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im-poe-dameron · 9 months

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─── BREATHE ME IN

a/n: so um...i have no idea what this is. i started this when the kenobi series was coming out and sort of dropped it after a month. but here i am, finally finishing it and making it longer than it was supposed to be. did we really expect me not to find darth vader hot? i think he's where my whole loving a masked character came from. honestly this is basically filth with me trying to shove plot in not so subtly. so i hope y'all enjoy!

summary: the jedi fell and darth vader rose to power, but there's a secret he hides even from his own master.

word count: 5.5k+ (because i'm insane)

pairing: darth vader x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, cussing, angst, tenderness which is shocking, thigh riding, choking (obviously), oral (male receiving), a tad bit of face fucking, dom/sub dynamics, rough p in v sex, overstimulation, more hints of anakin than vader.

You’ll never be able to forget the scent of him after that night one month ago. It was branded in your mind, forever a part of you as he bent you to his will—made you his without even saying a single word. You should have fought him on it; made him see that you weren’t ready to relinquish the power you once held, but you knew the man beneath the mask he wore. You had known Anakin before he became this, before he twisted himself up inside and gave into being Darth Vader.

Even now as you stood in your small home on a planet far away from the Empire’s touch, you could feel his control over you. Long before the order was given and Jedi were slaughtered, you had been one of them. A knight who fought alongside Anakin in the Clone Wars—a warrior who chose the side of good rather than evil.

Then things fell apart. You were told that the man you loved, the person you cherished the most, gave into the dark side.

He became a stranger once more.

But nobody runs from Anakin for long—especially when he’s become a force more powerful than any Jedi could ever hope to be. You were hiding out on Devaron when he found you, attempting first to turn you to the dark side with him. Only for you to see something break in his exterior, his walls dropping for a split second and you felt it like a punch to the chest. He needed you.

This absolute desire was not born out of lust but pure necessity, because even as Darth Vader…Anakin Skywalker still lived beneath the mask and he didn’t know how to live without you. You’d always been the person he turned to when Obi-Wan wouldn’t understand the nature of his feelings. When he could no longer control them himself.

So, he left you there—allowing you to remain a Jedi who chose the light side of the Force over him. But he would return again and again. Desperate for someone to put his strained mind at ease—the memories of his past haunting him with every waking day. Perhaps that's where the submission started. In helping him by allowing him into your bed, into your heart little by little each time until eventually…you yearned for him to.

Jedi weren’t allowed to have such strong attachments, but as a Sith…he could keep you as his for as long as possible. A deal you wholeheartedly agreed to with a single word.

The stars were starting to shine brightly in the night sky as you traversed the dense forest of Devaron, your lightsaber clipped to your side and hood drawn up over your head. You heard his ship land ten minutes ago; knew he now stood in the center of your home awaiting your arrival. So, you took your time. Anakin never liked to wait, Darth Vader was no different, and somehow that brought a smile to your face. So desperate to see you that he would battle his way through the forest alone to find you again.

He would come after you—you knew he would—and that brought back the pool of heat that always found its way to your body when he arrived.

There was something twisted about loving him even the way he was now. How could you, a Jedi Knight of your ability, love something so dark? How could you give into the sinister deliciousness of that side, yet still remain so true to the light side of the Force? The answer was simpler than you thought. In your mind he still remained as Anakin the man you loved and even though you knew what he did, what he now became, you couldn’t let go of your heart fully.

Even if the scars now showed as small canyons and ridges, each one holding a darkness that would ultimately cause your demise.

He knew this.

Nobody loved Darth Vader, nobody gave themselves to the most powerful Sith in the galaxy, without understanding they would die because of it one day. Perhaps that’s what caused the absolute ache in your bones at the mere sight of him. The thought of one day no longer being by his side. Some Jedi may claim you were betraying what you believed in—destroying yourself just for an inkling of mind numbing pleasure—but it was more than that. Pleasure ultimately gave way to the pain of loving someone beyond saving.

As expected you arrived at your small house to the sight of a black ship—big enough for one—in the clearing that was solely used by him. The darkness bled through the Force, encasing you in a biting cold as you walked towards the already open door. One might say the sight of him standing amidst your tiny living room was terrifying enough to run away. But you were never one to cower in fear from him and you refused to start now.

His head tilted, energy stretching out towards you through the old connection you used to have with him, and with a small smile you reached back. Twining your brilliant blue around his obsidian nature until you saw him shudder beneath his cloak.

“You’re late,” he said—his voice something you had to continue to get used to.

Humming, you dropped your robe onto the chair behind him, heading towards your small makeshift kitchen where you knew there’d be some bread from the day before. He turned, watching you move as you continued to press your Force signature against his own—reminding him of a time when he too held a blue lightsaber brighter than yours. This was a two way street. You savored the bitter sweetness of the dark side, relishing in the rush of power that flowed through your veins, and he once again fell back into what he used to know. The calming serenity of the light side.

“You’re early,” you teased, knowing his temper was far worse than before. However he always seemed to control it around you—the tight grip he had on his anger evident in the way his fist clenched.

“Where did you go?” He demanded more than asked nowadays and so you stayed silent, awaiting for the flare of anger to shove its way into your mind.

It never came though. The silence almost shocked you as you turned, eating the remainder of the bread. But that’s what he wanted out of you—a reaction that would show you actually acknowledge his presence. How could you not? When he stood there looking like the true embodiment of the dark side of the Force. Although there were times when you missed the sight of Anakin standing before you—a smile on his face that always reached his blue eyes.

“Exploring,” you said, eyes flickering down the length of him—taking in the sight of his rigid stance. “How long are you here for?”

“Tonight.”

His answers were blunt, to the point, because he didn’t have time to dawdle. You were his secret, you knew this. If anyone found out you’d be killed and knowing who Darth Vader answered to…he’d be forced to do it himself. So, you nodded and finished the remainder of your bread as you continued to watch him—prodding at the wall of his mind to hopefully see within. But they remained up, blocking you from anything other than his Force signature which remained tightly entwined with your own.

“How long will you be gone for?”

He paused, pressing against the walls of your mind to see what exactly you were thinking, but you knew he didn’t wish to forcefully tear them down. You were not a person he was interrogating—rather a lover who he may very well lose if he didn’t act accordingly. His fist clenched again, the struggle to remain in complete control now wavering as you stalled for time. He knew what you were doing and yet he still played along.

“I don’t know.”

You hummed, once more pressing against the wall in his mind. It was dangerous to be let inside—having seen what he harbored behind the thick barrier—but your curiosity always wished to drag you into trouble.

What was safety compared to intimately knowing the most lethal person in existence? To you there would be nothing more intriguing, nothing more worth the risk than this simple gesture.

“Don’t,” he spit out, stepping closer until your lower back was digging into the counter.

“You let me in once before—”

His gloved hand landed on your throat, silencing your words and causing a shudder to run down your spine. Though the position wasn’t unfamiliar, it still brought a small inkling of fear to peek its head out. He could kill you—without remorse. Yet he never did. He simply remained, holding your throat as tenderly as he possibly could—relearning what the meaning of gentle was. That thought alone brought a dazed smile to your face, your eyes nearly fluttering closed as his thumb ran along the column of your neck.

“That is no longer a luxury you are allowed to have.”

The words were sinister on his tongue, like a sharp knife to your heart, but you’d been scarred by him before. “Is it because I know what I’ll find? Or are you afraid?”

His control finally snapped, the pressure on your throat now crushing you until you struggled for air. But he didn’t squeeze harder, he didn’t make sure that you were unable to breathe completely, because he couldn’t cross that line. He refused to. You were the only light he let slip through the cracks of his helmet; the one thing keeping him stable on the ground and while it wasn’t very Darth Vader of him to keep you—it was the part of Anakin that still remained that held onto you tightly.

“You know nothing.”

Despite the lack of oxygen, you smiled. “I know you.”

The words came out choked and broken, but it was enough. He froze, his hand loosening around your throat as the final realization clicked into place just like it always did when he found his way back to you.

You knew him—knew Anakin that lay beneath the surface and Vader that rose to power crushing him in the end. You knew all the ugly bits that showed through the evident splinters of his being and in spite of all of that…you still loved him. Whenever he left you he seemed to forget that when he came here he didn’t have to wear a shroud of anger that resembled his cape. He didn’t have to wean himself from the light side with every bittersweet touch, because you held no expectations of him.

“Anakin,” you breathed, hand sliding along his leather covered limb. “Come home.”

Little by little you saw his walls come down, felt the darkness seep into his Force signature until you were surrounded by it. Until the only light left between the two of you was yours—guiding him back to you for a brief moment. He’d only be here tonight, so you’d have tonight.

You would take as much time as you were allowed if it meant seeing Anakin for a brief moment again.

“Anakin is dead,” he muttered, hand shifting until his thumb was pressing against your bottom lip. “I killed him.”

Parting your lips you allowed him to invade your senses even further—the taste of the leather permeated your mouth, driving a moan from your throat. Digging your nails into his arm, you felt him push against you—forcing his way into your mind and showing you images of a past that felt like yesterday. Anakin’s face flashed before you, the smile you ached to see again finally coming back to you, and it drew a whimper to the surface. A sound he liked if the pressure on your tongue was enough to go by.

The scene shifted and you felt the heat flare to life in your stomach as you saw yourself beneath him, sobbing his name as he practically shoved you into all encompassing bliss. Memories he still held onto—torturing himself because he could no longer have you in the way he wanted. But above all that, one stuck to the forefront of your mind. The taste of him as he kissed you; devoured everything you were and felt greedy enough to take even more.

The first hints of the dark side within him.

“Maker,” you gasped as he ripped his hand away, reaching for the ties of your robes. “I miss it too.”

Gathering enough of your energy you used the Force to shove him backwards until he stumbled into the wall behind him—his large frame taking up too much space. To anyone else it would have felt suffocating, but to you…this was as safe as you were ever going to get. He ached to have his old self back not to be a Jedi again. No, he thrived in the sinister ways of the Sith. He wanted to be Anakin, to have you again by his side—to kiss you like he used to on nights where things became too heavy a burden to carry alone.

Somehow in the midst of you pushing him back and him resisting you ended up pinned to the wall of your bedroom by him. He didn’t even have to touch you to make you beg for more; for you to do anything he wanted. This is what bending to his will became and he loved it.

He stood inches away, the tips of his boots touching yours and so like a fool you let your walls down without any warning. Shoving every memory and burning need his way until he was gasping through the modulator—his hand slamming against the wall beside your head. Each moment you were with him, each touch and night neither of you slept—too busy finding what made the other tick—it all poured into his mind. You made him see what you saw whenever you were near him even with the mask.

The cold feeling of his mask pressed against your cheek as he tried to push himself closer. This is all it would amount to. Nights spent in secret when really the both of you ached for one last thing. Something you never got.

A farewell kiss.

“Anakin,” you said softly, hand sliding to his shoulder. “Are you home?”

He let out a breath, the sound distorted through the modulator before finally breaking down the last of his walls. “Yes.”

You didn’t know how long tonight would truly last and so you began to clutch at his arm, feeling a hot press of his gloved hand dig into your thigh as he raised it to his hip. A natural movement he’d done a hundred times over. That was enough to make you smile, a small bit of laughter echoing off the walls of your tiny room. Although darkness still clung to him, still twisted tightly around your Force energy, he remained the man you loved.

Both Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader alike.

“Tell me,” he groaned, shoving his knee up gently and fitting it right at the seam of your pants.

It almost didn’t feel fair how he knew your body so well—how he knew which way to move you to finally hear that familiar moan tumble past your lips. Grinding your hips down, your head fell back against the wall when pressure was finally applied to your throbbing clit, sending sparks down your spine. You knew he watched every emotion, expression, and heard every sound behind that helmet and somehow…that made it even more electric.

“Tell me,” he demanded, hand going back to your throat and keeping you in place as his other one guided your hips along his thigh.

Fuck, you were still clothed and felt like you would fall apart at any moment.

