#and has decided that it's still necessary. unfortunate but necessary. this sort of quiet and awful conviction

[ariadne-mouse]

Still thinking about just how deep in it Liliana Temult is. Like in the eyes of the narrative she went from

absent & possibly dead, very sad -> alive just estranged?? mysterious! -> possibly involved in a cult, tragic, can her daughter reach her? -> uncomfortably high up in said cult -> the cult's goddamn General and striking such terror into the local population of the Ruidus that they are afraid of even her appearance or someone who looks like her

Ordinary people who are trying to resist the dictatorial Imperium/Ruby Vanguard alliance and their iron control of the populace are terrified of her. You don't strike terror just by "being there". Terror happens because of actions. And it leaves us to wonder what exactly Liliana Temult has done during her time on the moon to make the citizens fear her so much.

[sunderwight]

SV fic where Shen Yuan's status as a body-snatching entity is revealed before the Immortal Alliance Conference can happen.

Maybe the system suffers a glitch while some unforeseen side quest is active, and suddenly Shen Yuan's status is revealed and some of the other peak lords he's with seize the opportunity to exorcise his spirit and put Shen Jiu back in his place.

Shen Yuan has mixed feelings about this development, needless to say. On the one hand, it's kind of not actually that bad? He got caught out like a week away from the IAC and the necessary Abyss plotline, so at least like this, he's managed to give Luo Binghe a slightly better time on Qing Jing for the past few years and equip him more capably to survive the Abyss, but he also doesn't have to personally throw him down there. That's the silver lining.

On the other hand, everything else about this situation sucks! He got attached to his life as Shen Qingqiu, dammit! And now he's been revealed and branded as some kind of horrible demonic spirit thing, and he was rather painfully expelled (even though he wasn't even there willingly in the first place), and so he's been reduced to some a kind of sparkly ghost light hovering on the fringes of existence, highly susceptible to being harmed if any more righteous cultivators get it in their heads to disperse him!

Which is better than just being catapulted back into his rotting corpse in the other world, but not by as big of a margin as he'd like.

Basically, in terms of his ability to influence the world Shen Yuan has been downgraded back to "read only" status. He finds that he can manifest himself in places that he's already been, or around people he has a particular affinity towards, but they can't perceive him and he can't communicate or even do much more than some minor poltergeist type activity. Which he is cautious about anyway, because if he gets caught around Shen Jiu, Shen Jiu is going to disperse him with extra prejudice.

Unfortunately, nearly everything Shen Yuan cares about is in Shen Jiu's orbit.

So he can only watch, metaphorically gritting his teeth as the newly-restored Shen Qingqiu kicks Luo Binghe out of the bamboo house, burns all the bridges that Shen Yuan painstakingly rebuilt for him, refuses point blank to let Liu Qingge help with Without-a-Cure, resumes and even begins taking more frequent trips to the nearest brothels, and neglects his duties to turn into a paranoid wreck as if he half-expects Shen Yuan to steal his body back from him the next time he lets his guard down. Corporal punishment spikes back up on Qing Jing Peak.

Shen Yuan is surprised to hear the whispers of dissent, even so. A spirit possessing a righteous cultivator is a pretty damning incident, and there's no way that he could come out of it smelling like roses. And yet, even though his -- Shen Qingqiu's disciples know enough to be circumspect about saying anything of the sort, there are still murmurs and rumblings about how things used to run, not too long ago.

Ming Fan quiets any such talk as soon as he hears it. Ning Yingying scarcely seems to know how to respond to the situation, except to sometimes plaintively insist that she hadn't even noticed much change between Shen Qingqiu's at all. But Luo Binghe...

Well.

Whenever there are mutterings, it often seems as though Binghe is there. Nodding. Whispering. Carefully putting forth suggestions that others barely seem to recognize as suggestions. Shen Yuan only notices because he knows what Binghe's capable of when he decides to be manipulative, and even he finds himself wondering if it's not just a coincidence, something he's imagining, because Luo Binghe hasn't even blackened through his Abyss arc yet.

Even so, there he is, musing carefully on how strange it was that he's heard that Hong Jing hadn't identified any untoward presence in Shen Qingqiu before, how Shizun had never done anything bad to the peak despite all the claims that he'd supposedly been possessed by a malicious entity for years, and wasn't this new Shen Qingqiu acting much more suspicious? Much more malicious? Isn't is the new Shizun who jumps at shadows and talks to people who aren't there, and seems so uneasy in his own skin?

If one had to guess which version was an unstable monster possessing a human's body, and which was the righteous and noble peak lord... ah, well. It's just surprising, isn't it? Luo Binghe would of course never suggest that this new Shen Qingqiu was in actuality the being that had stolen someone else's place. He's surely never second guess the judgment of the peak lords, who claim to have let an interloper among them for YEARS in total ignorance. It's just something to think about.

Alas for Binghe, though a lot of the peak seems inclined to agree with him, he can't win over enough to inspire anything worse than discontent. The "new" Shen Qingqiu does behave a lot more like the one that most of the Qing Jing knew prior to his qi deviation, after all, and it's no mystery why Luo Binghe -- spurned former favorite, now back to being at the bottom of the pecking order -- would be unhappy with the change. Shen Yuan appreciates that this is at least doing a good job of setting up Luo Binghe's altered opinion on his shizun, and he's touched that he made a good enough impression for Binghe to be mad about the sudden regression, but he wishes he could tell Binghe that there's simply nothing to be done about it. That is the real Shen Qingqiu, and Binghe ought to concern himself more with the upcoming conference!

At least, despite being kicked out of the bamboo house, Luo Binghe managed to farm enough good opinion with some of the other disciples during his tenure as Favorite that he doesn't go back to sleeping in the woodshed. Without Shen Qingqiu expressly demanding it, no one would dare, just in case Luo Binghe might regain his status one day. There seems to be an awareness that "evil" Shizun would have made them run laps, but "good" Shizun would now probably whip them half to death in a fit of temper. No one wants to take chances.

Finally, the Immortal Alliance Conference rolls around. Shen Yuan can only watch and cheer Binghe on as best as he's able to, even knowing the probable outcome. And Binghe does so well! He fights bravely but also smartly. When Shen Qingqiu arrives, Binghe doesn't lose an ounce of his caution, though he does still nobly defend his master even though the good feelings between them have dried up. He correctly identifies Without-a-Cure's flare up and silently helps compensate for Shen Jiu's weakness, and sticks by him even though the Original Goods is hardly appreciative.

When the Abyss opens up, and Luo Binghe's demonic seal is broken, Shen Qingqiu seems almost relieved to have this information brought to light. He accuses Luo Binghe not only of orchestrating the invasion of demons at the conference, but of arranging fro Shen Jiu to be replaced too.

"Of course, for a demon like you, summoning some wicked force into this master's body would be easy!" he spits.

Luo Binghe looks bowled over by the accusation. But rather than defending himself, he latches onto it as if it might be some kind of lifeline.

"For a demon like this one... it would be possible?" he echoes.

Shen Jiu hurls more accusations. Of course it is. Luo Binghe is not just any demon, but the most powerful, dangerous, and destructive sort there is. Little is beyond the scope of a Heavenly Demon's power, or wretchedness. Luo Binghe must have uncovered his heritage and seen a convenient means of ridding himself of an inconvenient master. Wherever that horrid spirit is now, it's probably just waiting for the next chance to leap back in at Luo Binghe's call!

"Shizun's spirit... that spirit from before, it still exists?" Luo Binghe catches.

"As if you don't know. Beast. Even the sect leader could not destroy your minion completely," Shen Jiu sneers.

"And it would be within my abilities to put it back in your body. Instead of you."

"You won't get the chance."

Shen Jiu stabs Luo Binghe before throwing him into the Abyss. Binghe fights back, but he seems reluctant to injure his shizun, even now.

Shen Yuan supposes that such reluctance won't survive the Abyss. Still, it's emotional for him. That such a little kindness could cause Luo Binghe to hesitate, even at this point, it really speaks to the resilience of hope in Binghe's heart.

Shen Yuan's little ghost light almost follows him down. But the Abyss would be too dangerous for him, even as he is now. He'd be a little mote of spiritual energy, easily gobbled up by any number of creatures in that place, if he wasn't just swept up by the chaotic ambient energies themselves. So he can only stay behind and think some very colorful swear words in Shen Jiu's general direction, until the rift closes and leaves no trace of Luo Binghe behind, except for the shards of Zheng Yang.

The shards are left behind. Shen Yuan finds that he has a little bit of spiritual storage space. Just enough to maybe fit all of them, so he goes and painstakingly uses his limited powers to lift up each piece and drop it in. It takes him hours and hours, but luckily the clean-up of the whole disaster is something that will take months. No one seems inclined to go reclaim Luo Binghe's shattered blade or risk getting too close to the remnants of the rift, even closed. So, Shen Yuan manages.

The next few years prove difficult. Shen Yuan finds that it's hard to retain his presence in the world. His little spirit has dampened considerably, and few things seem to perk him back up. He has more troubles following anyone who isn't Shen Jiu now that Binghe is in the Abyss, and Shen Jiu is depressing as hell to spend time around. He's rotten with kids, sucks at teaching, he has no friends, his health is deteriorating, and Shen Yuan has no interest in seeing what he gets up to in the brothels.

But Binghe is definitely coming back, and Shen Yuan wants to see him again.

His patience is rewarded the first time he finds his consciousness drifting, only to snap back to awareness in a place that's not Qing Jing Peak. He instead finds that he's in an unfamiliar patch of wilderness along a river, watching as Luo Binghe fights a small pack of demonic beasts.

It's definitely not the Endless Abyss. Has it been five years already...? Shen Yuan hadn't thought so, but then again, he's not the best at keeping track of time in this state.

Luo Binghe defeats the beasts, but they land more hits and wound him worse than Shen Yuan would have anticipated. The wounds aren't healing as quick as they should either. Was Binghe poisoned? Or is this a remnant of Shen Yuan's own poor teaching, the clumsiness in sword practice he never totally managed to correct leading somehow to this?

He gets it when Qin Wanyue and several other Huan Hua cultivators show up, however, and Luo Binghe manages to play the righteous cultivator who just survived a harrowing battle role to the hilt. It takes him very little effort to get the Huan Hua disciples to take him back with them and help "patch him up", and soon enough Shen Yuan has front row seats to watch as Binghe ingratiates himself with the sect.

Mostly, Shen Yuan is just relieved to confirm that Binghe did indeed survive, and glad that he's out of the horrible Abyss and in a place where he can rest and eat decent meals and be fawned over by his well-deserved admirers. Though Luo Binghe seems colder even than Shen Yuan expected, especially in some places where a bit of charm would serve him better. He declines outright to address the Palace Master as "shizun", even though he accepts the offer to stay as a guest disciple at Huan Hua Palace, and he is abrupt and aloof towards both Qin Wanyue and the Little Palace Mistress, despite their obvious interest in him.

Binghe doesn't seem to sleep as soundly as he should either. At night he often brings out a dream stone, which Shen Yuan recognizes as an amplification tool from the novel, but it seems that whatever Binghe is trying to search for with it is beyond his reach. Sometimes Shen Yuan imagines he can hear his disciple's voice calling Shizun at night. But always, Binghe is asleep, and there's no one in Huan Hua Palace he has deigned to address like that anyway. It's a trick of his own imagination, missing the days when Luo Binghe could call out and he himself could answer.

Things go mostly according to the plot, with a few disruptions here and there. Luo Binghe seems to be lagging behind on the romantic subplots, but rushing ahead on the vendetta against his old teacher. The Trial of Shen Qingqiu takes place at Jinlan City, with demon instigators who work for Luo Binghe accusing the peak lord of colluding with demons and setting him up to seem like he was involved in the sower attack. Shen Yuan knows, from watching Binghe, that the sower thing was mostly taking advantage of an existing situation to frame Shen Qingqiu. Binghe himself didn't have anything to do with Jinlan's suffering, but is obviously not above using it to his advantage.

Combined with Qiu Haitang's testimony, Shen Qingqiu is arrested and locked up where Luo Binghe can torture and dismember him at will.

However, Binghe... doesn't do that?

Instead he swiftly relocates Shen Qingqiu to a prison in the demon realms, and seems to abandon his concerns with Huan Hua Palace and the righteous cultivation sects altogether. He just leaves them to fight it out amongst themselves, as if he's got no concern with who comes out on top, and in the meanwhile he keeps Shen Qingqiu locked up but surprisingly well-treated?

Despite Shen Qingqiu's obvious terror and vitriol towards him, Luo Binghe forces him to eat nutritious meals, and attends to his health problems, and makes no move to injure him at all. He has nothing good to say to Shen Jiu, but he doesn't hurt him. Yet there is something distinctly weird about the whole dynamic, not at all like someone who has decided to keep a prisoner under ethical conditions for moral reasons or something like that.

Shen Yuan's not sure what to make of it.

In the end, Shen Jiu himself illuminates the situation.

It happens after Shen Jiu has rejected food. Luo Binghe tuts and asks if Shen Jiu suspects it would be poisoned. Shen Jiu sneers at him.

"I know it isn't," he says. "You wouldn't poison this body. I know what you're after."

"Oh? Wise Master Shen figured out this much?" Binghe replies, dry as the fucking desert.

"You're keeping me in this condition because you want to put that thing back in my body!" Shen Jiu accuses.

It takes Shen Yuan a moment to realize that Shen Jiu is referring to him. That he thinks Luo Binghe is keeping him fit and healthy for Shen Yuan's sake.

Wouldn't that be going too far just for some old teacher who was nice?! Yes, he knows that he made an impact on Luo Binghe, but it wasn't hard! Shen Jiu set the bar at the earth's crust, clearing it hardly required the kind of effort or devotion that would inspire an entire elaborate scheme purely on Shen Yuan's behalf!

He can't believe it.

But, Binghe doesn't deny it.

In fact he smiles, his expression somehow conveying that Shen Jiu guessed perfectly correct, but also that there's no good it can do him. Binghe has never looked so much like a piece of PIDW fanart before, with some dark and potent rage simmering just beneath the veneer of his placid smile.

"Shizun should not be referred to so impolitely," Luo Binghe counters. "If anyone in this room is a thing, it is this usurper in front of me."

"Usurper?! In my own body? You're mad."

Binghe tuts.

Master Shen should understand that his claim is contested. After all, if one woman gives birth to a child but then casts it into a river to die, but another fishes the babe out and cradles it to her breast -- which woman deserves to be called that child's mother? Just because Shen Jiu was born into that body, doesn't mean he deserves it more than anyone else.

But even if he did, Luo Binghe wouldn't care. He would kill to get his Shizun back. This isn't really so different from that, is it? And there is no love lost between him and Shen Jiu to make him hesitate. If his Shizun disagrees, he may disciple Binghe as he sees fit once he returns.

Shen Jiu points out that Luo Binghe's machinations have ruined his reputation. Even if he gets that creature to possess his body again, there's no way that they could infiltrate Cang Qiong Sect a second time.

But Binghe waves off his concerns. He clearly has thought of this, and has plans for it, but is also not about to be stupid enough to monologue any more at Shen Jiu. Once he leaves, Shen Yuan lingers for a little while, and notices that Shen Jiu actually seems genuinely concerned about what might happen to the sect if Luo Binghe succeeds and gets Shen Yuan put back on Qing Jing Peak.

Of course, Shen Yuan knows he wouldn't actually do anything to harm Cang Qiong, but Shen Jiu doesn't. This is the first time Shen Yuan has seen him actually reveal shades of what might be called a noble impulse.

It's not much, but... sigh.

The thing is, Shen Yuan doesn't really want to steal anybody's body! No one consulted with him the first time it happened! And they sure aren't consulting with him now, either, although to be fair they can't. But he might just have enough ability as a little ghost light to stave off some of this whole process, and he's got to decide if he wants to try. Or if he'll let Binghe have his way, and succeed in pushing Shen Jiu back out and giving Shen Yuan his life again.

Because Binghe will definitely succeed if he really does try. That's how the world works.

And if he did... that might be the only way for Shen Yuan to get his life as Shen Qingqiu back. Which he does want, desperately! He misses it. He misses it both in the general sense of having a body at all, but also in the particular sense of all the things he managed to attain as Qing Jing Peak Lord. As Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Jiu, also, makes a very tempting sacrifice in all this. Shen Yuan frankly hates his guts. Maybe it could have been different, but the fact that Shen Yuan worked so hard to try and make that life better, only for Shen Jiu to just go right back to being an intractable asshole who, frankly, should never be in charge of children ever, rankles! He went right back to mistreating Luo Binghe as well, and threw him into the Abyss, and if Binghe's plan was to violently kill him again as revenge for that then Shen Yuan wouldn't fault him. He didn't fault him the first time. He wasn't going to fault him even when it seemed like he would be the one Binghe was destined to rip apart in justified vengeance.

This is different, though. Shen Yuan wants to fight for the life he longs to be living, especially now when the axe of the Abyss is no longer hanging over him.

But is he willing to actually become the thing everyone else decided he was in order to get it? A body-snatching, malicious spirit?

Shen Jiu is horribly unsuited to his life as Shen Qingqiu. But, it is still his life. Shen Yuan really just managed to borrow it for a while.

Deep down he knows that, even if he would like to ignore it.

So when Binghe finally sets up the ceremony, and Shen Yuan's soul is called back into Shen Qingqiu's body, he hesitates. Shen Jiu is poised like a snarling, wounded animal within the confines of his own body. Even the gentlest tap would knock him back out again. Shen Yuan gets the sense that the system is also there, just waiting and even eager for him to do it. Take back the body, resume whatever quests or directives are waiting for him there.

Shen Yuan, even as fragile as his own spirit is, could crush Shen Jiu's battered soul to dust.

Instead he withdraws.

Binghe tries the ritual again, and again, and each time Shen Yuan feels stronger. But it doesn't matter, because he doesn't want to be an evil body-stealing parasite! He wishes he could just tell Binghe to stop wasting valuable resources on this, especially when Binghe could be focusing on other, more important things! Like building up happy relationships or consolidating his rule of the demon realms or establishing an actual strong foothold in the human world, or something!

Somehow, Shen Jiu figures this out before Luo Binghe does. Of course, he conveys the information in the worst way possible, snidely wondering what Luo Binghe did to alienate "that creature" he's trying so hard to resurrect so badly that it will refuse even the open, glowing invitation he keeps writing for it!

Excuse you, you miserable old man, Shen Yuan isn't avoiding Binghe! He is facing a very difficult moral dilemma and handling it LIKE A CHAMP! Fuck you!

Unfortunately, even though Shen Jiu has decided that Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan were in cahoots about the first body snatch, Luo Binghe knows that they weren't. He also doesn't know that his old Shizun knew full well that he was a Heavenly Demon the whole time. So now he has a lot of doubts to wrestle with, especially give that, despite the consensus of the rest of the world, Luo Binghe is not convinced that Shen Yuan actually is some kind of demonic spirit.

Maybe he's a good spirit that has rejected Binghe for his wretched blood?

But Shizun always said that things like that didn't matter!

So... maybe it's not his blood. Maybe Binghe's actions are what has caused Shizun to forsake him. All the terrible things he did to survive the Abyss, and the machinations afterwards, framing Shen Qingqiu and imprisoning him, setting himself up as a demonic ruler... all of that.

Binghe entreats his Shizun to forgive him. Or even if he won't forgive him, to still come back. Binghe will... stay away, if that's what Shizun wants. Just so long as Shizun is alive, is somewhere in the world, safe and happy, then... then...

He can't quite get through lying to claim that it would be enough. But it would be better than the current situation, so he tries.

Shen Yuan, luckily, has been juiced up enough from all the failed summoning rituals that later that night, he finally recognizes the little whisper-calls as echoes of Luo Binghe's dreams. And he's strong enough to follow the invitations! He goes to visit Binghe in his dreams, and reassures him that he's not trying to reject him at all. He's very proud of Binghe, and wants him to be happy and successful. Binghe could rule the world and Shizun would just cheer him on!

It's just that Shen Yuan never willingly possessed Shen Qingqiu in the first place. He misses his life, but given the choice, he doesn't want to be that kind of entity.

So, new plan -- if Shen Yuan won't take a body off of an undeserving asshole, then Binghe will make him a new body! Luckily, Shen Yuan knows a way to grow one. They "borrow" some genetic materials from Shen Jiu to aid the process, and then Luo Binghe, surprisingly indifferent about the whole thing, cuts Shen Jiu loose at the border.

Shen Yuan is surprised. Binghe really doesn't care about that? Turns out no, not so much. Shen Jiu is awful, but he's nothing to Binghe in the long run. (Also it's a long shot but if nothing else does work Binghe might have to force Shen Yuan to take Shen Qingqiu's body back, though of course he's not about to say so, and anyway Shen Jiu is still going to have a hell of a time waiting for him back in the cultivation world. Luo Binghe wishes him luck and every pleasure of trying to clear his ruined name, living a life on the lamb with an insidious poison constantly eating away at him, or the full enjoyment of a second visit to the water prison, whichever ends up happening.)

With the help of Luo Binghe's blood parasites, the Sun and Moon Dew whatever mushroom body grows in record time. A summoning ritual isn't even required, Shen Yuan just scoots right in as soon as the body is ready and blinks his eyes open to see his anxious disciple's face peering back at him.

Happily ever after!

[yamcha-thelonewolf]

🫂Toriyama forgets, Yamcha doesn't!

This time I want us to relax a little bit. My last analysis, The Heart's Savior, was very challenging both for me who wrote it and for you who read it, so now it is only fair to lighten the load.

