#cause no matter what he does to me it's still safer cause it's only inside our head

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

N I guess it's cause of him bein how we try to make sense of whatever happened that thinkin about it makes me wanna run back to him

[bu-blegh-ost]

Something just occured to me. Circling through each beautiful moment in the campaign, I noticed a pattern. Gillion never initiates hugs. Every time, no matter if he is the one consoling or the one being consoled, he never is the first person to offer an embrace. And I think it says something.

When Jay wants to hug Gill, she always asks first. She opens her arms as an invitation and always gives him a clear sign that she wants to be close to him. And any time she offers, anytime Gillion gets permission, any time he feels like he is allowed one, he clings to her desperately and fully, starved for it, finding himself unable to let go too quickly, savoring it like he isn't sure when he is going to be allowed to have another.

Chip's hugs are unprompted and usually done with just as much desperation. They are completely controlled by emotion, and are a form of a language that Chip uses when love and appreciation cannot be expressed by words anymore. Chip never asks for hugs, he takes them. He needs them, so he is scared to ask like Jay does, cause asking means risking to be denied. It is safer to steal it. In contrast Jay is still asking cause she is still afraid of taking love for granted.

But they both, in the end, ask for hugs and comfort in their own ways. Gillion doesn't. He wants it, he needs it so often, but he never dares to ask for it. Cause he still treats love as a reward that he needs to earn, that he is not allowed to ask for, that can't be had, unless he does something that makes him worthy of being loved. Affection and love is a currency and Gill was taught that he needs to fight for it. That it's something he should never dare to request on his own.

How many times on their journey did he need to feel someone else's body close to his, but his lips were sealed, suffering in silence, thinking he Has not done well enough to be given the privalage of being comforted? How many aches and worries did he swallow down and burried deep inside? How many old wounds is he trying to fill with every single hug he receives, when someone else offers it to him? When he dares to take it, when he grips their clothes in an iron grip, trying to make the best out of it before it's gone? Cause who knows when someone allows him to have that again?

The only person Gill ever hugged first was Edyn, the first time in Allport. It was done with the same ferocity of a hurt child, of a little boy who Has been going through hell and his sister is his only remedy. The only person that always lets him have love for free. The only one he knows he can hug for sure. One who for so many years has been the only source of comfort.

The rest of the world is uncertain and even with Chip and Jay, Gill still strives to fulfill the unsaid cryteria of when he is worthy of their affection.

But I know that with enough reassurance and care, he will be able to ask for love himself and start treating his crew as people he can fall back on. And just so you know, the moment in which Gillion is the first one to hug Chip or Jay is going to make me cry like a little baby.

_______

Edit: more thoughts occured

Did you notice that Jay always seems to match Gill and Chip when it comes to hugging? She never asks Chip for hugs and takes them the same way Chip does, no matter if she is the one seeking or offering comfort. And the same goes with Gill. Regardless of whether she is the one in the need of comfort or she is the one comforting, she always verbally communicates a desire to hug first. Like she kinda feels that this is what Gillion needs from her to accept it.

So maybe Jay is actually always trying to search for the most effective way to get a hug, to increase her chances. She believes she has to, cause she cannot take love for granted anymore, not after Ava's death. She took her for granted and now she is gone. So now Jay struggles to freely express her own desires and instead clings to all the ways that she thinks guarantee her the affection she needs, an act of desperation in its own right. A silent plea for acceptance.

Each Captain on this ship treats each embrace as a treasure to savor and protect. It's a result of their past and their fears, but also a proof of unyielding love they have for each other. It's beautiful and one day the same love that they still dread to take, will heal them.

[wroteclassicaly]

Fallin’ For His Darlin’

(Gator Tillman x Female Reader)

Word count: 1,062

Pairings: Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of trauma, wounds, pain, anxiety, and depression, vaginal sex, fluff, hurt/comfort, vaginal fingering, kind of dark!Gator, kind of soft/anxious too, etc.

A/N: So inspired tonight, listened to some mood music, feeling that fall vibe, haha! Hope y’all enjoy? I’m pretty happy with this one! And I can’t wait to see our boy in action 😭 P.S, forgive my shitty graphic making, I’m not good at that!

You’re not sure what time it is. Maybe midnight? You aren’t positive, because when his headlights find your garage door, floating in through your window like his own personal spotlight, his tires skid across the gravel of your lane, his car door heavily thudding closed, his boots crunching heavily over rough ground, signaling him closer… closer — time ceases to matter much. You’re meeting him eagerly over the threshold, his back slammed against the beat up wood, boots falling beside your sneakers on the entryway rug. Nothing can find you here, can harm you here, and what has lifelong permission to touch you, it’s always-only… him.

He smells as good as always. Spicy cologne and cigarettes, powdered sugar from the donuts he’d eaten for dinner (you are always on him to eat more), leftovers from your shared favorite diner — Angelica’s, still pressed into his crisp black t-shirt, as if he’d forgotten a napkin. His hair is usually in its less than pristine condition by the time he arrives at yours in the night hours. Doesn’t matter anyways, not with how you end up carrying on in front of your old fireplace (Gator’s a fan of your new cream rug, intricate floral patterns woven into it, loved by owners before, thrifted, and now yours), or on your couch. You’d never really gone to your bed, learning how those times nearly caused lines to be crossed, one ending with Gator falling asleep on your naked breasts, (the calmest he’s been in years, and you just watching him as the sun came up and cast a glow on his youthful head. he was lost, broken, beaten down).

Sticking to this, here in your living room, it’s safer, saner. But it’s not what you want. However, you’ll have him whichever way he offers. He’s Gator and you’re his sweet darlin’.

~*~

Your legs fall open, one wrapped up in his camouflage pant clad thighs. His fingers press deeper inside of you, thumb circling your curls, smearing the cream around in them, watching how it bubbles. You’re kissing him again, lips so soft on his chest, fingernails scraping through the thick tufts that rest on his chest, occasionally flicking his gold and silver chain overlays. You’d gotten him the gold pendant, something he could wear, a symbol for faith that Gator could attach his own meaning to, not having to wear because it meant what his father wanted it to. But it was safe enough that Roy wouldn’t question its meaning.

Your lips find that patch of skin by his left nipple, sucking it between your lips, before you bite down. Gator throbs in his pants, his spare hand squeezing your neck’s nape. Despite his fascination, he’s still a million miles away. “Why do you let me do this to you?”

It’s a default question, an answer you both know already. Why you let him love you like this, it’s so simple…

“These hands, what I do with them before I come here. I’m bad. And I could hurt you, you know?” He adds a little pressure that travels up your scalp in electric prickles.

You spread yourself wider for him, a third finger stretching you in a welcomed, boundary pushing burn. Your eyes meet the midnight murk that’s woven over his mossy pupils like a blanket to mask, face leaving that cove of his chest. Your finger reaches to rub along his lower lip, his tongue licking out to taste skin.

“You wouldn’t, Gator. You won’t...” Is your answer. As if you believe it more than you believe in any god or higher power.

He’s pushing, as he often does…

“And if I do?”

“Then I’d let you.” It’s plain and simple, your fingers leaving his mouth to wrap around his wrist and correct him to a deeper rhythm. This is not enough tonight. More. Fuck, you want him to swallow you whole, capture you, trap, and hurt you in the ways you welcome — how he can, ever so softly, but painfully blissful, like a fire to your fingertips, flames licking the skin, enough to sting, but never to take away in harm.

He’s fully hard, swollen, and he’s turning towards you, forcing you to him by your nape. Your noses bump into a brushing nudge, his hand leaving your cunt and pressing wet, calloused fingers to your jaw as he brings you into his mouth. He’s so warm, plush, his stubble has a scratching effect. He tastes like sweet sugar and Marlboros. He’s been smoking menthol, you note — what he switches to in the colder seasons.

He’s panting his next declaration over your mouth in a fragile concentration. “Would you let me put it inside of you, darlin’?”

Your thighs tighten together, pussy clicking noisily. You’ve never had penetrative sex with him yet, something so close for two childhood friends. But you’re ready to leap if he is, reaching for his hand on your jaw and squeezing over his knuckles. “What do you think I’ve been waiting for, Gator?”

~*~

Approaching Autumn glides in on the cool September rain of Sunday, leaves and earth filling your room with the harsh scent of two bodies connecting. Your blush curtains blow against the chipped, open window frames. Your nipples have hardened from the cool air, from dragging repeatedly across Gator’s chest hair, his necklaces dipping into your collar bones and the valley of your tits. He’s got your legs held around his waist, your hands pulling in his hair to mess it up, his nose finding yours, foreheads sticking with perspiration. The box of condoms lay abandoned at your bedside, a gamble in you, of which Gator is only ever willing to trust.

Your eyes tighten and close, his size making you feel as if you’ve never been touched or fucked before in your lifetime. Everything aches, everything is too much, all at once.

“Should I stop? You hurtin’?” He’s speaking to you in a way that makes tears gather in your lash line. He brushes them away with a rough thumb, then a trigger finger, almost immediately.

His hands let your legs drop to take your fingers in his own, directing one to his shoulder and the other around his waist. “Hold onto me?”

“I’ll never stop.” And you’re surging in for a kiss.

The rain hasn’t stopped when the sun begins to come up the next morning. And your boy sleeps soundly on your chest, uncaring. And that funny thing called time? Well, it still ceases to exist.