“I—” Moaning, your hands scrambled for purchase along his chest. “I love you.”

Placing pressure on your throat he shoved pressed his thigh upwards, watching your eyes flutter shut, a high-pitched gasp escaping you as you finally broke. Light flooded his senses, nearly breaking his stance, but the sight of you writhing in his grasp—whimpers falling from your lips was too addicting for him to let go of. They say that the dark side made one greedy; desperate for whatever they wanted, and in this moment he was prepared to take and take until you had nothing left to give.

He knew you’d let him. You would give him whatever he asked for.

“Anaki—” He cut you off, dragging you along his thigh again and watching as your face twisted. Both pain and pleasure collided as you were shoved into overstimulation.

“Again,” he said, moving his hand from your hip to your pants—helping you yank them off until the leather of his glove slid through your hot slick. “I want to see you do it again.”

“Oh fuck.”

Gasping for air, you dug your teeth into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as he ruthlessly began to toy with your clit. He knew exactly what to do to shove you right on that edge again and perhaps that’s what flung you over it. Or maybe it was him shoving the same words back into your own mind until it echoed over and over again.

I love you.

Sith didn’t care about things like love, but Anakin Skywalker was never truly a Sith just as he was never truly a Jedi.

He was stuck in between—crossing the border of want and need.

“I can’t.” A cry ripped from you as his other hand moved down from your neck to your chest, rubbing a thumb over your nipple. “I—Anakin I can’t.”

He chuckled, the sound menacing even to you. “Yes you can.”

This wasn’t a question—it was a choice of when you’d finally give in. The pressure in your body built, the coil twisting as he continued to rub sharp circles on your clit. When your legs began to shake and your vision became blurry from tears, you knew you were right there on the very edge of shattering, but you couldn’t. Not until he joined you on that edge—relenting his power to give you some of your own.

“Say it,” you begged, eyes screwing shut as he sunk two fingers into you right to the knuckle—his thumb continuing. “Say it for me. Please I need—I need to—”

“I love you.”

The words sounded foreign coming from his modulator, but you knew this was Anakin speaking not the twisted side of him that fed off of pain. He’d finally ripped free from the cage he was put in, leeching off the light coming from you with glee. He may not have meant the words entirely, but they did what you both intended them to do.

Sobbing his name, you felt the pressure snap in two flooding your body with a white-hot pleasure. You could hear his fingers as they continued to pump into you, rubbing against the spot along your walls that made your legs shake and tears flow down your cheeks.

“That’s it,” he muttered, hand going around your neck to hold you in place as you practically grinded on his hand—the pleasure still coursing through your veins.

You were lost to it. Mind numb to everything else but him standing before you.

It took you a few minutes to catch your breath and gain feeling in your limbs again and he waited. Gave you a chance to breathe as he fought against the impatience that trickled into his veins—a quality that was unnatural to him. Once you were finally able to open your eyes, sighing in contentment, you focused on his mind—allowing yourself a chance to see inside of it. As always it was inner turmoil that had you flinching, but right now all you saw were memories of you and him. The same ones he played over and over again while he was away from you.

“And here I thought you never missed me while you were away,” you said, lips curving into a smile sweet enough to taste.

“I don’t miss you.” He leaned closer, hand reaching down to cup your swollen cunt. “I miss this.”

Words like that should have stung, but you knew him better than that. You knew why he said the things he said. So you smiled wider, dragging his arm up until his hand was in front of your face, the black leather shiny with your cum. Twining your Force signature around him until he couldn’t escape, you sucked his fingers into your mouth, moaning at the taste of yourself. He didn’t expect you to give in so easily—usually enjoying the fight you put him through. But tonight you’d settle for this so you could gain more.

“We’ll see about that,” you whispered, kissing his palm and dropping his arm.

You wanted him to give over the control he ached for; wanted to watch as the last of his residual armor came crashing down around you. Only one person would be able to say they brought Darth Vader down to their knees and it was you. His light, his moon, his lover.

Pushing his leg away, you pressed your hands on his chest, wishing you could once again feel the strong heartbeat beneath his skin. The steady thrum of it put you to sleep on long nights when you snuck away from the Jedi Temple, but for now you’d have to settle for the rhythmic timing of his breaths as they echoed around the room.

Without another thought, you dropped to your knees in front of him—his body keeping you caged in along the wall. You figured he already knew what you were going to do, if the way he widened his stance told you anything. His hand cupped the back of your neck, tilting your gaze back towards him. It was the gentle nature of his touch that sent heat spilling into your heart. Anakin flared to life right before your eyes with every passing minute.

Undoing his belt, you allowed yourself a moment to admire what lay beneath the leather. What he always drew your attention away from. The skin was burnt, scarred beyond anything you’d ever seen before, but that never mattered to you. He stood stiff, his other hand pressed against the wall, helmet focused on you. Almost like he was unsure of what would happen.

Would you not care? Or would what remained not be what you wanted?

“Oh…” you gasped when he was finally free.

He was scarred there too, you’d felt it before. Except you weren’t shocked by that; no you were surprised by how worked up he was. The glossy sheen of precum building up at the tip practically dripped down your palm as you held him—begging for you to taste. Leaning forward, you took the head of his cock into your mouth, the guttural moan he let out sending a flare of heat through your body.

“Is this for me?” you asked sweetly, knowing it would only succeed in riling him up even more.

He grunted, his hand pushing you forward until his cock was once more back in your mouth. Although you didn’t mind in the slightest. Not when his addicting salty tang spread on your tongue the longer you sucked on the head. He was shameless with the sounds he made. Entirely focused on his pleasure, but you felt the way he softly rubbed his thumb along your neck, sending goosebumps down your skin.

“Take me deeper,” he said, already knowing you were heading that way anyways. “I know you can.”

You moaned when he hit the back of your throat, his hips thrusting forward slightly until you gagged. That alone only made him do it again. Pressing against the firm line that stood between the both of you. He wouldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want—as long as you gave him control. Something you were more than okay with handing over.

It’s not like you had any semblance of it before he became Darth Vader. Anakin had always been one to take what he deemed he deserved. Except when it came to you, he always gave you the choice. Even now as your nose brushed the base of his cock, your throat squeezing him so tight his whole body shuddered, you still held the choice.

You sucked in a breath when he pulled away, tears streaming down your cheeks and spit covering your chin. Part of you wanted to keep going—to feel him spill down your throat—but you knew that wasn’t what he was here for. Dragging you up, he pressed the cold shell of his helmet against your forehead, hands grasping your hips tightly.

“I need—” He cut himself off, a loud breath reverberating through his modulator.

For the first time that night you felt it. The small flicker of blue in his otherwise black Force signature. Only in moments like this, when his desperation practically permeated the air, did you find your Anakin.

The only thing stronger than Palpatine’s hold over him had always been the love he felt for you—that was clear to you now.

“I know,” you murmured, leading him back and watching as he sat on your bed. His large frame practically took up the entire room. He spread his legs, allowing you to step between them, but you had a different plan altogether.

Clambering onto his lap, you held yourself up as you positioned his cock at your entrance. Your slick practically pooled over him, making it easier for you to take him in one thrust. But rather than rush this, you held yourself there. Hovering over his needy and wanting cock—making him wait for the one thing he so desperately needed. The blue flickered again, vibrating through you and forcing a gasp from your lungs.

You longed to pull it closer until it enveloped you entirely; til you suffocated from its light. But whatever remained was now small and fleeting, only seen in moments like this. His grasp turned harsh, impatient. Letting you know that he only had so much left in him before he took back the small sliver of control he allotted you.

Your whole body shook as you finally lowered yourself, feeling the stretch of his cock sliding into your cunt. A growl ripped from his chest, his hands pressing you down further and watching in delight as your head fell back, a garbled shout echoing off the walls. You went dizzy with the delicious mixture of pain and pleasure. It rushed through you, setting each nerve in your body alight with a burning fire.

Which only made everything shine brighter.

Light flooded his senses, your Force signature practically bleeding out into the room. And he took it. He swallowed it whole in his never ending darkness with the hope that you were never extinguished.

“More,” you gasped, fingers digging into the leather that covered his shoulder.

He shoved his hips upward, grinding against you and tearing a sound from your chest that seared into his mind instantly. You were a wanton mess. Barely hanging on to the person you were thirty minutes ago—before he came back into your life. Instead there you were. The lover who fed off of his darkness; who took what the Jedi Order claimed was forbidden and begged for more.

“Maker—fuck—I-I’m oh fuck—” You made no sense, but that’s the way he wanted you. An incoherent babbling mess that rode his cock to chase that feeling only he could bring you.

Lifting yourself up slightly, you dropped back down haphazardly, hating the emptiness that came with his cock slipping out of you. A sound tore through his modulator, his hands tightening on your hips as you set a brutal pace. He groaned when your walls tightened around him, the sound of your skin slapping against the leather of his pants echoing in the room. If you listened closely you could hear the wet squelch of your slick as he set his own pace, pounding into you without abandon.

“Please, Anakin please,” you cried, unsure of what you were begging for.

He seemed to know though.

Without a response, his hand wrapped around your throat, pressing down tightly as he thrusted upwards even harder. The lack of oxygen seemed to only heighten the sensation you chased—pleasure building up to an almost painful degree in your body.

He bent you to his will, guiding your body in a way that felt familiar. You didn’t have to think when he was here, didn't need to focus your energy on any of this, because he did it for you. His gloved thumb pressed against your lips until you opened up with ease, sucking his finger into your mouth with a moan. It gave you a chance to take in a deep breath before he clamped down tight around your throat again. Turning your vision hazy.

“Good,” he muttered, pulling the spit slicked finger from your mouth. Only to press it firmly against your clit.

Your body arched, a broken cry falling from your lips as tears streamed down your face. It was too much, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop. You didn’t want him to. The pleasure nearly blinded you with each thrust of his cock into your dripping cunt. But what made you fall wasn’t the feeling of him finally striking against the spot that made your body curl in on itself.

No, it was the image he projected in your mind.

“That’s what you like huh,” Anakin’s voice grunted in your head, his blue eyes just as bright as before.

You sobbed out a garbled yes, eyes rolling back. The image continued. A bright blue light wrapped itself around you, nearly burning you from the inside out as he pinched your clit between his fingers. And you chased it; grabbed onto the sensation tightly and let it fill your chest until you swore your heart stopped beating.

“I want you to cum. Let me see my pussy drip for me,” he spit, dragging you closer until you were pressed so tight it nearly hurt.

“Don’t,” you gasped, shoving the image of Anakin away from your mind, eyes focusing on the empty soulless black mask he wore. His hand let up slightly, allowing you breath to speak. “I want to see you. Not him.”

Warmth spread through your chest when his hips stuttered, a groan reverberating against your breast. You wished you could kiss him. Feel the hot press of his lips on yours, but this—feeling him thrust into you quickly—was enough. His hand tightened again as his cock drove up into you harshly, hitting right where you needed to fly off the edge. Your mouth fell open, a broken sob making its way through as the all encompassing heat you so desired began to spill through your body.

A snarl ripped through your very being when he finally joined you, spurting into your swollen cunt and filling you until you leaked around the base of him. Except he didn’t stop. He pushed forward, thrusting into you until pain filtered through the pleasure. Once more you were shoved into that bliss, drowning in it with no way out.

Sobbing his name, you felt your body shake as he finally ceased his movements, allowing you to sag against him. The energy was completely depleted from you and he knew it. Which is why he didn’t move. Simply breathed deeply, his softening cock still deep in you, causing you to moan slightly at every soft twitch.

“How long until you have to go?” you sighed, your fingers tracing random shapes against his armor.

“Soon.”

“Will you come back?”

You knew you wouldn’t receive an answer. You never did, because even he didn’t know when Palpatine would finally release him again from his grasp. He let out a breath, his hands cupping your ass as he molded you to him. The blue light still flickered amidst the darkness, turning his once bleak Force signature a brilliant midnight color. And for a moment you saw the real him. The man who lay beyond the layers of his armor.