In a poll, I asked you whether you would prefer to know more about Yamcha's life as a fighter or as an ordinary earthling, and if you remember, the second choice won. So here I am analyzing a little trivia that has nothing to do with battles. Well... Sort of! Martial arts still has something to do with it, but it only serves as a background. In fact, I will tell you about an extremely strong friendship, not because the bond is actually intense but because it goes against the narrative choices of Toriyama and Toei Animation. Believe me, guys, this analysis could maintain the connection with a character we hear little about now. Lastly, just because I know it's a kind of topic that many people like, I'm going to talk somewhat about one of Yamcha's many looks.

Let's be clear, this is just my theory, it's quite silly, but at least it might make you smile a little... Well, I hope so!

Before we begin, it seems only fair to warn that the following is likely to be coincidental. Dragon Ball has never dwelled on details, at least not the ones I care about, so it is highly likely that this topic is meaningless. But... What if it doesn't? Assuming Yamcha has a life of his own in this show, talking about it might be worthwhile... Because it would once again show what a beautiful person he is in everyday life.

So... Let's get started!

Don't worry, I told you. I am not going to talk about Yamcha as a fighter, but as I had anticipated it is necessary to understand how incredible he is as a normal earthling.

We are at the end of the Fortuneteller Baba Arc. Goku has finally found out where the last dragon ball is and so sets off with Upa to resurrect his father Bora. Meanwhile, Yamcha and the others await their friend's return at Baba's palace. It is during this wait that Yamcha reflects at length on his own life and he finally decides to ask Muten to make him his pupil.

A new orange Gi is definitely needed!

Freeze! It is not the Turtle School uniform that I want to talk about. Let's go back for a moment... A few hours before the 22nd Tournament begins.

Alright! We've got it!

We are on the plane bound for Papaya Island. Bruce Lee Yamcha has completed his training under Muten, and with this proud pretty face he lets us know that we are going to see some good things. He also seems more mature. He is in his 20s. Guys, many things could be said about this drawing, but in this case I will simply dwell on his outfit. This is the first time we have seen Yamcha in such an elegant look. We were used to seeing him in martial artist outfits or otherwise with looks more suited to his wild nature, so this is a very nice surprise. For a change, he looks great. I mean, you can dress and style him any way you like: Yamcha has the incredible power to be charming in any way. Yes, even with that bowl hair from DBZ...

Jeez, I love him. Let's go back to our outfit now.

Some will remember it for sure, but for those who do not know I want to let you show that this dress has its own origin.

One more step back now.

We are in the 21st Tournament Arc. Yamcha is in town with Bulma and he's training on his own. Muten's only pupils are Goku and Krillin. Many people do not pay attention to it, but if these two boys managed to get into the Turtle School it is because of a character who unfortunately met a brutal end in the show: Lunch.

The deal is clear: If Goku and Krillin can find a nice girl to stay at the Kame House, then Muten can train them. It is the only way to access. So we can safely say that if Goku has become so strong, it is also thanks to Lunch. Fortunately, she is found in her quiet form, but soon her secret would come out...

...Whatever! Goku and Krillin can finally train under Muten. Well, there really would be so much to say about Lunch. She is a character who deserves a lot. She should not have disappeared at all after the great contribution she made to Goku and Krillin. Not only that. She even defeated some Red Ribbon soldiers, she helped Yamcha defeat some criminals because he had a broken leg, in a filler she saves Goku from an attempted "kidnapping," and among many other things she allowed to find front row seats during tournaments! Seriously, she would deserve a separate post.

If we look at Lunch as a function of the protagonist, it is undeniable that she was the mother Goku never had. At least in her good personality.

The same of course applies to Krillin. Let's think it through. She cooked for them, cuddled them before bed, and who knows how many other mother hen things she did. Goku definitely lacked such a figure, so this is also why I consider Lunch an important character in his growth. If Bulma is more like an older sister, Lunch is definitely his mommy. Have you noticed that? Every person Goku meets represents a family member. It's extremely cute.

Be that as it may, as proof that Lunch is a real mom to the two pupils, she decides to give them a nice gift at the end of their training.

Tadaaan! Okay, I admit that Goku and Krillin are really funny dressed like this. They look like two little gangsters, something like Joe Pesci and Robert De Niro as kids, but that's okay. Lunch sewed these outfits for them, and that's what matters. It was done with love.

Seeing her satisfied like a loving mommy getting excited for her kids going to school for the first time always moved me. Although in this case the destination is the tournament, the meaning is the same: Lunch gave importance to their big day by honoring it with this outfit as awkward as adorable.

Well, friends. Now that the puzzle is almost complete, we can go back to our boy! As I said at the beginning, Yamcha begs Muten to make him his third pupil. Once inside the school, it doesn't take long to realize that for all of his three years of training he has been dealing with Lunch as well.

It should be mentioned, however, that the two had actually met for the first time during the Red Ribbon Arc, when everyone leaves to help Goku.

This is the first real moment when they meet. Lunch is in her "evil" form, but a little later Yamcha will also make the acquaintance of her good side.

This meant that during these three years he also cohabited with Lunch, who must surely have cooked for him as well. I think it's a really interesting detail. Unfortunately, we don't know what has happened during these three years, but I would like to point out that this is the first time Yamcha has dealt so closely with a girl other than Bulma. Imagining that he is still very shy with girls, I have no doubt that he has been embarrassed many times in being so near to her. Stop!, I'm not saying he had feelings for her, but she is still a pretty girl, most of the time very naive as well as sensual, so I wouldn't be surprised if Lunch made Yamcha blush without even meaning to. By the way, it would be interesting to analyze Bulma's feelings in this situation, since she has visited Yamcha several times. I don't think she was ever jealous of Lunch, but she may have punched her boyfriend in the head a few times anyway just because.

...They were so cute...

Okay, now the topic is clear, isn't it? The bond between Yamcha and Lunch is one of the least explored things in Dragon Ball. There is no point in talking about it because it leads nowhere, but believe me, for an earthlings fan it is worth discussing.

First, let's start by saying that this is a different relationship from that she had with the other two pupils. If with Goku and Krillin Lunch was able to act like a caring mother, the same cannot be said for Yamcha. Yamcha is not a child like them. He is almost the same age as Lunch, so the relationship must be absolutely equal: they are two friends. Nothing more, nothing less. This does not mean that Lunch took less care of Yamcha. Surely she must have avoided giving him a good-night kiss and things like that, that is.

As for her second personality, it becomes more complicated. We will never know whether "Bad" Lunch felt attracted to Yamcha. We know she loves wild guys and Yamcha certainly is, but I don't think she was that disloyal to her friend Bulma. In short: I am convinced that there was never any sexual attraction between Lunch and Yamcha. They have always been two great friends, proving that friendship between boys and girls can exist.

So... Maternal or not, one thing is certain: when the big day comes again, Lunch gives her gift to Yamcha too.

I don't know how many of you have thought about this. I'm sure I'm not the first one who has thought about it, but geez... It's a detail that has always excited me for no real reason. Perhaps because it is one of those details that indirectly deepens the relationships between Dragon Ball characters, which are unfortunately poorly told.

I mean, try to think of the scene!

Yamcha at that time was not really the type of guy to wear stuff like that. He has lived for many years in the desert, where it is not necessary to wear fancy clothes because the only priority is to survive. Yet in the desert, we don't know how, he also learned good manners, especially with girls. I'm sure he did everything possible not to disappoint Lunch's expectations. Yamcha has always been like that. In order to please others he has often sacrificed himself, so I think something like that happened in this case as well. Let's try to put ourselves in his shoes. He may be gentle and all, he surely must have thanked Lunch for this, but how much he must have cringed wearing this?

It is a bit like putting a bow tie on a wild wolf...

This is precisely how I imagine him: deeply embarrassed and on the verge of sinking underground. "Boy, I feel so ridiculous!"

Don't worry, silly, it actually fits you much better than you think. I don't believe anyone found him as funny as Goku and Krillin were the first time they wore that thing. Anyway, I assume that this is why we don't see himwith that Al Capone hat. "Hell, I can accept the dress... but spare me that thing!!"

Here you can see Yamcha now comfortable in his elegant look and Lunch by his side totally unaware that she was the one who sewed it for him. By the way, I think it's superficial to say this but... It's really nice that she handmade this dress for Yamcha. I mean, his body is much bigger than Goku and Krillin's. She must have struggled a lot! It's a proof to how much she loved Yamcha, too.

Come on, look at her! Here Lunch is as worried as everyone about Yamcha's condition after Tenshinhan broke his leg. The way she addresses him does indeed have something maternal about it, but it mainly shows that she has become attached to him over those three years.

She is so precious...

...even when she is about to kill Yamcha and Bulma in one shot.

Gosh, I love her! It is so nice that everyone has learned to accept Lunch as she is. Yamcha is like that. He always accepted his friends, no matter how they are, he is always there for them and always took care of them. I am convinced that he loved Lunch as he loves everyone else.

So... the topic could end here, but it is not like me to conclude so trivially. I like to go beyond the impossible, in fact even this time I want to extend the whole situation.

The real point of the topic is another.

Unfortunately, Lunch's fate is the most horrible of all. In truth, I don't know which is worse between being forgotten and being ridiculed throughout the show. Let's just say that neither Lunch nor Yamcha were lucky. They also have that in common, besides the fact that both are very close to Tien. I would call it the trio of outcasts. However, if we at least know what happens to Yamcha during DBZ, we know nothing about Lunch. The last time we see her is in a bar, completely drunk because Tien is dead. Another appearance, which is really brief, is during the Buu Saga, when she gives her energy to Goku. I consider these two scenes to be frighteningly sad because in both cases we see her alone and that hurts me a lot. It is as if she has lost contact with her friends. After all, she could not even return to the Kame House because it was now inhabited by Krillin, Android 18 and their daughter. There was no place for her anymore. This hurt even more, because we really don't know what happened to her. Finally, she appears without ever saying anything in the OVA Dragon Ball: Yo! Son Goku and His Friends Return!!

This is quite consoling, but it is not enough. Her presence is highly unnecessary. I think she was thrown into the rabble just to actually pay homage to those who were Goku's friends, but what's the point if she doesn't even say a word? She certainly deserved more since she had been forgotten for almost two decades.

Whatever... Thank goodness Yamcha exists!

He is seriously the hero we do not deserve.

Well yes, Yamcha may be the one who partly solves this great riddle:

...What ever happened to Lunch all this time?

The truth is that there are no answers. Everyone can imagine what they want. One can think that she stayed with Tien (although DBS has ruled out this possibility for the umpteenth time), one can think that she opened a food truck or that she came to visit Muten sometimes. I personally believe that she has not completely lost contact with her friends. At least, not with Yamcha. I mean, we've seen how Yamcha is not the type to quit. When it comes to loving someone, Yamcha is always in the front row. This makes me believe that he has not stopped seeing Lunch. He is too loyal to forget a person who has done so much for him. Plus, if we add that Yamcha was left alone at one point in the story, it makes even more sense that he spends his time with an equally "lonely" friend. I imagine Yamcha as a very nostalgic guy. It would be unthinkable for him to exclude such an important memory as Lunch from his life.

At least, that's how it is for me. Until now I didn't know it for sure, but a few days ago I had an epiphany. That's when I realized that maybe Lunch is still there, we just don't see her.

Dragon Ball Z: The Tree of Might, 1990.

Did you notice anything?

Oh god yes, it's that damn gangster outfit again. I mean, the dress sewn by Lunch. Although it is difficult to identify the timeline of this film, it is still clear that we are in a context far away from OG Dragon Ball. At first I anticipated that all this might just be a coincidence, but personally I like to believe that there is much more behind it. Assuming that indeed it is the dress made by Lunch, we need to consider one thing: it can never be that one she gave him for the 22nd Tournament. It would be really old, plus I don't think it would be able to hold up Yamcha's new body. He's now in his 30s, he has not only grown taller but also added a lot of muscle mass. It is practically impossible for him to have been able to wear it. So... Maybe Yamcha asked Lunch to renew that old dress? Think about it, it makes sense to me. Yamcha is also very cheap. Being a former thief, he knows the value of money well and knows that it is easier to lose it than to find it. He is really funny, but also very cute.

The money accumulated through baseball certainly does not change his stingy nature, that's why it is not strange to think that he turned to Lunch. Of course, also as a matter of affection. I think Yamcha is a guy who is very attached to things, especially if there are a lot of good memories behind them.

I mean, something could have happened like, "Hi Lunchie, how are you? Long time no see, it took me so long to find you! Let me guess, you're hiding from the cops, right?" and then... "Anyway, I wanted to ask you a favor. Going through my closet, I found that fancy dress you had sewn for me for the Tournament. Do you remember? Here it is. I tried to wear it but I only gained a hole in my pants. I'll let you guess where. So... Could you fix it for your bestie?"... So she would say: "Are you kidding, Yamcha? There's no way I'm going to fix that! I'll definitely sew you a new one!"

If so, we could assume that they are still in contact! It would really comfort me to know that Lunch is still part of the gang, even if we don't see her. Yamcha in this case could seriously be the link, simply because he is brought up to be.

That would be great.

I want to believe it.

After all...

...Toriyama may forget his characters, but Yamcha will never forget his friends.

Thank you!!

[unabashegirl]

Lycan 1 (HS) — preview

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is forced to return to the town where she was born for extraordinary reasons. Her father is extremely sick and on the verge of passing away. Alsfield has changed and is far from what she remembers and even though she lived in town until her high school graduation she barely recognizes it. The town hides a big secret from a few individuals that live in it including Y/N. The man who maintains the town's secret and protects it is no other than Harry Styles. Things take a sudden twist when they meet. Numerous things will impede Y/N from returning to San Francisco to her somewhat ordinary life, will she be able to abandon the town that she had successfully escaped the first time? What is the big secret that the townspeople are hiding, and what is Y/N's role in it? Who is Harry? Where does he come from? Had she met him before? And what does he want from her?

Author's note: This is a new series that I have been working on. For now, I only have the first chapter done! My Patreon subscribers will be able to read it before I post the second chapter. I have decided to offer everyone a 7-DAY FREE TRIAL on this tier. So, if you want to continue reading, just click below and join for the next 7 days FOR FREE!

Y/N had never liked the town where she had been born at. So, as soon as she had graduated from high school, she hopped on the bus and got the hell out of the place. Unfortunately for her, things had taken a turn for the worst, and she was back on a similar bus heading to the small town.

Two nights ago, her father had been hospitalized. She had gotten a call from her aunt letting her know that her father wasn't going to make it through the night. Therefore, Y/N made all the necessary arrangements to travel up north to Oregon.

Y/N never had a close relationship with her father. Her father was difficult and had a behavior that Y/N had never been able to understand or figure out.

Her mother had been the reason for her sanity throughout all the craziness that her father daily generated. Y/N’s mother passed away two days before Christmas when she was a sophomore in high school.  It was all a blur for her. She could still remember being told that she had died, but everything that had happened after it was still a big blur to her. Her brain safety mechanism had been to block, all the painful memories after that day.

Life after the death of Y/N’s mother had been miserable. Her father had always been an alcoholic, but his drinking got worst after it.

Alsfield hadn’t changed one bit since she had left. It rained most of the year and the town was always covered with a permanent fog that always caused drivers to crash on the curves by the cliffs. Most of the townspeople kept to themselves and even though the town was small there was lots of privacy. It wasn’t like other towns in America where the housewives would gossip most of the day. Alsfield was a quiet place where nothing much happened.

“Visiting someone?” The man that sat beside Y/N asked. He had brown hair and blue eyes. He seemed to be roughly around her age. He had been quiet most of the ride, aside from when he pulled his snacks out of his bag.

“Sort of” She paused her music and took one of her earbuds off. “You? Are you from here?”.

“Sort of” he smiled, “I moved after high school”. Y/N frowned a bit but tried to contain herself. She didn’t want to come off as rude. She just couldn’t come up with a reason as to why someone would move into Alsfield after graduating. Most of them were trying to get out not move in. “For a job opportunity,” he added after a few minutes. “Who are you visiting?”.

“My father” Y/N wasn’t proud of it. Her father was probably going to be disappointed by seeing her. However, even though he had made her childhood a living hell, she wasn’t going to have any sort of regrets or guilty conscience if he passed away.

“By the way, I am Niall” He stretched out his hand for her to take.

“Y/N” she smiled as she shook his hand. “Nice to meet you”.

“Likewise,” He responded.

The bus finally came to a full stop by the first gas station in town. As Y/N had predicted, it was drizzling and very dark. She threw her bag over her shoulder and waited until Niall got off the bus to get out. By the time she had gotten off, most people had already caught a ride into town. She pulled her suitcase to the sidewalk and pulled her phone out.

Y/N just wished she could find a cab or an Uber. She wouldn’t have access to a car until she arrived home. And her house was a bit secluded from town, so she needed a way to get up there before it got later and darker.

As she searched through her browser in hopes of finding a cab service a honk interrupted her.

“Would you like a ride?” It was Niall on a pickup truck. “Free of charge of course”.

“Why?” She laughed as he pulled over.

“I am just being a friendly neighbor”....

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[fentitrbl]

Hi, this is my first story on here, sort of, kind of nervous 😬

Tell Me You Love Me

Jasmine Brooks grew up in a home where love wasn't shown, she struggled throughout her life to love herself, but she never struggled with showing love and affection to those around her. Stumbling around trying to grasp the idea of adulting, she runs into a man at a local bookstore in her new found home of London where she falls way too quickly, way too fast yet again. Along the way she finds out things about the man she would go on to love unconditionally, that would change her perception of true love for the better.

“I don’t regret telling you how much I loved you.”

Word Count: 1,223

TRIGGER WARNING

(The word usage of drugs and borderline verbal abuse, manipulation and emotional neglection will be used)

Jasmine

July 3rd, 2018

Growing up, I never really liked being stuck in a household where the concept of generalized love and affection was swept under the rug. Seeing my parents interact caused us to behave, think and believe the way we did about love.

My stepdad wasn't exactly the nicest person to be around, the yelling and uncontrollable outbursts of anger that came from him made our household frozen with emotions. Anytime we tried to speak out against him, we were seen as disrespectful or in his eyes not worth his time. In other words, My brothers and I were worthless to him if we didn't cave into his dictatorship.

My mom on the other hand stayed quiet anytime there was conflict or tension, she of course would cave into his manipulation and would allow us to be belittled. I felt as though she too was afraid to speak out against him for fear of what outburst might occur. Now, I won't say there aren't times when we have fun and all get along. Of course, there were times when graduations, birthdays, and celebrations came around where the affection was made.

It seemed like the times of despair were greater than the times of happiness in our house when it came to emotional, and physical love and affection.

Sometimes, as children, all we ever wanted was for our parents to sit with us and comfort us when things went haywire, and support us when we were making decisions for ourselves. Not only that but we longed for a real lifetime movie family relationship but because our parents are so strict and headstrong the lovey-dovey stuff was the least of their concerns.

Thankfully, I taught myself the importance of love and educating myself on ways to self-love and love others. At least I think I understand the importance of love.

See at the age of 22 I still struggle with the concept. I have only ever had two relationships, one that I fell in too quickly and had the worst breakup of my life and the other was the healthiest relationship I had been in despite the drugs and borderline toxicity that he had going on in his own life. I unfortunately am a hopeless romantic and fall in love so fast I never see it coming until the flags start to raise.

Of course, I think we all want to find that someone but I have learned that it will take time and patience. Until then, I have decided to pack up my belongings from my family household and move away to another country where I now am a part-time nursing assistant in London.

I originally got the job by signing up online but for some reason since I'm a "foreigner" the process to get in was 10 times harder. Though I am grateful for the job, it has provided me with my now safe place which I call home.

I will say this has been the most alleviating move for me. Yes, I miss my brothers and my mom but I think this move was necessary to start a new life somewhere I had never been before, and somewhere to get away from the toxicity of my family that I want to leave behind.

London has been a breeze, the culture shock has hit me like a bus but I feel like it was worth it. Being here has made me feel so free and so careless about little things that used to bother me. Everyone and everything here has made my experience living here worth every penny, I am almost starting to feel like this is a forever home for m-

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

I snapped my neck up towards the buzzer near the door to my flat as it sounded off in the kitchen. Rubbing my neck in the area I abruptly snapped it in, I start to put my journal and pen down as I walk towards the buzzer confirm button after getting a notification on my phone that my food for dinner had arrived downstairs.

I've been ordering takeout because truly it's all I care for since I work long hours during the week. It was my Friday and I deserved a break from chicken and broccoli meal preps it was beginning to be too healthy for me.

As the food delivery was brought to my door I thanked the man and tipped him before closing my door and walking straight back to my seat on the couch to enjoy this takeout burger and fries that was dripping in grease. Watching some British sitcom, right as I bit into my burger I get a notification.

Text from: Lily

soooo are you down to go to this little cute cat-themed bookstore tomorrow? I really want to find a new romance book to lust over since the last book I read was literally a sob fest and not fun to read at all.. u don't have a choice I am picking you up tomorrow morning and we are going. Maybe we can find you a cute bookstore guy who wears totes and bucket hats like you. ;)

I chew up my food and wipe my hands with a clean napkin before replying, Lily is one of my best friends that I actually met through my job here in London. Without her, I would be lost and wouldn't even have the job I have today if I hadn't met her at the bus stop when I first got here.

Me: hell yeah I am down, I need some new books anyway, the last sci-fi romance book I got was pretty bad considering the characters were literally made from a lab???. I will have you know, I am refraining from cute, intelligent bookstore guys because we all know how I like a guy who can not only dress but reads.*

I get a response almost immediately after putting my phone down

Text from: Lily

I know how much you like those guys that's why tomorrow's mission isn't just to find books silly. I'll see you tomorrow pumpkin

I laugh lightly as I heart her message before I finish up my dinner and head into the bathroom for a warm bath before winding down for the night. After I get dressed in my pajamas and make sure my doors and windows are locked, I climb into my cold bed, finally resting my head on my extra firm pillow excited to start my weekend at an unknown cat bookstore that my friend is dying to take me to.