// Eat me paragraph //

[curekibouka-writing]

May I have a Rollo x reader scenario?👀👀 In which they are sorta debating, like Reader disagreeing with his views+his definition of justice(?)+both stating their own opinion and stuffs+sorta warm up to each other as the process goes on Btw, totally wouldn't mind for some angst in this if there's any u can think of fitting, that is

Thxx in advance🙏🙏 And take your time<(￣︶￣)/

Burn Your Way Out

**Major spoilers for Glorious Masquerade event**

A/N: When I realise I genuinely have trouble writing Rollo 💀 But thanks for the request, I wanted to write Rollo even though it's difficult (and probably not good) ;~;

“I apologise for having you involved in this,” Rollo settles near the Bell of Salvation, his back facing you, “But you will be safer here than with your companions. The flowers will not harm you and nor will I, so I’d appreciate it if you do not run off.” 

You did, in fact, try to run off, only to fail because he captured you with a swift immobilising spell. Crimson flowers shot up to his wrist, glowing in the delicious magic they can suck from him, but he put you down without a flinch. 

As he finishes instructing you to stay put, he places his handkerchief over his mouth and gazes far outside, into an abyss of fiery flowers. Waves and waves of screams devour the night’s silence. He sees, he hears, and his dead eyes come alive with an icy smile as all the red blazes in them. 

“Are you satisfied?” you snap, “Destroying so many futures, crushing so many dreams.” 

He stays silent for a moment. You know that he knows. 

“Magic had shown me a dream too,” he stows away his handkerchief, “and destroyed a future too.” He straightens his back, “I will not let it happen again.” 

“And you think it’s worth it? You think this is justice?” 

“Of all people, of all creatures,” he turns his gaze to you, no more red in his eyes, only an ashen wistfulness left in its place, “I had thought you would understand. Magic is evil, all it brings upon us is calamity.” 

“You are bringing a calamity upon this city, you—” 

“It’s for the right cause. Magic is power, power that corrupts us, blinds us, power that we are not ready for. A world without it… a world like yours must be fairer, kinder.” 

In a world like yours, he thinks, his brother would’ve lived. 

“A world like mine? Aha… ahahahaha!” You burst out laughing, catching him by surprise, “So you’re blaming magic for unfairness? Have you seen the world? We are all corrupt from the start, we are blind from the get-go. Aren’t you the perfect example?” 

You can almost see the anguish boil in his eyes, flaring dangerously like a monster in the dark as it reaches the brim. He pushes through flowers latching onto him to take a strong step at you, “I am not…!” His voice does not follow that momentum. 

“You are caged. Caged in a cycle to prove your ‘justice’ to no one but yourself. So don’t expect me to understand. I’m not any kinder or any blinder without magic.” 

“You—” Rollo looks at the city outside once again, and now the noises pound inside his chest like the tolls of the bell. He dislikes it, this awareness that he is making a mistake and despite all he still charges forward. It reminds him of innocence, of recklessness. It reminds him of childhood, of the time when he had seen his brother faltering, heard his brother panting, yet he did not stop him. 

And perhaps you are right to some extent. How can he stop now? His wrongs not yet righted, his purpose not yet fulfilled. How can he face himself? 

“I had to do something,” he clenches his sceptre, the slightest hint of uncertainty ripples in his eyes, “How else should I atone? How else do I set things right?” 

How else can he be free? 

“You can’t.” You state coldly, piercing through the tolls in his heart. “The past is past. It’s gone. It’s dead. You can’t fix anything of it no matter what you do. All this,” you charge right up to him, easily moving through the flowers reaching up to your calf, throwing a hand toward the fiery pit outside, “All this! Is pointless, selfish, stupid. You are covering up a mistake by making another, you can’t justify a lie with another.”

The voices shrieking “That’s not true, that’s not true!” in his head every day, voices that crush every attempt to waver his conviction, are somehow quieter when it’s you who speak. He can hear you over them. 

He wants to take another step toward you. He wants to listen to you. Maybe you are not wrong, maybe you can free him. 

He moves, but his feet are pinned in place, chained by fire crackling in whispers. They tell him it was his fault. They tell him this is his duty. They tell him he must fix it with his own two hands. 

His eyes widen as if he is suddenly awake. A powerful blast peels you off the ground, throwing you away from him. 

“My past cannot be gone. My past cannot be dead! You don’t understand what I must entrust my hopes to just to get by. You don’t understand after all.” 

Flowers coil around his wrists, yanking his arms downward, and he doesn’t fight them. 

You slowly get to your feet— he didn’t hurt you as he promised. You approach him again, he looks so, so small against the fiery crimson pulling him into their grasp. 

He does not back away. He wordlessly regards you with his dark eyes, letting you come close enough to look into his eyes as well. What do you see in them this time? 

With a loud snap, you grab the vines on his arms and rip them off. You take his palm and shove the now harmless flowers in it, “They are dead. You are alive. We are alive. Their path has reached an end and you’re not walking on it. Our paths are ours to pave and you have no right to it. Don’t entrust your hopes to what isn’t yours, you will never be free.” 

Rollo considers your words hesitantly, falling to silence. And for the first time, you see no flame or ash in his dark eyes. You see rain. It’s a thing of sadness, of change, and of beauty. 

[seraphiism]

𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐈𝐃

( I'LL MAKE IT THROUGH THIS IF IT KILLS ME & WHEN IT KILLS ME, I'LL COME BACK. )

chara : gojo satoru fandom : jujutsu kaisen quote cr : slaughter beach, dog

I. BUT THERE ARE THINGS WORSE THAN DEATH, AFTER ALL, SO IT'S BETTER TO HOPE THAT'S THE ENDING YOU'LL GET.

that's what they teach you in the endless battle against curses, anyway. how cruelly they drill it into your mind, almost convince you that you will bleed out and fall into darkness. because it isn't the school that sends you off to die-- it's you, isn't it? you made this choice all along, whether for heroics or the fulfillment of justified violence, it was your choice all along. so come to terms with it, realize that all you have will be lost, and learn to live with that pain.

it's safer to cut your losses, better to cut out what causes the pain before it hurts you, right? it only makes sense, this logic, but the heart has never been one for certainties, and you almost wish you could rip it from your chest, kill it yourself, and live a life so hollow.

it's safer that way, isn't it? but this dreadful thing inside you still beats, still keeps you alive as much as it can, and even then, you're just human in the end.

II. YOU'RE JUST HUMAN IN THE END, AFTER ALL, SO IT'S BETTER TO HOPE THAT YOU CAN LIVE, NOT SURVIVE.

you do not think you welcome death with open arms, nor do you actively flee from it. you have resided to this fate, knowing that the courage in a withering spirit slowly disintegrates, revival only found in the hope you place in your students and their futures.

you smile, mournful, as you watch them argue over the little things, hope they can keep hold of that innocent youth for as long as the world lets them.

nanami sits next to you, wordlessly hands you a can of coffee from the vending machine. they're yelling about something else now, ; you can't keep up -- but you catch that fleeting lightheartedness in your chest, tightly purse your lips, know that you are too far gone.

"it's not good to get attached to anything in our lives, right?"

he doesn't move a muscle, casts a glance in your direction. you've always been one to look him straight in the eye, never faltering no matter the situation. but you don't this time, attention instead placed on the first years, gaze softening as the seconds pass.

"attachments are unnecessary in this line of work. better to keep to yourself and do what needs to be done."

you half-heartedly hum at the words. he is already telling you what you both know and try to live by.

"what's this? not even an invite for the most important person?"

nanami remains indifferent to the annoying voice, doesn't even bother to acknowledge satoru's presence. instead, he observes your reaction, notes the warmth your gaze holds. what you harbor for another is foolish, yet he does not fault you for your humanity.

he sighs, clears his throat, and adjusts his glasses.

this life is very much a cruel and painful one, isn't it?

the coffee tastes bitter on your tongues, tepid.

it is so terribly hard to be human.

III. YOU WON'T CALL IT LOVE, AFTER ALL, SO IT'S BETTER TO HOPE THAT NEITHER OF YOU WILL MEAN A THING TO EACH OTHER IN THE END.

you won't call it love because it's not love, not yet. you should put a stop to this, place the walls around you and separate the heart and mind. it's easier to think this through in black and white, but it's so much harder when his arms wrap around your frame, his chin resting on your shoulder as he tries not to drift off to sleep.

"you're thinking too hard nowadays."

you blink once, twice. maybe if you do it again, the gray will fade away. you blink again. it doesn't. satoru remains with you, shifts his body closer and presses a kiss against your neck in hopes that you will focus on him.

"yes, unlike you."

"hurtful." another brush of his lips against your skin. "what are you thinking about?"

you blink four times. what a muddled mess of black and white you are living.

"i am thinking," you tap your fingers against his arm : one, two, three, four, sigh deeply, "that something bad will happen soon. that we won't survive in the end."

satoru doesn't think much of it, not really. the contemplation of impending doom isn't anything new ; it is almost a familiar friend, if that, and the role it takes in your lives has always meant to be.

of course neither of you will survive. there is no question about that.

it's when you die that matters most, not how. he doesn't really care how, and he tells you this -- it just matters that he achieves his goal in the long run.

"you're not calling me weak, are you?" he grins, hopes to erase the scowl on your face with a kiss on the lips. "it'll be fine. no one can hurt me."

you cannot bring yourself to speak, so you nod instead, give into the cold and burning dread that sinks into the marrows of your bones.

( BUT THERE ARE THINGS WORSE THAN DEATH, AFTER ALL, SO IT'S BETTER TO HOPE THAT'S THE ENDING HE'LL GET. )

[beels-burger-babe]

Of Jealousy and Friendship - Pt. 2

**I'd like to first take a second thank @obey-mes-treasure for being so awesome being a beta reader for me for this! Your input really helped! Thank you so much 💓

Also THANK YOU EVERYONE SO SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE YOU'VE GIVEN THIS FIC, I'm so blown away that you guys really like this that much! I love you all ❤❤

GN! MC

Summary: MC makes a lower demon friend who may secretly be hoping for something more than friendship. The Demon Bros are not about to let this happen.