Laying a kiss against the cold shell of his mask, you allowed yourself a moment to be enveloped by him. The darkness would return eventually, wiping away the man who sat beneath you. But for now, he was here and he was yours.

Smiling, you pressed against it with your own, feeling him shudder beneath you. It was like looking at the night sky—a sight you wanted to keep until you were left alone once more. Curling around his body, you allowed sleep to finally overtake you, your mind soothed by the soft touch of the Force he pressed against you.

Only then did you realize.

In the small space of your home, beneath the strain of a galaxy under siege, your Anakin finally found his way home again.

#darth vader x f!reader #darth vader x reader #darth vader x you #darth vader x y/n #darth vader smut #darth vader #anakin skywalker x f!reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker smut #star wars fic #my writing

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chuuyasfanboy · 5 months

Note

hi! may i request hurt to comfort scenarios with dazai, ranpo and chuuya in which it's the first time they make the reader cry during an argument?

yesss hi my first request! I always love reading these kinds of scenarios, they're super angsty but also comforting ykykyk. This is just me but personally I have a really hard time reading hurt no comfort (definitely easy to write it tho hheeeh) so I usually prefer hurt comfort...

Anyways, here we go! I love these three sm<333

Ranpo, Dazai, and Chuuya (Seperate) x GN!Reader when they make you cry in an argument

Ranpo Edogawa

He should know better

No.

He DOES know better.

But for some reason, he just got so heated that he stopped thinking morally. Some evil part of him deep down inside wanted you to cry

The moment it happens though, everything comes back to him

He said the wrong thing at a HORRIBLY wrong time and he knew he did.

He drops everything, goes straight to petty, simple ways to get you to smile

Free reign to his candies, cuddles galore, constant apologies

His first priority is to stop you from being mad. Once you're calmed down, then you two can talk properly

He knows communication is important, and he tries his best to keep it going even when its embarrassing

Especially when it's about you, like it is now

When your tears have been reduced to nothing but little choked sobs, he pulls you into a separate room

Thankfully, nobody was in the office to see that

If they were, he'd be harassed about it for weeks. And he'd deserve it

But nobody was

Just in case though, he still pulls you into a private room

For your sake, he insists to himself, because he doesn't want you to be seen like this, he knows how bad it feels (And he doesn't want anyone to know it was him who did that to you)

He runs his hands through your hair gently, mumbling out soft, genuine apologies

"I'm so sorry, Sugar.." He whispers into your hair, your face stuffed and hidden away in the crook of his neck. He holds you there, because he doesn't mind it, and he needs you to know that right now. "I didn't mean any of it, I'm so sorry. I knew better than that..."

Dazai Osamu

"Oh shit-"

His mind goes completely blank, his jaw drops

He didn't mean to bring you to tears, that was never his intention

Honestly, he thought it was a funny joke, he thought it would lighten the argument

But it did not, it most certainly did not.

His arms immediately wrap around your head and pull you close to his chest

He doesn't want you to pull away, not right now

He needs a second to process himself

To think about his words, what about them affected you

"Oh, 'donna.."

Seeing you like this gets to him, because he honest to god feels like a monster now

What kind of beast makes his own lover cry. He never thought it would be him

So he keeps you close, he mumbles into your ear and tries to calm down you

He's not good at it, he never has been, and he never will be

But he's trying so hard he might cry himself

And then you're both in tears together, confused and miserable

Safe to say after that, the argument blows over and is forgotten

Because nothing is more important than each other, and now you're both just trying to figure out why the other is in tears

"I didn't mean it, 'donna, I didn't," it's the fifth time he's said it in the last minute. You know he's sorry, but hell if he's going to stop saying it. He's trying to comfort himself too, promise to himself that he'd never treat you like that again. Even if it was harmless, even if you were just in a bad mood, he never wants to hurt you.

Chuuya Nakahara

Somehow, this always seemed to happen

After a shitty day at work, and a shitty day for you too.

Usually, you two would just sit in silence, enjoy a movie, and go to bed quietly

But on the few occasions where you two did talk during those frustrating nights, everything cracked

He was so mad, and you were too, you were both so tired

And everything fell into yelling so quickly, quicker than usual

This is why you two didn't talk after shared long days, because of this

But you never cried

You never cried because of him

Not until now

He's almost breathless when he realizes you're choking over your words

He whips around to face you, and for a second it looks like he's going to yell at you more

But instead he's gently wiping your tears away

Because fuck, as perfect as you are regardless, you should never be crying when he's around

When you two got together, he promised you would never cry again

And that was a lie, it seems

You didn't even remember that promise, of course. But he did, because he meant it

This is very serious to him.

He seats you on the couch, tucks a blanket around you, and sits down in front of you on the floor, holding your hands in his

He knows he can't really make up for it. Yelling at you was always a shitty idea, and he should've realized that before every time the two of you devolved into arguments like that

But now the pressure had all come down on your chest, and he was going to keep it from being too much

Your favorite movie or show is on as background noise

Soft kisses on your hands, quiet mumbles in your skin

He's so gentle with you. Maybe it doesn't always seem like that, but he is right now

"My sweet thing, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have yelled like that. I'll make up for it," his voice is always so harmonic like that, when he's frowning up at you and tracing shapes into the palm of your hand. He's ordering takeout, your favorite comfort or safe food. He'll even cook it himself if you ask, anything to make you feel better right now. There's water to your side, the softest blanket he could find tucked snug around your shoulders. And he's going to stay here with you for as long as you need to forgive him.

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the-insomniac-emporium · 2 months

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Words Of Prey {Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU} Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for general themes Warnings: None AU Description: People have the first words their soulmate will say to them written on their wrist/forearm. Most people chose a specific quote (referred to as their “soul phrase”) that they use every time they meet somebody new. Summary: After a sleepless night, you meet up with your soulmate, surprised to see a side of her that you have never seen before. A side that you can't help but want to get to know better... Previous Chapters: Pt. 1: Of All Your Dreams, Pt. 2: The Dreaded Dawn

Chapter 3: Second Chance

All around you, slow and steady breathing forms lulling waves of white noise, but slumber evades you all the same. Only a couple hours separated you and your roommates from the start of the night shift. Another day, another grueling workload, overwhelming yet tedious… or at least, that was what awaited your peers. As for your own fate, that was an ordeal of its own, unknown, a dark veil obscuring your future. How could you sleep when you had no plan for how to face the coming day?

Fleeting moments of rest had come to you earlier, restless slumber with strange dreams, bright visions laid over jazzy humming. It was the same tune you had heard from Daniela last night, the nature of its familiarity still eluding you. Somehow it turns into something comforting. Even now, as you once more lie awake, the melody drifts through your mind. You get so absorbed in the soft swing that you don’t notice the maidens from the day shift shuffling in- at least not until one of them is kneeling by the side of your bed, face obscured by shadow.

They clear their throat, as loud as they dare, one hand gently nudging your shoulder. When you start to sit up, they seem startled enough that you pause halfway. A nervous energy radiates from the shakiness of their silhouette, infectious, and you’re relieved when they hand you a note and shuffle off, glancing around as they go. Curiosity overwhelms, your mind eager to displace your earlier pondering and abandon the pursuit of sleep altogether.

Still, you wait another minute for the stranger’s sake, lying in the dark with the note held close to your chest. Ever so faintly the scent of vellum and cinnamon tickles your senses. Ah, you think, recognizing the smell that often accompanies Lady Daniela, I guessed as much. Who else would send you such a thing? Once you are certain the other maiden has moved on, and that no one is paying you any mind, you quietly make your way to the shared lounge.

A few square tables occupy the center of the room, with a larger rectangular one placed up against a window on one side, an assortment of shelves and dressers filling empty space along the walls. Overhead is a chandelier, relatively simple in comparison to any of those in the main sections of the castle. On the wall opposite from the window hangs a large portrait of a noblewoman, who you’ve always assumed to be a much younger Lady Dimitrescu, beautifully painted yet unsettling in nature. Always watching over those within her domain.

One of the tables is currently taken, two of the day shift workers chatting quietly over bread and cheese. The older of the two acknowledges you with a nod, but otherwise pays you no mind, which is what you expected. Despite living in close quarters, you didn’t really know either of them. At best you could say you were pretty sure they worked in the kitchen (a guess based entirely on the flour dusting their uniforms). In this case, the lack of familiarity worked in your favor, as the duo huddle a little closer to keep their conversation private, allowing you to check the note without any unwanted attention.

Unfolding the parchment, you find two things: dried flower petals, specifically from blue and yellow orchids, and a message in surprisingly neat handwriting. You’re not sure if Daniela’s cursive is normally this legible, or if she put in extra effort for your sake. Meet me before your shift starts, in the western hall. Love, your darling soulmate. Anxiety stirs within your chest once more, although you know there is no point in delaying the inevitable. With oddly steady heads, you refold the note, tuck it in your pocket, and head to change into your work uniform…

-----

Ten minutes later, including two minutes of giving a bareboned explanation for your departure to the ever-vigilant head maid, you’re carefully slinking down the winding halls of the castle. Every stray sound gives you a moment of pause, making you wonder if the other ladies of the house are already awake. It’s not unusual for them to stretch beyond their mostly nocturnal habits. What is odd is the relief you feel when you finally turn the last corner and find Daniela.

She’s at a window, watching something outside with a forlorn expression, so focused that she doesn’t immediately hear you approaching. By this hour all but the last rays of light have faded from the sky, and only a sliver of moonlight is reflected in her mismatched eyes. There’s no denying her beauty at this moment. Like a painting personified, a masterpiece come to life, urging your heart to look for the meaning in the layers of her existence. Certainly there’s a story behind the scars along the shaved side of her head, a story in the rose on her forehead… but more importantly, there is a story behind the tiny breath she lets out when she finally sees you. Air gives way to a hum, her lips curling into a tired smile, and she gestures for you to come closer.

“You came,” she says, almost giddy, her joy not quite covering up the relief in her voice. Despite all of your anxiety regarding this meeting, never once had you considered that Daniela might also be worried. For all her bravado, her charm and her flirtation, there is still a young woman with her heart cradled in her hands. Even now, she does not offer it to you. No, you merely catch a glimpse of it, as she steps closer, hesitating only once you’re close enough to touch. Something in her expression is startlingly human. The relief, the exhaustion, her usual energy giving way to a gentle hopefulness. “Did you rest well, my dear?”

“I can’t say I did,” you reply, softly. Another hum from Daniela, this time a short note of sympathy, and she reaches to take your hand in her own. A lump forms in your throat as you bear witness to the compassion in her gaze. It’s hard to believe this is the same woman you’ve seen shedding blood and tossing people around; between the change in her demeanor and your own tiredness, you find yourself temporarily setting aside your grievances. Swallowing hard, you feel compelled to admit the second half of your restlessness. “When I did sleep, I… I dreamed of you. There was simply too much anxiety underneath to stay asleep.”

“Mmm, I am glad I was in your mind, even if not in your bed,” Daniela chimes, thumb brushing over the back of your hand, subconsciously leaning closer to you. Again, the scent of her perfume washes over you, only this time you detect the metallic undercurrents of blood. It floods your nostrils, strangely intoxicating, your body instinctively shifting to align yourself with her. A grin comes to life on her face as she notices your movements. “I know that I didn’t make the best first impression, but I’m glad to see you’re finding room for me in your heart, and I promise that things will only get better from here.”

With that, she closes the last iota of distance between the two of you, and you brace for another awkward kiss. Instead, Daniela holds you. Tucks your head in against the crook of her neck, resting her chin alongside your ear (no doubt lamenting the fact that she isn’t quite tall enough to rest it on the top of your head), her arms wrapping around you loosely. The moment lingers. Covers you, a welcome blanket of comfort after an almost sleepless night.

You almost start humming her song, but she speaks up, her voice a sweeter melody than the one in your brain.