WHEW.. a journal entry?! I have never done that before but it was exciting to do. next update Jasmine and Lily are going to the bookstore... I wonder what they are going to find. Better yet who they are going to find?

STAY TUNED

I know she is short but its 9pm and I am sleepy LOL

Love u

Comment, Like & Share

[rt2417]

[Hymn of Serata on the Requiem Night] Chapter 2

Rustica: The view is splendid and the scenery is breathtaking; it’s a shame that there’s no liveliness from the people to be found.

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Location: Remote Central Village

Time: Morning

Akira: We’ve arrived…! That was quite the flight.

I fix my hair, which was disheveled from the wind, while surveying the surrounding area.

A serene hilly landscape stretches around. Beneath the boundless blue sky, houses can be seen scattering the spaces between the hills.

Faust: It was a longer trip than I anticipated, but this place sure has a pleasant atmosphere. Both the roads and the houses are beautifully maintained.

Akira: I agree…. Faust, thank you for accompanying me. Having you here is really reassuring.

Faust: It’s nothing. I didn’t expect Oz to mention me, but refusing would be more troublesome for me.

Moreover, if the anomaly possesses a cursed nature of sorts, it’s certainly within my expertise. It would be best to begin investigating while I’m in the mood for it.

Akira: Of course! Lennox, thanks for giving us a ride too!

Lennox: You’re welcome. We’ve gone quite the long distance, do you feel unwell at all?

Akira: Not at all, it was really comfortable. Lennox’s broom feels very stable.

Lennox: Haha, that’s good to hear.

Lennox, who’s carrying his large broom in hand, has also heard about the village investigation. Upon me asking Faust for help, he offered to accompany us.

Akira: And you too, Bradley. Thank you for coming along with us.

Yesterday, I was pretty surprised to hear that you would be joining us….

Bradley: Hmph. It’s all that damn miserable curseworker’s fault. He tricked me into this.

He did some sneaky shit with the twins. They were followin’ me around from dawn to dusk, bitchin’ at me about how I ‘ave to go help with a request.

Faust: I merely consulted with Snow and White for advice. It was a necessary precaution in the event that things may turn dangerous.

If we could have your support, it’d be a great help. But rest assured, I’m not trying to deceive anyone here, so there’s no reason for you to call me “miserable” like that. I’d like an apology.

Bradley: Whatever. The great Bradley-sama has already gone out of his way to tag along. If anything, it should be me yer apologizin’ to, so I don’t wanna hear it.

Faust: My role is to report back. The twins will be the one handling the decision-making.

Arthur: Kenja-sama!

Then, the wizards who went looking for water returned. Rutile offers a water bottle and pops open the lid for me.

Rutile: Here you go, there’s a well at the end of the clearing, so we brought back some water from there.

Akira: Thank you. Was the clearing empty as well?

Cain: Yeah. As expected, it seems that people are wary of the anomalies and decide to stay indoors.

Rustica: The view is splendid and the scenery is breathtaking; it’s a shame that there’s no liveliness from the people to be found.

I heard that the strange phenomena appears at night, but to be so afraid even during daytime like this… How unfortunate.

Riquet: Yes. We need to quickly offer our support and guide the hearts of those who are deeply distressed by this unsettling phenomenon.

Lennox: That’s right. We should talk to the residents first while it’s still bright outside. Bradley, let’s go.

Bradley: Why me? Hey, sensei; time for you to take the lead.

Faust: Oi, don’t pull! Hah, seriously….

Cain: Haha. Faust, your hair got a bit messed up there.

Riquet: Come on, no more stalling. Let’s go visit the home of the person who requested help.

If I recall, it was the one with a red roof… Ah, it’s that one over there.

Bradley: Ooh, look who’s full of energy. Don’t run, fall, ‘nd cry, alright?

Riquet: I won’t run, and I won’t fall either. Don’t treat me like a child.

Rutile: Even so, it sure is quiet, isn’t it? Even though they’re all staying indoors, it would’ve been nice to feel more of a human presence…

Akira: Surely, that report can’t be true, that everyone was dragged into the darkness afterwards…. That’s not possible, is it?

Arthur: No… It appears that there’s likely no need for us to be concerned about that. Look.

In the direction that Arthur’s finger points at, a thin stream of smoke can be seen rising towards the sky.

Akira: That’s a relief…! The villagers really seem to be staying indoors. Plus, I can smell a pleasant aroma as well.

Lennox: It looks like smoke from cooking. They appear to have the energy to eat, so we can be at ease for the moment.

Rustica: This aroma, is it stew? It’s Arthur-sama’s favorite, isn’t it?

Arthur: Yeah, what a strange coincidence. Last night, at the Wizard Manor, Oz-sama and Nero prepared stew.

Bradley: That eastern cook and Oz as a pair…?

Riquet: Oz is more like a taste-tester. I also helped out with the taste testing.

Rutile: Seems like you two discovered a new flavor while we were attending that wedding in the Southern Country the other day. [1]

Riquet: It’s a little salty, but when you spread it on bread and eat it, it’s really delicious! Soft and fluffy bread pairs wonderfully with it….

Faust: ……Are you guys that hungry?

It doesn’t seem like a situation where we’ll be offered a meal, but regardless, we should open this door first.

Riquet: You’re right…. Ahem. Well then, may I call out to the people inside?

Faust: …No, I’ll handle this.

Man's Voice: …..Who is it?

A few moments after knocking; a low, quizzical voice came through the door.

Akira: (…..His voice is trembling.)

Even though we cannot see the owner of the voice, we can feel his frightened presence.

Faust turns to the door, which is still closed, and calls out indifferently.

Faust: We are the Sage’s Wizards.

I believe you have sent a request to the Wizard Manor regarding the anomalies that have been occurring in the village. In response, we have come to investigate.

Man's Voice: Investigate…..

After a moment of contemplation, the door opens hesitantly.

A middle-aged man with brown hair appears. His family can be seen behind him, each of them wearing an expression of nervousness and anticipation in their eyes.

Brown Haired Man: You guys are the Sage’s Wizards….. In that case, how do you plan to deal with that….?

Faust: By “that”, do you mean what you mentioned in the request? The white thing that roams during midnight….

Bradley: “This” ‘nd “that”, just say it already. Yer talkin’ ‘bout the hands that creep ‘round in the middle of the night, aren’t ya.

Brown Haired Man: Eek! P-Please don’t talk about it so loudly!

Curly Haired Old Woman: That’s right…..! If you talk about it, it might come for you……!

Riquet: Doesn’t the anomaly only appear at night? It’s still not even noon right now.

Rustica: Please, do not be so afraid. We are here for that very purpose.

Brown Haired Man: E-Even if you say so… That scene is something I can’t simply forget. Every now and then, I feel like it’s slowly creeping up behind me….

Akira: (The mere mention of the topic is enough for them to act so scared… We’ll need to put their minds at rest, first.)

Please, rest assured. We’ll find out what’s going on and get to the bottom of this.

Cain: Yeah. It must’ve been frightening with so many unknown things going on, but from this point forward, we will conduct a thorough investigation.

Arthur: In order to keep this enchanting village a soothing place for everyone; we will put forth our utmost effort.

Convinced by the friendly and dependable wizards, the man’s tension slowly loosened. As proof of that, the door in front of us opens wider.

Brown Haired Man: ……It is we who should be thanking you. I’ve heard rumors that requests to resolve anomalies are pouring in from all around the world.

Even though I sent the request letter, there was no certainty that you all would come to this remote area. As I think about that, I feel so uneasy…

It seems that everyone was hiding inside their homes, observing us quietly. Before long, people begin to gather in small groups.

Curly Haired Old Woman: Oh, truly, the wise Sage’s Wizards have come! How fortunate we are…

Woman in an Apron: Are you also a wizard too? You look like such a remarkable individual, like a distinguished mercenary.

Lennox: Haha. It’s true that I'm better at fighting with my bare hands, but I'm a wizard too.

And, I’m a shepherd too. Look. [2]

Girl with Freckles: Wah, a small sheep! So cute…..!

Old Man with a Crooked Back: Oh dear, it’s really kind of you to come all the way to this remote village.

Girl with Freckles: Surely, it’s because Prince Arthur is so kind. He must’ve requested the wizards to come and rescue my home from this dire crisis.

Isn’t that right, Mother?

Girl's Mother: That’s right. Prince Arthur loves everyone in the Central Country.

Girl with Freckles: Oh, if only I could thank the Prince in person.

Cain and Riquet, who heard the villagers talking, whisper to Arthur in hushed tones.

Cain: Hear that, Prince Arthur?

Riquet: Somehow, it’s a bit frustrating, isn’t it? Arthur-sama is right here.

Arthur, beaming from hearing the whispers, gently bends down to meet the freckled girl's eyes.

Arthur: I will definitely let Prince Arthur know how thankful you are. I’m certain the Prince will be delighted.

Girl with Freckles: Ahh, I’m glad…! Please pass my thanks on, Wizard-san.

Boy wearing Shorts: Hey, hey; are you guys really real wizards? Show us some magic!

Rutile: Of course we are! « Ortonik • Setomaouge »

As Rutile’s gentle voice echoes and the wind blows, the colorful flowers form a circle around the children.

Rustica: We can also do this sort of thing. « Amoresuto • Viesse »

With a gentle poof, the flowers change into cute little birds and flit around the children.

Girl with Freckles: So cool, so cool! So this is real magic….!

Boy wearing Shorts: Hey, big bro, can you show us something too?

Bradley: Hah? Who do ya think yer messin’ with? Magic ain’t just for tricks. Don’t take a wizard lightly, lad.

Mustached Man: Haha. I’ll be able to brag to the neighbors that I met the Sage’s Wizards after this.

Akira: (What a relief….. The people in the village look much happier now compared to earlier.)

Faust: ……Even if it’s a remote village, it still harbors the spirit of the Central Country.

Lennox: Yes. It seems that what Faust-sama was worried about has been avoided for the time being.

Faust: Yeah. In remote areas, there are often strong prejudices against wizards.

Faust: Even so, the given situation is already riddled with uncertainties. There’s no telling what might happen…. But it seems I worried needlessly.

this is a cute call back to the recent june bride event!

*baah* sfx

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[lavandermin]

from sea of flowers, garden of eternity | xiao

pairing | xiao/reader

word count | 2k

genre | pwp, fluff, light angst, brief smut

note | glaze lily spirit reader, you are also in perpetual pain I’m sorry

“Xiao…” he hears your voice meekly call.

The adeptus is already on his feet before you can fully enter the room, his eyes quickly focused on you. He scans your body language diligently, looking for signs of pain or discomfort. It’s become a routine by now.

“Are you…?” His voice trails off when you shake your head apologetically. The slight strain in your smile doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I’m alright for now. The pains haven’t started yet. I think I’m set for another few hours, a day if I’m lucky,” you reassure him. “I just— wanted to check on you.”

Xiao gives you a blank look, one you recognize as confusion. “Check… on me…?”

“Just to see how you’re doing,” you clarify with a shy smile. As you make your way to sit on the bed, you gently pat the space next to you.

There’s a slight red upon his cheeks as he chooses to take up your invitation. The bed dips under his weight, and words do not need to be spoken to know both your minds drift briefly to past trysts that took place where you sit.

“I’m heading out to patrol the area in an hour. If you need anything at all, speak my name,” Xiao announces quietly. It’s a brief awkward silence as he rigidly sits next to you—tense almost. You answer him with a simple nod, hands absentmindedly rubbing little circles on your legs to ease the tingles of pain that slowly resurfaced.

Conversation was scarce the past few months you were placed into his watchful guard. The relationship you both harbored was a blurred line you tried not to think about too much for fear of over-complicating it.

And with your entire being, you could say you came to the unfortunate doom of falling in love with him. The emotional distance he kept oftentimes only confused you as much as your own emotions left him puzzled and a little flustered.

He kept you alive. That was the simplicity of the details Xiao was given. Perhaps it was a favor he was doing you, but he diligently carried it out with all the steadfastness of a contract bestowed onto him by the former Lord of Geo.

—

“I’m sure you are aware of the situation near Qingce Village,” Zhongli had brought up upon summoning Xiao several moons after the stirrings of a slumbering god.

Though the situation was previously dire, all was settled—Xiao knew this as a fact, for he was the one that swiftly took care of the aftermath of a dormant god’s power seeping through the earth. So, the battle hadn’t ended then…

“I was careless—“

Zhongli cut him off, carefully setting down his cup in its saucer. “On the contrary, this was in no way able to be foreseen by you. The world has a way of ending and raising new questions, just as easily as it provides answers to those who seek them.”

On the small garden table, Zhongli’s eyes trail to the glaze lily that sits in a small decorative vase. Unlike most, this lone flower is fully bloomed despite the time of day. It glows ever so slightly—weakly almost.

“You are aware that glaze lilies grow in the Qingce area, and there are a few wild outcroppings that shy away from prying eyes,” Zhongli starts.

His gloved finger reaches out to tenderly graze the petals, and at once the flower closes up. The petals take on a dullness, and visibly they start to wilt in small patches.

“The reasons are uncertain, but rumor spread around the village of a wandering ghost that followed the moon aimlessly. A spirit born of glaze lilies appeared after the battle that took place near there. It seems the power seeped deep into cracked earth among the flowerbeds.”

The young adeptus remained quiet, taking in the information. What exactly did this have to do with him, he wondered?

With a hint of apprehension, Xiao asks, “This spirit—has it taken on a malevolent nature?”

Instead of answering straight away, Zhongli wordlessly stands and makes his way back indoors. Xiao obediently follows, curious of the nature of this spirit.

“Nothing of the sort. However, these glaze lilies fell victim to the corruption of your karmic debt and at the same time were nurtured by immense adeptal power. There is a wavering balance that must be kept, for her body is as fragile as a flower’s and cannot withstand the depletion and shifts of adeptal energy.” With graceful steps, Zhongli stops before a door. “No other adeptus has successfully remained compatible with the energy she needs. So far it has only brought excruciating pain for her, and I fear she may die at this rate.”

With a silent nod, Xiao processes this information. His gloved hand is unmoving on the door handle.

“What are the terms of this contract,” Xiao silently asks, amber eyes trained on the door in front of him.

“My time has long passed to give you a new contract, Adeptus Xiao.” Zhongli chuckles fondly at the serious habits of the adeptus before him. “This is a choice I am giving you. It may take centuries for her body to adjust to the adeptal power she now harbors. If she is compatible with you, it is up to you to decide whether you supply her with your adeptal energy, otherwise she may not make it past next week.”

Xiao remains quiet for a brief moment before speaking softly, “Her body is tearing itself apart…”

“Correct.”

There’s something in that fact that stirs feelings Xiao isn’t used to in his chest. He accepts, and the first memory of you that adorns his mind is one that clenches his heart in a way he rarely experiences. The pain that twists and contorts your face as you desperately heave, body seemingly tearing itself apart in a way the naked eye cannot see.

You’re a beautiful tragedy born of moonlight and sweet soil. And in that moment when your eyes meet his, a single tear rolls down your cheek. He cannot fathom the thought of letting your life end as quickly as it began.

The door behind him clicks shut, and he takes your fragile life into his hands.

—

The lights of the house are dim—a subtle golden glow against a comforting darkness in the blanket of night. A meadow of glaze lilies surrounds the little cottage in a sea of fragrance. A prominent mark of your abode.

The little house defended by mountains is secluded, one which Zhongli sent to be made for you while your body stabilizes.

And though the exterior is tranquil, within its walls come soft pants and gasps. Xiao’s brows are knit together in concentration as he ruts against you.

“Please—Ah…nnh a–again,” you beg against your trembling body’s protests.

And he wordlessly complies, folding your legs until your knees are practically at the sides of your head. His hips pick up the pace and his thrusts become desperate, bodies covered in a sheen of sweat. The moans you let out are loud—obscene as he fills you up until you’re overflowing. The pains have long subsided, and you choose to let him overcompensate in giving you the energy that will get you by another few days.

In the serene calm of night, the tranquility is drowned out by the squelching sounds of your bodies meeting each other through desperate thrusts as both of you are sent over the edge. His name falls from your lips in a melody Xiao has grown addicted to. For the nth time that night you come undone beneath him, your essence stabilized.

There’s a swelling warmth in your chest that blooms like spring meadows as Xiao buries his face in the crook of your neck. The tips of his ears are a bright scarlet and though he tries to control it, he is still left a breathless mess as he rides out his orgasm.

“Is it…enough?” Xiao asks between pants, his cock still buried deep within you.

He’s still twitching within you and your entire body shudders with delight at the feeling.

“You… haah—can keep… going if you want,” you offer weakly. There’s a dazed look in your half-lidded eyes that makes Xiao’s chest squeeze. “‘M full but you’re still…”

Hard.

You glance down to where you two are still joined together, the view of his come leaking out of you shamelessly sending heat between your legs again. The tips of Xiao’s ears turn bright red though he tries to remain composed.

“I’ll be fine. You should get some rest to preserve the energy longer.”

He pulls out and ignores the way your eyes look away dejectedly. Before he can stand to go, your hand gently tugs him back down. Xiao allows himself to be pulled against you, his head resting in the valley of your naked chest.

“Stay with me for a bit?”

Xiao doesn’t answer right away, and your heart leaps when he lets out a little sigh and agrees.

“Alright.”

The minutes tick by in tranquil silence. Both tired bodies ignore the sticky feeling of sweat and sex. It’s a feeling you’re both quite used to by now.

“Xiao?” you start quietly after a while. He hums in response, your fingers running through his dark hair soothingly. “Can I kiss you?”

The question is soft, self-conscious almost with the fear of rejection. But you were beyond a breaking point. The feelings were welling up in your chest like a high tide as you felt him tense up at your question.

Sex was common—quite often as a means of easily transferring adeptal energy to you. And because it was a painful process to take in, you found that this method dulled the pain through the twisted pleasures and mixed sensations.

But that’s all it was— a means to keep you alive. You could never say there was a time Xiao kissed you and he always showed restraint in touching your body more than necessary. His bodily needs were never foremost on his mind and he would never tell you how his hands ached to roam your body, how this arrangement became an illusion of a different reality he couldn’t have. And so he locked away his emotions for his own sake.

Xiao lifted his face from your chest, his golden eyes wide with momentary confusion—perhaps even shock. And your face… those wonderful sparkling eyes that glistened with glossy tears on the brink of rolling down your face. He wished he wasn’t the reason you were crying.

In an instant he propped himself up on his forearms, feeling you lightly tremble beneath him from holding back the urge to cry. A quiet hiccup left you as you were overwhelmed by bottled up feelings all at once, his thumb gently brushing your tears away.

“Why?” was all he asked.

Though it was a genuine question, his actions remained tender and calmed the anxiety that gripped your naive heart.

“Because I love you—because I think I love you.”

Quietly you hiccuped beneath him and Xiao gently rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

“Then love me if it makes you happy,” he responds softly. The tears that twinkle down your face like falling stars are gently kissed away by his soft lips. “I’m with you until the day I die, and if loving me makes living less painful for you then use me as an anchor to reality.”

Your soft crying is hushed as Xiao presses a tender kiss to your lips. It’s short and just enough to bloom your heart with newfound emotions you had yet to experience. Perhaps you reminded the adeptus of himself in a simpler time—naive, innocent. For that, he took pity on you, and also fell deeply in love with you though he would not know it for a long time.

Simply put, he wouldn’t allow himself to know it.

The flowers that surround the small house glow and dance in the night breeze. They bloom with your newfound knowledge—heartache.

[sondepoch]

Breaking (4/5)

Breaking the Collar

Nine months in the human trafficking circuit has destroyed every sense of normality you ever knew. For you, it's commonplace to be ordered on your knees for your owner, his clients, anyone else Childe deems necessary—and you've reached a point where you accept it this misery, just going along with the motions of life because there's nothing else to do.

Diluc and Kaeya change that.

They enter your life on a regular workday afternoon, stepping inside Childe's massive office under the pretense of sorting out a business deal, but a single hastily written message makes it clear that they're not here to hurt you: they're here to help you.

The only issue is that you have no idea how to escape Childe.

Fastened | Unlockable | Lighter | Breaking | Broken | Gone | ✔

MASTERLIST

Childe is broken. 

That’s the only way to explain it, really.

Something in him seemed to change after his meeting with Diluc and Kaeya. The lazy smiles, playful grins, and rugged charms that Childe used to project as naturally as light off the sun have evaporated into thin air, leaving nothing but a shell of a man you once thought to be so powerful.

“Ajax,” you whisper, calling his name to wake him up. All he really needs to do is open his eyes. You know that he’s already awake, long used to how rhythmic the rise and fall of his chest is from months of sleeping by his side, but the redhead ignores you, pressing his head deeper into the crook of your neck.

“Ajax,” you repeat, frustration beginning to drip into your tone. “Ajax, you have to wake up.”

Except that he doesn’t actually have to.

The man received an onslaught of calls the day after his meeting with Diluc and Kaeya, all of which he answered with varying degrees of frustration, but ever since then, his phone has been radio silent. Where Childe used to be out of bed every day by eleven and in his office by twelve to attend to his meetings, he’s now done nothing but stay in bed all day—and the worst part is that no one seems to care, his phone completely silent save for the daily calls he’s been avoiding from Scaramouche.

Where a few days ago, you were annoyed with the fact that he forced you to do nothing with him for hours on end, not even fucking you at night the way he always used to, now, you’ve begun to grow concerned.

“Ajax, get up.”

You try to pull his head off your shoulder in hopes that you can force him to at least look you in the eye, but the way he instantly stiffens and burrows deeper into your shoulder is proof enough that he’s not going anywhere.

You sigh.

This marks the third day where he’s refused to even brush his teeth in the morning, the fourth where he’s refused to speak. If your life were anything normal, you’d have forced him up long ago—but you’re hardly in a position to pretend you have any authority over him. It’s clear that he knows that, too.

