, smile still plastered on his face, but his eyes are predatory. He wanted this showdown. You’ve played into his hands but you don’t care because he’s taken things too far.

At first, David had withstood the attack well enough, he’d gotten some blows in. But it wasn’t a fair fight. Jay had been fresh and knew what was coming. Even then, he’d resorted to smashing a heavy palette with equipment cases right into David’s prone body. It was at that point that you’d covered your face but the sounds were bad enough.

As soon as you’d made sure that David was off to get checked by the doctor, you’d started hunting down his nemesis. Your nemesis.

“Uh-oh, looks like he sent his muscle after you,” Bey croons as you enter the room.

“Damn right. She’s the scary one,” Jay laughs.

“You sleazy bastard,” you snarl. “You pompous little chickenshit. What the hell were you trying to prove?”

“Look out man, I think you pissed her off.”

“You think this is pissed off? This is what she’s like when she’s happy.”

The two of them crack up laughing again.

“Get the hell out, Chris,” you seethe. “I have to talk to your new boss alone.”

He glances at Jay who gives him a little nod, then makes his way out of the room, acting like he’s scared of you.

“Are you not enjoying the show tonight, angel?”

“If you ever pull anything like that again…”

“That’s the job. If he can’t handle a few punches then maybe he should go work as a crossing guard or a data entry clerk or something. Might be easier for him, now that I think about it. Less chance of being a complete failure.”

“The job is to make audiences believe in what they’re seeing, not to actually hurt people.”

“Hey, I’m the one getting hurt. He stole my shot at the title in Japan. He stole my girlfriend. You should be feeling sorry for me, not him.”

You aren’t quite able to hide the surge of feeling you get when you hear him call you his girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend, you tell yourself.

“You leave him alone. Have your big big blow off match since that’s what you want so much. Then you get on a plane back to Japan and stay there. You don’t come near him otherwise.”

“Strange that they haven’t told you yet.”

He knows something you don’t and although you hate to play into his hands, you can’t help but do so.

“Who hasn’t told me what?”

“New Japan. They’re doing more shows in America. A bunch of them. So they needed to bring in some star power. I guess they’re trying to figure out who’s going to do all this liaising or whatever you’re calling it.”

“I can handle a little extra work.”

“You’re not going to be doing it.”

“Is that your way of saying you’re going to get me fired? And I’m supposed to be all scared like I could never get any other job?”

“Fired? Of course not. You’ll always have a job as long as I’m around.”

He stands and moves closer to you, running his fingers up your forearm with an unkind smirk.

“Stop that. I don’t work for you anymore.”

“Believe me, I know. I think about it all the time.”

You back away, trying unsuccessfully to avoid getting pinned against the wall.

“I am going to beat him. I am going to humiliate him. There’s nothing you can do about that.” He leans in close and continues, “But whatever else happens, that’s up to you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I told you: I can make it so that he can’t get work at anything larger than a midwestern bingo hall. But I’m a generous man, so I’ll leave it in your hands.”

You stare at him, hoping he’s not implying what you think. His cheeks are flushed with excitement. He’s winning and he knows it.

“You come back to work for me. You forget this silly fling you’re having and get back to what’s important. And if you do that, I’ll let your little boyfriend keep his job.”

“Are you for real? That is sick, Jay, even by your standards! You want me to whore myself out to you to protect the man I love? What sort of tacky 19th-century melodrama are you living in?”

At the sound of the words “the man I love”, you can see something dark pass over his features. It takes him a long moment to compose himself before he takes both your hands in his and presses them to his lips, kissing them and letting his tongue slide over the skin.

“I know it’s my fault. You felt neglected and so you ran to the person you knew was desperate to please you. And when I got you back so quickly-”

You flinch the second you hear that but you grips your arms tight and continues.

“I clearly didn’t express some things well enough. If my reactions seem extreme, it’s actually because I want the drama over with. Sweet though I’m sure he is, David Finlay is a distraction for you. So consider this me protecting you from your own bad instincts.”

This is one of those moments, and there have been a number of them over the years, when you wish that Jay would haul off and punch you the way he would if you were a man; like somehow it would be easier to take if the two of you could just get in a fist fight than engaging in this sort of dialogue. The wounds would heal faster.