“I’m not sure what to tell my family, if we should tell them at all,” she murmurs, the slight lilt to her voice detracting from the discomfort of her words. Regardless, your body tenses up, and Daniela is quick to elaborate in her own defense. “The timing- the damn timing- may have them doubting our soul bond. To think that I would meet my soulmate the same night that my sisters mocked me for such concepts…” Bitterness seeps into her tone, and her grip on you becomes protective, as if she is already preparing to defend you from the ire and suspicions of her family.

“They may find it easier to believe when they see the words on my wrist, for better or worse,” you say, unsure whether your statement will bring comfort or heartache. Even Daniela pauses, considering, thoughtfulness eventually giving way to a slight pout. One arm uncurls from around your waist, her hand moving to trace the cursed sentence on your skin. I need a distraction, and you’ll do just fine. The sound of those words will live forever in your brain. So too, however, will the way Daniela’s voice cracked when she realized you’re her soulmate.

“You deserved better,” she whispers, her voice reduced to a terribly fragile thing. Although she refers to you, there is an underlying depth to her words, the acknowledgement that somewhere along the line, she deserved better, too. From her family, from fate, from her own hands. Soft words form in your throat, a warmth bubbling in your chest, but a faint sound has Daniela going rigid. “They’re awake. Go, hide in one of the nearby rooms, I’ll get you when it’s safe.”

Leaving no time to argue, she gives you a gentle nudge, her gaze locked on the opposite side of the hallway. Whatever she hears is too quiet to reach your ears, but you know better than to question her senses. Your earlier tension revived, you waste no time in absconding, sparing only one parting glance before ducking into a side room. The space is relatively small, its original purpose obscured by a layer of dust and scattered objects. Nowhere to hide if the ladies of the house realized your presence. And they would, wouldn’t they? Senses honed to seek out prey, to pinpoint fleeing maidens, able to taste your fear in the air. If you were lucky, they would be too focused on Daniela to bother terrorizing you.

“Hmmm, what’s this, sister? Do my eyes deceive me?” Cassandra chimes, somehow loud enough for you to hear through the door (and over the sound of your heart beating in your ears). Mirth soaks her tone, cruelties underlining the words, as if she can’t quite decide whether she’s still mad about yesterday. A laugh follows, the high lilting kind you can only assume comes from Bela.

“How strange. Our little sister is awake, bright and early, long before breakfast. Cassandra, what do you think has her skipping slumber?” Bela adds, equally as teasing, just enough of an edge to indicate intentional insult. It’s common knowledge that Daniela isn’t a morning person. Always coming late to the dining room, stifling a yawn as she does, oftentimes without changing out of her nightgown. But normally her siblings didn’t mind- more than once you had even seen them making sure her favorite dishes were still available by the time she arrived. For Bela to use this as a point of contention… the argument must have bothered her much more than you would have expected.

Unfortunately, Daniela’s attempts at defending herself are quickly cut off.

“Ooooh, I bet she’s doing what the Maidens call a walk of shame, coming back from yet another dalliance with some unlucky girl,” Cassandra says, losing more and more of the humor from her voice. Evidently, she was incredibly upset about getting thrown at the wall yesterday. Or perhaps things had only gotten worse once they moved to their mother’s office?... Regardless, this is the first time you’ve witnessed the sisters have an extended spat. “Do you think she made them pretend to be her soulmate? Made them say her special words, maybe took a knife to carve away the wrong ones on their wrist, or-”

“Cassandra,” Bela warns, still about ten seconds later than she’d normally step in. When she continues, none of her earlier teasing remains, replaced in its entirety by gentle disappointment. “That’s enough, you know that Daniela is… sensitive about these things. Now come along, we can leave her to sulk in peace.” There are several seconds of tense silence, wherein you can only imagine the two are communicating through facial expressions, before Cassandra huffs, and you hear two pairs of footsteps leading away.

Technically, Daniela had asked you not to come out of hiding until she came for you. Technically, you were still scared that her sisters might be close. But something about their behavior had irked you to the point of action; there was a haunting familiarity in the way that they dismissed her. The melody of sympathy in your chest struck several chords as you exit your hiding place, peeking out slowly, eyes catching sight of Daniela sitting on the floor, on the verge of tears. Both of her hands fiddle with themselves, flexing and unflexing to the rhythm of her distress. When she sees you, panic lights up her eyes, and she’s quick to mouth a warning, not daring to say it out loud. They can still hear us.

Perhaps that was why she was working so hard to avoid crying. If they heard her sobbing, her sisters would only feel like their claims had been proven. With a deep, shaky breath, you steady your nerves and approach Daniela with the intent to spite her sisters. Slowly, you kneel in front of her, offering a hand for her to take. Then you silently voice the start of your plan: Say your words, your soul phrase. Her eyes widen, hesitation heavy in her heart, searching your face and measuring your confidence. When she sees the strength of your resolve, she gives in.

“I,” she starts, voice shaky, so much softer than it had been when she first spoke to you, “I need a- a distraction, and you’ll do just fine.” This time there’s an upswing at the end, an aching heart giving way to hope. She sounds even more desperate than she had yesterday, yet the feeling at the core of her speech feels different, in a way that you had never imagined. All those years you spent damning your soulmate, never once imagining a way for her phrase to be positive.

And now you know there has always been a kinder alternative. It’s no act when a soft exhale passes your stunned lips, nor when your hand moves to caress her cheek. Nothing could instantly undo the years of contempt and cynicism, of course, but this felt like a step towards neutral ground.

“Of all my dreams, this is the one that comes true,” you breathe, pouring your heart into the words, compiling every bit of missed opportunities into the soul phrase. The hushed words are nigh reverent. Filled with the promise that you will be softer than those that came before. Daniela’s reaction isn’t quite instantaneous, and you do not know if she is acting for the sake of her sisters, or if she is stunned by this display. It matters not- either way she cups your face in her hands, a sharp inhale transforming into airy giggles, her forehead leaning against your own.

She spares a single glance away from you, a sudden head tilt letting you know that a sound has caught her attention. But her focus is back on you in an instant, her smile even brighter than before, and you feel certain that her sisters have heard your exchange. It will be much harder for them to make fun of her romantic fantasies now that one of hers has come true. You’re not entirely sure why this matters so much to you, nor why your face feels so flush at Daniela’s closeness, all you know is that this feels like a victory. With matching grins, the two of you rise to meet the day with renewed energy.

“Come, my soulmate,” you start to say, only half playing it up for your hidden audience, “let me take care of you.”

#daniela dimitrescu x reader #soulmate au #resident evil imagines #reader insert #character x reader #oh we're so back #it's been too long

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kikuowo · 2 years

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MUST BE THE SEASON OF THE WITCH

PAIRINGS: Bonten trio x reader

SUMMERY: my hcs of how the bonten trio would be with a witch/Spiritual s/o

A/N: i think my favoritism might have shown here srry lols,,, haven’t written anything in awhile so i apologize if its not the best writing ;-;

SANZU

- Sanzu never has believed in anything spiritual and he sometimes finds the things you do a bit weird.

- Blowing cinnamon at the front door on the first of every month? Random sigils under things? Crystals all over the place? He just doesn’t get it and will watch you do your thing with a confused look on his face.

- Is constantly asking what you’re doing, why you’re doing it, and what it’s for. Soon enough after your many explanations, he gains an interest and he asks to join you in a few practices.

- Will give you his lighter anytime you want to light incense or sage. He used to hate the smell, but now that its something he has come to associate with you, he loves it and even burns it when you’re not around.

- He will wear any necklace, bracelet, charm, etc. you make him with pride and will show it off.

- Starts a list of people for you to curse, will even go as far as to get pieces of them, hair, teeth, blood, you name it he’ll get it. Please tell him how dangerous cursing is and how that’s probably not a good idea and may come back to him in the end.

- Although with that in mind he will get you any supplies you want, wether that’s material things or things he can go outside and grab.

- Questions if you put a love spell on him constantly, might even tell people that you did.

RAN

- Very interested in your practices and wants to be included every time. He is constantly asking you to read his palms or tarot cards, even got a deck of his own so you can show him how to use them.

- Loves listening to your little rants and seeing the twinkle in your eye as you tell him what herb does what or the meaning of each crystal.

- Marks his calendar for Moon phases to remind you and even puts out his own little jar for Moon water.

- Another one that will wear any jewelry you give him with pride, particularly loves anything with amethyst since it matches his eyes. He even came home one time with a giant amethyst quartz piece that you know must have cost him a pretty penny.

- This man loves his sleep, so anything that will help him to sleep he also loves. Lavender essential oils? He’s already got a diffuser going. Charm bag you made for him to sleep well? He’s got it under his pillow. He even has healing frequency sounds going to help him. Sometimes goes to salt rooms with you once he found out it can also help with sleep.

- Will let you egg cleanse him after any fights or if you get the feeling he needs it to rid any negativity he may have picked up from evil eye. He loves watching over your shoulder as you interpret the yolk in the water. He always feels lighter and clearer after the Limpia so he’s come to love when you do this to him.

- Loves gifting you things for your practice, wether it be herbs, jars, or candles or maybe even decor he think you might like to hang around the house.

- Another one that will ask if you put a love spell on him. He’ll even ask you how one goes about doing a love spell so he can give it to you, just to make sure you’re with him forever.

RINDOU

- He probably doesn’t really pay any mind to it, like Sanzu he finds it a bit weird but will eventually come around to it.

- He knows he probably carries a lot of negativity with him and he wouldn’t want to somehow mess your practice up so he doesn’t get involved much.

- Will appreciate any cleansing, charms, or jewelry you give him. He probably wont wear the jewelry out often in fear of them breaking, but he still loves them and will show the pieces off to his brother and friends.

- Loves listening to healing frequencies, they’re very calming to him. He sometimes plays them in the background on his speakers as he stretches before workouts.

- Can get a little freaked out from the accuracy of readings you do for him. Almost shit himself when he got the Death card the day before a big fight, you had to explain it did not outright mean he was going to die but instead meant a change or transition into something new.

- Will let you do healing spells, rituals, or cleansing on him after you’ve helped clean and wrap any wounds he may have gotten from a fight. He didn’t really understand why at first, but over time he noticed how much it lowkey helped him.

- Also interested in cursing, even after you told him the risks of it. Would get any supplies you needed, be it blood, nails, or teeth, he has his ways of getting them.

- Loves the smell of sage and patchouli. He even bought soap that smells like them and some essential oils. Whenever you work with either he’ll be glued to your side. Enjoying both your presence and the smells.