“Ajax, I really need you to get up...”

—which is a true statement, surprisingly. 

The plan you’d developed to initiate your escape, perfected over the car ride back from Childe’s meeting with Diluc and Kaeya, was simple: snag a knife from the kitchen in Childe’s apartment, sneak into his office, use said knife to tear open the briefcase you know must have your documents inside of it, and then start running to the hotel Diluc and Kaeya said they’d be in.

You spent hours perfecting this: figuring out where Childe would be most likely to store the kitchen knives, what time of day will be best for sneaking out, and even what clothing you’ll wear when running away, since you can’t exactly run through the streets of Snezhnaya in your usual birthday suit, and for once, it seemed like the stars had actually aligned for you.

Unfortunately, when you developed your plan, you hadn’t accounted for Childe’s sudden change in behavior.

“Ajax, please…”

But the man barely even shifts in response. 

Hours later, after you’ve long given up on waking him and have instead decided to join him in his slumber, you both wake up together to a voice much louder than either of yours.

“What the fuck,” Childe groans, throat hoarse from not speaking for days on end, “is that sound.”

In your opinion, it’s pretty clear what that sound is: Scaramouche’s aggressively loud shouts of “Open the fuck up!” and “Stop dodging my calls!” and “Get out of bed, asshat!” accompanied by a nonstop banging that makes you grateful no one else lives on this floor doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

Instead, all you say is a quiet ”I think that’s Scaramouche.”

Childe withdraws his head from your neck with a mocking glare as the intensity of Scaramouche’s banging increases. 

“I’m coming in, dickweed!” the man shouts from many rooms over, and that’s the only warning you and Childe get before you hear what has to be the sound of a door being kicked in.

“Did he just…”

Childe stares at you in shock.

A small smile flits onto your face, grateful that someone has finally come to snap Childe back to his senses.

Scaramouche doesn’t bother quieting his footsteps as he stomps towards the master bedroom. He throws the door open with such force that you almost fear it'll rebound straight back into his face, but Scaramouche is across the room with his hands around Childe’s neck so fast that you’ve barely blinked before your owner’s head is being bashed against the bedframe.

“What the fuck,” Scaramouche snarls. “Made you think it was a good idea to tell anyone that you were the one who lost Lumine.”

“I didn’t—” 

Your owner’s voice is cut off when Scaramouche grips Childe’s neck and wordlessly threatens to hurt him again.

“Do you know how many problems this will cause? No one wants to work with you anymore, Tartaglia.”

“I know, and—”

Scaramouche pushes Childe’s head back into the bed frame, albeit with a little less force this time.

“No one wants to work with me anymore for having worked with you. Same for Signora and Dottore.”

“There’s nothing I can—”

“And all your big clients somehow got wind of it, too. They’re trying to switch over, and they’re all going to traffickers who aren’t associated with the Fatui because you—”

“Do you think I fucking wanted people to find out?”

It’s the first proper sentence you’ve heard from Childe since he left that meeting room with Diluc and Kaeya.

“Do you think I fucking want the literal shittiest people in the world thinking that they can look down on me?” Childe shoves Scaramouche off him, blue eyes narrowing into a glare. “I’ve already lost everything, asshole, so I don’t need you here if all you’re going to do is remind me of that.”

Scaramouche’s face settles into a frown, though you do see a hint of apology in his eyes. The pain in Childe’s voice didn’t go lost on anyone in this room.

“You smell like shit,” Scaramouche says abruptly, looking away. “Take a shower. We’ll figure out how to fix this after that.”

Childe doesn’t say anything at that, merely stepping out of bed in his sweatpants and walking to the bathroom.

“Go with him,” Scaramouche tells you. “You smell even worse.”

You’re partially insulted, partially grateful when Scaramouche says that. Insulted because, well, it can hardly be considered your fault that your owner clung to you in his bed for days on end without letting you shower. Grateful because after watching Childe do nothing for so long, you’re not sure he’ll even be able to take a proper shower on his own. 

“Ajax?” you whisper softly, following him into the bathroom. “Ajax, should I—”

“Be quiet,” he whispers. Childe steps inside the shower, eyes downcast. “Please,” he adds in a softer voice.

The man doesn’t start the shower until you’ve stepped in beside him, and you’re jarred when you realize how familiar this position is. It reminds you of how, months ago, when Childe first declared you his favorite and began inviting you to spend the night with him in his apartment, he brought you with him to the shower because he couldn’t trust you to be alone for so long. It was probably his first step in his attempts to win you over, since even back then, he was always so touchy with you, always asking what your preferred shampoo scents were and insisting that you let him wash your hair.

Back then, you were the sullen one, timid to speak and hesitant to look your owner in the eye. When he washed your hair for you, it was all you could do to shut your eyes and wait for his touch to go away, but now...

“Let me,” you tell him when he reaches for a bottle of shampoo.

It’s the first time you’ve ever initiated anything like this. You hold your breath, wondering if Childe will refuse you.

Wordlessly, the man bows his head to you.

You don’t entirely know what compels you to massage shampoo into his hair with such tenderness. A part of you says that it’s because you feel guilty, since it’s obvious by now that your slip-up to Kaeya that Lumine and Childe were connected is what’s resulted in his current plight, but another part of you does it simply because it feels natural. Standing next to him, his body blocking out most of the water as you let the soapy suds rinse from his hair, feels homey. Peaceful. Pleasant, almost as if the relationship between you isn’t owner and slave, as if the two of you are actually equals and you’re simply caring for him out of the goodness of your heart.

Childe seems to sense it, too, because right after you’ve washed conditioner from his hair and have finally begun using a loofah to clean his body, he stops your arms. He holds them loosely, just enough strength in his fingertips so that you know he wants you to stop but still sufficiently little that you’d be able to keep moving if you want to, and the two of you stand there like that for much too long, naked and vulnerable, staring into each other’s eyes as warm water beats down at you.

“I…”

It’s the first time Childe is actually speaking to you in such a long time, and his eyes soften the way they always do when he looks at you and makes you feel like you’re the only thing to exist in this world.

“I think I—”

“Hurry up in there!” The sound of Scaramouche kicking the door ruins the moment, and Childe abruptly drops your wrists from his hold. He steps back quickly, almost as if realizing how close his lips had moved towards yours, and a familiar pink stains his cheeks as he glances away from you and hurriedly scrubs the rest of his body clean. 

“Sorry,” he blurts, so quick and uncomfortable that it almost reminds you of how he normally is. You’d believe it, too, if not for the slight twinge of distance in his eyes that tells you he’s still thinking about Lumine or whatever it is that has him so out of it. “Uh, thanks. I’m, uh, gonna go. Gotta talk to him, y’know? You can, uh, finish up in here.”

You almost want to laugh at how awkward Childe is as he steps out of the shower and towels off to brush his teeth, blue eyes flickering to your form only to glance away in embarrassment when he realizes that he’s being watched.

“I’ll put new clothes on the bed for you, so…”

Childe nods stiffly at you and closes the door, and it’s all you can do to blink after him. 

Ten minutes later, once you’re fully clean for the first time in much too long and you’ve worn the clothes lain out for you on the bed, you make your exit from the master bedroom and follow the sound of voices into the living room.

“Listen, I—”

“Wait.” Childe puts up a hand, gesturing for you to come over. Wordless, you do, though it surprises you when your owner lets you sit at his side instead of on his lap. “Alright, continue.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes the slightest before going on:

“All I was saying was that your career might be salvageable if you relocate. Let’s say you drop the name Tartaglia and instead fill the role of Capitano. You’ll have to move to Sumeru, but you might be able to continue your work there. Everyone now knows that Tartaglia was responsible for losing Lumine, but as long as you don’t tell people in Sumeru that you were Tartaglia, no one should question you there.”

“I hate everything about that plan,” Childe says, crossing his arms. “I don’t even know what language they speak there. I’ll be the foreigner. Everyone will think that I came to Sumeru as a last resort because I couldn't sell my merch anywhere else. Do you know how much I made fun of those two Mondstadt pricks for trying to do business here? They didn’t even have accents either, so imagine what people will say when I—”

“You don’t exactly have the luxury of caring about what people will say behind your back.” Scaramouche glances away, sensing that it’s a low blow. “I mean, listen. No one wants to work with you anymore, and this is the only way ‘you’ can become someone else.”

But Childe remains silent.

“You can keep all your merchandise,” Scaramouche continues. “In fact, the people in Sumeru will probably like that, since it means that the girls won’t know the language and they won’t be able to escape or ask for help. Hell, you can even bring her—”

“Is that even a question?” Childe asks defensively, a hand wrapping protectively around your knee. “Listen, Scaramouche, I appreciate you trying to help me, but Sumeru isn’t—”

“Isn’t what? Isn’t ideal? You letting it slip that you’re the imbecile who lost Lumine wasn’t ideal, but look where it—”

“I didn’t say shit!” Childe hisses in response. “Do you seriously think I’m that dumb? That I’d let those two Mondstadt pricks, of all people, know something that could destroy my career? That has now destroyed my career?”

“If not you, then who, Tartaglia? The only people who know are a part of the Fatui, and it’s not like—”

Scaramouche gestures to you wildly, evidently about to say that it’s not like you could have known, except that he now remembers that he did let mention Lumine in front of you to Childe once, and you can see the moment where he connects the dots.

“You fucking bitch,” Scaramouche whispers, eyes wide with fury and shock.

“No,” Childe says, standing up abruptly. “She didn’t say it intentionally. She still doesn’t know who Lumine is.”

“But she told someone, Tartaglia. You’re literally going to be kicked out of Snezhnaya because of her, and you still want to protect her?”

Childe’s mouth forms a thin line.

Scaramouche laughs mirthlessly.

“Fucking hell. Do you think this is a joke? Your life isn’t the only one she sabotaged, Tartaglia. Everyone in the Fatui is suffering, and if you keep letting yourself get seduced by your fucking toys, you should just quit being a human trafficker before one of us shoots you.”

Tartaglia says nothing.

“You’re a disappointment. At this point, you’ve caused more trouble for us than you have good. Everything you do seems to be another international incident, and I’m fucking sick of it.”

More silence.

“It’s people like you that make me terrified to retire. The more I talk to you, the more I think that you would have been better off as a slave rather than the owner. I never should have let you move up. You were built for taking dick, not for trying to control it.”

Your eyes widen as Childe remains silent.

“And you know who takes the blame every time you fuck up? Me. It’s me. Everyone in the goddamn Fatui thinks I made a bad call now when I set you free and, I’m going to be honest, I’m beginning to think they’re ri—

Childe stiffens next to you, standing.

“That’s enough,” he says, the look in his eyes dark. “What’s done is done,” he says. “Or do you need to vent some more?”

Scaramouche crosses his hands, a look of...regret? embarrassment? pity? Flickering across his eyes. He stands up with an unreadable look on his face. 

“I’m...being serious. Consider whether or not you still want to work in the Fatui. This is the best shot you’ll have at leaving.” Scaramouche’s eyes flit over to you, where Childe’s hand is now wrapped protectively around your waist. “Though if I’m honest, I don’t think you even want to be a human trafficker anymore.”

Childe says nothing to that, merely waving casually as Scaramouche exits the apartment through the hole he made in the door. You wince when you see the damage, wanting to ask your owner how he plans on repairing it, but another question is more pressing on your mind:

“Ajax?”

“Yes?”

“Who’s Lumine?”

Your owner looks at you, brushing his thumb by your cheek as his eyes take on a nostalgic tint. 

“I’ll tell you some other time.”

Childe goes back to his bad sleeping habits as soon as Scaramouche leaves. Within seconds, your owner is shirtless and has flopped onto the bed, shooting you a pleading look to curl up next to him. Thankfully, this spell seems to last a little shorter than the previous one because although the man refuses to get out of bed, he at least entertains you with a conversation.

“What else?” you ask, a playful smile on your face as Childe continues telling you stories about Xiangling. 

“Well, there was this one time where some kid was making fun of Xiangling for being bad at art, so she and I decided that we’d bring in sandwiches for the entire class and make his extra spicy. I actually helped her with the cooking process and all, so I watched how much chili she put into the sauce she was going to use for this kid’s sandwich and it was ridiculous, like I thought she was trying to murder him or something, but anyway, we get to school and start handing out the sandwiches, and…”

You’re completely enthralled as Childe tells you the story of how he had to go to the nurse’s office because he, unfortunately, was the poor soul to eat the overly-spicy sandwich through a Xiangling-esque mix-up—and you don’t care that he’s probably making it up just to see you laugh, all that matters is that the man is smiling and talking and not staring miserably at the ceiling the way he has been for the past few days.

“You should try that the next time you’re in a business meeting with someone you don’t like,” you say, giggling. “It would be such a flex if they thought that you could eat something so spicy while they’d struggle.”

“Maybe,” Childe chuckles. “I really wanted to do something like that to those two Mondstadt pricks—and it might work, too, since they’re at least still doing business with me—but they already left the country.”

“What?” you ask in alarm, fear presenting itself as excitement through the speed with which you respond.

“Yeah,” Childe hums. “They had to go early or something. I guess it’s fine since we already agreed on the mode of transportation, but—”

“Wait, really? B-but hasn’t it been less than two weeks since your last meeting with them?”

Alarm bells begin to ring inside your mind. You remember—you swear you remember the two of them telling you that you’d have at least two weeks to get the documents before they’d leave. But could it be that they’ve forgotten about you? What if they decided you were trouble? What if they know that you’ve begun to grow close to Childe as of recent? What if they—fuck—you’ve actually begun to like the redhead, haven’t you? The fact that he’s not bringing to meetings anymore, handing your body off to be fucked like a toy before he takes you back, has made you forget that the man in front of you is a monster, hasn’t it? Could they somehow know?

A pool of dread rises in your stomach.

What you did today in the shower, willingly touching him and showing him affection he’s done nothing to deserve, was disgraceful. How can you expect Diluc and Kaeya to free you if you’re not even doing your best to be freed? What if they know about what happened today? What if they think you’re a lost cause? What if they abandoned you here because of your own naivety, and you’re cursed to a life of human trafficking for the rest of your days because of your own idiocy?

“Angel?” Childe asks, cupping your cheek. You violently flinch away from his touch, a defensive anger creeping into your eyes. “Angel, I—what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I…”

You shut your eyes, reminding yourself of your position. He may not be using you right now, but Childe is a human trafficker. You’re nothing more than his favorite toy. Getting close to him like this will do nothing but hinder your escape.

“It’s nothing,” you say, averting your eyes. Still, you make no effort to return to Childe’s warm embrace. “Just, um, tired. I’m going to take a nap.”

Childe must know that what you’re saying is utter bullshit, primarily because these past few days have been nothing but sleep and rest and more sleep, but he doesn’t push it. “Alright,” he says, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

You turn away from him before he can get close. 

There’s a strange sound Childe makes, then. It’s something between a sigh and whimper, dejected and hurt all at once, but you don’t turn around to check on him. He’s a monster, you tell yourself, forcing the image of Childe looking like a kicked puppy out of your mind. A fucking monster.

And the only two people in the world who are willing to get you away from this monster may have just abandoned you, so you really need to get your shit together.

Pretending to be asleep comes naturally to you after nine months of learning that sleep, even if feigned, was the only escape you could ever have from this life. Hours pass until Childe really has fallen into slumber, something you test by calling his name out quietly, and then you know that it’s time to go—or to at least go do what you can.

You’re abruptly grateful that you and Childe went to bed right after Scaramouche left because it means that you’re fully clothed, which is an unnatural state for someone like you. When you quietly climb out of bed and out of Childe’s apartment through the hole Scaramouche made in his front door, it almost makes you feel normal because even though you’re still dressed in a cutesy skirt and blouse, you’re not being accompanied by the one man who has never let you go outside alone.

When you finally take the elevator down the ground floor of Childe’s building, no one pays you a second glance as you walk out the front door.

Then, your mind is abuzz.

Don’t look at anyone, you tell yourself because you know that if you have a panic attack here, no one will be able to save you. Don’t look at anyone, just go to the hotel.

Hours of pretending to be asleep helped you sort out your thoughts: it makes sense that Childe would believe Diluc and Kaeya to be gone. After all, they don’t want your owner getting any ideas that they were the ones to free you; however, you need to make sure that they’re actually here. 

And besides, you reason to yourself as you cross the street and step towards the hotel you’ve seen so many times across Childe’s apartment. It’s best to make sure I know where they are so that I don’t get confused when I actually escape. It’s important to do this.

With your eyes locked on the ground the whole time, you enter the hotel and take the elevator to the second floor where rooms 213 and 214 will be, just as Diluc and Kaeya instructed. No one pays you any attention, as if reminding you of your insignificance, but you’re grateful for how invisible you seem to be as you exit an empty elevator and wander down a carpeted hall. 

This hotel is a considerable downgrade from the extravagant location Diluc and Kaeya were renting out as a front for their supposed trafficking, but it sets you at ease. When you finally stand in front of room 213, it looks almost...normal.

Hesitant, you raise a hand and rap your knuckles against the wood.

“E-excuse me?” you ask, tension beginning to seep in. “Is anyone—are—Diluc? Kaeya?”

Their names sound foreign off your tongue but you repeat them anyway, the intensity of your knocking increasing until you’re practically banging on the door the way Scaramouche was this morning. 

No response.

Panic begins to surface, and you quickly switch over to room 214, not bothering to start knocking quietly as you bang on the door desperately.

“Is anyone there?” you call, trying to keep your voice sufficiently low so as to not disturb other patrons of the hotel, but it’s really hard when your fears that Diluc and Kaeya really have abandoned you grow truer and truer with each passing second. “Please!” you sob, practically kicking the door in your attempts to will it into opening. “Diluc! Kaeya! You—you promised you’d—”

The door opens right as you’re about to bang your fists against it once more, and an incredibly annoyed and shirtless Diluc stands to catch both your fists right before you can hit his chest with them.

“I’m here,” he says in that familiar, deep voice of his. “Calm down. I’m here.”

“Oh,” you say, relief suddenly washing through you as you practically go boneless in front of him. You know it’s inappropriate, that the two of you share no real relationship other than the fact that he’s trying to help you escape, but you can’t help the way you instinctively throw yourself forward to embrace him. “Thank you,” you practically sob into his chest. “Thank you for being here.”

“I—” Diluc is quick to pull you back, and he levels his stare with you just as he wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Did you escape? Do you have the documents?”

The redhead glances around the hall once to confirm that no one is watching before he pulls you inside his room. You’re surprised to see a gagged and naked Venti on his bed, the boy’s eyes round in...fear? concern? You’re not sure. The gag surprises you until you remember Kaeya’s previous declaration that Venti was a masochist. He must be into BDSM, too.

“No,” you tell the man, shaking your head. “I just—Ajax told me that you and Kaeya left. S-so I wanted to check to see if you’d actually…”

It sounds stupid when you say it out loud. From the face Diluc is making, he seems to be thinking the same thing.

“Okay,” he says, effectively inviting you in as he walks back inside the room. He approaches the dresser to slip on the black and red gloves you saw from him last time, wearing them before moving to sit on the bed next to Venti, big hands cupping the boy’s slender thighs. “Okay, we’re here. And we’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Okay,” you respond, trying your hardest not to look at Venti. It’s clear that you walked in on an intimate moment. “Um…”

“We were having sex.”

Your cheeks burn. “Right,” you say, nodding your head. “That’s—um—all I—just wanted to check—going to—”

“Don’t leave unless you’re sure that there’s nothing you need,” Diluc says. “We can help you, you know. Give you a lockpick or a hammer or even a gun if that’s what it’ll take to get you access to those documents.”

“No, I’m…”

A soft smile floats onto your face. Awkward as he may be, you’re sure that this is just Diluc’s stoic way of being nice. 

“I’m good. I already have a plan for the documents.” You’re about to smile and make your leave when you remember something that’s been at the forefront of your mind for ages. “But…”

Diluc lifts an eyebrow, waiting.

“Um...you don’t need to answer this, i-it’s actually not relevant, so I should—”

“What is it.”

Somehow, when Diluc says that with such a sharp gaze, it feels like less of a question and more of a demand.

You shudder, familiar with the sensation. Nine months of training makes your response automatic:

“Do you know what happened to Lumine?”

Diluc’s face changes. 

“I mean—you don’t have to tell me. I was just curious. Ajax keeps talking about her and Scaramouche kept mentioning her and I don’t understand why she’s so important, so I haven’t—”

“Lumine was the name of a human trafficking slave who escaped,” Diluc says, folding his arms. Next to him, Venti leans into him and pulls his knees in, hiding his manhood. “I don’t know any exact dates, since there was probably a gap between when she escaped and when people began finding out, but it happened sometime within the past two years.”

“O...kay?” You cock your head to the side. That...honestly doesn’t sound like a big deal at all, honestly. Slaves escape all the time: heck, Scaramouche said that Xiao disappeared just a few weeks ago, so why isn’t Zhongli facing the same loss in business that Childe’s going through?

Diluc seems to see the confusion on your face.

“The thing was, when Lumine escaped, she took important documents with her.” Oh, you think, beginning to understand why that would be a problem. “At the time, no one knew who had lost her, since that person maintained anonymity during the whole affair, but those documents were said to have definitive evidence that could be used to prosecute basically every human trafficker who had business dealings with Lumine's handler. And since that person was anonymous, it meant that every human trafficker in the world was at risk.”

“I...see.” Now you understand why people wouldn’t want to work with Childe at the revelation that he was the man who lost Lumine. “That’s unfortunate.”

“I guess.” Diluc shrugs and crosses his arms. “The incident was resolved pretty quickly, and everyone soon found out that Lumine had been killed before she could hand the documents over to anyone of importance. Still, though, for someone as prolific as Tartaglia to be the imbecile to have lost his merchandise…”

You hate how your heart immediately beats in defiance when Diluc calls Childe an imbecile. He is an imbecile, you try to tell yourself, despite the fact that you feel nothing but sorrow and pity for him now that you understand what situation you’ve put him in. An imbecile. An asshole. A monster. 