TW: Scenting (NOT SEX! I REPEAT! It is intimate, yes, but we’re just cuddling here. I put this just in case)

Part One: Here, Epilogue: Here

Previously on Of Jealousy and Friendship:

With another nod, the demon, Cane left, leaving you alone with six of the seven brothers bubbling with jealousy, anger, and concern.  

The moment Cane was out of sight, Mammon, still in his demon form, grabbed onto your wrist and began to drag you inside. 

You yelped at the tightness of his grip and tried to pull your hand away. “Hey! Mammon, stop it! That hurts!” 

The second born merely growled and tossed you onto the couch. As you looked up you were met by the fierce glares of several of the brothers and looks of disappointments from the rest.

“What the hell were ya thinkin’?” Mammon wasn’t shouting. He wasn’t screaming. His voice remained low and steady with a dangerous venom that dripped off every word. “Ya can’t just go frolickin’ through the Devildom with some second-rate demon ya just met. Especially not when ya haven’t told any of us where ya went or how long you’d be out. You could’ve been killed tonight, MC! And none of us would’ve known!”

You returned his glare as you shifted yourself to sit up on the couch. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m allowed to make my own decisions. You guys don’t control me! If I want to make friends and hang out after school, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” 

“We aren’t trying to control you, MC,” Beelzebub calmly stated. He stared down at you with a concerned frown and furrowed brows. “We just want to make sure that you’re safe. You know from experience how dangerous it is down here, and we want to keep you from getting hurt any more than you already have.” 

“Besides that demon, Cane I believe you called him,” Satan began, his arms still crossed in restrained frustration, “was clearly after something a little more than friendship.” 

You blinked at Satan in confusion before glancing at the others, who all seemed to be awaiting your response. “Wh-What...What are you talking about? Cane’s just a friend.” 

Belphegor tsked and rolled his eyes. “Ugh, Diavolo, please tell me you are not this stupid. He’s saying that the pest obviously had a crush on you or at the very least wanted to get into your pants.” 

“Which we can’t entirely blame him for, I mean, look at you, darling, you’re delicious,” Asmodeus said  matter-of-factly as you squawked in protest. “But he stepped out of place,” the Avatar of Lust’s eyes flashed as he gritted his teeth. 

You felt your confusion grow more and more inside of you as questions swarmed inside your head. “I don’t understand.” 

Lucifer sighed and looked over at Beelzebub. “Go get Levi. He’ll want to be here for this discussion.” 

You frowned as Beel left the room and looked over at Lucifer. “What discussion? You guys are making no sense!” You ran a frustrated hand through your hair as you groaned. “I get it. I should’ve been more cautious and let you guys know in advance. I’m sorry,” your eyes desperately searched Lucifer’s gaze for answers. “But there’s really no need for this...this intervention! I’m fine! He didn’t hurt me. I’m-” 

“Scented.” 

You whipped around at Levi’s voice.  He stood in the entry way with Beel, his face bright red as he held a hand over his mouth and nose and shakily pointed at you. “He scented you. Y-You let him scent you?” 

Lucifer face palmed himself and slowly let his hand fall off his face in clear annoyance. “We were just about to get to that, Leviathan.” Lucifer’s black and red eyes found your own as he raised a single eyebrow. “What do you know about scenting?” 

Your head tilted, even more dumbfounded than before. “You mean that were-wolf thing?” 

“WHAT?! NO, IT’S NOT A WERE-WOLF THING YOU NORMIE!!!” Levi shouted, clearly flustered by the topic. “Scenting i-is a... i-i-it’s...when two people...GAAAAAH!” he let out a shout as he threw himself into one of the chairs and hid his face in a cushion. “Someone else explain it, please! I-I can’t do this! It’s too high level!”

The brothers all exchanged glances, all in varying states of blush, as they silently debated on who would explain the apparently taboo subject. 

Eventually it was Lucifer who cleared his throat and seemed to be attempting to appear unbothered by all of this. “As you know demons are very possessive creatures. We don’t particularly like when others meddle with things that either belong to us or that we are fond of. As a result of this behavior and our heightened sense of smell, when a demon finds a person whom they are greatly fond of, we have the tendency to transfer our scent onto that person’s being, clothing, and belongings. It’s meant to be a consensual act of intimacy and a mark of one’s close bond with someone. It strictly marks that person as “off-limits” to all other demons.”

You blinked a couple times as you took in the information, your cheeks heating up. “A-And you said Cane did that to me?” 

You opened your mouth to argue, but then was suddenly hit by a flashback of the two of you dancing at the club. You could remember the music pulsing around the two of you and the way that Cane kept holding onto your shoulder, waist, or wrist with lingering touches. Thinking back on it, you remembered finding it odd that someone was so touchy with someone they just met, but blamed it on the cramped space that the dance floor provided. Your stomach twisted at the newly revealed implication. “S-So he was scenting me without me even knowing?” The brothers’ concern and anger suddenly made a lot more sense as a wave of guilt and unease washed over you. 

Mammon huffed, avoiding eye contact with you. “Exactly. The guys an asshole. I’ve been wanting to scent ya since we made a pact but ya don’t see me gettin’ all touchy feely!” He froze, with wide eyes as he realized what he just said. “I-I-I mean, what?! Pfft! Who would want to scent a human like you! Not-Not the GREAT Mammon, that’s for sure! I-It makes so sense!” 

The brothers collectively sighed. “Mammon, you absolute moron.” Belphegor mumbled as he shook his head. 

“OI! SHUT IT!” 

Asmodeus laughed and plopped himself into the seat beside you. “Please Mammon. You being love-sick over MC is old news. There’s no use even trying to cover it up. But even so, we all know there’s no way you’d be the first one MC chooses to scent them,” he draped an arm over your shoulder and leaned in close, “It’d obviously be me, right~?”

Levi scoffed from where he was still hiding behind the cushion on the chair. “Wh-Whatever. Not that it even matters now. That nobody of a demon already scented them. Now none of us will get to be their first...” He squeaked as he trailed off, suddenly shooting up from the chair. “I-I mean the first to scent you! N-Not anything weird! Not that you would do either of those things with a yucky otaku like me. I mean that kind of stuff only happens in animes.”

The brothers all went quiet after the first part of Levi’s rambling and seemed to become lost in their own train of thought. Your jaw dropped a little as realization finally clicked in. They hadn’t just been concerned about you missing or angry about you being so reckless... “You all wanted to scent me,” the room froze at your words. “That’s why you were all so frustrated when I came back with him. You were jealous.”

“What?! N-No!” Mammon sputtered in defense, weakly glaring at you. “I don’t get jealous! I’m Mammon! Avatar of Greed, second born of the Lords of Devildom! I can have anything I want! I especially don’t get jealous over wimpy, pathetic-” “Yes we were jealous.” Lucifer admitted, effectively cutting off Mammon and surprising everyone. He met your eyes and smirked. “Is that particularly surprising? I thought we had all been quite clear with our fondness of you.”

“Scenting you would have many benefits. It would help keep you safer when you’re alone. It’d also establish that, similar to how we all are yours through the pacts, you’d then be seen as ours by all demonic beings,” Satan smiled as he placed a hand under his chin, seemingly unaffected by the implications of his own words. “The idea is certainly appealing, don’t you think?” 

You gaped at the group of them as your face became hot with blush. You weren’t expecting this. Even as you threw the idea into the air, you were not expecting the emotionally constipated brothers that you had become so fond of to actually admit that they cared about you.  “You all...H-How would that even work?”

“Well we’d get his nasty, normie scent off of you for starters,”  Levi mumbled not quite as quietly as he meant to, and squeaked when he realized just how loud his words were. “I-It’s true! Scenting them will be more difficult since they’re already coated in his scent!” 

Beel nodded scrunching up his nose. “It does smell bad. It really doesn’t mix well with your scent at all.” 

Asmo nuzzled his head against your shoulder. “We’d have to cuddle you all night to cover it up. Not that any of us would mind~”  You yelped as Belphie plopped himself by your other side and put his head in your lap. “I suppose I can just sleep with you as my pillow.”

You opened and closed your mouth several times as you felt your heart leap into your throat with all the sudden attention. After all the revelations of the night, the sudden contact just seemed too overwhelming.

“That is if you would allow this, MC.” Lucifer sharply cut in, causing Asmo and Belphie to stiffen. “It’s like you said. We don’t control you. We will continue to respect that and you regardless of your decision,”

Belphegor huffed and looked up at you. “Well? Are you gonna let us scent you or not?” 

The air tensed as each of the brothers waited with bated breath for your answer.

You gulped as you thought about it for a minute. Being in the center of a cuddle pile of seven of the most powerful demons of the Devildom wouldn’t be that bad would it? Besides, it’s not like you didn’t love them all in their own special way. They annoyed you from time to time, and knew how to push your buttons, but at the end of the day, you all cared for another and you could depend on that. You knew that no matter what happened, they would always look out for you, and by the sounds of things this whole scenting thing would allow them to keep you safe even if they weren’t around. You could feel your heart warm at the sentiment of it all. 

Your decision made, you smiled softly at them. 

“I think I’d like that.”

Asmodeus let out a cheer and instantly starting snuggling up close to your arm as he nuzzled his face into your neck, causing you to giggle and gently push him back a little.

Belphie shrugged and closed his eyes as he laid back down on your lap. He was obviously trying to act as though he didn’t care, but the small smile that graced his lips gave him away in an instant.

Mammon’s face became extremely flushed as he shoved Asmodeus off of you. “Oi! Don’t hog, MC! Y-You’re not the only one here!” He avoided your eyes as he shakily took your hand into his and stared at the two of them intertwined.