Everything he’s saying is about his ego, manipulative and self-serving and yet you know it would be so easy to lean in, to let him kiss you which you can tell he wants to do. He still occupies a space inside your head, big enough that no matter what sort of bullshit he’s spouting, you feel obliged to consider it.

“No,” you snap, twisting to get out of his grip. “Not this time. Get your hands off me.”

His hold on you tightens.

“Jay, I’m serious, let me go right now or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Let her go.”

David’s voice slices right through, an unusually dark tone behind it.

Jay laughs a little and waits for a few seconds before releasing you and stepping back to allow you to leave. You scramble clear and grab hold of David’s arm, gasping like you’ve been held underwater. At first you don’t notice the look passing between them but when you do, it almost frightens you. There’s real violence in it, real hatred. You’ve been watching the two of them bond and square off for years, you’ve seen the bitterness, envy, and insecurity they’ve raised in each other but never anything like this. They’d look like animals preparing to tear into each other if the emotions on their faces weren’t so uniquely human.

“Come on,” you whisper, gently tugging on David’s hand. Every muscle is tensed, all the way up to his neck and you’re worried that you’re not going to be able to stop a fight. “Please,” you whimper.

David relaxes just a little and leans back without ever taking his eyes from Jay’s. He doesn’t move to leave on his own but he lets you lead him away very slowly. It feels like a long time before you’re able to pull him close to you.

#david finlay fanfic #david finlay imagine #jay white fanfic #jay white imagine #njpw fanfic #impact wrestling fanfic #wrestling imagine #wrestling fanfiction #wayward wrestle writing

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talldecafcappuccino · 3 years

Text

@pwfishing said something about Ted’s contract and then this happened (read on ao3)

meet me in the middle

“Knock knock.”

Rebecca looks up to see Ted standing at the entrance of her office, hand raised against the doorframe.

“Is now still good?”

“Of course,” She gestures to the chair across from her. “Take a seat.”

While Ted gets situated, she pulls out a folder with small brightly colored flags sticking out along one side.

“Now, Coach Lasso,” she starts, opening the front flap. “You signed a two-year contract with the club, with you and Beard coming in mid-season.”

“Yes, ma’am. I remember.”

“And now that you and the team have finished your second season together, it’s time to begin talks for contract renewal,” she flips through the papers looking for the terms section.

“Great. Where do I sign.”

She pauses mid-flip. “You can’t just sign the same contract.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not how it’s done,” she says pointedly, as if he hasn’t already done this a million times in his career.

“Well, I trust my original contract was perfectly fair, Boss. So if it’s all the same to you,” Ted reaches for her pen cup.

She sighs. This is not how she planned for this conversation to go, but perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised.

“Can you at least try to work with me here? Let’s start with base salary. Give me a number.” She gives him her best, serious-business stare, but he's distracted, picking through the cup for his favorite pen. The one with a small greyhound floating through the liquid-filled chamber.

“Four.”

“Something a bit higher, please.”

“Look, I’m happy with the contract I signed,” he gives a little ‘a-ha’ when he finds the pen, twisting it open. “If it’s not broken, don’t fix it. That’s my motto”

“Coach Lasso. The team’s been promoted. It would be irresponsible of me to not reward that with some sort of raise.”

He smiles a little at that and she thinks about what she just said. Her cheeks are suddenly quite warm, but she will not be distracted.

“Let me show you something.” She turns the folder toward him and points to a line halfway down the page. “This is your current salary.”

Ted leans over, reads the paper and nods his head. So far so good.

“And this,” she pulls out a piece of paper from a second folder. “This is where the rest of the premier league managers sit.”

She waits for his eyes to bug out. Some of the numbers are admittedly exorbitant, but she’s trying to make a point.

However Ted just nods again and sits back in his chair, smiling.

“And is that what you were planning to give me?”

“Well yes, I was trying to,” she considers him for a moment. “I must say, this is an effective strategy for getting me to show my cards. Now can we move on to the rest of the terms?”

But Ted isn’t finished.

“Boss, do you know how much a mid-level, college American football coach makes?” he asks, shaking his head and smiling. “Trust me, being here is a promotion and a raise all in one. I’m very happy with my current salary.”