But somehow, your heart doesn’t seem to agree with your mind on those words.

“And it’s my fault everyone knows…” you mumble, more to yourself than Diluc or Venti.

Scaramouche’s words from this morning echo through your mind—Your life isn’t the only one she sabotaged, Tartaglia: everyone in the Fatui is suffering—and instantly, guilt hits you like a ton of bricks. Yes, these are human traffickers, but if you remember the utterly dejected look in Childe’s eye this morning, it feels infinitely worse to know that you’re the cause of his misery.

“Are you feeling bad for him?” Diluc asks in a whisper, but the look in his eye is dangerous. Even Venti, who had been pressed beside him up until now, begins to look fearful. “Are you seriously sympathizing with Tartaglia?”

“No, I—I’m not—”

“I hope not,” Diluc says, stony. “Because there are hundreds of other girls who want to be freed and haven’t begun to feel bad for their handlers, and Kaeya and I would much rather focus on them.”

“I’m not—”

“I hope so.”

Diluc stands abruptly, and you take that as your cue to leave.

“Th-thank you for taking the time to—”

“Yeah.”

Diluc practically pushes you out the door frame, then, his broad chest obstructing your view of the inside of the room, but your eyes fly to Venti, who kneels on the bed to make eye contact with you over the redhead's shoulder.

As Diluc begins reiterating the instructions for your return, you focus on the boy in the background.

Venti doesn’t seem to care that he’s nude. Hell, there’s not an ounce of shame on his face despite being gagged and covered in hickeys, and it would alarm you if you weren’t focused on the way he lifts his bruised arms up in an X-formation and begins shaking his head frantically. His lips appear to be forming the words to something, but you can’t understand what he’s saying through the gag.

You’re about to ask what Venti is saying when Diluc turns to see what you’re looking at.

For a second, the room seems to drop ten degrees. Venti freezes, staring at Diluc with round eyes, almost scared, and you swear you hear the redhead growl for a second.

A muffled whimper spills from Venti’s lips.

Diluc turns to you, a gentle smile that unsettles you on his face. “I think you should go,” he says. “Venti must really want my attention now if he’s trying to play games to get it.”

“O-oh, but what was he—”

“I suggest you leave now,” Diluc says, the kind-not-kind smile beginning to slip from his lips. “Because you’ve been here a while, and the last thing you should want is for Tartaglia to find you missing.”

“What about Kaeya—”

“Kaeya’s at the gym,” Diluc practically spits. “So unless you want Tartaglia tracking you there, too, I’d go straight back to your little apartment with him and pray that he didn’t notice you left.”

Despair builds in your chest at that. You were certain Childe was asleep when you left, but what if he reaches out for you while he’s sleeping? What if that wakes him up and he sees that you’re gone? What if—

“Go,” Diluc orders.

The redhead doesn’t wait for you to respond, then, simply slamming the door in your face. Immediately, you’re back in action. You dart for the elevator, knowing that you need to get home as quickly as you can if you want to minimize the chance of Childe waking up to find you gone.

Panic begins to rise. The familiar vines of anxiety begin to climb higher and higher through your stomach as the elevator begins to close with painstaking slowness. Your fingers fumble with the urge to make things move faster, and you doubt yourself for a moment, thinking that you should have taken the stairs, but it’s too late for that, now, with the doors just about to close, and—

You hear the beginnings of a scream. A high-pitched wail, something agonized and miserable and ruined.

Then, the sound cuts off with the closing of the elevator doors.

Too panicked to think, you don’t bother pondering the source of the sound as the elevator reaches the first floor and you stumble your way back to Childe’s apartment. 

This time, you’re in so much of a rush that you do attract attention as you exit. Somehow, though, the thought of Childe waking up and finding you gone manages to overpower your fear at being seen, and you stumble forward through the hotel and towards Childe’s apartment building as fast as you can. When you’re safe inside, you have to take the elevator once more: because while Kaeya and Diluc were on the second floor of their hotel, Childe has the penthouse of his apartment, a distance much too large for the stairs to be a viable option, but your nerves begin to calm as you feel the elevator shift higher and higher. 

Maybe, just maybe, you’ll get home safe and everything will be okay.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Probably not.

The elevator opens directly in front of Childe’s front door, where the hole Scaramouche busted open this morning still remains. Ever careful, you step one foot inside, shift your weight forward, and duck inside. 

As soon as you’re completely within the apartment, the pressure and fear of having escaped dissipate. You think that you’ve made it back safely, that you snuck out and will be able to sneak back in with no consequences.

Then, you see him.

“Y-y-y-you’re—”

Childe is shaking like a leaf, looking pale and sickly. His hair is disheveled, messy in a way that lets you know that he’s been running his hands through it for as long as you've been gone, and his mouth is caught open in a mix of shock, confusion, and relief.

“You’re back,” he mumbles in disbelief, and the way his eyes glisten in the darkness of his apartment, catching what little moonlight shines in and reflecting it off, tells you that he’s on the verge of tears.

Then, he blinks, and the tears begin to fall.

“I…”

Words fail you. You don’t know what to say to justify your leave. You don’t know if Childe even wants justification. The man stumbles towards you, and while logic tells you that you should guard yourself, should protect yourself, should prepare to be hit or whipped or assaulted the way a human trafficker would normally behave when his merchandise acts out, the vulnerable look in Childe’s eye makes you think that he won't hurt you.

“I-I—I thought you left,” he blurts, reaching forward to catch your palm in his, squeezing it as if he can’t believe you’re real. “Why—why didn’t you—why are you—”

Back.

He reaches forward to clasp your other hand in his, and when he stands so close to you, holding your hands to his chest like your touch is his lifeline, everything else seems to disappear. For the first time today, the conscious thoughts that this man is a monster and he’s a human trafficker who destroyed your life and you should hate him all disappear—leaving nothing but pain for how miserable he looks at having been left, how shook he is that you decided to come back, how overwhelmed he is that, likely for the first time, someone has chosen to come back to him.

It shakes you to the core. 

Never have you seen Childe so rattled. Displays of weakness like this are ones he rarely indulges in, and never at your side. This is the first time you're seeing him openly cry, the man practically clinging to your hand like it's the only thing grounding him, and you realize that he's hurting, too. That Lumine and Diluc and Kaeya and everything else in this godforsaken world of human trafficking have fucked him up just like it's fucked you over, and what you're seeing now is the culmination of all of that.

"Relax," you whisper, letting go of all your resentment for a single moment to pull him close into a warm, loving embrace. "Ajax, relax. I’m here. I’ve got you."

They're the same words Childe used to comfort you when you had a panic attack in the middle of Xiangling's restaurant, the same words that pulled you to safety at a time when even your mind had turned traitor against your heart. 

You can't explain why you're comforting him when he's done nothing but ruin your life.

Yet, as Childe clutches your figure and chokes back a harrowing sob, thick, wet tears falling onto your shoulder as he chokes out the words “thank you” over and over again, you can’t help how your embrace instantly tightens.

MASTERLIST

Fastened | Unlockable | Lighter | Breaking | Broken | Gone | ✔

Word count: 6.6k

Notes: OKAY so you know how this was supposed to be four chapters? yeah unfortunately that would make the final super duper rushed or super duper long so there's going to be a fifth chapter! and after the fifth chapter there'll be a short epilogue-y chapter!! the fifth chapter (finale!) and epilogue will be posted together at the same time - i can promise this bc i already have the epilogue written - soo yeah :D my apologies as usual for being late, hope you enjoyed the developments in this chapter! comment thoughts and predictions <3

Comment & Like

Next Update: 7/18/21 (hopefully)

I do not own the rights to Genshin Impact or any of the characters within it.

[burberrybaby]

tasamum - تسمم

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pairing: bucky barnes x woc!reader

summary: you wake up from a nightmare hoping for a drink, but bucky gives you a different form of intoxication.

warnings: SMUT, a little fluff (bucky taking care of the reader,) knives (reader has one in her room,) alcohol mention, oral (f receiving,) fingering, dom/sub dynamics, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, praise, minors DNI!

a/n: my first official smut! english is not my first language, so if there are any errors, please let me know. any type of feedback would be lovely and, as always, reblogs are appreciated. not my gif.

word count: 2.5k

masterlist

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You scream as you sit up in bed, throwing the covers off you and immediately pulling the small dagger out from under your pillow, holding it up in a defensive stance. It takes a second for you to realize you’re in no danger as you drop your weapon and hold your head in your hands, catching your breath. You woke up after another one of your nightmares; remaining memories of people you’ve killed in your past still haunt your dreams.

Instead of going back to bed, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a quick glass of water. The compound was quiet and dark, very unlike how it usually is in the daytime. Once you finish your drink, you hear a raspy voice near the sitting area, “Y/N?”

It wasn’t bright enough for you to see who said your name, but the deep, thick voice could’ve only belonged to the one and only Bucky Barnes.

“Bucky?” you switch on the light and move towards him, setting your glass on the counter. He wore dark pants and a black buttoned-down shirt that was undone completely, exposing his gorgeous toned chest and abs. Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch him look you up and down. Compared to him, you were hardly dressed; a baggy Thrasher T-shirt that barely covered your ass and black lace panties.

“Nightmares?” he asks and you nod, looking away. “Come here, doll.” Your gaze slowly turns to meet his and you see him holding his hand out to you, offering his lap to you. A feeble attempt on your part to hide your shock rewards you with a small smirk from Bucky as you slowly make your way to him.

You try your best to pull your shirt down as you sit in his lap, and you blush as you feel the muscles in his thighs under you. Bucky wraps his arms around you and you lean your head against his shoulder. He rests his chin softly on the top of your head and he sighs. You can smell the scent of some sort of drink on his breath, “are you drunk?”

“No,” he chuckles softly, “alcohol doesn’t do much for me, unfortunately.”

“Oh, right.” you snuggle yourself into him, willing to let your vulnerabilities show in front of this man; suddenly feeling small and soft in his arms.

“Would it be bad if I was drunk?”

You pause, “I just- I have trust issues.”

“So you trust me?”

“Maybe,” you smile softly.

He tightens his vibranium arm around you and slowly lowers one hand down to rub small circles into your bare thigh, causing your breath the hitch.

“Do you wanna talk about the nightmare?”

You tilt your head to look at him, “No, not really... have any alcohol left though?”

“Sorry, doll, but I already finished the bottle,” Bucky looks at you curiously, “but there are other ways to make your night better.”

Your face flushes immediately to a deep shade of red as you stare at him blankly, “W-what do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” Bucky slowly moves his touch from your outer thigh closer between your legs, and pauses to look at you, “there's a different form of intoxication I can give you.”

Swallowing thickly, you look down at how close his hand is to your heat, and you’d be a fool to think this man didn’t feel it. It was almost embarrassing how badly you wanted him in you right now, but you hadn’t been with someone romantically in the longest time. Compared to the man whose lap you were currently perched upon... what would he think of you?

“If that’s not what you want, I get it-“

You cut him off, “I do! I just uhm..”

“We can take it as slow as you want.”

After a deep breath, you nod, “Okay.”

It only takes a second for Bucky to adjust you to straddle his lap, and before you can even register it, his shirt is off. You can see the sudden hunger in his eyes before he moves his lips to yours, and you easily melt into his touch. Bucky places his hands back on your thighs and massages slightly.

Your tongues move in union, both of you exploring each other’s mouths. One of your hands moves to cup his face and the other rests on his bare shoulder. Bucky pulls away after a bit with a tug to your bottom lip and moves his kisses to your jawline. A quiet moan escapes your lips, and you can feel his smile against your skin. He moves his way down to your neck, only needing a second to find that sweet spot on your skin that he knew would drive you crazy. If this man didn’t feel the heat and dampness from your core and panties, he certainly did now.

All the while, you’re pressing yourself against his covered length, yearning for more than just kisses. It doesn’t take long for his cock to harden against your clothed cunt; you were sexually infatuated with each other.

You tilt your head back to give him more space to pleasure you as he pleases, and you were already at his mercy. Leaving a few nips on your neck and now moving to your collarbone, Bucky drinks up all the soft whimpers and moans you give him. Later, when he pulls away, an unintentional whimper falls from your lips.

Without moving your gazes away from each other, you feel his rough, calloused hands move from your thighs to the hem of your shirt; at this point, it had ridden up to your waist, “May I?”

You give him a small nod and he slowly lifts the baggy T off your body, laying it next to his own discarded top. You shiver as the sudden cold perks your nipples up, and he moves his hands up to cup your breasts, massaging them and attaching his lips back onto your collarbone. He murmurs, “If you want me to stop just say it.”

“I know,” you whisper and squeeze your eyes shut as you grind against him. Your act rewards you with a deep growl from deep from Bucky’s throat as his lips move down to your left nipple. He twirls his tongue skillfully around the nub and rolls your other nipple between his fingers.

“W-want more,” your voice is almost inaudible and your eyes squeeze together from the pleasure he gives you.

Bucky slowly pulls away and looks up to meet your gaze, his pale blue eyes now darkened with lust. “Yeah?”

Your nod is almost pitiful as he lays you down on the couch, his large figure overpowering you even before his cock is in you. Bucky leaves kisses down your chest and stomach, red marks that will surely bruise by morning. His breath is hot against your skin as he pauses at the waistband of your panties.

He looks up at you through his lashes, asking permission to remove the final piece of your clothing. You nod again, “please,” and after that one word, he wastes no time pulling the black lace off with his teeth, discarding it on the floor.

Bucky takes a moment to admire your body before he makes his next move, “you’re beautiful, you know that, doll?” He brings your legs up, leaving hickey after hickey on your inner thighs, slowly moving closer to your aching core. He touches his finger to your bare cunt and reaches his hand to his mouth to lick the wetness and makes eye contact with you. You swallow again, hard, and whimper, begging desperately for more.

He slings your legs over his shoulders and brings his face to your dripping center, licking a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. Your body shudders and radiates in hot pleasure as his lips attach to your clit and he carefully slips one metal finger into you, looking up to see your mouth drop open. You reach one hand down to tangle it in his dark hair as your back starts to arch.

Not wasting any more time than necessary, Bucky slips a second finger into your pussy and begins to scissor you open, making enough space for a third metal finger. He curls his knuckles and all the while swirling his tongue around your most sensitive parts. It doesn’t matter that this is the first time he’s eaten you out, he knew exactly what you wanted, and did not hold back in providing.

A sheen of sweat has acclimated over your skin, and your back is arched highly from the couch, the edge of which you’re now gripping so hard your knuckles have paled. Your thighs are shaking from being held apart by Bucky’s large hands and your head lolls to the side as you murmur, “I-I’m gonna-“

You aren’t even given the chance to finish your sentence as you hit your climax. Your body is plunged into a deep euphoria; whether that orgasm could be described as heavenly or sinful, you weren’t sure, but it didn’t matter; was the best feeling you’ve had in the longest time.

Bucky pulls away after drinking up all your come and watches how you slowly open your eyes, panting, “Th-that was amazing.” Instead of responding, he leans down to give you a kiss, letting you taste yourself on his lips and causing you to moan quietly.

“You are amazing.”

All you can do is let your mouth drop open and feel even more heat rising to your face as Bucky stands, unbuttoning his pants and slipping them off, along with his boxers. Your mouth practically waters at the sight of his hard cock, pressing up against his stomach; and it was huge. How he’s managed his composure for this long, you had no clue.

Bucky strokes his cock a few times and smirks at your peaked arousal, adjusting himself back on top of you, “Ready?”

You nod and he runs his length along your folds first, then gently presses himself into you. Even though he already stretched you out, it still took a bit for your body to adjust to Bucky’s size. Once he’s fully inside you, he presses his hand softly to your stomach, and chuckles softly, “Doll, look how deep I am.”

The realization of how you felt him in your stomach had come earlier, but now looking down and seeing that bulge made you desperate. Your hips buck up unintentionally, causing Bucky to moan quietly and begin to thrust into you.

You could tell he was holding back, keeping himself from pounding into you immediately, and you appreciated that. Maybe he could sense your inexperience and wanted to help you take it slow. Or maybe he was just scared of hurting you, but nonetheless, it felt amazing.

His mouth attaches to your neck again, and Bucky’s hand moves up to roll your nipple between his fingers. You allow your hands to roam his chest, biceps, and back as your head lolls back, moans falling from your lips easily.

He refrains from speeding up his pace; instead, his thrusts are slower, but stronger, hitting you deeper, his tip dragging along your G spot. Your back arches again off the couch, and your nails start to drag along his back.

His lips move to your ear, and he nibbles your earlobe teasingly. Bucky’s low voice now in the shell of your ear, “you’re taking me so well, baby, I’m so proud of you.” Your body shivers at that, and you want to say more, but the only words that fall from your lips are, “M-more, pl-lease.”

“Asking like a good girl, hm? I’ll give you more.” so he brings his hand down to your sensitive clit, rubbing in circles with his thumb, and you can’t help but bite down on his collarbone to keep yourself from crying in the pleasure. Bucky winces and chuckles again, “marking me up, I see? Don’t worry, I’ll wear the bruises proudly.”

Your whimper is muffled against his skin and this time, without warning you come around him, your essence dripping onto both of your thighs. Once again, you’re engulfed in hot, sticky pleasure as Bucky helps you ride out your orgasm.

Panting you mumble, “Y-you can go faster i-if you need.” He pauses a second to look at you, making sure he heard you right, then he pushes your knees into your chest and takes your calves in his hands. After adjusting his position, Bucky gradually speeds up, his head tilting back in pleasure as his lips part.

Looking down to watch him, and seeing your breasts being shoved back and forth from the new speed makes you wish for a third release. You bite your lip and grip the edge of the couch tightly, trying to keep yourself grounded.

You snake one hand down to rub your clit when Bucky looks back down at you. The sight of your body; the same sight you had relished in moments before, driving him closer to his own release. So now he grunts, “Cum with me, doll.”

And of course, you happily oblige, kneading your tit with one hand and the other rubbing your clit faster as you come a third time. Your channel tightening again against his cock drives him insane, and a deep moan comes from Bucky’s throat. He comes with you, heavily coating your walls and panting as he finishes and looking down to admire how he’s made you fall apart under him.

You meet his gaze and you laugh, “that really just happened, huh?” He laughs with you, “yeah, it did.”

Your legs are shaking as he pulls out and heads to the kitchen to get a damp cloth to clean you both up. He cleans very carefully around your thighs and helps you sit up to clean underneath. Your eyes widen as you see the forming stain underneath you, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind, “this couch is officially ours.”

Smiling warmly at each other, Bucky picks you up and takes you back to his room, wrapping his arms around you tightly. your head is resting on his chest, and your arm loosely wrapped around his torso.

“How do you feel now?” he hums.

You tilt your head up to look at him, “way better than before.”

Bucky smiles down at you, “that’s good, doll. You should get some rest, I plan on ravishing you again in the morning.

Chewing on your lip, you pull the blanket around your shoulders and look away.

So his smile turns to a worried frown, “Is something wrong? We don’t have to do it again if you don’t want to.”

“No, no I want to,” you pause, “it’s just… the nightmares again…”

“Hey,” Bucky lifts your chin so you can look at him, “as long as I’ve got you here in my arms, I promise you’ll be safe, doll. I get nightmares too, but now I’ve got you to hold!”

You smile and leave a lingering kiss on his lips before resting your head again, letting your eyes flutter shut, “good night, Buck.”

He kisses your forehead, “good night, Y/N.”

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mutuals:

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[hypnomicimagines]

Domestic Life Series: Jinguji Jakurai

Who kisses the other on the nose and the one receiving the kiss blushes?

Jakurai’s nose is a little out of reach for you to do so with the intention of surprising him unless you’re laying down together but when you tug on a strand of his hair like you’re ringing a bell, he would come down to your level with a smile as you leaned in to kiss his nose. He thinks the show of affection is quite cute and though he’d feel foolish doing it himself, he doesn’t ever mind when you want to do it to him. He always tells you how cute you are after you do it and gives you one of his gentle smiles, giving a kiss on the forehead in return.

Who sits on their partners lap as they wrap their arms around their partners neck?

When you sat on Jakurai’s lap the first few times it was the easiest way to get him flustered, the color blooming on his cheek looking quite lovely in your opinion. You liked to play with his hair, twirling a few strands around your fingers as you looked up at him with so much love in your eyes he could’ve drowned it. He still likes it even after growing used to it though he tells you not to surprise him as he worried you might hurt yourself, one arm wrapped to keep you properly tucked into him while his other arm rests atop your legs, positioned so one hand can rest on your thigh.

Who kisses the inside of their partner’s palm before reassuring them everything is going to be okay?

Jakurai is generally the one who’s coolest under pressure, not allowing dire situations to get to his head as he knows he has to be on top of his game if he expects to get out of certain things alive. His past greatly adds to how well he handles most things that other people would run in fear from and even if he tries to hide it from you, he also uses what he’s learned to help keep you at ease. He didn’t even mean to kiss the palm of your hand the first time, just drawing all sorts of shapes on it with his fingers when the mood suddenly struck and he did it, pleased to see that you seemed to enjoy it.

Who initiates the forehead touch?

If Jakurai knows he needs to center you, to get you to focus on him in the moment, he’ll do what he can to block out your vision of the area so that you’ll only look at him. His eyes manage to be so hypnotizing in moments where you need it most and his forehead comes down to meet yours, the only thing actively processed by your brain being the sound of Jakurai’s soothing tone. Even if absolute chaos is happening around you he takes the time to assure you that things will be okay, seeing you off to a safe haven before he dives directly into the chaos himself. The forehead touch is as much for him as it is for you, getting to be close to you one final time before he potentially heads off to meet his end.