Asmodeus snorted and merely moved over to the other arm, “If you’re going to claim one of the prime cuddling spots Mammon, at least do something that’s actually effective in scenting them.” You made the choice to mentally block out Mammon as he started arguing with Asmo.

Beel stood awkwardly beside you. “I’ll, uh, I’ll take up too much space for the others if I go by your side. So I was thinking maybe it’d be best if I sat behind you?”

You smiled fondly at the gentle giant and, with a bit of effort and complaining from the others, moved forward enough to make room for Beel to sit down behind you. Once comfy, you felt his two strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you against his chest with a satisfied hum.

Satan pushed up the sleeves of his jacket and took a seat beside Mammon. “Since Mammon’s too idoitic to scent this side properly, I suppose I will have to suffice,” he smirked as he tilted his head. “If you don’t mind that is?”

You huffed in amusement, much to Mammon’s displeasure, and nodded in consent.

Satan grinned brightly and began to rub his inner wrist along your shoulder and neck. He inhaled gently and sighed in relief, seemingly pleased with the result of his action before resting his head on your shoulder and continuing his ministrations. “Contact from one’s inner wrist to another’s neck or wrist is one of the most effective ways to scent someone. You can rest assured that you won’t smell anything like him by the time we are through.” 

You chuckled and patted Satan’s head. “Thank you, Satan.”

You glanced over at Levi as he shifted from foot to foot looking over at you anxiously. “Are you going to join us, Leviathan?”

His face turned bright red as he tensed at the question. “A-Are you sure you want a gross shut-in like me to scent you? C-Cause everyone will know! You won’t be able to h-h-hide it at school or pretend like it d-didn’t happen or-”

“Levi?” His head shot up as he looked at you once more. He gave him a reassuring smile and patted your other leg that wasn’t being used as a pillow by Belphie. “Get over here, please.”

He sputtered for a second before nodding, and nearly tripping over himself as he rushed over to the cuddle pile and hesitantly placed his head on your leg.

You could feel your heart flutter at being surrounded and held by the demons that you had come to love, but it still wasn’t perfect yet. You looked over at Lucifer, who stood watching the group with an uncharacteristically soft expression, in confusion.

Lucifer understood your thoughts without you even having to speak them. “I’m in no rush. Now that we have your consent, I’m sure there will be another time when I can personally scent you without the annoyances of my brothers being around.” He stood and began to leave the room. “Enjoy your night. I will see you tomo-”

“Lucifer.” You commanded, causing him to tense and freeze on the spot. “Get your pompous ass over here.”

The demon sighed and turned around, making his way back over to you. He moved between you and Asmo, and nudged Beel to scootch over, before settling in slightly behind you, nuzzling in close. “You really are insufferable.” He mumbled as he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

You grinned, feeling joy and content buzz within you at finally being in the arms of your found family. In that moment, everything felt right and whole.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Broken trust

Summary: Finding out the truth about the Darkling, Y/N recounts the way they met only to realize she must say goodbye.

Warnings: angst

Series Masterlist

=================================

Loving him felt like the most exquisite form of self destruction. She should have known sooner that he would be the source of the greatest pain she had ever known. Perhaps that's the problem, she never loathed the darkest parts of her that felt drawn to him from the first moment he had gazed upon her.

She never trusted anyone, not even her best friend until years have passed. She barely trusted herself for that matter. Trust didn't come easy for her, neither did love, but Y/N trusted Aleksander from the start, she didn't even question him and that is why it hurt so much, why it tore into her and ripped her to shreds.

She looked at him through a tear-clouded blur, her chest aching as her heart constricted inside with the iron fist of betrayal squeezing it tightly.

"How could you have lied?" She pauses, placing a hand on her chest, "To me?"

His jaw clenches, his eyes widening ever so slightly, "Would you have stayed?"

His voice is even, a calm in her raging storm and she can't help but hate him for it. While she is falling apart, he seems perfectly fine.

Her bottom lip quivers as her hands form fists, but when she speaks, she does so through gritted teeth, "When have I ever given you cause to question that?"

Aleksander steps closer, but Y/N is quick to take one back. His lips part, the way she can't even stand his presence inflicted hurt he didn't realize he was still capable of feeling.

"Do you remember when we met?" She asks, unsure why she's reminiscing now.

Walking into a Grisha tent wasn't quite a bright idea on Y/N's behalf, but sometimes you realize there are people worth risking your life for, and for Y/N, her best friend Mal was that person.

She had accepted a wager that would guarantee no one would pick on Mal, all she had to do was retrieve some grapes from a Grisha tent and this particular one seemed to be the only one unguarded.

She looked around at the dark colors inside with a frown etched in her face. She couldn't understand who'd enjoy living in such darkness. Isn't the world dark enough as it is?

Shaking her head, she looks to the table and upon the table she find the grapes that meant Mal would be safer. Wasting no time, her hand clutched the bowl and yet as she took it in her hand, a voice had startled her.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

Nodding, Aleksander pursed his lips. His eyes are dark, two pools of infinite darkness she had liked upon her before. She wasn't quite sure if she enjoyed his attention anymore.

"You were in my tent." He raised an eyebrow, "Uninvited.",

Gasping, Y/N turned around, her hands remaining behind her with the grapes safely hidden.

"I am sorry, I got lost." She came closer, her eyes meeting the intimidating black ones of the man much taller than her, much more powerful than she could ever be.

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes trailing her from head to toe, studying her as she realized he didn't believe her.

"I was just transferred back after a mission, I didn't realize the tents have been moved around. Mine used to be here", she managed a nervous smile, walking around him and toward the exit in hope of him letting her go.

"And yet you didn't leave once you realized it was not yours anymore", he spoke, his gaze following every step she takes. He steps in her way, blocking her from leaving. He's close, close enough for her to feel the faint smell of alcohol on his breath.

Swallowing thickly, she keeps staring at him as if he had chained her eyes to his, as if he had enchanted her. She doesn't even feel as his right arm moves around her, not until his hand plucks a single grape from the bowl, bringing it to his lips.

"Don't they feed you over in the First army?"

A faint smile forms on Aleksander's lips, just enough for the corners of his mouth to move, to capture her attention.

"You were stealing from me", he notes and she holds her breath as her heart, as treacherous as it is, jumps at the nearly lighthearted chuckle escaping him.

"And you stopped me from leaving", she adds, a sigh passing her lips.

"I should go" , Y/N blurts out, passing by the unknown Grisha as swiftly as possible. Just as she's about to reach the exit, to see the light of the day, cold, long fingers wrap around her left wrist, effectively pulling her back to face the Grisha.

A gasp escapes her once her eyes meet the dark shadows around the Grisha, more so when a light explodes around them. A warmth like she had never felt before spreads inside her, beams around her and the Grisha whose eyes are wide in shock, awestruck just as much as she is. The light encases them, her body shaking with the magnitude of their reality, yet she cannot comprehend where the light is coming from.

Breaking away from his eyes, she looks to his hand wrapped around her wrist, securely holding onto her. The glow of her skin, a thousand suns emerging from every inch of her makes her breathless. Her knees buckle and still, instead of the fall, she feels an arm around her, pulling her up and closer, much closer to the Grisha she had just met.

The shock of his arm around her dims the light, the darkness blinding her temporarily.

Only then does she hear the excited murmuring and whispers around her, only then does she look back at the Grisha holding her, keeping her from falling to her knees.

"Wh-what just happened?" She breathes out, her eyes flickering from his relentless gaze to his lips as they form a smile.

"You are a Sun summoner."

Leaning back on the table, Aleksander crosses his arms. "I had no intention on hurting you when I did. Your light must have felt it or it wouldn't have responded to me."

Scoffing, Y/N averts her gaze, "It was naïve." Locking her eyes on him once more, she adds, "And so was I."

"If I had told you, would you not think I'm evil from the start? Would you not have hated me?" Aleksander's eyebrows furrow, a single strand of hair falling to his forehead and it took everything in Y/N not to laugh. His disheveled look, if she could call it that, is still a thousand times more perfect than any other man.

"You could have trusted me." Tucking her hair behind her right ear, Y/N sighs heavily. "I trusted you. Now we will never know."

Unnerved, Aleksander comes before her in just a few strides, his hands cupping her face as she holds her breath, afraid of letting him know she still cares for him. It's an advantage she refuses to hand him.

"I don't want to lose you, Y/N. You're all I have", his voice is quiet, almost vulnerable, something she had only sensed in him once before and that was when he spoke of the burdens of his legacy. That was a lie, so was this not a lie as well?

She placed her hands over his, letting them linger momentarily before pulling them down, away from her with all her strength.

"I am not yours to lose!" She walks past him, just as she had done on that fateful day they met, and his hand catches her wrist just the same, pulling her back into his chest.

She pushes against him, trying to get away but his hold on her is stronger, unmoving like a force of nature.

"You may not be mine, but I am yours. There is no one like us in this world, Y/N", Aleksander's voice is softer, more tender than his embrace feels.

Shaking her head, Y/N croaks, "Don't make me hurt you."

"Hurt me?" His worry and pleas are replaced by arrogance, a smirk appearing on his lips. He could never imagine her to be powerful enough to harm him physically, but her leaving? That would break him.

Staying with him would undo her, Y/N knows that. She's tearing to pieces and not at the seams, it's much harder to heal when you break in an uneven patter where you can't stitch yourself up and move on. No...Aleksander Kirigan will be a gaping wound for a long time and then a nasty scar to serve as a reminded why she shouldn't trust easily, or anyone but herself.

"You once told me I would be your equal", she raised her chin defiantly, the smirk on her lips rivaling his. "You were right."