Rebecca can’t believe she’s having this conversation. It’s one of the more surreal moments in her career.

“Ted. Why are you trying to talk me out of paying you more? Paying what you deserve?” The words come out harsher than she means them. “This is standard business and, frankly, you are leaving money on the table.”

“How about this,” he puts one elbow on her desk and leans forward to tap the contract with the tip of his pen. “Why don’t you add a line item for one new pair of sneakers a season and a post-game beer with the boss after every home match.”

She sighs. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

“The club brought in more money this season than the last two combined.” She believed in Ted and the team, but even she was blown away by the end-of-season windfall. Ted attributed it to the addition of hot dogs to the stadium menu.

“Well people do love a Cinderella story.”

“Yes, but at the end Cinderella gets to be very, very wealthy. At least take the car service?”

“Hm, that’s not really my style. But the glass slipper. . .” He taps the paper until Rebecca begrudgingly writes, one new pair of sneakers per a season.

They go back and forth another ten minutes before Rebecca decides she’s entertained Ted long enough.

“I’m exhausted,” she sighs, picking up her pen. “I’m giving you the £5 million.” She goes to write in the number when Ted’s hand stops hers. It’s embarrassing how hard it is to focus with the warmth and weight of his palm against her skin.

“Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. And I get it, really. But I have an idea.”

Rebecca considers the man sitting across from her, eyes earnest, asking her to trust him. He hasn’t led her astray yet.

“I’m listening . . .”

In the end, he agrees to a 1% raise, a fraction of what she originally proposed. Which is how the team and staff ends up with a surprise end of season bonus and 0.01% shares in the club. The shares are more symbolic than anything.

What’s left will go back into operations, new weights in the locker room, and extra sessions with the PT. They’ll get a new TV for the bus and a slush fund for team birthdays.

She has to admit it’s a good compromise. Even if it leaves Ted woefully undervalued.

”Are we done here?” Rebecca asks, considering the page of handwritten terms.

“Yeah, Boss. I think so.”

Rebecca sinks into her chair, blows a piece of loose hair away from her face. She raises her brows at Ted who is looking very pleased with himself.

“Dear, you could have warned me you weren’t planning on negotiating.”

“Sorry Sweetheart, I think it’s important we maintain personal and professional boundaries.”

She hums, acknowledging her own words being used against her.

“Besides, that was kind of fun, wasn’t it?” His voice is low and gravely, a little dangerous.

She swivels in her chair, fighting a smile.

“I’m not sure you fully understand the point of those boundaries.”

He laughs and Rebecca's heart clenches with fondness.

He stands up, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Well I guess I’ll see you at home. I gotta last-minute strategy meeting with Beard and Nate.”

“Sounds good.”

He looks at her like the cat who caught the canary.

“You gonna watch me walk away?”

She sighs, but nods her head.

“Yes, Ted. Yes I am.”

He grins and taps her desk before turning to leave with a wink. “I’ll add a little jaunt to it for ya.”

He was incorrigible, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

A few moments later her phone rings. It’s Ted.

“Hey, Sweetheart, guess what?

“What?”

“I got a raise today. Boss was a real tough cookie, but I think I held my own.”

She rolls her eyes, chuckling softly.

“Congratulations. We should celebrate.”

“Order in?”

She can already see them sitting on the couch with a shared blanket, surrounded by takeaway containers as he recounts their conversation play-by-play until she finds an effective way of keeping him quiet.

“Sounds like a deal.”

#ted lasso #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted x rebecca #pwfishing #it’s just a load of fluff on a tuesday lol

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practicalmagicintuitions · 3 years

Text

A little something about tarot for beginners and everyone who is interested.

I planned this post for a long time, mainly for tarot newbies, someone who wants to start or just interested in how works. It won’t be a Tarot 101, definitely not. More likely, how I work with the cards.

DISCLAIMER: If you are underage I cannot and I won’t give you any ideas how to hide your practice from your parents or guardians. I know tiktok is very popular, but be careful because there is way more misinformation than any other SM site.

First, you obviously got familiar with the basic meaning of the cards, the build of the deck. You will learn the suits, the arcanas, the court cards, the numerology groups, and a few keywords. But this comes with practice. This doesn’t mean you can only draw your first card after you learned all of those things. No. When you buy your deck, look at each card carefully. Do not turn into a companion book or the internet immediately. Think about the card, make notes into a journal or a paper about what you feel, notice when you look at the image. Makes you happy, makes you scared? Is it dark, it is light? And after that, you can read what the book says.