Where do they first say “I love you”?

Too many things have happened in Jakurai’s patient room that had nothing to do with his job and though he disliked being distracted there, he couldn’t disagree that some of it was necessary. He seemed to hardly ever have a chance to be home and though he never minded being busy before, having a significant other meant he felt other obligations. He felt neglectful of your needs and disliked the thought of you having to sleep in your big bed alone but he couldn’t ignore the importance of his job. He had this entire speech prepared for you, having already accepted the break-up that hadn’t even happened yet, and you stun him once again by telling him even if you were lonely you’d never take it out on him. Leaving him wouldn’t be a solution but you hoped that he’d have time for a date soon, if not, you’d just have to show up to the hospital to have lunch with him while you could. Those three little words slipped out before he managed to regain control of his rapidly beating heart and the rest was history.

Who wraps their arms around their partner who’s cooking?

Jakurai doesn’t like to disrupt you while you’re cooking as that’s how serious burns and injuries can occur which is not exactly something he wants to put you through. But after you throw something into the oven and you’re washing his hands he’ll come up behind you, quiet as a ghost, arms wrapping around your middle as he greets you. He tells you how delicious the meal your cooking smells and rest his chin atop your head, waiting patiently as you finish cleaning your hands to steal away a few more kisses. He tries to do the rest of the dishes you had made a mess of making dinner but it becomes a joint effort as you don’t want to let him do it all alone.

Who breaks out the first aid kit when the other gets a paper cut?

Jakurai is the doctor in the relationship and he treats every injury with a certain seriousness that always makes you smile, even if it’s a simple paper cut. He doesn’t think everything’s a life and death situation but he has seen minor wounds spiral out of control when not properly cared for and he would hate to see you in agony over something that could be handled right the first time around. He absolutely is the type to kiss it after a band-aid is placed, telling you with an amused smile that the prognosis seems good.

Who cuddles up to the other?

Just taking one look at Jakurai makes you want to cuddle with him, it’s almost too easy to fit yourself into his arms and fall asleep laying on his chest. He never seems to mind when you do this, even if you’re a person who’s more on the touchy side he never complains or gets sick of your touch. He loves it when you shower him with affection as he likes to make the most of it when he’s actually around, soaking in all your love and pulling you back as you try to escape, telling you it’s his turn to appreciate you now.

Who falls asleep on who? What is their reaction when the other falls asleep on them?

Jakurai, unfortunately, falls asleep on you very often because of his work schedule; he tries to make the time for you but sleep overcomes him when he’s stagnant and you can count a number of times where he’s completely fallen asleep in a restaurant while you were waiting for food. But when it’s just the two of you in the house and Jakurai’s the first to fall asleep you take the time to admire him, wondering how the man can look so beautiful at all times of day. Even when his hair is a bit messy and he looks totally exhausted he’s so handsome you think he’d charm God himself.

Who likes to be held and who likes to hold?

Jakurai likes to hold you, feeling you in his arms is a friendly reminder that you’re a real, tangible person who loves him and is there for him despite all that you went through together. His hand runs through your hair and he listens to the sound of your breath, feelings your chest expanding, all reassurances that you’re alive and well. At night is when his thoughts catch up to him, make him feel the most depressed, make him worry that he’s not good enough for you and that he won’t be able to keep you safe if Chuuoku decides to make you a target. Holding you in his arms is one way to keep these negative thoughts at bay, to remind himself that he was doing just fine and that you were happy, healthy, breathing, and that you loved him as much as he loved you.  

[limitlessgojo]

The More You Know

Warnings: NSFW Content

NSFW Tags: SMUT, Mutual masturbation, Squirting, over-sensitivity, Sex Education, unprotected sex, Bareback, dry humping, First time with Noritoshi, explicit content

Tags: Kamo Noritoshi x Reader, Soulmates AU, Smut, Fluff, Fem!Reader

NSFW Taglist: @fkngkumiko @gojoussunglasses @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife

Word Count: 3.5k

Notes: I tagged this to the best of my ability. As I've already said, minors please DNI with my NSFW works.

Previous Chapter: Home Sweet Home

Next Chapter: Big White Lies

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate.

Chapter 13.5

Utahime Sensei called both you and Noritoshi into her office one afternoon to give you "the talk." She’s aware that both of you are dating.

You and Noritoshi worriedly looked at each other before sitting down, across from her desk.

“There’s no need to be worried. You both haven’t done anything wrong. I just wanted to check up on the two of you.” She clarified. You both relaxed.

“Y/N, how are you adjusting to life on campus so far?”

“Ah, yes I’ve been adjusting well, thanks to everyone who has been helping me here and there. I’ve also grown used to the campus.”

“That’s great to hear. Looks like all of you first years are now settled in. Which brings me to my next question,” She started getting serious. "So, of course I know that both of you are dating. Teachers hear things from other students, it’s natural. Did you both get your parents’ permission to date each other?”

“Ah, yes, my mom and dad both know and said it’s okay for me to date senpai. They’ve been wanting to meet him as well. Next time when we are on break.” You said meekly.

Noritoshi quickly turned to you, eyes widening. Ah, you haven’t told him yet that they wanted to meet him. “They said it’s no big rush. We can do it over Christmas break.” Your voice quieted down.

“My parents have also approved of our relationship, as you know.” He put a hand to your back and spoke comfortingly. As always, your body relaxes under his warm touch. Hearing that made the knot in your chest slightly loosen up.

Utahime looked pleased at that. “That’s excellent to hear. Everything seems to be in order. And, have you both… you know… done "it" yet?"

Your eyes widened, then you flushed red before shaking your head. Noritoshi replied with a soft "No, we haven't." Face just as red as yours, before he forced it down.

The room suddenly felt stuffy and hot. Was this conversation really necessary?

“Ahem,” Utahime cleared her throat. “This is a very important conversation, and I want to make sure that both of you are engaging in consensual and safe sexual practices if you ever decide to do it. I’m aware that both of you are already of legal consenting ages here. That and it’s not uncommon for teenagers in Japan to do such.”

Gosh, just let this pass already, you thought to yourself, utterly mortified.

“So now I’ll talk you through the use of contraceptives and birth control then.” It was a mini sex education class with just the 3 of you.

And the rest of the afternoon was filled with a lot of do’s and don’ts and the explanation of how to use condoms. Noritoshi’s soul was practically leaving his body at the very thought.

“Don’t be shy to ask me for help in buying condoms or birth control pills. I’d rather both of you have safe sexual practices than not.” She ordered sternly.

You both quickly nodded, “Yes sensei.”

“Okay, that should be all. Then off you go.” She ushered you both out of her office, ready to prepare for another faculty meeting later.

After you both left the room, you slowly walked back to your dorm with Noritoshi close behind you. An unspoken agreement hung in the air as you filed into your dorm room.

He doesn’t come over to yours as often as you go over to his room, but he likes it. You’re happy that he doesn’t mind the numerous stuffed toys or fluffy blankets on your bed.

You served him some tea and mochi, not having spoken a word still. He stayed silent as well.

“....” your face was still red. Noritoshi found it almost funny and incredible, how it stayed red for such a long time. He reached out to cup your face.

You leaned into his touch. His hands were slightly cold, taking away some of the heat off your face.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want to. For us I mean. Like what we just talked about now. I’m okay if you’re okay with it. Completely.” He stumbled over his words.

You nodded and reached out for a hug, which he gladly gave. Sitting on his lap, cradled in his arms. “I… I’m okay with it. The sex talk was just really embarrassing, but inevitable.”

You shyly looked up at him. He gave a weak smile in return, trying to slow down the blood rising to his face. His ears were still pink though.

"When we are both ready then." He hastily uttered before changing the topic. You giggled. He was more reserved than you expected.

◇◇◇

A week later...

You’ve both taken to reading Kamo no Hotaru’s diary entries together when you were both alone and undisturbed. One evening, during a rare moment of peace when both of you had no schedules, you stayed in Noritoshi’s room, laying on his bed. “Toshi! That entry! It matches our first shared vision together!”

“Right. I noticed that when I browsed over it too. He really…” Noritoshi trails off. You perk up and cuddle into his side, facing back to the diary, “What is it?”

He abruptly closes the book shut, face really red. It was a good thing this was a copy of the original, because of the way he roughly handled it.

Why. “Toshi!!! Lemme see~” you whined, grabbing the book. He couldn’t look you in the eye as he handed you the book. You eagerly flipped through to where you stopped.

Hotaru was describing his fight with his beloved Misaki. “She must have been the woman in my visions then huh.”

Noritoshi buried his face into the junction of your shoulder and neck. You stared at him. His face and ears were on fire. “Toshi, are you not feeling well? Fever?” You pressed a palm onto his forehead. He shook his head and snuggled into your hand. The blush settled down rather quickly.

This guy never fails to cheat with his body temperature huh.

Anyways, going back to the passage.

“Misaki was lovely tonight. She astounds me every single time she fights with those demons and curses. Just the most beautiful sight to behold.”

“Awww, what a dreamy man” you sighed. Noritoshi’s grip on you tightened.

“Tonight was the first night in my life that I was able to hold her so close to me. We went back to the inn and had our baths before going to bed. We only had one futon, since the inn was in some far off and secluded area. It was also full, so we had no choice. We ought to be getting back to the urbanised districts soon. Her hair smelled nice. I can’t forget how her cheeks turned dark red when I undressed her. Her soft mounds under my hands. -

You shut the book, closed your eyes and stuck your tongue out hard against the inside of your cheek. Total silence filled the room for like 5 minutes before you opened it and continued reading,

“I’ve never felt anything softer than Misaki. Every curve of hers was to my liking. Every sound she made was comparable to the voice of an angel’s. She tasted so sweet down below. I never thought I’d be one to have premarital sexual relations, but to hell with it all.”

Noritoshi peeked over your shoulder, arms still wound tightly around you with one eye open, reading the passage together with you.

“I will try to remember in vivid detail how exactly I’ve taken her. It was a rush of the moment sort of thing. She was such a shy thing, covering her eyes as I undressed in front of her.

Only to cry for me to fill her up moments later. I took my time with her, tasting and feeling every bit of her body. Not long after, I made love to her. Her insides were warm and molded perfectly to me.

We both felt like we were melting into each other. Our Crimson bindings out and about, floating around our bodies as we indulged each other in pleasure.

It was worth leaving everything behind, in order to experience this life with her. We had to take great care so as for Misaki to not bear a child as we are still in the midst of fighting battles with demons here and there."

“Damn that guy was desperate for some action.” You said out loud. Noritoshi choked hard on his spit at this. You didn’t even take your eyes off the ancient erotica you were reading as you reached out with one hand to pat Nori on the back.

“Not like they had condoms or contraceptives back then huh. How difficult.” You wondered. “Y/N I-” Noritoshi sputtered. You turned to him. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“You what…” your eyes trailed down at the movement. All of the sudden there was a pillow on his lap. He turned away, forcing his hard-on to disappear.

Noritoshi was just a very sweet little thing. He was really taken aback with your lack of fluster at the moment.

Whenever he whispers into your ears and holds your hand you blush. He secretly loved nipping at you and playing with your fingers to make your face glow red.

Even when Utahime sensei gave both of you the talk, you looked mortified. But since that day, you seemed to have gained a layer of quiet confidence.

And here you were reading an old smutty diary entry with a straight face.

An unpleasant thought came to his mind as he blurted out, "Have you had any experience at all? With this…. These things?"

Your eyes widened, before you shook your head. "Mmm to be honest none at all. You're pretty much my first everything Toshi. First boyfriend. First kiss. First love. You know."

Noritoshi relaxed. "Me too, you're my first for everything." You smiled at him, moving to hug him before he grabbed your hand to stop you from going further. His other one tightened on the pillow on top of his crotch.

Ah.

You wanted to help him but… Is it too early for the both of you? You wanted to wait for Noritoshi to bring it up. Unfortunately, he doesn't make any moves.

He is still very much a gentleman, politely turning away and closing his eyes whenever you get dressed or undressed in the ensuite bathroom. And really, it did touch your heart at the fact that he was really so sweet with you.

“Toshi, do you want any help with that?” You set the diary down on the side table. He flinched before slowly turning to you.

“Do you not find it disgusting?” He asked weakly.

“Mmmm, not really." You crawled into his lap, your face now slightly pink. You wanted this. You wanted to see more of him, know more about his body underneath the wide and loose fitting clothes.

“If you don’t want me to, that's also okay. Like you said, we have time. This isn’t something to be rushed Toshi."

He looked up at you. Deep down he really wanted this. But he wasn't prepared for it to go this fast. He didn't buy any condoms, lube, or contraceptives for you at all. He still had yet to research on more safe sex practices.

He shook his head. "I'm not worried about me, I'm worried about you. We only talked about this the other day, I hope it's not too fast for you."

"I'm okay as well, no it's not too fast."

"As long as we are both fine with it, then it's okay."

"So… what do you want me to do?"

He turned bright red, not bothering to use his jujutsu to force it away. He wanted his body to be honest with you. "We don't have to go all the way now. Please touch me down... there. I'm clean. Just took a shower before you came in."

You nodded, tossing away the pillow on his lap as you undressed him. There were so many layers of clothing. Your mouth watered in anticipation upon seeing the outline of his erection clearly straining against his clothes.

And the one thing you've been looking forward to seeing. He parted his inner white yukata, revealing his abs and pecs. Holy shit. He is built and defined. With a solid 8 pack of abs, arms with biceps and triceps.

You gulped. Noritoshi stared at your reaction. "You like my body."

"Ah I do. Noritoshi, you're really pretty." You admitted.

Noritoshi shut his eyes and felt the last of his sanity fizzling out. Why aren't you close to him then?

"You took the words out of my mouth, pretty one." He pulled you to his chest, nipping at your ears and neck. He knew all your sensitive spots, easily making your body react to him.

"Toshiii, haa no it tickles" Shaking in his arms, you pressed against him, running your hands down his front.

"Looks like I really don't need to hold back with you." He growled, gripping you tighter.

You hooked your fingers on the waistband of his pants and pulled it down, revealing his length. It sprung up, pretty and already hard.

It was big, long, thick, with veins protruding, and the mushroom-like head was a blushing pink. You stared numbly, wondering how it would ever fit inside of you.

You cautiously fisted him. It was so hot and heavy, twitching in your hands. You pooled spit in your mouth before letting it drip onto the tip of his length, making him glide easier in your hands.

Noritoshi threw his head back at the action, breathing heavily. Small jolts of electricity ran through his body, upon feeling your lips on his chest and neck.

"Angel, it feels much better when you do it. I wanna make you feel good too, please." His voice is deeper than normal, sending shivers down your spine.

He didn't hesitate as he pulled off your top as you nodded. You felt self conscious, covering up your breasts. "No need to hide from me. You're a gorgeous sight for sore eyes." Noritoshi pushed away your arms and sucked on your tits, making you gasp out.

"Toshi."

"Mmmm." He swirled his tongue around your nipples, playfully tugging and sucking on them like they were candy. Your pants and underwear were quickly discarded, leaving you bare.

Cold air hit your entrance, making you tense up. Noritoshi's hands stroked your legs until they settled on your ankles.

"Spread your legs for me," he murmured. You couldn't say no to that. You slowly widened them, inch by inch, the bed creaking underneath you.

He stared at your wet opening, parting your lower lips. It was glistening with slick. He dragged two fingers over them. Sinking in his fingers and groaning at the sensation of your walls. It was hotter and wetter than he expected it to be.

"Here I was, trying to stop myself from losing control over you, only to find out you've wanted me too." He scoffed. You grew more and more aroused at hearing his voice become deeper, just slowly nodding in agreement, unable to speak. The only sounds coming from your mouth were moans and whimpers of his name.

Squelching noises filled the quiet room as he began to experiment with your body. Nothing escaped Noritoshi. He stared at you, watching and analysing your reactions with every curve, push, pull, and movement from his fingers.

Not long after, he found your sweet spot, pressing his fingers eagerly into it. You shivered.

He leaned over to kiss you while slowly fucking you with his fingers. The pressure on your insides made you feel floaty. You reached out to continue stroking him as well, making him tense against you until you slumped against him, head feeling way too hot and dizzy.

He huffed a laugh, “Too much for you angel? It feels good doesn’t it?” You whined at him with a pout, guiding yourself up and down on his fingers. Your voice grew louder when he pulled them out.

"Shh, give me a second." Noritoshi repositioned both of you, so that you were sitting on his lap. Putting some pillows behind him as he leaned against the headboard of the bed.

It was a slightly risky position, he could easily enter you from this angle so you had to push your back against his chest, comforted by his warmth.

"Let me play with you." Who was this man and where was your stoic Toshi? Noritoshi kissed everywhere he could reach, the side of your face, your shoulder, cheeks and neck.

"Come on, rub yourself against me." You felt him smile against your skin.

You took his length and grinded your pussy down on him, slathering your juices onto him. Tears streamed down your face. "Why does it feel so good? Ssss too much."

His hands were cupping and squeezing your breasts, holding you firm against his chest. You could feel the sweat gathering on your back.

Both of your Phoenix marks were glowing a bright red, illuminating both of your features. You reached to clasp his wrist, feeling the warmth seep out from his mark.

Heat. That was the main shared sensation between the two of you. Simply and drunkenly chasing after pleasure. The soulmate bond showed you his inner desires of breeding you, filling you up, pleasing you, and making you content. You felt touched and giddy.

Noritoshi's head is hooked over your shoulder. Mouth watering at the sight of him thrusting against your thighs. The tip of his cock poked up and down between your legs. Your ass was pressing hard against his hips, driving him insane.

You both grinded against each other at a moderate pace. Hiccups and mewls escaped your lips as you drooled.

You tightened your thighs when he sped up his thrusts. Your pussy feels hotter with each passing moment. He was humping you so hard, you started to lightly bounce on his lap.

All you could feel and smell was Noritoshi. The scent of sex was heavy in the air. You've never felt this type of greed over a person before. It scared you a bit.

"Darling, come on me." Noritoshi breathed out huskily against your ear. You shivered, squeezing and crossing your thighs. He softly grunted as he came all over your legs, the cum still hot.

Amazed, Noritoshi watched as you also squirted, spraying all over both of your legs and the mattress. He leaned over to rub your clit more, feeling it spew against his fingers as he put a heavy pressure on it. “Haaah! Toshi, no stop!! It feels so good!” You threw your head back wildly, feeling your legs spasm beyond your control at the touch of oversensitivity.

"Is that a no or a yes?" He nipped your earlobe as he continued rubbing your clit.

"More. Gimme more." You moaned.

He smirked, immediately plunging two fingers into you, pistoning it in and out as fast as he could, while his thumb continuously stroked at your clit. He held you tight as you sobbed his name unabashedly.

A second orgasm violently washed over you, making you shake. He helped you ride it out, by slowing down his movements until you collapsed against him.

It was hard not to fall asleep as you both stopped to catch a breath, but you had to clean up. “Sorry for making a mess.” You turned to face him and frowned upon feeling the stickiness on both of your legs.

His eyes glinted darkly, “No, don’t apologize. We both made a mess. I quite like it.” You hid your smile in his neck at that.

"We can take a quick shower then go to bed if you'd like?" Noritoshi offered.

"Mmm… sounds good."

The shower was quick and pleasant. It was nice to smell like Noritoshi. You happily hummed to yourself as you lathered your arms with his body soap. It smells nice and deep with touches of bergamot and clove.

On the other hand, Noritoshi was having an internal crisis. He just wanted to stuff you full of his cum right there as he helped you bathe, but was determined to wait until you got married to do so.

You went to bed in one of his kimonos after changing his sheets. Noritoshi loves how you look in his clothes and how you smell like him now.

"Thank you…" You whispered.

Noritoshi's body was so warm as he pulled you to him, his lips pressed against your temple. "Mmm, thank you also for trusting me with your body. I feel so relaxed, should we do this more often?"

You squawked in surprise, pushing his chest and laughing with him. "Nori's not so pure minded after all. Here I thought you were super conservative."

"Never said I was, angel."

◇◇◇

The next day, you were both mortified when Todo came up to tell you to keep it down next time. His room is next to Noritoshi's.

The both of you didn't realize he was home when that went down. “I'm soundproofing my room after this.” Noritoshi exasperatedly sighed at you.

"Ahh, maybe I should do the same with mine," You fiddled with your shirt. He smiled, leaning down to see you eye to eye, "You're looking forward to doing it with me again, I presume?"

If he wasn't so handsome right there, with his eyes bright and filled with so much joy, you're sure you would have smacked him in the chest.

".... No comment."

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

Author's notes: Had to check the legal age in Japan for consent to sexual activities and the laws are SO MESSY. Long story short, the official age of consent is 13. Based on prefecture, for 16-18 years old, it is legal if they have consent to date from their parents. Basically, they’re trying to prevent relationships with huge age gaps for teens (with over 20 year olds) who might be taken advantage of. Toshi and Y/n’s bdays have passed already, so they’re 17 and 16 here.

Of course note that this is all fiction anyways.

[catxsnow]

BRUISES D.W.

Request: Hey honeypot! how are you darling? are you comfortable with writing older damian kinda smut? because i just had this idea where he has this super sweet girlfriend and one day batfam sees her with bruises on her neck and they think mayb damian hits her or something? and Tim mentions that he has seen bruises on her hips as well and they confront him and her and they tell the fam that's from sexy times and they are like "two days ago you were a baby. how are you an adult now?"

Warning: mentions of sex, bruising from s e x, Older!Damian

A/N: since someone wanted a requested post, here ya go :)

Word Count: 2.1k

Damian's brothers always saw him as the child of the family, even when he had grown up to be a fully functioning twenty-two year old. He was still treated like a kid when he saw his family and it drove him crazy. His whole life he had been just as old as them mentally and now that he was, they still treated him like a twelve year old.