She raises her hand to his face swiftly, a light emerging from her palm in such bright intensity she could feel her skin burning with it.

It didn't last long, for her it felt like a few seconds, but his pained scream would remain in her head like an echo for a long time to come.

For Aleksander the pain was momentary, he healed rather fast. But when his vision cleared and she wasn't by his side, that pain would last a lifetime, fueling his darkness as he sets out to find her - the only light that can chase away the shadows he invited on the day the fold was created.

Y/N once believed he was worth loving, that he could be saved. Aleksander vowed to make sure she does again.

PART 2

[the-glacian]

Shiva's 11 "Must Read" Fanfics (Part 1)

Inspired by this accidental ask, I decided to make a random list of 11 fanfics from 11 different fandoms that I would sell my soul for.

Here goes to: Part 2 (coming soon)

🍁 Sleeping Dogs by starsystems [Stiles/Derek, Teen Wolf, 42370 words, Mature]

Summary: Let sleeping dogs lie.

Prov. Do not instigate trouble; Leave something alone if it might cause trouble.

Derek Hale is asleep in Stiles's bed. And it just escalates from there.

Because of course it does.

🍁 New Rules by kafkian [Thor/Loki, MCU (Thor Movies), 29277 words, Explicit]

Summary: ‘Oh good, more excellent ideas from Thor,’ Loki sighs with a total and complete lack of enthusiasm. ‘Can’t I just push Heimdall down the stairs or something?’

‘How is that a good deed?’ Thor asks, bewildered.

‘It would give everyone a good laugh,’ Loki says, the corner of his mouth twitching. ‘I’m laughing on the inside just picturing it.’

---

In which Loki is roped into cleaning up his act to reassure the people that he isn't planning on betraying them (again), while Thor spends far too much time explaining that no, they aren’t sleeping together.

🍁 Timeline by perfect_plan [Steve/Bucky, MCU (Captain America Movies), 56271 words, Mature]

Summary: How do you handle being in love with your best friend? In Steve Rogers's case: Badly.

🍁 A Good Thing by Jolli_Bean [Hank/Connor, Detroit: Become Human, 83053 words, Explicit]

Summary: "You know what a green card marriage is, right?" Hank asks.

"Sure," Connor says, dimly amused, because Hank was sweet to come all the way up to Canada, but this is ridiculous. "Who am I marrying?"

What Connor intends to say next is that he isn't that desperate, that his life here might not be what he would pick for himself but that it's also perfectly fine, until Hank pulls a little box from his pocket and opens it.

"I mean," Hank says, "I'm sure you have other options, but I'm offering. As your friend."

~~

Like so many other androids, Connor goes to Canada after the revolution. Android autonomy may have been granted, but things are still dangerous, and he doesn't want Hank to get hurt for protecting him. It was never supposed to be a permanent solution, but by early 2040, a number of legal developments have made it such that androids can only return to the states if they're marrying a citizen.

Connor wants to come home. Jeff wants him back on the force. And Hank just wants him back.

🍁 Love As You Are by thisgirlsays22 [Geralt/Jaskier, The Witcher, 16496 words, Explicit]

Summary: Jaskier didn’t want to marry just any noblewoman--no matter how comely she may be--he wanted adventure and many loves, but most importantly his biggest, greatest love of all.

He is not expecting that love to be in the form of a brooding stranger sitting at the back of a tavern.

In one instant his breath catches in his throat at the beauty of the man before him and in the next, there’s a burning sensation on the bottom of his heel as his mark makes itself known. It’s pain and pleasure knotted together, roses surrounded by thorns.

🍁 Just In Case I Need You by softouji [Ignis/Noctis, Final Fantasy XV, 19278 words, Teen]

Summary: Noctis suffers from Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME) [also known as Chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS)] and doesn't have the energy or ability to take care of himself. His father hires a caregiver (Ignis) to help him live a safer, happier life.

Alternate Universe (Sort of). Noct isn't a prince, and doesn't have any powers, but he still lives in Eos/Insomnia. His father isn't a king but is a powerful/rich man.

🍁 Imperfect Proposals by Fallen_Angel_Meg [Dean/Castiel, Supernatural, 111082 words, Mature]

Summary: Dean Winchester has a dream of being a successful architect- one that may or may not be out of his reach. So when he receives a promising job at Designs of Divinity, a reputable architectural firm, he is beyond happy. It's everything he could ask for. Sure, he may only be the assistant of Castiel Novak, a well known architect and project manager, but he doesn't even care. It's a start. It isn't until he starts working for Castiel that he realizes the guy isn't exactly who he thought he'd be, and his dream job turns into a living hell. Dean decides he's had enough when Castiel denies him time off to attend his brother's wedding. But just when Dean thinks it can't get any worse, he finds out that he's being forced to marry Castiel to keep him from being deported. Fan-friggin'-tastic.

🍁 Paper Monsters by Clocks [Charles/Erik, X-Men, 39240 words, Explicit]

Summary: Charles meets Erik Lehnsherr, his favorite novelist of all time at a coffee shop, but doesn't know it's him, and Erik just criticizes his own writing in front of his biggest fan.

🍁 Something We Were Withholding Made Us Weak by triedunture [Aziraphale/Crowley, Good Omens, 17113 words, Mature]

Summary: "Yes, exactly. Retire." Aziraphale reaches for the last remaining tartlet brimming with summer berries. "Somewhere along the south coast, perhaps."

Or: Crowley and Aziraphale learn to move in tandem.

🍁 By My Side by tattooedsiren [Mike/Harvey, Suits, 18633 words, Explicit]

Summary: Three days after Jessica fires Mike, Harvey invites Mike to be his plus one for a fundraiser.

🍁 The Way You Taste With A Drink by WhatTheBodyGraspsNot [Chris/Sebastian, RPF, 11090 words, Explicit]

Summary: Sebastian chuckles quietly to himself, some sort of self-effacing joke probably playing out in his mind, still eyeing the carpet. “Well I’ve been known to…not make great decisions when I’ve had too much to drink. I just…sometimes I kind of need…back up…” He looks at Chris now, pale blue and vulnerable concern. “…so I don’t end up fucking up somehow.”

Chris can’t help the fond smile that tugs at his lips, or the proud little orb of warmth that materializes in his chest at the thought of Sebastian trusting him with such a task. “So more or less, you want me to keep an eye on you.”

OR:

Sebastian asks Chris to help keep an eye on him when he drinks, knowing just how poor of a decision-maker he is when he's had too much (he's got an entire following on some website called Tumblr based off his horrendous drunk selfies). Chris agrees happily, figuring he can hold his liquor pretty well himself, so of course he can keep tabs on Seb. But it ends up that he's shit at it. And one thing leads to another.

[aimless-imagines-for-fun]

His

Paring :: mafia dark!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings :: 18+, Smut/NSFW, Dark Themes, Possessiveness, Oral(M Recieving), Deep Throating

Word Count :: 2,787

Summary :: Bucky’s had a long day and you’re the only one he can release his stress on

A/N ::....there may or may not be another part... idk yet.... I just really like Mafia Bucky

Some days were better than others, for both you and Bucky. 

So far, your day had gone swimmingly. You woke up, did an easy morning stretch to help you wake up, and proceeded to clean around your house in your favorite sundress. There wasn’t much to do, with the house usually clean due to Bucky hiring professional cleaners to come once a week. Still, the dishes weren’t going to do themselves. 

The highlight of your day was a package being delivered. A book that you had pre-ordered from one of your favorite authors. After you cooked your lunch, you spent the rest of your day reading the book, sitting on the dark grey couch in your large living room. That was all you could do besides watching tv or doing a small hobby to keep you occupied until Bucky came home.

Bucky’s day, on the other hand, was infuriatingly long. He was a businessman and a mob boss, meaning he’d usually have long days. If he was lucky, he’d just have to deal with some idiot trying to cheat him. Today was an unlucky day. He received a visit from Helmut Zemo, the head of a Sokovian Mafia trying to start up in Brooklyn. 

-

Bucky sat at his desk, leaning back in his leather chair as he stared at the man who just entered his office. 

“I already told you the deal Zemo. There’s no bargaining, if you don’t like it save your breath and get the hell out of here.”

The Sokovian ignored him, walking over to a large bookshelf that was against the wall. “You know, for the most powerful man in Brooklyn, you’d be surprised how quickly some of your ‘people’ are willing to betray you if you offer them enough cash.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, a scowl forming on his face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Zemo glanced over for a moment. “The docks.”

A few nights prior, one of Bucky’s incoming shipments of illegal weapons had been robbed. A small number of men were killed, and the rest were injured. There was also a weird symbol that had been spray-painted around the docks, a sign that whoever had done this was publicly declaring war.

Bucky’s jaw clenched and he was now sitting up straight in his seat. “You did that?” “It was quite easy to.”

“So why the fuck are you here now? I could put a bullet through your head in a second.”

Zemo laughed, finally turning to face the other man. “You won’t because you know I’m not stupid enough to come here without just as many men you have.” He let out a small breath, taking a few steps forward. His gaze moved down to Bucky’s left hand, an eyebrow raising with curiosity. “You haven’t married her yet? She’s a lovely woman.”

In an instant Bucky stood up, his hands balled into fists. If a look could kill, Zemo would be dead and his body burning.

“I came to tell (Y/N) thank you. Not long ago, one of my guys got a bit lost and she helped him. Pietro said she was ‘the kindest girl he’d met’ and ‘extremely helpful and friendly.”

Bucky cursed in the back of his mind. It sounded exactly like something you’d do, you were kind and naive by nature, simply wanting to help people when they needed it. It was what drew him to you, and it seemed like it was attracting unwanted attention from others now.

“I’m gonna give you ten minutes to get the hell out of my territory.”