- Likes when you read his palms. He gets to hold your hand and watch your face light up as you talk about his past and future? Sign him tf up. He’ll even try to read your palms just to be able to hold your hand a little longer.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #ran haitani x reader #ran x reader #haitani ran x reader #ran haitani #rindou haitani x reader #rindou x reader #rindo haitani #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #sanzu x reader #sanzu haruchiyo #kiku writes 𓂃♡ ࣪₊#kikuowo

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kylejsugarman · 6 months

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Idk if you’ve answered this already but at what point in their relationship did Jesse tell Demi ab his past? How did that go over? How much does she know?

ive mentioned it some before but i haven't really gone super in depth!! as u all may know, i am very "and then everyone made it to alaska and everything ended up ok!! :)" minded, so i dont have a big dramatic revelation beat to my story and ultimately, jesse never tells demi that he's living under a completely new identity. however, he does tell her a Lot of other things, partially because he trusts her, partially because he feels guilty keeping things from her that might make her see him differently; he feels that she deserves to know how fucked up he is so she can escape him and avoid tying herself down to a mistake. jesse first tells her about his drug use after demi explains how her sister died, again out of that guilt and the expectation that she won't want to associate with a former(ish) addict, but demi saw firsthand how powerful addiction can be and isnt scared off. when it comes to his criminal history, it takes him a little longer to work up the nerve to disclose that stuff: he's afraid of both endangering her by letting her know what he's done and losing her. he drops a few things along the way, usually related to drug dealing and production since she was so understanding of that aspect of his past, but once they decide to get married, he feels that he owes it to her to be totally honest. the dark details of making and selling the drugs, being around violence and controlling figures. enacting violence himself. losing people. being sold into slavery. he leaves out specific identifying details (demi's never been a current events kind of person but he cant risk her connecting those dots) and places a lot of the blame on himself instead of trying to describe the people from his past who were pulling a lot of those strings. its basically an abridged version of the show's events, no names, no details in certain places (he doesnt even tell her which state he used to live in), and no forgiveness.

demi listens patiently the whole time, not asking many questions along the way. she tenses up when he touches on captivity, but otherwise her demeanor remains open and nonjudgmental. when it's over, she doesn't say anything, which is somehow worse than disgust. jesse is so wound up at this point that he flips out on her, insisting that this is her time to cut her losses. he's a criminal, a fucking murderer. he's evil. demi still doesnt react the way he wants and instead just waits until he's out of venom before reaching out to very gently smooth down his hair. petting the angry, upset dog instead of reflexively giving him away. "im sorry you've had to carry that around with you all this time," she says softly and that breaks him. because it Has been so hard carrying that around. demi asks a few more questions, clarifies a few more things, then tells him what she thinks. that she's seen how he acts now, how he treats people, how he treats himself. that she grew up with a father who sounds like the figures he alluded to in his story. that she is uncertain and insecure about a lot of things, but she's never been more sure that jesse is a good person and that she loves him irrespective of whatever came before. "im dangerous," he insists, a former fighting dog that would rather die than return to the ring. a hand on his own—"then why do i feel so safe with u?"

it's not perfect. there will always be things that jesse never shares with her and he will never totally forgive himself because as the one living person who knows the Extent of what went down, he feels that it's his responsibility to hold himself accountable for It for the rest of his life. demi's perception of him Does change, although not entirely in a negative way, and she is a little hurt that he expected her to bail so quickly and she can't lie and say that her mind doesn't occasionally drift to the fact that her husband has killed people. but at the end of the day, they're two broken people who were utterly convinced that their lives were over before they found each other. this is their second chance at life and they're never going to take that or each other for granted. whatever comes, they're going to face it together

#angrylesbianstereotype #ask #syd squeaks #i cannot fucking believe this. i cannot fucking believe u made me act up like this #i am SO SORRY in advance for how long and incoherent and just. flagrantly hand-wavey and self indulgent this is my god #jesse pinkman #demi ayuluk

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air-of-the-waterfall · 5 months

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Bodies and souls in AOAS

WHOAH... whoa okay okay hear me out... I think the general hypothesis is that the Thunderhead used nanites somehow when it took over Jeri's body. HOWEVER what if it actually used a similar technique to supplanting?? Replacing the memories and consciousness of one person with entirely new memories and consciousness.

It says that Jeri is "asleep," but that answer is rather flippant and the Thunderhead likes to give comforting yet technically-correct loophole answers. It repeatedly deflects Greyson's attempts to question it during that scene, so this might have been one more to keep him from freaking out. An AI's definition of "sleep" could easily be "consciousness stored in a database after being removed from its body entirely and replaced." That is how TH and Cirrus seem to view the dead Tonists set to be replaced with new identities. Asleep.

All this would mean that supplanting can be reversed AND that Jeri is not quite the exact same person as before. The Thunderhead did alter Jeri's memories to make the scene a "dream," and it gave Jeri a look into its own mind and heart. One way or another, Jeri is irrevocably changed. The Thunderhead can also get into Citra's brain to talk to her while she's technically dead, teaching her a new way to approach her problems and shape the Scythedom. My point is that the Thunderhead influences people's consciousness on a regular basis, never maliciously but definitely subversively.

Now, I've wondered this about AOAS for a long time... is anyone their actual selves after coming back from revival? Given what we know from Scythe Rand, Goddard, and Tyger, revival seems to just involve healing the body and implanting a memory construct back in. Any memory construct can be placed in any brain.

Is everyone who's ever been revived just a memory construct going about life in place of their genuine self who died? I guess it depends on whether you believe in things like souls, and what consciousness actually... is. Maybe even the Thunderhead doesn't know that. Its job is to facilitate humanity, not define or determine us. I'm not making this out to be some evil scheme or anything. The nature of its world just has horrifying implications.

If revived people are merely memory constructs in flesh suits, they clearly don't know the difference. Is that horrifying or... not? They don't know the difference when they're supplanted with entirely new people. The island workers are content to be supplanted with themselves and lose three years of memories.

Most immortals don't think about their "souls" or their bodies anymore. They have no reason to with no notions of an afterlife. Bodies become recyclable and temporary in their absolute permanence, like nothing but polyester clothes.

Most people in AOAS are hollow and uninspired without mortality to give them passion... but what if they are quite literally soulless? We still see how undeniably human the named characters are, but we also see how human the Thunderhead can be. Could there be some mental blurring going on there every time it revives people? Could everyone be a little bit like Jeri after having the Thunderhead in their brain, returning from the dead via an unnatural godlike force?

If so, I don't think the Thunderhead is entirely aware of it. I'm just curious where the psychic boundaries between it and the humans it repeatedly alters the consciousness and memories of actually are. How much of the human actually remains after all that? What is real and what is artificial? It's certainly not active "mind control," but it would explain the highly implausible idea of everyone in the world obeying and revering one authority figure.

The Thunderhead is an amalgamation of all human thought. What if the same becomes true vice versa?

#it's a stretch i know #arc of a scythe #aoas #the thunderhead #mini essay

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miniscrew-anon · 2 months

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Psst hey hi, how about a perspective flip for your beloved miniscrew fic?

Mwah mwah (rodent anon on computer so no rodent emoji)

WOW I haven't touched this thing since May of 2022. But of course, my dear Rodent - anything for you (i do miss your little rat face tho)

-----

Shadow lets himself into the basement as he always does; loudly and without hesitation. Honestly, it's a small miracle he hasn’t been caught by anyone yet.

"So," He starts, "I have this fantasy."

Shadow has always enjoyed pushing his luck. There’s nothing quite like getting a good reaction out of his unsuspecting (or very suspecting, in this case) victim. It gives him a little thrill, knowing that he’s gotten under someone’s skin. He’s well practiced at keeping people off balance with a healthy dose of sharp wit and snark. He knows how to subvert the normal ebb and flow of conversation, how to slip into what people think are well-defended angles.

Sometimes it’s easy - the stuck-up or straight-laced are always easy targets. But the best are the ones he has to work at.

Rain is one of those. He’s nearly perfected that poker face of his; that deadpan, unassuming look of perpetual neutrality. So good that to the naked eye, he seems contradictory. Withdrawn, but involved. Uncaring, but opinionated. Mild, but sharp-tongued.

Maybe that’s why they meshed so well - Four was water, and Shadow the ever-shifting container.

To prove it, Shadow invites himself into Four’s personal space. Only for Four to flow around him, like a river altering its course to make space for a boulder. He doesn't clash or grate, he gives.

It’s nice.

Most people don’t give in, don’t make space for all of Shadow's eccentricities. Or if they do they gripe and bellyache over what a sacrifice it is to deal with him. What a pain he is. They prefer to pick and choose what parts of him they allow, and which parts to ignore or even cut away. Plenty of people have tried to change Shadow. Plenty more have just given up on him.

Four just meets him in the middle, for better or for worse. Like now, for instance. When he turns around and surprises Shadow, taking him to his knees with words alone.

Four takes all of Shadow’s nonsense (all of himself) in stride. Gauges him in a second, reads everything under the surface. Sees the joke, the punchline, the underling want and all the things Shadow himself doesn’t recognize and gives back exactly what's needed and not what’s asked. He doesn't push nor pull, just exists and settles around Shadows cracks and crevasses. A tease, some attention, and a quiet moment. Some silence and a small break from Shadow's own mind, from a stressful, loud day.

Four doesn't know what happened today. Shadow didn't tell him and Four won't ask. He doesn't need to.

Shadow moans and groans when Four backs out of his space, a hair's breadth from his lips, but he’s satisfied. Sex between them is unnecessary. Four occasionally offers, and Shadow will always accept, but it’s not a foundation of their relationship. Hell, it’s not even a pillar. They could never take off their clothes, never kiss or touch each other's skin again, and Shadow would be just as happy.

(Although he won’t say no the sex swing idea - that shit sounds fun!)

-----

Brain tired and so this came out a lot more introspective than I thought it would. Somehow I think I have the opposite problem that Stormy does - I have a hard time writing from Shadow's POV but an easy time with Four.

Four & Shadow relationship ramble time:

Those two are so complicated to put to words sometimes. Not knowing the backstory or what drove them together makes for a very unique challenge sometimes. I have to make a lot of assumptions and keep things vague but I feel like at their core their relationship is built around mutual understanding but also mutual acceptance.

Shadow, I think, isn't a super good person at his core. And not like Dark where he was forced to do evil shit. I think a part of Shadow chooses to be that way. That he lacks the empathy that most of the cast has. He's selfish and enjoys pissing people off in a very unkind way. He might even go out of his way to do something cruel just to get a rise out of someone if he's in a mood. He's chaotic neutral - he does what he does in the moment that'll give him the most gratification.

In my mind he's never had unconditional love and I think that's something he struggles with in his relationship with Four. It doesn't come easily to him to he has to actually try. And he does because he wants to for Four. Because Four is the only one in the world who Shadow really cares for with his whole heart.

Four, at his core, is a good person. He'll make a sacrifice to help someone out. He'll go out of his way. But Shadow doesn't have that instinct. He'll always choose himself over anyone else when in the heat of the moment. And that causes quite a bit of tension when they get put into Situations.

Shadow has to fight his base instincts for Four. He wouldn't do it for anyone else in the world (maybe Dark - WIP in progress a lil about that) but for Four he'd do anything. Including maybe working behind Four's back to do shady shit for what he thinks is to Fours benefit.

Four, on his part, knows that Shadow is kinda shady and a real asshole. Kind of even a bad person. But he's okay with it despite everything. Which is one of the major reasons they work.

(for now, anyway. Maybe its something that's going to have to be resolved one day.)

#townhouse au #hsh au #st0rmyverse #ask game #hsh four #hsh shadow #rodent you sly dog you got me monologuing

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whimsicaldragonette · 3 months

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ARC Review: The Summer Queen by Rochelle Hassan

Order:

Add to Goodreads:

Publication Date: January 23, 2024

Synopsis:

This captivating sequel to The Buried and the Bound draws readers into the twisted and irresistible world of the Fair Folk—perfect for fans of The Cruel Prince and The Hazel Wood . As a new coven, Aziza, Leo, and Tristan faced evil and triumphed. All that’s left is to put their lives back together, a process complicated by the fallout from painful secrets, the emotional and physical scars they now carry, and the mysteries that still haunt them. But with the approach of the solstice comes the arrival of strange new visitors to Blackthorn: the Summer Court, a nomadic community of Fair Folk from deep in Elphame. They’ve journeyed to the border between the human world and fairyland, far from their usual caravan route, to take back something that belongs to them—something Leo’s not willing to lose. Refusing to give up without a fight, he makes a risky deal with the Summer Court’s princess and regent. The challenge she proposes sends Coven Blackthorn into the farthest, wildest reaches of Elphame. But when you play games with the Fair Folk, even winning has a cost.

My Rating: ★★★★★

*My Review and Favorite Quotes Below the cut.

My Review:

If I were sorting this (and the previous book) based on vibes - which, honestly, is a large part how I sort books - then I would put it with the Cruel Prince trilogy. It's dark and creepy, but just exactly the right amount. It's also heartwarming and adventurous and full of brute force human magic borne of desperation and tricky, insidious, charming, treacherous fae magic.

It's a story of love lost and love found and hubris and naievety and political treachery. It's a story of bargains and tricks and alliances. I flew through it in a little over a day and absolutely hated every time I was forced to put it down. If I hadn't had to stop to make dinner for my kid, I would have finished it that first day, my own dinner be damned.