When you came into his life, it was refreshing to have someone treat him as the adult he was. You respected him and he always showed the same to you. Your friendship was grand and always full of surprises. The biggest was the night that you no longer realized you wanted to be just friends, you wanted to be lovers.

Damian met you at the library on a cold night in Gotham. You were studying for an exam and he was looking for literature that his father didn't already own. He bumped into your table by pure accident and was thankful for his single moment of being a klutz.

You were a kind, quiet girl. Most people over looked you while those who got to know you knew that you were nothing like your facade. Damian of all people learned that the most. The more he got to know you, the more he saw that you were hiding a whole other side of you. You could be wild but only around those you trusted.

When you began dating, he saw yet another side of you. Damian thought you were wild when he got a few drinks in you - but in bed? He was amazed.

When you learned about Damian's secret life as a vigilante, he made sure to start training you. There was no way that he was going to leave you defenseless in case he wasn't there to protect you. So, at least once a week he would bringing you back to his father's home and teach you everything that he knew.

Most times the two of you worked in the background while Bruce did his own thing on the computers. Sometimes his brothers and sisters would show up and tease him. You never understood the nick names - demon spawn, baby bird, even little D. They must have been from when he was younger.

His family liked you. Dick was always excited to see you and had some sort of conversation to spark. He came to visit you and Damian quite often. Jason found you to be kind, reserved - not the kind of person he expected Damian to be with. Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph thought you to be the sweetest person they had known.

You held a shy smile around them, hesitance in yours eyes. They were all so tough, it was hard not to be intimidated by them. Even Damian at first was difficult to look past his height and muscles. They never saw the other side of you that Damian got to see all the time. He always teased you for it.

For the first time in a long time, both Dick and Tim were at the Manor. They were supposed to be helping Damian and Bruce with a case but kept reaching dead ends. To pass the time, Damian got you back on the sparring mat to continue your skills. You came a long way since you first started, but no where near ready to take any of them down.

This was the third day in a row that you were down there, sweating your ass off and learning what it meant to truly have sore muscles. Damian had been staying at the manor all week and by the second night there he asked you to join him. He missed you in his bed. Of course, you couldn't deny his request.

You had already shed your shirt, the material was drowned with sweat. Damian was much the same with only his shorts and his ankle being tightly wrapped in a tension bandage. He always feared bruising you when you dueled like this, but with the litter of blue and purple already on your skin he couldn't do much about it.

Damian had suddenly kicked your ankle out from under you and you landed against the mat with a thud. He stuck his hand out to help you up, but you only tugged him down. Damian acted fast and instead of letting you get the upper hand, trapped you below him. A smirk was on your face.

Damian gazed down from your sweat beaded face, to the small bruises he had given you the night before. Five faint little circles were on your neck, all lining up perfectly with the pads of his fingers. He matched your smirk, thinking about your incredibly hot sex from last night. He was sure that there were still residual scratch marks down his back.

"Another round?" You toyed, knowing exactly what was running through his mind. He knew that you meant another spar, but his mind was stuck on the idea of dragging you up to his room and giving you more marks for him to admire. "Or did I tire you out this time?"

"Try to keep up, beloved," Damian narrowed his eyes. Teasing him like that wasn't fair - especially when his brothers were right across the room. He peeled himself off of you and bounced back up for another fight. You followed his lead, arms up and light on your feet.

Dick and Tim were watching from afar. The computer was running in the background and there wasn't anything that they could do until them. Bruce was at work and Alfred was somewhere in the Manor doing things. Titus napped by the mat where you and Damian were, his snores could be heard from where the two men stood.

Tim narrowed his eyes at the couple. You had been around for years, keeping to yourself and never really speaking up until necessary. It made him wonder about you; not in the fact of your loyalty, but if you were maybe too loyal. Every time you were over, some sort of bruise was visible on your skin.

At first, he chalked it up to you bruising easily - or that you were just a klutz. Then, they got more common. They were darker, bigger, often times in the same places that should have been hidden by your clothes. You never talked about them, and if someone brought it up, you changed the subject.

Tim was worried about you. Damian had always been a violent person, he was raised that way since birth. Sure, Bruce had changed him, Dick too, but old habits ran strong. It made Tim wonder if it was Damian purposefully leaving the bruises on you. Was he taking all of his hate and anger out on you?

"If you squint any harder you might get stuck like that," Dick joked. Tim turned away from you and Damian and up towards his older brother. "Damian's a good teacher, maybe she'll be as good as us one day."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Tim confessed. Dick raised his eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. "You ever notice how (Y/N) is always covered in bruises? Her legs, her wrists - she has bruises nearly every time we see her. I just... I wonder what Damian does behind closed doors. I'm not saying Damian would do anything terrible, but he was raised by Talia. Restraint hasn't been his strong suit."

"You think he hits her?" Dick suddenly became worried. Tim hesitatingly nodded. It wasn't something that he ever wanted to accuse Damian of, but the thought had crossed his mind more than once. "Damian would never do that... would he?"

"I would rather be safe than sorry," Tim decided. Their attention went back to the two of you. You had Damian's wrists pinned and the both of you were laughing so hard about something that tears streamed down your face. Looking at them, it never seemed like Damian would do such a thing. Tim also knew that you were too quiet to ever speak out about it if he did.

Damian pecked your lips and the two of you called it enough for the time being. You wiped a towel down your face before slinging it over your shoulders. Hand in hand, you walked over to Dick and Tim who were looking nervously between each other. There was no good time to ask such an intrusive question.

You wished to jump straight into the shower, but Damian insisted to check in to see if there was any process. "Is the computer done downloading th-"

"Are you hitting (Y/N)?" Tim blurted out. Your eyes widened at his sudden question and you felt Damian tense beside you. How dare he accuse him of ever laying a hand on you? Even when sparring he made sure never to hurt you. There were accidents, sure, but never intentional. To have Tim assume something like that? It was unfathomable.

To try and explain himself, Tim pointed towards the bruises on your neck that he had just noticed upon your approach, as well as the ones visible right above your shorts. Damian grunted beside you, understanding why Tim thought the way he did. You on the other hand, felt your face flare up with embarrassment.

Dick and Tim looked between themselves at your unexpected reaction. Damian gave them a look, hoping that they would understand without having to say it out loud. Unfortunately, they didn't pick up on it. Damian wiped a hand down his face, not believing that he actually had to explain this to his older brothers.

"I got them during sex," you muttered out. Their eyes widened at your answer and a flush filled their cheeks. However, Tim still wasn't satisfied with the answer of the bruises on your neck. There was no way that they were hickies - they weren't the right color or shape. Damian sighed, cringing as he perfectly placed his fingers were the bruises were.

"Oh I think I'm gonna throw up," Tim made a disgusted face. Damian had a smug look on his own. Not only did he prove him wrong, but he also made him extremely uncomfortable. Two birds, one stone.

"You're like twelve," Dick exasperated. Damian was still the same little boy in his mind. In no way should he be old enough to be having sex, especially by the looks of it, frequent sex. Seeing the two of you dating, it always seemed like a cute middle school couple - in no way did he think about you as adults.

"I'm twenty-two, Richard. You're a decade off."

"Decade or not, I still know too much now," Tim shuddered. You were thankful that Damian tugged you away from his brothers. You were still flaming with embarrassment from the encounter. Now, every time you would see them that would be all they could see: the bruises that Damian left around your neck.

Even if you were adults, like Damian said, you still didn't like the idea of his brother's knowing what happened between the two of you behind locked doors. Damian didn't seem to mind. Maybe because it showed how old he really was or that he got to prove that he was getting laid consistently.

All you knew, was that you were grateful that they didn't bring Bruce into this little theory and him finding out what you did to his son - or what his son did to you. Though, as the world's greatest detective, you feared he already knew the truth.

"Join me in the shower?"

"You're seriously thinking about sex right now? After that?" You raised your eyebrows. Damian's sex drive was impeccable - sometimes a little too impeccable. Dragging you from Gala's, pit stop on patrol, he even caught you between classes one time. Now, after his brother's teased him, he was still ready to go.

Damian shrugged. "You're saying you aren't? After all that teasing while we trained? I felt your heart rate when I showed them what the bruises were for, beloved. You got excited." You glared at him, knowing damn well that it was true. He squeezed just enough to get you thinking about your previous night.

"You're game better be good if you want to distract me from that shit show that just happened."

"When is my game ever not?"

[archetypal-archivist]

Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone P.2

So, a little while back I wrote piece titled Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone (linked here) which was inspired by the works of @petrichormeraki and @redorich, who popularized the AU of Tommyinnit from the Dream SMP getting dropped into Hermitcraft somehow and summarily getting adopted by the entire server. I, in my infinite wisdom, decided “yes, but also angst” and spat out a solid 1500+ words with a cliffhanger at the end because it was getting ridiculous and I had yet more to write. This is another 1500+ words of continuation. 

-----

It's not easy, knowing things. Joe knows more things than most, and oh, how it eats at him sometimes. He jokes with Cleo that between the two of them and their dogs, they are perhaps the leading experts on being chewed on, but she never laughs at that joke. He can't help but wonder why, his thoughts drifting as he lies still and silent in her arms, curled up together on his bed in the winery. Her orange hair tickles his nose as he moves to bury his face in her shoulder a bit more, her cool breath ghosting over the sticky tear tracks that still line his cheeks. All the things that remain unsaid lie between them, but their silent agreement binds them together tighter still. And indeed silence is the name of the game, however much he wishes it wasn't necessary- everything will work out in due time, he knows. But oh, how it aches that he can't say anything more on the matter, not even to her.

"Cleo?" The zombie woman makes a soft inquiring noise, politely ignoring how his voice cracks on the syllables. "Are we doing the right thing?" Her grip tightens again, almost crushingly so, and Joe goes limp at the implied rebuke. Be it right or wrong, his silence must be ensured- he knows so much that if he said anything, it'd all come pouring out. A real modern-day Cassandra, verbal fountain and harbinger of doom in one. No, best to stay cryptic when he can and silent when he can't- and if even his silence fails, Cleo is there, sword in hand, ready to keep him quiet.

He should not take comfort from that. But here, wrapped up in his best friend's embrace, utterly at her mercy and all the safer for it... He does anyway.

-----

Joe and Cleo aren't in a romantic relationship, but it would not be amiss to call them platonic life partners in this universe. Joe has been seeing things for as long as he can remember, the exact mechanics are strange and baffling at best, and if he tries to actually do any Science to figure out how this stuff works, the magic changes to spite him. It's led to a lot of unfortunate visions of peanut butter and how the server generally tends to misuse the stuff (Etho sometimes using it instead of slime in a sticky piston is a milder example), so after enough peanut visions to make him allergic on principle, Joe tends to just let the visions come as they may. The only hard-coded bit that comes with them is that anyone living who hears his prophecies won't believe them and will have something bad happen to them as a result. Cleo, being a zombie, is a special exception to the rule. She's only alive in the most technical of senses, so while bad things still happen to her if she hears Joe speak about his experiences, she at least will believe him.

Which is why she is so determined to not know more about whatever is going on with Tommy. When Joe had rushed in a month ago, tears streaming down his cheeks and glasses barely hanging onto his face, she had merely put down the book she had been reading and had opened her arms wide to him. Convincing him that she would not betray his trust or break his heart had been hard, but she had known it was worth it. How can it be anything but, when Joe had looked at her then as if she was the most precious being on the planet and had immediately thrown himself into her arms, bursting out into troubled tears? He offered to tell her the full story, eyes wet and longing, and her long-dead heart ached at the trust he is giving her- but she is far too selfish to give that up. So she had turned him down, smile on her lips.

Even when he whispered, voice hoarse, that they wouldn't be seeing Tommy for a while. Even when he shuddered and shook in her arms, fragile as glass in her grip. Even when he begged her to ask, just ask, please, it's too much... She did not ask. If she asked, he would tell her, and then she would be hurt and his heart would break because it would be his words that had hurt her. She would not, cannot, will never inflict that upon him, or let him inflict that upon anyone else. (Of all the heads in her collection, the one she has most of is Joe's.)

She simply asks him if there will be a satisfying ending, and when he says yes, she asks no more. Everything will be okay, in the end. So long as there is that much, so long as she has Joe in her arms and the comfortable silence stretches out between them, then she will be content.

(At the foot of their bed, deep in Joe's winery where the barking is muffled and the light cannot touch them, there lies a chest of heads. Inside it, nestled among the many faces of the dead, rests an old iron sword bearing the name Hush. It's blade is rusty from disuse, but if Cleo ever decides that she isn't satisfied, well. There are ways of dealing with that.)

(Things will be okay. She'll make sure of it.)

-----

Philza was no stranger to death. A veteran of a hardcore world, where even the very earth was out to kill him, he had seen his fair share of deaths and had dealt out even more. Usually just to the local mobs and wildlife, but there was still the occasional player dropped into his world by the cruel hands of the Void as a sort of "apology" for leaving him alone, bereft of his sons. As if some random strangers could ever fill the Void in his heart.

Most of them had wandered off upon seeing him, more interested in escape than any companionship he could offer them, and he'd inevitably see their death messages in the otherwise silent chat a few days later. Others would approach him, some curious, some desperate for kindness- he gave them none, was often intentionally cruel just to drive them away. He had the Void in his heart and the Void had him, and he ached and ached for what he could not have. Anything less would be a pale imitation, a mockery of the love he was desperate to return to. He tried not to think about how those kind strangers would also come to meet their ends, often more messily than those that had decided to leave him be to begin with.

Then there were the rare few with... less than gentle intentions. (Blood for the Blood gods, no matter the universe.)

Theirs were the deaths he regretted the least, but the blood still gave him nightmares. For all that he loved his sons, he never understood their love for glory, be it found in conquering other nations or the sticky ooze of a dying foe. Maybe that's why he had spent so much of his time with his elder sons when he returned, the Void finally releasing him from his hardcore prison. Just a father's attempt at understanding, even if it left his youngest at loose ends.

But the problem with loose ends, he had come to find, is that the world had a way of setting them to rights- either by tying them back into the grand narrative, or by cutting them out entirely. For months after Dream had come to him, apology on his lips and charred shoe in hand, he had believed that Tommy's fate had been the latter. He had  mourned his son as if such was the case, weeping openly at the news for the first time in years. (He wasn't the only one, though- Technoblade was an only child now and he was not taking it well.) It was only when Tubbo came to him with his compass to ask about its ever-spinning needle that he felt a spark of hope, for a compass that spun was not a compass linked to a dead soul- simply a lost one. Such hope was justified when, six months later, Technoblade burst into his house with a snarl on his lips and a smile in his eyes. Tommy had returned.

And as Phil stood, back straightening and wings spread wide, hope bloomed in his chest like hanahaki, choking him with love right down to his core. Tommy had returned, despite everything.

And Philza would not let him go again.

-----

For all that Tommy might have been... gone for at least a month now on the Hermitcraft server and life has significantly slowed down for all involved, by no means has it stopped entirely. The shops are still stocked, the torches are replaced when the old ones burn out, Hermits still go out and see each other, if less often than before. Xisuma, in fact, instates a series of mandatory meetings every week or so as a way of making sure that everyone is still alive- a bit of reassurance that no one else has died in the time interim. Even the hermits who prefer to keep to themselves show up, such as Tinfoilchef, Joe, and Cleo, although the latter two remain distinctly separate from everyone else on the server during the meetings, their refusal to take a side alienating them from the rest. Grian, broken though he may be, also comes, usually in the arms of Iskall or with a vacant smile on his face depending on the state of his mental health on the given day. His presence is also alienating, as most of the hermits don't quite know what to say around him and thus will give him and Iskall a bubble of space to themselves during the meetings. Mumbo is the only one to cross the divide, standing loomingly tall at Iskall's back, as if daring anyone to say something potentially hurtful to either of his friends.

Frankly, the entire concept of weekly meetings is a bit of a mess. Xisuma stands at the front with Keralis at his back, voice and posture more and more tired with every meeting and Keralis standing just a bit closer, a silent show of support (ready if his admin ever needs some physical support too). The prognosis is usually a mix of dull stuff and hopeless stuff- lag is better than it has been in years, the Chestmonster shop is out again, Tommy still has not been... found. It's not exciting exactly, but the tension during the reporting stage is palpable as everyone waits to hear if something else has gone wrong. It's a bit like being on the front lines- horrible, drawn-out minutes of tedium as everyone holds their breath, waiting to see if another bombshell will drop but knowing that they have to be there, because some warning is infinitely better than seeing a death message in chat one day and not knowing if that person will ever make it back.

In addition to this is the tension that comes from the server being split in three- the believers, the mourners, and those too damaged or too caught up in their own narratives or too neutral to swing to one side or the other.

The meetings are where the most near-fights happen, and Xisuma is so, so tired of having to be the sane one these days. (The benefit of a helmet, he's come to find, is that no one can see you cry.)

(He doesn't take it off much anymore.)

-----

It's after one such meeting that Zedaph finds himself cooped up in his base, eyes burning with unshed tears and feet dangling out into the Void as he sits at the bottom of the hole in his base, the one that goes straight to bedrock and then even further still. The chill is a welcome distraction from his own inner turmoil, and for all that it's dangerous to be sitting so near to the edge of the world, he can't find it in himself to move away form its cold comfort. After all, Tommy can't have died permanently, right? So sitting there is perfectly safe. He has to believe that. He has to.

The meetings are tough on everyone, but sometimes Zedaph wonders if they are a bit worse for him than they are for the rest. It can't be normal that the first thing he does after every meeting is burst into panicked tears as soon as he gets back to his base, as he's certainly never felt such deep fear and relief after the meetings they had before the Incident. And yet, as soon as the iron door of his base sncks shut behind him, he drops down into the Void hole, sits at the edge, and bawls his eyes out. It's kinda funny- he's shed more tears in the last month than he has in his entire life so far. And all for a boy he had known for less than a year.

During this particular day, however, something odd happens. When he sits down for a good cry, it feels like there's the slightest of breezes coming off the Void beneath his feet, chilling him right down to his bones. It's cold, yes, but a welcome relief as he feels a bit like he's burning up from the inside out. Every moment he spends with Tango and Impulse is stifling, as with them he has to shove himself into a hateful mold he never wanted for himself. He doesn't like being angry, and being angry alongside his best friends is hardly any better. If he had it his way, he would have curled up in bed and simply slept the horror away, only waking when the nightmare was over and he could go play mini golf and Among Us with Tango, Impulse, and Tommy again. Instead, his love for his friends demands that he supports them in all their endeavors, even if their goals these days seem to run a little closer to "get them all killed" than is comfortable.

But yes. The breeze. It feels like ice on his skin and sends every nerve in his legs buzzing. It has a distinct smell to it too, like TV static, ozone, and that sensation you get after you brush your teeth and go take a big gulp of cold water. It's... odd. But vaguely comforting. And as the tears finally well up in his eyes and drip down his cheeks, as he lets himself sob for all the friends- both new and old- he's lost, he finds that it's exactly what he needs.

And if Zedaph would only listen a little closer, let himself see beyond his broken heart, perhaps he would hear the whisper on the wind, too.

Everything will be okay. I'll make sure of it.

-----

Evil X has his own troubles to deal with. He had been present when Tommy had died, if watching from the wrong side of their dimension. Lost in the Void with nothing better to do, he had often found himself watching his friend go about his day. With space and time being as screwy as they were in the Void, he could find himself taking three steps and then would be watching Tommy go from sleeping over at BDub's base to having "breakfast" with Rendog. So when Grian and Tommy had gone out End-busting that fateful day, of course he had been watching.  And that was all he could do- watch- as he saw his best friend fall to his apparent death, that little line of code that signaled "perma-death" flashing once, twice, and then glowing a deep, ominous red.

But that wasn't the end of it, even as his dull and bruised heart stuttered in his chest at the sight.

Like a redstone pulse lighting up everything around it, that red glow set off a cascading chain reaction that rippled up and down Tommy's code until it eventually trailed out to wherever his code stretched out into the Void. There, it must have severed something because before he could even call for help, his friend's code yanked inwards and away, slingshotting the whole mess into the distant darkness beyond, leaving naught but a vague impression on the inside of his eyelids behind. It was... awful. One of the scariest things he had ever seen, perhaps second only to watching his brother, stern-faced and cold, send him off to the Void once again. But for all that it hurt to see that red glow and watch in mute horror as the server he had once tried to destroy shake itself apart at the seams, there was still hope.

The code was gone, yes, but not unraveled, not destroyed. Merely... transported. Moved. Like a file being sent from one computer to another, or a player teleporting between servers. Tommy's code vanishing like that was cause for alarm, yes, but somewhere out there in the vastness of the Void, it lingered still- and it had left a faint impression of itself in its wake. That meant there was hope.

Evil X- and by proxy, his twin Xisuma- were voidwalkers, beings specifically designed to see, understand, and even modify the world's code. Were he anything else, he surely would have perished by now, his consciousness scattered across the Void as it was. And having been in exile for so long, he had gotten to be adept at seeing the seams between worlds and reading the truths of existence as the Void had intended for her children. If anyone could follow that faint trail, could get Tommy back, it would be him.

For the first time in a long time, Evil X had hope. And hope is a vicious motivator indeed.

-----

TBC :)

[makeste]

regarding Best Jeanist, Dabi, and all of that

@kaleswagdragon​ I hope you don’t mind me posting this comment and my response as its own post, seeing as it quickly got out of hand and sort of morphed into a whole entire essay.

anyway, so! you say that it’s a mischaracterization, but it’s really not, though. I mean, props for bringing up the cultural context of Japan, in which the honne-tatemae culture of covering up anything that might lead to any sort of conflict -- even if it means harming an innocent victim in the process -- is a very real issue. so given that, I understand why so many people are interpreting Jeanist’s statement in a “how dare you bring this family shame to light” sort of way. and Caleb’s “dirty laundry” translation doesn’t help, given the “we’re more embarrassed than actually concerned about this” feel of that particular phrase, which he apparently chose just because of the clothing pun without really giving much thought to any other implications.

but in the actual Japanese, the meaning/context is somewhat different. here’s a link to a twitter thread clarifying the original spoiler translation, and breaking down the actual Japanese dialogue.