“Why so generous?”

“It’s a nice neighborhood,” Bucky replied sarcastically.

Zemo walked back towards the door, understanding he had pushed the man far enough. A coy smile crept on his face, looking at Bucky one last time. “I’d keep her better guarded and up to speed if I were you. She’s too innocent to be involved with you.”

Once Zemo and his men left Bucky nearly tore apart his office. It took Sam and Steve a good hour to calm the man down and make sure he didn’t do anything reckless. Once he cooled down, Sam revealed that Tony Stark had been the one to cross Bucky. Tony’s father was the previous big bad until Bucky came around.

-

“I don’t give a fuck what you do Steve, just make sure Tony doesn’t think he’s not get strung up on a tree after I shoot that Sokovian bastard in the head.” 

His voice was full of annoyance and his grip on the steering wheel of his car was so tight the whites of his knuckles were visible. It was one thing for Zemo to publicly humiliate his authority by robbing him, but he had indirectly threatened you by mentioning you to Bucky. You were his and his alone. He had invested far too much in securing you, ensuring that you’d never leave him. 

-

Bucky leaned on the doorframe of your apartment’s bedroom, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you step around the room. “What are you doing?”

“Going home,” You muttered, continuing to pack your suitcase.

“That’s on the other side of the country.”

“I know.”

“I can’t keep an eye on you if you’re in LA.”

You looked up from the clothes you were packing, glaring at him. “I know.”

Bucky let out a huff. “So you also know I can’t make sure you’re safe.”

You let out a dry laugh, eyes rolling. “I’ll probably be a lot safer once I’m far away from you.”

The man pushed himself off the door frame, now approaching you with long strides. “You’re not leaving (Y/N).”

You threw the shirt you hand in your hand down, turning to face him. “Yes, I am Bucky, because you lie to me!” Your voice was strained, eyes looking up at him full of pain.

“I didn’t lie to you-”

“Yes, you did! You lied to me about what you did and you hid the truth!”

When you and Bucky started dating, he told you he ran a large ‘supply and demand’ business in Brooklyn and that was it. Like the naive girl you were, who had just moved to the east coast, you believed him because you fell for him hard at first. He spoiled you and made you feel like a princess in public, and in private you helped him release all the pent-up stress he had built up from work. A few months later, you finally figured out why Bucky was always so protective of you and wanted to know where you were 24/7. 

Bucky could see the tears you were holding back, mentally cursing at himself for being the cause. He cupped your cheek with his normal hand. You had to resist the urge to lean into his hold.

“I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry, but…” His voice trailed off. In a swift motion, his metal hand wrapped around your waist lifting you up and over his shoulder. “You’re not leaving me (Y/N).”

“James Buchanan Barnes! Put me down this instant!” You slammed your fists into his back to no avail. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

“I love you too darling,” He mumbled, proceeding to walk you out of your apartment.

-

You were on the fourth chapter of your book when you heard a car door slam. You sprung up from your seat, moving as quickly as you could to greet Bucky at the front door. When you got there, you saw he had already let himself inside. His brows were knit together, looking down at the door’s locks.

“Why isn’t the door locked?” He questioned before he even saw you.

With the territorial instinct he had when it came to you and his meeting with Zemo earlier, it was clear he was not happy about such a small thing, no matter your excuse.

“Oh, I must’ve forgotten to lock it when I got the mail today,” You said quietly.

He had lectured you multiple times about how important it was you locked the door, even before you move in with him.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, properly greeting him with a smile like you did every day. You had done this so many times, you noticed how long it took for him to softly wrap a single arm around you before walking away. He was upset.

“Go to the bedroom and wait. Now,” He ordered.

Your heart started racing, wondering what was going to happen to you. If he had stress pent up, he would either wait until after dinner or start kissing you roughly the second he stepped in. He had only acted like this when you pushed him to his limit, like when you threatened to leave him or attempted to run away when he first forced you to live with him.

You sat at the edge of your shared bed, hands holding and fiddling with the hem of your dress. When Bucky was this angry, he was painfully rough to the point where you would begin crying. You quickly began thinking of everything you had done recently, wondering what could’ve pushed him to this point.

He walked in, jacket off and the sleeves to his white button-up rolled up to his elbows. Even though your mind was screaming with fear, your body started heating up with desire seeing him. Especially when your eyes glanced down to his pants and saw a hardness forming. ‘Fuck, he’s been thinking about this.’

Walking up to you, Bucky grabbed your chin with his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look up at him. As a sort of last-ditch effort to get some kindness from him, you gave him a doe-eyed look.

He leaned down, pressing a long kiss against your lips before pulling away. “Get on your knees.”

You took in a deep breath, accepting he wouldn’t be gentle. You pulled away from his cold metal hand, sinking down to stand before him on your knees. Keeping eye contact with him, you managed to under his brown leather belt and navy trousers. You looped your fingers at the hem of his pants, pulling them down along with his briefs just enough for his fully erect shaft to be freed. 

With both of your small hands wrapping around his shaft, you could feel yourself growing wet at the sound of his soft groan. At first, you started stroking his length slowly, leaning your face closer to lick the tip and swirl your tongue around the head.

Bucky didn’t allow you to continue this very long. Only a small dribble of precum was licked up before he grabbed a fist full of your hair from the back of your head and pushed himself further in. Another groan escaped him feeling the warmth of your mouth around his cock. He hit the back of your throat and you gagged, not yet ready for him to go deeper. He did it again two more times, warning you that he planned on having you take all of him in his mouth.

Your hands moved up to his thighs to hold yourself steady and you relaxed your throat the best you could in preparation. Once he started to push his dick further in, you could feel tears start to well up in your eyes as he went down your throat. You moaned each time he shoved his shaft down your throat, sending a soft vibration on his shaft.

Bucky eventually started thrusting his hips into your mouth, fully fucking your mouth as tears started to fall out of your eyes. Watching your glossy eyes stare up at him with his cock down your throat he nearly lost it, feeling his ballsack tighten. Not wanting to cum just yet, he pulled out, a string of your saliva falling off his dick and dribbling down your mouth. You gasped and began panting for air, wiping away your drool with the back of your hand.

He sat on the edge of the bed now, pulling your hips to stand in front of him once you stood up. “Off.”

You took off your dress, followed by your bra and wet panties. Already knowing what was going to happen, you moved to straddle his hips. You and Bucky had had sex numerous times before, but you always needed a moment to get used to his size. He wasn’t going to allow that.

With his large hands on your hips, he forced you down his entire dick, groaning at how tight your walls clenched around him.

“Bucky!” You cried out, body tingling as he filled you up, balls deep. 

He held your hips with such a strong grip you were sure there were going to be marks after. He bounced you up and down his cock, watching you with a dark gaze as you moaned and whimpered against him. Only he could make you feel like this, act like this for him.

He thrusted his hips up, and you moaned loudly, back arching as he hit a sweet sensitive spot. “Please!”

“Please, what?” Bucky asked, knowing full well what you wanted. He wanted you to beg.

“Fuck me right there Bucky! Please!”

More than happy to comply, he proceeded to slam into that same spot, your breath growing faster and cunt tighter each time it was hit. His breath was becoming heavy, and his movements ragged.

He watched as you looked down at him fucking you and saw you shudder. “Ah!” Your walls tightened and your release hit you, juices pouring out. Feeling you release triggered his own orgasm, releasing inside of you. You could feel spurt after spurt of hot cum filling you up and your tight cunt gladly took it.

He finally stopped bouncing you, rolling his hips into you and allowing you a few seconds of rest. He pulled his limp dick out but watching your pussy drip with a mixture of both your cum, he found himself hard once again. 

You barely had any time for your mind to clear up after, your eyes widening as Bucky forced you on your hands and knees. Not sparing a single second he rammed back into you, his hand smacking your ass hard. 

You let out a cry, the stinging pain from the spank only lasting for a short while before you felt the pain and pleasure of him filling you up again. 

“Tell me how much you love it,” He breathed out, watching your ass bounce against his hips with each thrust.

“Bucky!” You moaned out, your walls tightening around him again.

You barely had any time to recover from your last high and still sensitive. You started moving your ass against him, feeling his ballsack slapping your clit each time he thrusted. 

“I love it so much!” You breathed out. “I love feeling your big dick fill me up and fuck me!” 

You bit your lip, feeling the juices drip down your thighs. Your arms were starting to grow weak, barely able to hold yourself when you screamed again. Your pussy tightened and released, begging him to cum and fill you up again.

His large hands buried into your hips, continuing to fuck you as you released around him again. His build-up was growing with the sight of you taking his cock, thrusts growing sloppy. 

Bucky wasn’t blind and could tell your arms were going to give out. So, he released his grip on you with his metal arm to lean over you. He wrapped his arm around your chest, holding you up while squeezing your breast. 

Hearing your soft whimpers as he still fucked you did it for him, his hips bucking to release another hot load inside of you. He stayed in you until he finished then pulled out, releasing you to collapse on the bed. 

Weakly, you turned yourself on your back to look at him, face flushed and tear-stained. He lowered himself above you, metal arm pressed down near the side of your head to keep him above you. Bucky’s eyes danced over your facial features. His gaze moved down, watching your chest rise with each pant before looking at the mess in between your legs.

With his other hand, he reached down and dragged two fingers up your wet folds, gathering the juices on them. When he raised them back up to your face, both of your hands grabbed him and began to suck and lick his fingers clean.

“Christ you’re fucking beautiful.”

He pulled his fingers away, smashing his lips against yours. You wrapped your hands around his neck, a hand moving up to play and tug on his hair as you kissed.