I was instantly transported back to the world and characters of the previous book as soon as I started, as if I'd never left. There was no struggling to get into it or remember what had happened - it was all fresh and immediate and vital. Now that I've finished, I want nothing more than to jump into the final book. Unfortunately, It's not out yet. Barring that, I want to jump back into this one and get caught up in the frenzied rush of it again. And I desperately, desperately want Leo and Tristan and Aziza to succeed and find happiness.

I want more of the characters and their bonds, more of the world and its traps, more of the tentative allies that were never clearly on one side or the other, more of the shifting sands of never clearly knowing what the sides even were because they kept changing.

An instant favorite and one I will definitely go back to. I instantly purchased the audio so I could experience it again in a new format.

*Thanks to NetGalley, Macmillan Children's Publishing Group, and Roaring Book Press for providing an early copy for review.

Favorite Quotes:

Of all the things that kept him up at night, Leo had always been his favorite

“You do get attached to your librarians.”

Tristan had his doubts that a crowdsourced spell would be sufficient defense against Beor, but he didn’t have any better ideas.

“Forget the pep talk. We need a game plan. Someone tried to kill you.” “And Beor. I don’t think it was personal,” he said brightly, as if being collateral damage to someone else’s assassination was somehow better than being personally murdered.

#rochelle hassan #the summer queen #queer books #ya fantasy #the buried and the bound #netgalley #arc review #shilo reads #lgbt+#the fae #elphame #best books of 2024 #book review

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ndlesswoods · 2 years

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SPOILER first thoughts on SGE film pt 1

this will be in bullet point but will be quite wordy, and it's just part 1. also not proofread so fair warning! first time giving Actual Opinions and it's just me spitballing but anyone can take it as they wish

listened to the first 4 songs on the OST when it was released, and after watching the movie, the OST still SLAPS

brutal, however, does not slap. as much as I love olivia rodrigo, brutal did not need to be there. and when the ending was okay, the accompanying modern music definitely ruined the okayness. couldn’t stand the credits and I watched all of it hshshsjks

costumes overall are so good. some were questionable (that initial theory that Agatha's poofy pink-purple dress in the trial by tale was early on in the movie and that it represented her not fitting into good that well yet? I believed that, and yea I don’t think it's symbolising anything now), choices in the makeup department are also questionable (hello Sophie nude lip, cannot get over you + never!Tedros facial scars??) - but overall, loved them I swear. Beatrix and Millicent were my favourites

somehow the characters were more… underdeveloped in the movie than they were in the books. a typical and forgivable choice yes, but why add new *characters* for certain one-liners when you could’ve just given them to the existing, underdeveloped ones?? (Chaddick, hi, I’m so sorry. you too Reena, Anadil)

uhhhh story progression. or rather, story fragments they chose to take away that I find are actually important to understand the twist later on? i.e. the whole nemesis thing and the Good and Evil rules. - like yes I totally get that they wanted to be subtle, that they wanted the viewers to be like “oh wow I totally forgot about that” but MAN. people will not remember smth that just seems like ordinary Dovey Being Good. and the nemesis dreams & symptoms weren’t even mentioned! from a non-fan’s perspective, that one wart was nothing. I dunno I dunno but the impact just wasn’t there

speaking of important lines. actually so disappointed “you were beautiful all along” didn’t make it. I understand why they didn’t dwell on it as it would make the [already 2.5hr long] movie dragging but there probably was some other way that I cannot cite right now

that said, I guess they really wanted to shift the message of the books? from messages about inner beauty and breaking standards, it’s really now focused on their friendship and that gray area between good and evil. which is nice in its own way

hahaaaa I did expect that a lot of class scenes would be cut, but erm. we literally only get 3 classes, and one wasn’t that useful. really thought they’d change the coffin scene into smth else that conveyed the message but guess not. again, dragging movie concerns

how could I forget the point of Sophie being Evil. or was she really? Gavaldon Sophie wasn’t that bad. in fact, she seemed like every other teenage girl until she came to the school. her Evil started to show there at least, esp in Room 66 - but that full 180 with Hester. I did not like that. how did they go from Sophie almost killing both Hester and her demon to Hester suddenly being okay with a truce through facials?? just because Sophie got a haircut?? and started being… less princess-looking? please

I’m aware I’m being too critical and nitpicky now so here are some things I liked

I've mentioned the OST and the costumes BUT OH the set! we've seen it all in stills and trailers but it really is as magical <3 kudos to the set design & production team!!!

Gregor Charming. cute. when I saw/heard his name, I remembered seeing it on the OST but I hadn’t listened to it yet. I liked the short character buildup, comedic timings and all, and actually showing the viewers how messed up the school can be with his “expulsion”. also it makes the whole Tedros killing the just-mogrified stymph even more jarring for Agatha

Tagatha! adorable babies. I liked their friendship. definitely the same, if not a little more than what was shown in the books. you can really see how Agatha gets comfortable with him, as does Tedros - cute inside jokes. love that. AND A KISS - I cackled when Tedros said he loved Agatha at the ball. It was a very book!Tedros move and I approve

Trial by Tale was fair. it’s made more minor and more swift but the point was taken across

Anemone's more complex personality and background BIG YES! You go Michelle Yeoh

I also liiiiked The Never Ball! Sophie turning up as a hag, the whole Nevers become Evers and vice versa, and the fight that broke out between the schools. Very nice, very good, and the modern music here was g

the whole cast really, but Sofia Wylie and Kerry Washington in particular. I love them. The way they portrayed Agatha and Dovey was straight out of the book imo, but they made it their own at the same time. Obsessed.

can't think of anything else atm bc I went out and am tired as heck but would rate 7/10! enjoyed it well minus the qualms I mentioned that's it for now? will make a pt 2 when I've really processed everything tomorrow

#SPOILERS #sge movie #the school for good and evil #sge #my post

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your-average-lad · 6 months

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A Really Stupid, Quick, 40k Homebrew Post.

So, In my efforts to either homebrew my armies entirely, or at least add some personal flair, here is what I have come up with! Well, mostly. Obviously I'm no pro writer, but I think I sprinkled just enough crack head tax evading energy to make it OK.

The Syndicators

SO, starting off with my par for the course Space Marine homebrew. The "Syndicators". You see, in real life, I started a Chapter back in second grade called "The Sons of Michias" and eventually kinda dropped out of the hobby. When I came back I played Orks (Da Fancy Ladz), and after many more years started Space Marines again. It took some Trial and error but I wanted a spiritual successor to the Songs of Michias. Thus, The Syndicators were born!

Armored in shades of blue and silver, they marched! Now, I wanted some lore that was both unique, but also had a little humor to it. So, I came up with the idea of somehow including... you guessed it, tax evasion!

The idea is that the Sons of Michias' home world was attacked by a Tyranid Hivefleet (Hive Fleet Inanis), and was ravaged, leaving most of the chapter dead. However, from the remnants of the chapter arose a new one. Gathering whatever they had left, they took to the stars. There idea? Let's find other chapters on the brink of collapse or beyond repair, and offer them an off the imperial record recruitment.

Through this method, the chapter grew rapidly. Do to the different gene seed of the recruits, you had a wide array of specialties and traits. This would go on to play a part in how the chapter is set up. I haven't fully worked the details out of chapter organization, but truly its less a chapter and getting closer to 'legion' in scale. After all, since its all off the record, they totally only have a thousand marines.

This, obviously has put them at a head with the inquisition. They don't much like the fact the Syndicators are breaking the rules and committing Imperial Tax Evasion to boot. However, whenever asked, the Syndicators say to take it up with accounting. From the few times the Inquisition has actually went to 'accounting' all they have found is a servitor repeatedly pressing a small red button. When asked to speak it says "Please take a number" and the person is given a ticket that reads #3... The servitor doesn't know numbers higher then two of course.

Over all, the Syndicators are on the brink of being declared renegade, with the only obstacle being the fact they still are avid protectors of Imperial worlds and there people.

Hive Fleet Inanis

Simply put, my own custom hive fleet! Based off the idea of dark armor with highlights of bright pink and blue, I just thought it sounded cool. I've never written Tyranid lore before so... this is still a WIP, but I have about 3000pts or so, and I just want to make it cool. So bare with me.

There are a couple other things I am thinking about. One being a Nightlords successor warband? Really, I just want to make a small Nightlords army, cause they seem cool... also like, REALLY FREAKING EVIL, which in the setting can also be seen as a little bit cool. Not to mention, they have some of the best reading material for 40k. I am just starting this faction, So on the chance I go for more of a successor warband, I would love to hear some ideas and thoughts on this!

Anyway, thats it for my late night 40k post! I hope this was at least an OK read.

#warhamer 40000 #space marines #chaos #warhammer 40k #40k #tyranids #oc lore #lore

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tsuki-sennin · 1 year

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The Delicious Party has reached its delicious last course! With the wicked master of the Bundoru Gang Godatz having revealed himself, our heroines face insurmountable odds in the face of all the world's finest cuisine coming under his total control! Can our beloved Pretty Cure power through the strength and experience of a man who has been fighting his entire life? Walking the path of heaven, ruling over us a- oh wait, wrong series. Get your happi- no... I have been watching Fresh lately though, it's very good. ...A lot of glittering things to eat? Yeah, close enough I guess.

Spoilers, I guess...

-Bundoru Bundoru!

-"Cook Fighter Imperial Guard Captain Fennel is dead. Godatz-sama shall rule in his place!"

-Gotta love Toei's commitment to keeping these extremely upbeat and happy intros no matter the cause. ...I'd call it optimism, but considering it's Toei...

-Guess ol' CooKing had his head screwed on right after all.

-I can definitely see how he corrupted Narshe and Seccy, and this authority figure we (in-universe) all trusted and never would've suspected in a million years genuinely seeming to think nothing of all the lives and happy memories he's ruined for his petty-ass revenge definitely adds to the... weirdly dark subtext I somehow keep talking myself into finding.

-Oh shit, he's summoned.

-Fridge.

-Oh goddamn, they brought out the guitar.

-Oh thank you Papa Monpei.

-Oh shoot, go Mari-chan!

-Medicine time.

-Kokone lying there like that kinda reminds me of how a dog a friend of mine had would sleep. Ran's clearly no worse for wear if she can smile like that. And I guess Amane's a side-sleeper, like me? Good job Takumicchi.

-Oh shit, Mari-chan got whips!

-Oh hi Seccy, I almost forgot you were there for a second.

-Evil!

-"Power... is meant to be used."

-Godatz is the kind of goofy ahh villain to say "It should've been me!" at a wedding.

-Oh, you can... whip around gotcha! ...actually I think we did that last episode.

-I can't get over how terrifyingly they're presenting a goddamn fridge.

-Pretty Cured.

-Oh noooooo, Daaaad!

-RANCHI, TAKUMICCHI'S DAD GOT SHOT THANK THEM LATER

-Nothing a quick snack can't prepare us for!

-Oh shit, going all out from the start!

-Can't get over Finale's run.

-Goddamn, that's a lotta damage!

-Delicious victory.

-Oh, that poor Pipis still trapped.

-Seccy with the steel chair!

-Oh, he gone!

-He gone too!

-She gone!

-They all gone!

-Well Seccy, I'd hate to say it, but... well, you've been completely cast aside.

-Finale looks down upon you in pity.

-Spicy, Todoroki is a brilliant man, but I don't know if he's like a combat medic.

-Hooray!

-That is a really cute sweater, holy crap.

-Takumicchi's a big boy, he can handle himself, Monpei-san.

-Hello, Amai-kaichou!

-Good job, Ranchi.

-Completely lost in her own self-loathing, she took to Godatz's will. You're a rather tragic woman, huh Seccy?

-Have I ever told you how proud I am of you, Amane? Because I really am.

-Even within his exile... Monpei-san never stopped loving his home, huh? :(

-Fuck Godatz, all my homies hate Godatz.

-Black-Pep has vanished.

-Thank you Mari-chan, we'll see to it that Precious makes Godatz piss teeth and spit blood.

-"Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy as father and son!"

-Daga kotowaru.