Tarot is about storytelling so your intuition, your memories, your feelings are very important.

When someone is saying tarot has fixed meanings… this is not entirely true. One card can have many many meanings depending on its position or the surrounding cards. Yes, Death card won’t mean your soulmate is coming on a horse, but it’s also 99% won’t mean you are gonna die.

If you want fixed meanings, you should read Lenormand instead. In Lenormand, there are certain combinations with fixed meanings, there is no place for intuition. The pictures on the Lenormand cards have aesthetic purposes only they don’t have additional meanings. Tarot is intuitive. It means you combine the meanings of the cards and above that, you are using your intuition AND the pictures on the cards. Movements, colours, directions, animals, flowers, symbols etc.

What do I mean? I’ll show you.

Those are the Fools from the classic RWS, the Modern Witch Tarot and the This Might Hurt Tarot decks. Look how similar they are at first. They are representing the carfree, daydreaming attitude, the journey. They all have a companion, a dog etc. You can fairly read those the same way. Of course, there are differences, the big city instead of the mountains, backpack etc, but I think those are amazing starter decks.

I think I wrote in my first tarot post that even many people do not like the classical RWS deck, because the images seem ugly and there is no diversity, for me that is the basis and I think everyone should have own it. But if you absolutely don’t want to because you don’t like it at all, those 2 decks, the Modern Witch Tarot and the This Might Hurt Deck seems a good starter deck. RSW was not my first deck, I haven’t started with it, so you can buy it later on if you want and start with the deck you like more. It is very important to choose a deck that speaks to you. Tarot first and foremost is about your personal journey or helping others if you are reading for others. What I am doing here in tumblr is fun, a good practice, it is testing my abilities but tarot is not only for knowing more about our celeb crushes. It is a guied to ourselves.

Let’s see more examples with pictures. The RWS tarot and the New Vision tarot.

New Vision tarot recreates the RWS imagery but as you will see gives a different perspective to the cards, therefore gives a new layer to them. I heard the deck has only a little white book, not a real guide, which is a shame. I think it’s an interesting concept and you could deliver very different readings than with a standard RWS. Personally, I wouldn’t recommend this deck to a newbie but it’s interesting so I show you. You can see how different those images, how different intuitive messages you can get.

Same-ish concept is the Vica Versa Tarot. Based on the ratings it is more usable than the New Vision Tarot. This deck has pictures on both sides and the meaning varies depends on this. This is also a very RWS based deck so it is very interesting to me. Not in the near future, but I want to purchase this deck.

I will show you a few more examples of cards that are less based on the RWS system (or not at all) therefore you need you and your intuition more.

RWS, Gentle Tarot, Wild Unkown, Shadowscapes

I hope you understand now how important it is to use your own intuitions, feelings, experiences and find the style that suits you. Personally, I prefer the more earth-based, pagan or darker decks (not too dark though, I should say more serious) but you can find all pastel pink, fluffy decks too. There are literally thousands of decks on the market in every style. But those are not cheap things, if you cannot connect you won’t be able to work with them. If you like a deck, go to youtube, search for a flip through. Look at the cards carefully. If you still like it, amazing. However, if you bought a deck and it turns out not for you you can still sell it online or if you are really lucky you have spiritual stores or fairs in your area where you can sell or change it for something else.

Connecting the cards it’s not easy, but one of my most spot-on reading was when I let my intuition work completely. I remember I pulled the cards and I started to collect the information about what they could mean. And I felt it makes no sense left to right but right to left I understand it crystal clear. I was hesitant because you have this preconception you have to read the cards in order, but guess what, you don’t have to. I will link an excellent video about it, I found it after my reading and it was a light bulb, aha moment for me. This youtube channel is not for beginners, but I recommend watching this video, you will understand what I ment and it will help you.

The other thing, yes, in western culture we read left to right but this is only one way you can do it. You don’t have to stick with it in your readings. In the most popular spread in the Celtic cross you read the last 4 cards from down to up. And on the standard RWS deck (as you can see on the first picture above), The Fool starts his journey and he is heading from right to left. Isn’t this amazing? And the Major Arcana is about The Fool’s journey. Aka your journey.