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 7)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman-- even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: almost 3k?

warnings: slight breeding kink (but only if you speak romanian aksjghakgjhg), angst, violence (in the form of a fistfight, which the reader isn’t involved in)

Just as you always did, you woke up to sunlight streaming in through the lace curtains, and a cool breeze blowing by.  What was peculiar was Sebastian next to you, sleeping peacefully as his chest rose and fell with relaxed breaths.  You let yourself watch him for a moment before you decided to try to sneak out for a cup of coffee.  Problem was, the bed was sort of creaky and it was very difficult to move without making sound.  Your plan was to move as slowly as possible, keeping your weight evenly distributed over the mattress, and it worked rather well— right until the last second, of course, when a loud shift of the boxsprings beneath you made Sebastian stir and blink open his eyes.

You were about to apologize for waking him, but he grinned and slipped his arms around you, bringing you back to where you started and surrounding your body with his warm, muscular form.

“Bună dimineata,” he hummed as he pulled you closer, his voice even deeper and more gravelly than normal.

“Bună dimineata,” you did your best to repeat it back, making him smile even though your pronunciation wasn’t great.  “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he replied softly, heavily accented and clearly more a recreation of the sounds you’d made than real English, but still intelligible and so painfully adorable as well.  “A fost uimitor aseară.”

“Last night…” you began, but you didn’t even know where to begin.  What could you possibly say about that?  Would it even matter, if he can’t understand it.  “God, you’re fucking amazing,” you blurted out with a soft laugh.

“Sa o facem din nou,” he growled as he pulled you closer and kissed you, slipping his tongue into your mouth instantly.  A more self-conscious you— as in, you yesterday— would’ve worried about morning breath, but you now couldn’t taste anything but him and couldn’t feel anything but his lips on yours and couldn’t do anything but weave your fingers into his hair.

You moaned when his kisses trailed down your neck, and you wanted nothing more than to melt into his body one more time, but you had other things to attend to.

“I need to get up,” you announced as you tried to escape from his grasp, but he held you tighter and brushed his lips over your shoulder.

“Nu, nu, nu te dice,” he cooed, making you laugh and squirm.  “Stai in pat, fă dragoste cu mine toata ziuă.”

“I have to get up, I’ll be right back,” you tried to explain but he stayed ever vigilant as he held you tight and licked over the shell of your ear.  Finally you managed to get him to stop, as much as you didn’t really want him to, allowing you to slip out from under the covers and find your robe where it had been discarded on the floor.  

He watched you as you crossed the room and popped into the bathroom for your bag, pulling your birth control pack out of it and using a handful of tap water to wash down your morning pill.  “Ah,” Sebastian seemed to have a realization from the bed, and you giggled.

“Told you it was important,” you grinned.

“Probabil cel mai bine să nu ai un copil cu un străin,” he nodded, “dar nu sunt sigur că m-ar fi deranjat atât de mult dacă te-aș fi însărcinat.”

Following suit, he stretched briefly before getting out of bed and searching for his discarded jeans and boxers.  You made no effort to hide your ogling as you watched his cock swing between his legs.  Even soft it was thick enough that you couldn’t figure how it ever fit inside you (the delightful soreness between your legs reminded you that it was no easy feat).  He took note of your staring and grinned devilishly, leaning against the wall to give you a better look.  “Îți place ce vezi?” he purred.

“Should’ve known this would all go straight to your ego,” you chuckled.  “I’m gonna go downstairs for some coffee.  Do you want some?  Cafea?”

“Da,” he nodded, as he slipped his clothes back on, “mulțumesc.”  Funny how his idea of getting dressed still left him half-naked.

Foolishly, you expected him to let you pass, since you were both going to benefit from your trip to the kitchen; but of course he had to slip his arms around you from behind and give you just one more embrace, making you sigh and relax your head back against his shoulder.  He kissed the top of your head and you hummed happily, letting your eyes open to look up at him before taking a moment to look out the window you happened to be standing right beside.

You were just hoping to appreciate the countryside scenery, meaning that you were rather shocked and confused to see a car pulling up.  When it stopped and the driver stepped out, your eyes went wide and your back suddenly straightened itself.

“...Michael?” you gasped.  You wrenched yourself out of Sebastian’s grasp and started to run down the stairs.  He called after you but you ignored it.

Barreling down the stairs and out the door, you found your husband walking up the driveway.

“Honey,” he frowned when he saw you, “I’ve been trying to find you since you left— what the hell is going on?  Why are you wearing a robe?”

“It’s hardly nine in the morning,” you defended before you realized there were much bigger topics at hand: “Michael, what are you doing here?” you asked, after a few seconds of confused stuttering.

“I’m taking you home!” he replied, as if it were obvious.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, “don’t play stupid.  Do you think I’ve been here against my will, or by accident or something?”

“No, I saw your letter,” he sighed.

“And you saw the part where I said not to look for me, and that all future communication would come through my lawyer?”

“You’re my wife,” he replied coldly, “I think I’m within my rights to talk to you directly.”

“You shouldn’t have come here.  I was actually happy before you showed up.”

With perfect timing, Sebastian stepped out the door behind you, looking to you and to Michael, and back.  “Ce se întâmplă?” he asked you.

“Who the fuck is this?!” Michael asked accusingly.

“I’m gonna give you a chance to ask me that again, in a way that doesn’t make it seem like you have any place to judge what I might be doing alone with a man,” you hissed.  “He’s just the groundskeeper, Mike.”

“Then why is he shirtless?” he exclaimed.

“I don’t know!  He… does that a lot!” you exasperatedly shouted back.

“Look, I’m not angry,” Michael sighed.  You laughed bitterly.

“Good, cause you have no right to be.”

“But I think it’s fair if I’m worried about you spending months alone with strange men.”

“Oh, strange, is that the problem?  Strangeness?  Would some more familiarity— perhaps a familial relationship— between you and these men make it easier on you, Mike?”

“Honey, please—”

“Don’t call me that,” you grimaced.

Michael stormed towards you, and you felt Sebastian step closer to you as well, wrapping an arm around you.  Having him by your side made this significantly more awkward, but it made you feel safer, too.

“Hey man, get your hands off my wife,” Michael growled, pointing a finger at Seb.

“He doesn’t speak English,” you rolled your eyes.  

“Well, I’m not sure you do either— otherwise you would realize that we’re still married, and you need to come home.”

“Just because you won’t sign the papers doesn’t mean we’re still together,” you reminded him sternly as shook your head.

“I’ll end it with your sister, is that what you want?”

You laughed, because you were afraid if you didn’t that you would cry.  “Jesus, Michael!  Are you hearing yourself?  This sounds like a greek tragedy, or fucking EastEnders!  Next I’ll be discovering I have an evil twin, and you’ll bang her too!”

He was a lot more offended by that than you expected.  “It was never just sex.  I love her.  But I love you more,” he clarified, suddenly getting serious.

You chuckled weakly, hardly believing what you were hearing.  It’s not that he was ever particularly nice, or romantic or anything, but at some point in his life he had been incredibly intelligent… and now he barely made sense at all.  “Wow, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special.”

He frowned, clearly losing what little cool he’d had at first.  He had always had a bit of a temper.  “For better or for worse, we’re still legally married— damn it, we’ve been together for how long now?  And you’re ready to throw that all away?”

“No, but you were,” you spat back.

“But I wasn’t, and I’m still not.  You’ve gotta hear me out—”

“I don’t have to do anything—”

“No, you’re not listening to me—” he talked over you, again.

“I don’t owe you any more of my time—”

“Damn it, why won’t you just listen!” he growled, grabbing you by the arm suddenly.  Instantly, Sebastian stepped forward and pushed him back.

“Sebastian, it’s okay,” you tried to soothe him.  

“Hey, could you maybe tell your boytoy to keep his filthy hands off me?” Michael demanded at the same time.

“Mai bine ai grijă,” Sebastian hissed, also at the same time.

“I literally can’t,” you answered Michael.  “I told you he doesn’t speak English.”

“Yeah, well, I think some things transcend language,” Michael bit back.  “Tell me something, pal,” he addressed Sebastian, “did you fuck my wife?”

“Sper că nu spui ce cred că ești,” Sebastian shook his head, clearly on the end of his rope.

“Mike, leave him alone,” you demanded, but it came out sounding so much weaker than you meant it to.

“Did you,” Michael pointed to Sebastian, going so far as to poke him in the chest condescendingly, “fuck—” he mimed thrusting his hips, and you grimaced— “my wife?”— finally, he pointed to you.

Sebastian certainly understood that; and, in lieu of an answer, he socked Michael right in the jaw and sent him straight to the ground.

“Oh my god!” you yelped, dashing over to where your husband was crumpled into a ball on the gravel and kneeling beside him.

“What the fuck?!” Michael gurgled, holding his face in shock and pain.

“Are you okay?” you asked anxiously, spinning to look at where Sebastian was standing and looking much too proud of himself, shaking out the hand he’d just hit Michael with.  “Sebastian!” you scolded, making him give you a defensive look.

“Ce?” he shrugged flippantly, though he clearly felt a little guilty when it became obvious that you were irritated with him.

And that was how you ended up here, standing in the living room and tapping your foot quickly, staring at the couch where Michael sat with a bag of ice held to his jaw, Sebastian beside him (though as far away as possible) resting with another on his hand.

“You had no business coming here,” you informed your husband coldly.

“You wouldn’t know about this place if it weren’t for me,” he reminded you.  “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

“I thought you wouldn’t care,” you corrected.

His silence was stern, and he gave you one of those looks that used to scare you but now just made loathing and pity sink down in your chest.  It was ambiguous if he was too angry to reply or if he really had no defense.  After all, what reason did you have to believe that he would care about your leaving?