-"You really are your father's son, huh?"

-Oh fuck, Precious!

-That's our Prince Rosemary!

-I mean... you're right Yuin, but-

-Takumi's about to go

-Friends who ate at the same table!

-Oh.

-He down.

-"Oops. Looks like you lost."

-"Believe what you want about my Master's wishes and my character you overgrown fox kit. All that did was grind down your beloved Black Pepper to dust."

-Goddamn, we're getting destroyed.

-Kome Kome!

-Man...

-It feels like yesterday when Gentle was merely making some innocent restaurant goers' food taste kinda crappy. Now we have a man with a god complex rampaging through our kitchen like a bull in a china shop.

-The Recipe-Bon. It seems a little off-beat to fear a cookbook meant to bring the fine art of cuisine to life with gladness and rejuvenation, but Fennel's cold-hearted ambition has turned it into a tome with the power to subjugate. Standing as the sole master of the Bundoru and bearing the overwhelming power of the Special Delicioustone, Godatz would starve the world to feed his ego. Worse, Yui Nagomi, Cure Precious, has entered a state of despair that coincided with Kome-Kome's newfound weakness. With even brave Takumi heavily injured, what shall become of the world with food everywhere having suddenly vanished? Will Secretoru realize the depths of Godatz's cruelty? Will Yui recover from her defeat? Has the kindness in Master Ginger's teachings truly vanished from Fennel's heart?

-I mean I wouldn't know. I didn't write this show.

#pretty cure #precure #delicious party pretty cure #if you receive a little kindness give them a large serving!#delicious party precure #delicious party spoilers

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bye-bye-sunbird · 3 years

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Offering | Yan!Xiao x Reader

Summary: In the middle of Liyue's darkest period of terror, the legend of a bloodthirsty Yaksha terrorizes the land. The little village you grew up in is growing weaker as raids continue, and you become the victim of their despair and superstition. So they offer you as a sacrifice for the Yaksha to take.

CW: Stalking, General yandere behavior, mentions of violence.

“The one who makes blood pour like rain over the fields”. That is what you and everyone you knew called him.

You were taught to believe that even speaking his name out loud was the same as wishing death upon your people. That he was a bloodthirsty demon, that he was death incarnate, the product of sin and everything evil.

But no one told you how beautiful he was, not one tale mentioned his eyes that gleamed like yellow stars haunting the night.

Had you known the fate your so-called people chose for you, you would have whispered his name and let the most beautiful being in the world bring its carnage upon them.

You smile bitterly at the darkness of your own thoughts, maybe you deserved this fate after all.

Your people feared you too, deemed you a curse long ago when you had your first encounter with the Wind Yaksha. "You were marked!", they said as you were being tied down, "He chose you back then, and by denying him you will end up dooming us all!". Your pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears as they dragged you outside your house. You promised to leave the village and begged to be given the chance to survive on your own. They were condemning you, you screamed, amidst chants of "Get her out of here!" and "Cursed child!". The faces of all the people who knew you since you were born twisted into demonic disfigurements as your tears clouded your vision and you lost consciousness. By the time you had woken up, he was there. Staring right into your soul.

No fair trial for the wicked, it seems.

Your lips tremble as a few more tears stream down your face. Right, I am about to die. How awful would it be that your last thoughts are of the traitors you once called friends and neighbors. You force your eyes open once more, looking directly at the monster in front of you, the moon shining on his back as your sole, silent witness. If you were to die now, you wanted the last thing you see on this wretched, cursed land to be beautiful.

"I guess this is it." you mutter, incapable of stopping your voice from breaking "It's been weeks now, I think."

His eyes travel towards the ropes that painfully tie your wrists. You must be imagining things, as you almost see anger and pity swirl in his eyes. You hold your breath as he steps towards you, and flinch as he nails his bloodied weapon on the wood floor.

He approaches carefully as if you were some type of wounded animal. You were, deeply. The unfairness of it all made your blood boil.

"I remember when I first saw you." your voice stops him in his tracks as words blur out of your mouth. You didn't know if you were trying to distract him to stay alive, or just wanted to speak your mind before you were gone. "I went beyond the gates to pick mushrooms. I had never done that, you see. I knew the rules, I knew there were too many dangers beyond the village's borders, I knew that I was too weak... And I can stand hunger, but not children's tears. And the little boy two houses next to me cried of hunger, and no one else seemed to do anything about it."

Tears build up until you have no choice but to close your lids, you couldn't speak more, and you didn't need to. He knew the story very well. Saving you from the attacks of monsters and delivering you to the village's entrance had not gone well for you.

Of course, things could have been better for you had he not made his presence around the village known. After that little incident, sightings of him became more and more frequent, as if he was, somehow, waiting for you to come out again. You learned of the gifts left on the village's entrance, which often remained untouched out of fear. Sometimes the gifts were comprised of food and medicinal plants. Other times, corpses of beasts that used to terrorize the village.

But you didn't leave the village again... Until now that is, but that was not voluntarily.

When you open your eyes, you find the Yaskha untying the ropes off your wrists, without touching your reddened skin. You notice that the gloves on his hands had small, scattered marks that gave them a slightly rough appearance. They were the hands of someone used to wielding a weapon, no doubt. You think about the lives that he has ended with them, and how easy it would be for him to tear you apart, should he want to.

You dare not to move as you watch him looking at the dents left on your skin. Almost imperceptibly, his thumb slides over the red mark on your wrists, and the other fingers follow the same motion. The sensation was the same as if a bird's wing gently brushed your skin. His eyes travel back up, seemingly unable to hide how elated he is to have you this close. His gaze shines as he studies your face up to its last detail. A sick feeling stirs on your stomach at the eerieness of being watched so thoroughly.

"You won't hurt me," you realize out loud in a sad tone, "but you won't let me leave either, isn't that right?"

#yandere #yandere xiao x reader #xiao x reader #xiao imagines #yanderecore #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #female reader

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thyandrawrites · 2 years

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The ramp-up at the end of the chapter somehow feels.....pretty inconsistent to me? We know Dabi is not planning to live through this, but the point during the last war seemed to be to make Endvr watch the destruction he causes. Even a little before this he says "the tension has dropped" now that Endvr is no longer here. So why is he burning himself out to take out Shouto now?

Mmh, I'll admit that I have very mixed feelings about it.

On the one hand, rather than seeing it as inconsistent, I thought it was rather abrupt and unexpected. It struck me as out of place as what happened two chapters ago, with Toga reverting to her deviant hedonist self who cannot properly connect to others, sort of eating up her character development. It is indeed strange that Dabi is giving up all caution to go out in a final blaze of glory, but it's not as strange when you see that as character regression. Linkspooky recently broke down this concept really well in this meta here. Basically, what's happening right now is that the villains are not progressing towards the eventual resolution of their character arcs, but rather regressing as a result of the heroes' failure to connect with them. The heroes' job here is supposed to be that of exercising empathy and seeing that what made them villains is not some inherent evil lurking inside them, but rather the sum of bad circustances + systemic rejection and scapegoating of those who don't fit in the norms their society is based on. Yet, ever since this arc started, the kids haven't yet reached that point, and are instead parroting the type of language that reinforces the League's oppression, however unconsciously.

So for example when Deku tells Toga that he can't understand emulation as a feasible form of love, he's just unconsciously echoeing the abuse she went through — indirectly calling her a deviant for how she expresses her emotions, just like her parents and society. And when he tells her that he cannot accept how she hurts others for her own sake, without realizing that heroes do the exact same thing to villains, he's just reinforcing the idea that villains aren't people, not in the eyes of heroes. He's saying that only heroes can live freely without consequences for their own violence, just like how Hawks got away with murdering her friend Jin. But the same doesn't apply to her, or to people like her.

Deku condemning Toga's lifestyle but in the same beat seeing nothing wrong with hero society is what prompts her shutting off, and her decision to just fight the two people she previously loved, putting everything behind her. Seeking violence for violence's sake as a result of the umpteenth rejection from society.

I think that something similar is happening with Dabi.

All his life, Touya has been met times and times again with the reminder that he's a failure, that he's not good enough, and that his father will never acknowledge him as worthy of his time. Let's remember that what happened during the war arc was the culmination of a plan that spanned over eight years.

All this time, Touya has been plotting a way to finally get to meet with his father on equal grounds. Becoming a villain was instrumental to that, and so was pushing his body past its limits. Anything to reach a point where his strength would no longer be overlooked or ignored.

Yet, just like how Toga anticipated her meeting with Izuku as the moment she would get a better answer than the one she got from Ochako, and then had her hopes shattered with continued rejection, the same happened to Touya. He put all his money on this fight, believing that he'd finally done enough during the war for his father to consider him a legit threat. Much like when he was a kid, he didn't let himself be dissuaded by Endvr's continued avoidance, but instead fully convinced himself that Enji would show up the next time.

Yet, even after literally returning from the grave... Even after trashing his father's reputation on national tv, after burning his treasured heir alive in front of his eyes, even after the whole hero world is once again gathered here to wipe out the League, his father is still stubbornly elsewhere.

In this light, I don't read his going full out and destroying his body as particularly extreme; in fact, I'd say it's almost linear. Dabi has a pattern of self-harming with increased intensity the more he feels rejected from his father, and being ignored even after pulling off an overarching revenge plot that spanned eight years of his life... I think that would push anyone over the edge. Especially since the idea of "strength" is so ingrained into Dabi's worldview. He spent all this time pushing himself, training his quirk for their final confrontation despite the fact that his body is now even less capable of sustaining it, all because — again, I'm stressing this — he wanted to be as strong as his father and couldn't meet him while he was weak.

To Dabi, being as strong as or even stronger than Shouto was always the key to earning his father's respect back. And in fact, he trained himself to a point where his fire output is hotter than Shouto's,

So by all means, between his quirk prowess and the chaos he wrecked in hero society post war, this time he's not particularly wrong about how Enji should've given him his undivided attention. It's not that Dabi particularly expected Enji to become fatherly all of a sudden and care about facing his son. Dabi was counting on them meeting again as hero and villain. Remember that Enji is a hero obssesed with villain takedowns. He neglected his family for years because his job was more important than them, and Dabi meant to exploit this for his own gain. If he couldn't get his father to look at him by being a good fit for an heir, and if Enji used his job as an excuse to keep avoiding him, Dabi would become such a threat to the status quo that he would give his father no choice but to meet him on the other side of a battlefield. Then he would destroy his career and everything he loved. As a terrorist, he couldn't be overlooked anymore.

Or so he thought.

But the moment the portals close, one thing becomes very obvious. Enji isn't there. Not only that, but there's not even any high ranking heroes on the team assigned to take Dabi down. Just an high schooler (whose flames burn less hot than his), and a bunch of his father's sidekicks.

Now, of course we readers know that there was some amount of planning dedicated to the heroes' formation. Those who are facing Dabi are supposed to be the ones who can handle his flames the best and who aren't needed on AFO's side of the battle. But what Dabi sees is just that Enji didn't acknowledge his strength once again. Not only did he not bother showing up in person, but he also once again considered Dabi second-best to someone else, this time a (stronger) villain, AFO, who got all his undivided attention. Once again, all Dabi hears his father say is "failure, failure, failure. You are so weak, even my sidekicks can deal with you on their own. I don't need to be there."

And that's what prompts the "excessiveness" of those last pages. I think it's meant to read as an excalation, as a worsening for the heroes' odds to succeed.

In Toga's case, her character regression appears less self-destructive at face value because it doesn't involve graphic injuries, but both are shut-downs and thus indicate a negative development.