*( I cannot link here, in the middle of the text, so it will be video 1 at the end)

So don’t be afraid, be free, make your own meaning, rituals. This is your tarot journey, no one else's. Yours. Don’t let some bitter, “I know better, you are wrong” people take your enthusiasm away.

You can read many books and sources but it doesn’t mean you will understand the cards. You cannot read the cards mechanically. Keywords are helpful at the beginning but after a while you have to leave them behind and use your intuition.

99% of the tarot readers have difficulty with Court Cards. Those are basically people on the cards, doing very little. Some readers read them only as a person, some of them read them as an influence. Just because there is a man on the cards this doesn't mean it represents a male in your life. So it’s hard.

One exercise which is fun and you can make it easier is that you try to pair them with people in your life. Do you have an impulsive brother who is flirty and rushing things? Knight of Wands. Do you have a mean female boss, who is gossiping and bitching? Queen of Swords rx. Of course, this is very basic, but it could help and it is fun.

If you don’t want to use your family or acquaintances, use tv series instead. I think Game of Thrones is amazing for this. It has so many different characters. Many of them are even changing. Jon Snow went from Knight to King, Arya from page to Knight, Sansa from Page to Knight, from Knight to Queen.

The second type of exercise is similar just with the minors. Choose a movie and try to tell the story with the minors. People met, fell in love, getting married, broke up, fighting over money during the divorce etc. All in the cards.

Pulling a card daily is amazing in every way. People recommend doing this in the morning, however I like to do this at the evening. Firstly, because I am a night owl, mornings are painful for me and I don’t have time in the mornings. But the most inportant reason is because I can be anxious and easily stressed out. If I pull the Death at the mornig I will stressing out the whole day. However if I pull this at the evening as a summary of my day maybe I will realise immediately, “oh, my favourite tv show was cancelled, bummer.” or “ I have a new teamleader at work or school, so this is a new cycle for us” I think this gives you a bigger and clearer understanding how those cards are fit into your daily life and what are they meaning for you personally.

When you choose to do any kind of divination it’s crucial to protect your energies. So it’s inevitable to start meditating. The other two practices which I highly highly recommend are called Grounding and Circle Casting. Don’t be scared, those are just higher forms of meditation that help you to keep the balance, but those are also a must if you decide to do another type of Energy Work, for example of Energy Manipulation. I will link an excellent video about it. This YT is also an amazing resource if you are interested in Wicca. You don’t have to! This channel is amazing anyway. Personally, I am not a Wiccan either as I am not celebrating Wiccan sabbats like Beltane or Imbolc, but I love this channel so so much.

*I cannot link the video becuse she’s blocked this option but this is her site. Go and check her Centering and Grounding ║ Witchcraft 101 video, it was uploaded on July 10th in 2019

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCFz0Rtv2bh86aUy_5_YsGLw

There will be a point when someone wants to scare you that tarot, divination and spirituality are evil. It is not. Tarot is a piece of paper with pictures on it. It’s not deviant or anything. The cards have no intentions or consciousness, they are just cardstock. Not bad or good. What can make it harmful is the unethical people. Someone who wants to bribe you to pay a big amount of money because “you are cursed” or is someone trying to manipulate the readings to scare you or make you do something. If your intentions are good, have a moral and you protect your energy, you don’t have to be afraid.

In my experience usually people who are heavily involved in churches or Christianity try to push that the tarot and spirituality are evil. Of course not all of them, I know many professional tarot readers who are also Christian, love Jesus etc.

What you should know and maybe this could give you a little comfort or calm that we are all spiritual beings. All of us are made of energy. We are so much more than flesh and blood and bones. Everyone is attracting or have spirits in their life even the most hardcore churchgoers have. You are not bad or evil just because you use divination. Always your intention is important and that you seek the light side of spiritualism.

I hope you liked this post, it becomes my baby and I am really proud of it and I hope you will find it useful or interesting. In the forseeable future I am not planning anyithing similar but I am open to questions as always. Maybe I will have an answer.

Be Blessed.

youtube

#tarot #pmitarotreadings

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