I think the meaning here is very clearly “you waited until the public’s faith in heroes was already wavering to bring this down on them as a final blow.” if he was simply criticizing Dabi for publicizing the Todoroki family drama, he would have stopped with that first sentence. the two sentences afterward (“you waited until everyone’s faith in heroes was wavering, when the damage would be too great to handle”) make it clear that what he’s actually calling Dabi out for is the way that he basically weaponizes his story into the perfect political tool to finally take down the heroes. which is an observation that we as the readers can verify for ourselves as being true. look at how he so carefully edited the footage of Twice’s death. look at the contrast between the way he acts in the video, compared with the homicidal glee we see from the actual Dabi in real time.

Jeanist is notably the only one who is able to get the same perspective as the readers here, since he’s the only person who’s physically present in Jakku with the real Dabi, but is also able to hear the video being broadcast. meaning that he’s able to hear both video!Dabi’s calm, prerecorded “I’m just a concerned citizen trying to look out for a society being taken advantage of by the ones charged with protecting it” speech, and actual!Dabi’s “hahaha fuck you Endeavor I’m bringing the whole country down even as we speak, well anyway time to kill you all” reality. he alone can see that stark contrast between the concerned whistleblower act Dabi is putting onscreen, versus his true attitude of “I don’t actually give a fuck, I just want to eradicate the heroes and make my dad suffer.” basically, Jeanist is the only one who can see that juxtaposition, and see Dabi’s reveal for what it really is, seeing as Dabi literally spelled it out for Endeavor and the others. and so he’s calling him out on that.

and he’s not wrong to do so. it’s clear that a lot of fans vehemently disagree with this, but being an abuse survivor doesn’t excuse you from having the same obligation as every other human being on the planet to try your best to be a decent person, which at minimum means not going out of your way to hurt other people. I say this as someone who’s experienced abuse, which shouldn’t need to be a disclaimer honestly, but I guess that’s how it is these days. anyways, though, I have, and I know a lot of other people who have as well. it’s a terrible, awful, exceptionally shitty thing to experience, and it affects everyone in different ways. and every single person who goes through something like that deserves help and support and time to heal, and it’s a tragedy and an injustice that Dabi, from what we have seen, never got any of that.

but that doesn’t excuse him from still being held to the same basic standard of “hurting other people is shitty” as everyone else. it doesn’t mean he gets a free pass. it doesn’t mean that anyone who says “hey, Dabi using his trauma as an excuse to murder people is kind of fucked up” is an abuse apologist. and it doesn’t mean Horikoshi is an abuse apologist for writing him that way, for that matter, because guess what? sometimes people who are abused grow up to become abusers. that’s just a fucked-up thing that happens sometimes. and pretending like it doesn’t is ironically not all that different from that whole “sweeping things under the rug” concept you mentioned earlier. it does happen, and I think it’s important to acknowledge that, because acknowledging it is one of the necessary steps to take in fixing it.

this attitude of “if someone was abused they should be absolved of responsibility for their actions” that I’ve seen in some posts is taking the concept of “abuse often has a profound impact on people’s mental health, and that should be taken into consideration before judging them too harshly for behavior that they can’t always necessarily control”, and twisting it into this nice little loophole that people can use to duck accountability whenever it’s convenient. but being abused doesn’t give you the right to abuse other people, is my point. nothing gives somebody the right to do that.

and Dabi is hurting other people. he waited ten years to tell his story specifically because he wanted to use it to make others suffer. and, putting aside the part where he’s trying to engineer the downfall of society as a precursor to the mass destruction he and his pals have planned, he also broadcast the story nationwide without the consent of the other abused parties involved. which I’m not saying he didn’t have the right to do, mind you, because it’s his story as well as theirs, and he has the right to tell it. and the right to make his abuser’s crimes as public as he wants, if that’s what he decides. but it also ignores the question of what his mother and siblings might want, and the fact is that they’re also survivors, and so in theory should have the same right as Dabi to choose their own healing process, and decide exactly how they want their abuser, who like so many abusers is also a close family member, to be held accountable. anyway, but all of that is obviously very, very complicated and I don’t think there’s a clear right or wrong side as far as this part of it all. it’s not a situation where everyone can be happy, which unfortunately is often how it goes.

anyway, I’ve kind of meandered pretty far from my original point now, so my bad. my points are, basically,

(a) I think the linked explanation does show that Jeanist is chiding Dabi for using his trauma in this specifically scheming and destructive way, as opposed to saying “shame on you for not being a good little victim and staying quiet”, which would be a ridiculous thing for Horikoshi, who’s explored the topic of abuse more thoughtfully than any other mangaka I’ve read, to randomly have one of his protagonists say.

and (b) the people calling Dabi out on his shit aren’t all smug victim-blamers who have no sympathy for what he has been through. the latter point (and a lot of this post, actually) isn’t particularly directed at you btw; it’s more of just a general statement brought on by some of the discussion that’s been going on these past few days.

anyways, I actually like that the fandom is talking about all of this! I just think it’s a very complex subject, and an even more complex situation currently in the manga. and ideally, people would try to acknowledge that complexity when discussing it, rather than simply picking a side and doubling down on it no matter what, or shooting down the whole thing as problematic writing just because isn’t a neat and tidy situation where you can simply say “oh, person A is right and person B is wrong, that’s it, end of story.” it’s not, unfortunately. it’s a messy clusterfuck of a topic that’s only going to get messier as this plot continues, so hopefully we can all just sort of brace ourselves for that lol. this is really just the tip of the iceberg, I think.

[philtstone]

I would LOVE to read your take on 13 from the kiss list for your choice of pairing 😎

#13 -- "frustrated kisses". em sent me this w the eye emoji implied and i decided to curveball it into another dimension entirely. i'll make it up to u in the next prompt ...?

thank u to @parlegee and @firstelevens for proofing this for me and helping me work out the weird pacing kinks! sorry again abt how long this got, except im not really bc there needs to be 203948394 times more content for these 2; hopefully i have done this first attempt a modicum of justice.

“It is nice to meet a man with similar taste to one’s own,” T’Challa says, as if he’s commenting on the weather.

Sam must be looking at him a bit confused, so he clarifies,

“The coffee, Captain.”

“Oh. Oh – yeah, of course.”

The last time Sam was in Birnin Zana, he didn't really have a chance to soak up the culture. An unfortunate side-effect of the world very immediately ending, he thinks, which is a crying shame, 'cause this home brew is incredible.

"A special Border Tribe blend," the king explains. "My wife and mother insist it is too strong. Shuri, of course, believes the imported startup stuff from Kenya to be more interesting, and my most trusted General drinks exclusively tea.” He sighs, probably more dramatically than is necessary, and says, “they do not tell you when you become king that no one will want to enjoy a good cup of coffee with you in the afternoon. A very trying way to live one’s life, eh?”

T’Challa has an easy, personable way about him that Sam finds he likes immediately. He’s seen it before, sort of, in snatches. Only a really nice person, Sam’s always thought, would go through the shitshow that was the UN, come out the other side more put together than before, and offer the rest of their mess what was essentially open-invite political amnesty for the next two years. There was no way the King of Wakanda wasn’t, as Sam’s nephews might phrase it, the coolest ever dude.

Still; this might be the first time Sam’s really spoken to him like this. Like, shoulder to shoulder, as equals. He’s never really entertained the concept before. It’s a little weird. Pleasant, though.

He’s a comfortable presence at Sam’s side.

Sam, informed recently by both his sister and his friend that he is a total coffee snob, says,

“I think it’s great, your Majesty.”

Their walk has taken them slowly from the small coffee house in city proper – a clay hole-in-the-wall not unfamiliar in its vibe to Sam, though the beaded decor framing the entryway was encrypted with forceshields and the smokey inside had a high tech e-transfer payment system set up entirely waived when the elderly barista recognized his newest guest – through the Golden City Marketplace, past the colourful geometric architecture that shapes the terraces leading up to the Palace gardens, and now along the quiet walkway immediately preceding what Sam remembers is the courtyard they came through on their way down.

It’s a nice reprieve from the bustle of the first level, though Sam didn’t mind the energy. Even post-Blip, this place is thriving more than most. He’s sure there are reasons for that that are infrastructural and mostly beyond his cursory understanding of messy global economic systems. Then again, some things are plain for anyone to see. Sam’s spent the last twenty minutes watching as T’Challa stops every few steps to greet an old friend or speak with a grinning child. It’s so different from what he knows, what he’s come to expect of politicians from experience and education. And then, at once, the easy grace of knowing your people isn’t foreign at all to Sam. That part feels like home.

Heat’s dry, though. That’s so much the opposite of home it’s almost funny.

“So,” T’Challa says, now, in the new quiet of their surroundings. “You requested this visit claiming you had two things you wished to accomplish. What was the second thing?”

Sam takes a deep breath and looks squarely ahead, his hands in his pockets.

“I wanted to apologize,” he says.

They start climbing the steps of the first terrace.

“For Zemo.” The king is looking ahead, a mild look on his young face – Sam forgets sometimes that they’re almost the same age, T’Challa feeling somehow at once both younger and older than him – but there’s a note of gravity to his tone that has Sam hesitant. He feels strangely like there’s a test here he’s gotta pass.

“I know,” he starts, “I mean, your Majesty, I know – it wasn’t my responsibility the way my apologizing might come off, but I shouldn’t have just let it play out.”

“And you requested this visit so that you could tell me so.”

“I … requested this visit so I could thank you for the suit.”

“You are very welcome for that, Captain.”

“And so I could apologize.”

The bustle of the city sounds warm behind them, and their path is flanked by what Sam’s been told are arula trees. He picked that up years ago, when Steve brought ‘em here the first time. Weirdly, being around the short, wiry shapes of the stuff makes him miss his sister again, like the echo of a memory.

Sarah’s just a phonecall away these days. It’s relieving to be able to remember that.

“It was not your responsibility,” T’Challa comments.

“No.”

“But you feel responsible for those involved, in the way that one does.”

Sam sighs. “Not in a bad way.”

“I did not say it was bad,” T’Challa says quietly.

Sam looks down, pulling the small silver coffee cup pressed upon him by the shopkeeper out of his pocket. It’s decorated in dark, ornate designs, complicated but simple at once.

“I still wanna apologize.”

“On behalf of yourself, or Ingcuka Emhlophe?”

It takes Sam a second. “Uh. Myself.”

The corner of T’Challa’s mouth twitches. He seems to contemplate this answer for a second.

“Good,” he says finally. “He has done his own type of penance.” He inhales deeply, shoulders pulling back. As it has been the whole afternoon, he walks near silently, even on the flat tread of his sandals. Sam’s gotten used to Bucky’s accidental ghost walk, but this has a graceful deliberation to it that’s entirely different. “And ... we are a people of honour and dignity. But I understand what it is to make the pragmatic choice in the face of painful circumstance.” There’s a sudden weight to his expression, a weariness that’s crept in under the good-humour. On instinct, Sam pushes his own shoulders back, and angles himself to face T’Challa more directly. He says, more loudly, “I appreciate your apology, Captain. But be very much assured that Wakanda is not in the habit of giving gifts to those she does not consider friend.”

Sam blinks. He’s sure Sarah would be laughing at him right now, something about how he always talks a lotta shit for someone who gets thrown so easy. He decides to compartmentalize. Maybe he will call his sister later, so that she can geek out a little on his behalf. Sam realizes he has been staring at the King like a stunned catfish for the last thirty seconds.

“I’m – I’m honoured you think so, your Majesty.” 

They resume their walk; Sam matches T’Challa’s gait. The sun’s nice and warm above them. He feels compelled, after a second, to add something.

“You know I’m not – I’m not military anymore. It’s just Sam.”

“You do not have terms of respect in Louisiana?” T’Challa asks, turning his face towards Sam’s, a note of warm amusement in his voice that was probably tucked away there the whole time. It’s so genuine, but clever, too, like a subtle gottem that’s becoming more and more obvious the King seems to favour. Sam glances over his shoulder, to where he knows two Dora have been following them their whole walk. A respectful distance of course; T’Challa had seemed completely unbothered, even going so far as to quietly ask Sam whether they should get some to-go cups for their vigilant guard, the muted humour held carefully in his mouth. Now, clearly visible in the empty side street they’ve taken, Nomble lifts her chin in pleasant greeting, while Ayo, beside her, offers Sam a single, unquestionably challenging eyebrow.

T’Challa is still smiling.

They enter the palace grounds through a small side door. Once again there are genial greetings exchanged with a few stray ministers, what appears to be a handful of young Dora off-duty recognizable by their distinctive tattoos and shaved heads, and a joyful old woman with giant spacers in her earlobes who appears to be a gardener. They come to a stop by a small mosaic-patterned table housing a young woman with an elaborate head wrap and a little boy, absorbed by what looks to Sam like an overcomplicated board puzzle. The girl’s got this indulgent look on her face, half-exasperated.

“Ngentlonipho, kumkani wam.”

“Mhlobo wam,” T’Challa says, a note of open warmth in his voice that was not there before. He leans down, “Eyam, what are you doing?”

“Auntie Shuri’s puzzle,” said with great concentration.

“Ey. All afternoon?”

“It is a hard puzzle,” the little boy says, frowning intensely at pieces in front of him, round-cheeked and probably not much more than five years old. T’Challa gives Sam an amused, private look over the top of his curly head.

“No kiss hello for Baba?”

A very frustrated sort of kiss is dutifully pressed to the king’s offered cheek, before all attention is immediately turned back to the puzzle, the frown deepening between small, strong brows. Sam can’t help but eye Shuri’s set up over the top of the prince’s head. He has to admit it’s making his own head spin a little; the dedication to cracking it is kind of impressive.

“He has eaten?”

“An hour ago, my King.”

“Thank you, Sifso. A very hard puzzle, eh?”

“Ewe.”

“Your mother is looking for you, you know.”

“Ewe.”

“Azari. Awumlindeli umamakho. You do not make your mother wait.”

A mild look of contrition, sweet-faced like it usually is on kids, registers on the tiny prince’s face. Sam watches in amusement as the boy gathers up his stuff – the whole puzzle box put together is larger than his head – and holds it in too-short arms while he drops a second respectful – if childishly rushed – kiss goodbye to his father’s cheek and then makes a toddling beeline for the courtyard gate.

Sifso hurries after him with a hasty formality in the king’s direction, the end of her headscarf trailing behind her.

“Some puzzle,” Sam says, and T’Challa bursts out laughing, the kind that’s full of pride.

“Shuri does nothing but encourage him. Iyaphuma esandleni. He’s going to outsmart his mother one of these days, and then we will all be done for.” After a moment, he says, into the following quiet, “An interesting burden, to be responsible for people you do not know, and people you know so intimately, at once.”

Then he places a light hand on Sam’s shoulder, the other held behind his back, and continues their walk, through the palace courtyard.

*

Ingcuka Emhlophe -- white wolf

Eyam -- "my own"

[berkmansimagines]

The Archer

A/N: This fic was lowkey inspired by a scene from the Birds of Prey movie!

Summary: After Barry botches a hit for the Chechens, Noho Hank pays you a visit.

Pairing: Barry Berkman x hitman!wife reader

You just returned home from a quick errand. You couldn’t have been gone for more than fifteen minutes….

When you walk into your apartment, you find a well-dressed bald man standing in the middle of the living room. He’s looking at a framed photo of you and Barry on your wedding day. You’ve never met this man in person, but you’ve heard Barry talk about him enough to know who he is. It’s Noho Hank.

“What are you doing here?” you ask quietly, trying your best to play it cool.

“Oh you must be Y/N!” Noho Hank enthusiastically greets you.

From the corner of your eye, you see another man standing off to the side. He’s big enough to be an enforcer. Before you have time to think or react, the enforcer points a gun at you and pulls the trigger-

WOOSH

You feel a sudden sharp pain in your neck. 

“What the fuck….” 

Your body goes completely numb and you fall to the floor. You’re still conscious but can’t move a muscle. There’s a dart in your neck. The man must’ve shot you with some sort of tranquilizer.

“Oh c’mon, man! Was that really necessary?” the bald mobster sounds annoyed.

“You don’t know what she’s capable of,” the enforcer replies. 

“Now we can’t ask when Barry is coming home,” Noho Hank complains.

Barry is out at his acting class but he’ll be home soon. Even if you could talk, you’d never give up any information about your husband.

The enforcer tosses the gun to the side and walks towards you. You wish you could smack that smug look off his face. He enjoys having this much power over you.

“You’re creepy, man. You’re just so fucking creepy,” Hank shakes his head, “At least move her onto the couch or chair or something.” 

“Whatever,” the enforcer shrugs.

He forcefully picks you up and shoves you onto the couch. 

“Where’s the bathroom?” Noho Hank asks you, and then, “Oh right, duh! You can’t tell me. It’s okay, I’ll find it.”

Noho Hank leaves in search of the bathroom.

The enforcer plops down onto the couch and wraps his arm around you. You hate being so close to him without being able to move. He roughly taps your face.

“Do you feel that?” the enforcer taunts.

The man abruptly cups your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye. He then takes a knife out of his pocket and shows it off to you.  

“I just got this sharpened. You wanna know why? So I could carve up your pretty face,” the enforcer smirks.

The enforcer traces lines down your cheek with the knife. If he was using any more pressure, you’d be cut and bleeding. 

“I think I’ll start by cutting off your nose,” he tells you as he moves the knife across your face.

You’re extremely anxious. You know that if you weren’t subdued you could fight back. But you can’t. It’s killing you how helpless you are right now. You’ve always been the hunter and now you’re the prey...

CREAK

You weakly eye the front door as Barry arrives home from acting class. He’s not prepared for the scene he just walked into.

“Hey, Y/N! I’m-”

Barry immediately stops talking when he sees you on the couch with a stranger. You look limp and completely out of it. Your husband's entire body goes rigid. 

“What did you do to her?” Barry asks in a low, serious voice. 

“Just a mild tranquilizer. She’ll be fine,” the enforcer snickers. 

Barry picks up on the man’s accent right away. Then he notices a distinct tattoo on the man’s arm. It’s a symbol for the Chechen mob. Fuck. Your husband quickly puts the pieces together. This guy isn’t after you. He’s here for Barry.

Barry was supposed to do a hit for the Chechens last night. Unfortunately, the target was not where Noho Hank said he’d be and Barry wasn’t able to complete the job. Barry knew the Chechens would be pissed, he just didn’t expect them to show up so soon.

Your husband impulsively tries to move towards you. He only makes it a few steps until the enforcer puts the knife to your throat. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the enforcer warns.

Barry freezes in place.

“Hey man! You need to check out their porcelain counters. It’s the same pattern I want for the heroin table,” Noho Hank excitedly announces as he returns from the bathroom.

Barry’s eyes widen, “Hank?” 

As soon as he sees Barry, Noho Hank’s entire demeanor changes from polite to menacing. The look on his face unsettles Barry a bit. The Chechen mobster is furious. 

“You fucked our plan,” Hank says cooly.

You and Barry lock eyes. He can tell you’re scared. The enforcer still has the knife to your throat. Barry needs to de-escalate the situation before you get hurt. 

“Hank, relax man. Tell your guy to put the knife away. Let’s just talk,” Barry puts his hands up.

Hank nods to the enforcer. He puts the knife back into his pocket, but keeps his arm around you.

“What happened, Barry? Why didn’t you follow the plan?” Hank asks.

“The guy wasn’t home!” Barry tries.

Hank shrugs, shaking his head.

“Goran doesn’t think he can trust you.”

“He can trust me! I’m going to finish the hit. I just need time. Give me a couple of days and the job will be done,” Barry pleads his case.

Noho Hank is quiet for a beat. You could cut the tension with a knife. And then-

“You have twenty-four hours to finish this hit. If you do not then Goran will kill you, your wife and Fuches. And not in that order,” Hank threatens Barry.

Barry slowly nods his head. He understands.

During Barry and Hank’s conversation, you gradually start to regain feeling back in your hand. You lightly tap your fingers in an attempt to speed up the process. Once you have enough strength, you decide to take the dart out of your neck and stab the enforcer with it. He deserves a taste of his own medicine...

You sneakily move your hand, trying to reach for the dart in your neck when the enforcer suddenly grabs your wrist. He squeezes it so tightly, you’re afraid that he’ll break it.

“What do you think you’re doing, huh?” the enforcer angrily asks. 

Your face is still pretty numb and you can’t quite speak yet. You remain silent.

“Hey! Let go of her,” Barry yells.

Your husband charges towards the couch. The enforcer shoves you aside and rises to his feet, ready to confront Barry. 

Before Barry can get too close, Noho Hank steps in the middle of the two men. He says something in Chechen to the enforcer. The enforcer shakes his head and trudges toward the door. Barry doesn’t go after him.

“If he’s not dead in twenty-four hours, we’re coming back with some friends,” Noho Hank tells Barry.

Noho Hank follows his enforcer. Barry keeps his eyes on them. He doesn’t look away until they walk out the door.

As soon as they’re gone, your husband rushes towards you on the couch. You’re still regaining feeling back in your body. You move your mouth up and down a few times until it no longer feels numb.

“I’m so sorry. This is all my fault,” Barry frantically apologizes, pulling you into his arms.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, then tease, “Did you see the dart? That’s some Looney Tunes type of nonsense.”

“I’m going to finish this job. I promise they won’t bother you again,” Barry says adamantly.

“We’ll do it together,” you reply.

“Y/N-” 

“Let me help you. I… I’m ready for combat,” you nod.

Your husband doesn’t say anything. He just tightens his embrace and holds onto you.