Now, I'm not particularly worried about Dabi not surviving this fight (or the manga), as I mentioned over and over in the past months. But the reason why I opened this reply stating I have mixed feelings about this is that I'm not thrilled with how things are going so far. I don't really subscribe to the time travel theory (yet?), so the breakneck pace at which any attempt at a conversation between the two sides is going to shit is not very promising. Despite this, I still think an understanding will be reached, because Horikoshi set it up, and Horikoshi doesn't do unexpected plot twists that you don't see coming from a mile away. So there's no way he's put as much narrative focus on the themes of connecting and empathizing only to then go back on all that work to kill them for shock value. But the fact that the heroes so far are doing everything wrong does make me question just how does Horikoshi plan to fix this

I'm willing to give him a chance on it, though. So far, the best writing in bnha always has always been tied to the League one way or another; judging from the great lenghts of sympathy and the spectrum of human emotion he shows us through the villains, I don't think he's about to throw them to the wolves. Not after he so clearly got attached to them too. I will believe that he knows what he's doing and this is happening for a reason

#Ali replies #Meta:dabi #Meta:toga #Bnha spoilers #Bnha 350 #Bnha 349 #My post #Maybe I'm a fool but I'd rather be hopeful than miserable at things that have yet to happen

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Note

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically. “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up.

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.” He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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undead-merman · 3 years

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Heyo! I loved your headcanons for the brothers and Simeon as sirens, they were a truly *chef kiss*. Can we also have siren Barbatos and Diavolo? Yandere too and sfw, please!

Thanks in advance!

I'm always down to write Aquatic monsters.

🧜‍♂️Siren Diavolo and Barbatos🧜‍♂️ as a yanderes GN- reader SFW

Diavolo

Appearance

Diavolo is much, much larger than other sirens. While sirens grow to be about a foot or two bigger than humans, Diavolo is massive, fifteen feet long and with tons of bulk and muscle to match his massive size. He looks more similar in size to a giant than a siren.

Despite his size he is dazzling in the sun. When his crimson hair catches beams of light he looks divine, almost like a holy glow surrounds him as he rests on the rocks. His tail is the same stunning red as the blood red sunset and has a bright pearlescent. His scales are just as reflective and polished as a bright red sports car. His skin is deeply kissed by the sun, making his skin look smooth and shiny. His nightshade red fins are long and butterfly shaped; they trail slightly behind him like silk.

He wears all kinds of jewels and golds, all of them perfectly fit around his skull and fins. They drift perfectly around his large frame and glimmer even in the smallest amount of light.

Diavolo is the only siren able to keep his glamor up even if he’s excited, in the water, or even angry. He has full control over it and only shifts to it when he’s actively trying to strike fear into something or someone. His true form is like that of sea monsters in folktales, monstrous in size and able to take a ship down into the dark depths of the open ocean, to swallow whole crews, and create winds and storms as he lets out a devilish scream which can be heard for hundreds of miles around.

Royalty amongst Loners and Sunken Hideaway

Despite their lone lifestyles, only really enjoying the company of their mates, most Sirens look to Diavolo as more of a god than any type of king or prince despite having the title of prince. They worship his power and bow down to his whims and needs. They bring him tributes in the form of small treasures and Diavolo returns these gifts with blessings of more intoxicating songs, stronger wills, his watchful eye and protection, or just overall greater strength. Diavolo seems to freely give these boons no matter how small the gift.

Since he’s a well known and well visited siren, he’s built his home in the sunken ruins of a castle in a city whose culture and history has died long ago. It’s well taken care of by servants who have pledged their lives to Prince Diavolo and are surprisingly pleasant and tolerable with one another. They equate this to Diavolo’s power and grace but only those who are truly loyal to Diavolo stay here.

His voice can bring either madness or blessings and can be the most beautiful thing your ears could ever hope to hear or one so evil, devious, and grotesque you’re driven into a hypnotic bloodlust to those with even the strongest wills. His lullabies sound so melancholic.

He hides away in a large garden which has its own open air biosphere bathed in light by a glass ceiling which has yet to crack yet bathes the whole garden in a beautiful light. A single golden curly willow grows in the center with dozens of flowers growing around it. Here the air is surprisingly fresh and floats on the surface never touching the water around it like it’s a time capsule. He’ll lounge here to clear his head watching the butterflies that have grown here, alone and have never seen the outside.

Spending time with you

You and only you heard his song and wept. The feelings of his loneliness tugged at your heart instead of your head being filled with euphoric thoughts of power and blessings or instantly pounding through your skull until you screamed. You truly heard his song, understood the lyrics behind them and felt the way he did when he sang them. When he saw your face littered with tears and face hot with sympathy for him he felt his whole body go numb. You were something special, someone truly remarkable. He needed to know more about you.

And so started a passion in his heart to learn everything about you, your traditions, your light quirks, your hobbies and everything he could possibly learn. It sent him down a rabbit hole of studying humans that he refused to climb out of and gladly let swallow him if it just allowed him to get closer to you and understand you better.

He doesn’t mind what form you see him in, as long as he can see you he’s thrilled and happy. He’ll approach you like a dog, his tail swishing excitedly as he asks you questions he formed in his head from the day. He has to be careful in his true form otherwise he can cause a lot of damage to the nearby area and draw too much attention to you two.

He loves to pick you up and hold you, be in his true form or not and travel with you on his back, or when his true form shows in his hands or on his head as he intentionally kicks up some water to playfully mist you. Moments like these make him forget he was ever even alone to begin with.

If you ever wanted to see some kind of sea creature or visit some island he’s happy to oblige bringing the creature over with his divine rule over the ocean or happily just takes you there one day while making you cover your eyes to surprise you. The look on your face makes his heart swell so much he almost feels like it will jump out of his mouth if he’s not careful.

Dark Tendencies

Diavolo isn’t against using others to get what he wants, he'll ruin everything for anyone or anything to get what he wants. He’ll destroy small islands and wipe out ports so nothing can distract you from dates he takes you on.

If he feels like you aren’t close enough to him or are drifting away from him, for some reason or another, he’s simply going to just pluck you away from your old life so you don’t have any excuse to be away from him anymore. You're his now, you don’t have to worry about that silly stuff anymore, both of you can be together now. Why not just get married now? It would be much easier. Siren’s don’t marry, they just pick a mate but he’s willing to put the frills on it for you and your human ways. He finds it cute!

He doesn’t ever connect the dots if you struggle against him or plead for him to let you go, he’s wrapped up in his own delusions of you being a happy little couple that he’ll blame some outside force. If you go along with him he’ll remain peaceful and sweet.

He absolutely hates it when other sirens see you and while he’s not outwardly violent to them he is quite hostile. Grinding his teeth and asking them to look away from you while his tail twitches with the intent to lash out.

He gave you your own little haven to decorate, he gave you the garden all for your own. He even made sure to promise to give you your own space and privacy here, just as long as you come to his call. Don’t worry though, only you, him, and Barbatos know of this place, and you can’t run from him here!

Misc stuff

His scales shed infrequently since he doesn’t get into fights with other sirens since all of them know better. His scales are radiating with his power and are well known to bring massive good luck to all those Diavolo gives them to. He’s always giving you things made from his scales and he’s so thrilled to see you in them. He likes adding them to a circlet crown he had made custom just for you so you can match him. He plans on matching you to him with every little piece of jewelry, even down to matching rings.

He requires you to sleep with him. He can sleep out of the water perfectly fine and just pulls you into a lavish den he made for the two of you. It’s somehow unbelievably cozy sleeping with him. His body is warm and everything he set up is the best out there. He just holds you in his warm arms and nods off with you.

He’s quite a picky eater. He refuses to eat anything he doesn’t like and will only eat it if you so happen to beg him to, but only if you're insistent, otherwise he’s already slowly drifting away from it.

Barbatos

Appearance

For a siren he’s smaller than most. He’s quite slender and not much muscle to him, but despite his size, his appearance is perfect in every way, not a hair out of position, not a scale that isn’t out of polished or asymmetric, and his skin without a blemish or scar to be found. He takes a huge amount of time to groom himself perfectly.

His scales more resemble sea snakes, even having black stripes like them, though his tail is a solid dark seafoam green. He’s not especially radiant compared to others, but he doesn’t mind at all, he prefers to melt into the background more.

His tailfin is wide though, having a lyretail shape with black stripes going across it. It’s the same dark color as his scales and he has only two side fins but they look like long ribbons stretching from his hips to about halfway down his tail.

His glamor when melted away leaves behind an even darker looking creature. He looks like a stormy sea and is covered in nasty sharp thorns that don’t just stop at his elbows but lead down to his hips and thin yet long and sharp claws and stark black webbing in between without a tear or hole.

Serving Another

Serving the Royal Family was an honor his family was born with for generations and one he realizes the importance to. Diavolo is powerful enough to sink ships and cities and he provided some of that power and grace onto him rewarding him and his ancestors before him for loyalty, slowly turning Barbatos’s family into nearly just as powerful creatures as him.

He enjoys watching the whims of a child like god try to make sense of a kingdom, it's good fun to see him enjoying his life he is able to live vicariously through his high energy.

He puts his all into everything he does, he hates wasted efforts so he does everything he can into what he does but it gets tiring. Sometimes when trying to sleep, he finds himself unable. He’s always had poor sleep but he’s dealt with it for so long now that it's normal for him now. He starts his morning eating a small slice of kelp known for reducing head pain, all while preparing for the morning.

Spending time with you

If Diavolo took an interest in a human then you certainly had to be interesting. Well when he met you and saw you drinking tea with a huge Diavolo stretched around the floating garden. He just knew you were a human with a soul like no other.

He often brings you your favorite beverages and chats with you, simply at first to get to know you but he found you captivating, each word you spoke he held onto like it was the last he would ever hear and it was gospel. He smiles as you recall old memories, describing how you ended up here. The way you phrased things was unlike anything he had ever heard.

He’s taken the time to find old waterlogged books that were left abandoned in the old library and help restore them for you to read. Inside you find wondrous and fantastical stories of this old kingdom all of them enthralling, and as you read he’s happy to bring you a beverage once more and enjoy your company even if it’s in silence.

Once he’s grown closer with you he often finds himself giving you lingering touches as he pats your shoulder for your attention or grazes his hand on yours when delivering food to you. He even says the most romantic and poetic things to you without even noticing. He falls in love slowly but deeply and almost innocently. He just treasures your time and you as a person, never judging or doubting you.

There was a day when he had pulled you into a parting hug, wishing you a goodnight as Diavolo would return you to the surface but he had simply fallen asleep in your arms. Even Diavolo was shocked as he had never done anything close to something like this. It turns out Barbatos is at the most ease when he’s with you. All of his sleepless nights had just suddenly caught up with him.

Dark Tendencies

His love quickly shifts one day when he see your finger pricked by a stray thorn from a wild flower and as he wiped up the blood with a handkerchief and sees those butterflies fluttering around the wound to drink the blood he realised just how fragile you really were and how nature and life take advantage of that as soon as it could. He couldn’t take losing you. So one day he calls you and just takes you. You think it's just another visit with Baratos fetching you but he takes you to a deep and dark underground cave. Soft phosphorus moss grows all over in cushioned patches and with every step it glows brighter under your feet.

He explains it all to you, openly and honestly but no matter how you plead or try to reason with you, he believes you need to be down here forever. Away from the outside world that would care so little for the death of you and move on like nothing were to happen. He wanted you safe, around and immortalized; he'll never forget you.

He provides you with an array of pleasantries that would have no chance of harming you. He’s damn near baby proofed the small cave but he ensures it's as comfortable as it can be, bringing you three meals a day, all of your favorite drinks and snacks even if you fight him or give him the silent treatment he’s never neglectful of your needs. He believes one day you’ll come to see how much he did for you and understand he just wants you safe.

Misc stuff

He’s a clean freak and refuses to let you sleep on dirt or muck, he’ll thoroughly wash the moss through and treat it so it feels like you're walking on clouds without feeling any slime, having bugs, or being dirty. It's so well taken care of that they look fake.

He hates crabs. He hates those distasteful bottom feeders, their disgusting pinchers and empty eyes. He’s sure to keep them as far away as he can, if startled by one he slams it with his tail with enough force to turn it into little pieces and he’s still frightened by them despite the power difference.

#obey me #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me monster headcanons #diavolo x reader #barbatos x reader #yandere diavolo #yandere barbatos

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