"If you're here to make me rescind the divorce order, it's not going to happen.  I'm not leaving with you.  I'm not forgiving you.  Please just go," you sighed.

"That's not why I came.  None of that is why I'm here," he mumbled.  "I came here…" he straightened up slightly, raising his voice confidently.  "I came here to tell you that I love you.  I need you.  And I want you back."

Now that he was looking right back at you, suddenly you couldn't take it anymore and turned your gaze away again.  

"Whatever you need me to do to fix this, I'll do it.  We'll get through this.  Isn't that what marriage is?  Fighting for each other, struggling together?"  He stood up and approached you, reaching out to rest his hands on your shoulders; you almost flinched when you felt his touch, but resisted the urge, glancing up at his face before looking over at Sebastian whose injured hand was twitching as he looked away with a tight jaw.  "Tell me how to make this right, please."

You tried not to look as Sebastian as you processed Michael's request; similarly, it seemed he was trying not to look at you.  But even if you ignored this new, peculiar romance in your life, your marriage was still broken beyond repair and you couldn't imagine anything that could change that.  "I'm sorry," you finally whispered, watching Michael's face fall, "I don't think there's anything you can do." 

He released you from his grip, less angry than you expected; more somber.  "I want to stay and work this out," he explained.  "Better yet, I want you to come back to London— come back home— so we can be together and discuss everything there.  But I'm only going to ask you one more time before I leave: stay with me.  You don't need to forgive me, or even love me again, at least not yet… just give me a chance to try to earn everything I took for granted."

You'd imagined this moment so many times: cursing him out, making him grovel, kicking him to the curb.  To be completely honest, you'd even imagined potentially taking him back.  But now that you were here and it was, somehow, real, your desire for vengeance was fading along with your desire for reconciliation.  

"I have something I need to give you," you whispered, walking upstairs and going back into your room, getting on your hands and knees to search the floor.  Finally, discarded in a dusty corner with slightly uneven floorboards, you found the ring you'd tossed aside the night before.  Fighting back against the tears welling in your eyes, you picked it up and came downstairs, holding it outward for Michael to take.  

"I'm not taking that back," he refused, shaking his head.  "You keep it for a while longer, until you're sure this is really what you want."

"I'm sure.  I'm moving on.  Take it back," you demanded.  He sighed but reached out and plucked it from between your fingers, pocketing it though still wearing his own golden band.  "Besides, my sister might want it."

He scoffed, turning as he began to walk away.  "You're cold."

"Frozen solid," you agreed.  "Goodbye, Michael… drive safe."

He shook his head and made a sharp exhale as he walked away, nearly slamming the door behind him.  You stared off into space as Sebastian silently watched you; you didn’t want him to see you cry, but it was starting to seem unavoidable as your lip quivered and your eyes grew wide with tears.

“Shhh,” he soothed gently, standing up and stepping forward to pull you into his arms.  “Nu plânge, e în regulă.”

"God, I'm so stupid," you whispered between sobs muffled against his chest.  "I'm so fucking stupid…"

He whispered to you and kissed the top of your head, repeating one thing over and over that you couldn't make out well against the sound of your own crying filling your ears.

But even without knowing what he was saying or what it meant, it made you feel better.

As evening approached, you realized a new predicament had arisen: would Sebastian stay in your room again?  Would you go to his?  Or would you sleep separately, maybe even drift back to just being essentially housemates after a unique one-night stand?

Your questions were answered suddenly when Sebastian suddenly came to the couch and scooped you up into his arms, making you squeal a little before you relaxed and let him carry you to his room.  He all but threw you onto the bed, climbing on top of you and kissing you deeply as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck.

Already you felt more comfortable with him than you sometimes felt with people you'd known most of your life; you didn't feel self-conscious when he ran his hands over your body, you didn't try to suppress your moans when he kissed your neck for fear of sounding ridiculous— and maybe that was just because it was such a fantastical situation, so unlike yourself and so far from home, that it was easy to feel like a different person with him.

Or maybe it was that you'd spent so long trying to be somebody that people liked, and now you were being yourself for the first time in decades.

You couldn't really be sure.  And since your brain short-circuited every time Sebastian whispered something in your ear that just sounded filthy regardless of what it actually meant, you didn't have the time to think about it.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E2; Chapter Two, The Weirdo On Maple Street - [Pt. 2]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘠/𝘯, 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴, 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯.

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Lucas, Dustin and I take our seats once we get to class.

"Oh, that can't be good." I sigh, gesturing to Mike's empty seat.

"Yeah, he's never this late," Dustin added.

"I'm telling you, his stupid plan failed," Lucas stated.

"I thought you liked his plan?"

"Yeah, but obviously it's stupid, or he'd be here."

"If his mom found out a girl spent the night—" Dustin began.

"He's in deep shit right about now."

Dustin shifted in his seat, and leaned forward, whispering loud enough for us to hear. "Hey, what if she slept naked?"

"Ugh!" My face screws into a sour, disgusted look aimed at my brother, unintentionally speaking at the same time as Lucas. "Why would she do that, Dustin?"

"Oh, my God, she didn't."

"Oh, if Mrs. Wheeler tells our parents..."

The thought of Mom finding out was enough to elicit an anxious groan from me, and I let my forehead fall against desk where I buried my face.

"No way. Mike would never rat us out."

I hesitantly looked up, making eye contact with Lucas. He gave me a reassuring smile, knowing I worry easily.

"I don't know." Dustin said warily.

"All that matters is, after school, the freak will be back in the loony bin, and we can focus on what really matters, finding Will." I frown at his specific choice of words for El, thinking back on how scared she seemed last night. I desperately want to say something, but decided against it, not wanting to get in a fight. Fighting won't get us any closer to finding Will.

|| 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Mike Wheeler rides his bike down the small slope of grass towards his front yard. When El refused to let Mike's mom know she was there, Mike had no choice but to resort to plan b. He had led his mom to believe that he had ridden to school when in reality he had stopped around the corner until both his parents were gone.

When he got to the driveway, he dismounted his bike and led it into the garage, however something caught his eye. He stared in awe as the once withered and frankly the most miserable looking plant he had ever seen in his life, was now a beautiful lush green and stood as tall his knees. 'How had Y/n done it?'

It took a solid moment for Mike to gather his thoughts and focus on the task at hand. He parked his bike and made his way inside.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"You want anything to drink?" Mike decided to take advantage of the empty house so that he could show El around. "We have OJ, skim milk... What else? Um, we have..."

Mike trailed off when he saw that El was more fascinated with the things in his living room, mostly his TV set.

"Oh, this is my living room. It's mostly just for watching TV."

El lightly traced her fingers around the frame of the TV as she examined it.

"Nice, right? It's a 22-inch.

That's, like, ten times bigger than Dustin's."

El turned her head and said quietly.

"Y/n."

"Well, yeah of course. Y/n too."

"Y/n. Brother?" She asked, making sure she remembered correctly.

"Yeah!" Mike smiled, then lightly shrugged. "Well, technically adopted. But yeah, they're still brothers."

El's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Ad-adopted?"

"Yeah, um, it means that he came from different parents. Mrs. Henderson adopted him because his parents were unable to take care of him. It's funny actually, Y/n is from Hawkins. Or at least that's where they found him. They didn't used to live in Hawkins; I don't know much about it cause Dustin was so young he doesn't remember any of it, but I think him and his mom were visiting family here and they just... found him, I think? I'm pretty sure that's why they moved here, or something."

El seemed to understand as she thought about it. She then turned to look at the all the pictures on top of the fireplace. She slowly walks to the fireplace and steps up onto the brick platform. She gazes at all the family photos. Particularly, the photo beside the one of Mike; of a smiling girl, a little older than herself, with long brown hair and a pink sweater.

She smiles longingly and speaks in a soft voice. "Pretty."

"I guess." Mike's face is contorted in confusion and a little in disgust.

"That's my sister Nancy. And that's baby Holly." He said as she moved to the slightly larger photo of a young baby. She then moved along to a photo with Mike, Nancy, and Holly, along with two other people she didn't recognize.

"And those are my parents. What are your parents like?" As usual, El says nothing and she steps down from the fireplace and walks up to a large green chair.

"Do they live close?" Mike continued. He notices El run her hand along the top of the plush green chair. "That's our La-Z-Boy. It's where my dad sleeps. You can try it if you want." He offers. El looked up at him, intrigued. "Yeah." He assured her, with a warm smile on his face. She cautiously sits down as Mike kneels down beside the chair. "It's fun!"

She looked to Mike, wondering what he is up to.

"Just trust me, okay?" She gives a quick nod, and braces herself, not knowing what to expect. She is taken aback by the sudden collapse of the chair, she is now laying down and the chair is rocking back and forth. She lets out a gasp, and then a nervous chuckle.

"See? Fun, right?"

With one hand on the back of the chair, and the other on the front, he brings the chair back into its default position. "Now you try."

With a small smile on her face, and feeling more confident she leans over the side and pulls the handle, letting her entire body go flying backward into a slow rock. Mike and El both look at each other and laugh gleefully.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Some random rock song on the radio that Jonathan barely recognized came to an end as Jonathan Byers drove to his dad's house. His eyes darted to the radio unit in his car for a moment as his heart fell when the familiar sound of "Should I Stay or Should I Go" rang throughout the car.

- 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

"Darlin', you got to let me know"

Jonathan is sat on the edge of the bed next to his younger brother Will. The two of them are in Will's room, bobbing their heads along to 'Should I Stay or Should I Go' by The Clash.

"Should I stay or should I go?"

"You like it?" Jonathan had to raise his voice so he could be heard over the loud song. Will looks to his older brother and grins.

"Yeah, it's cool!"

"All right, you can keep the mix if you want."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. All the best stuff's on there. Joy Division, Bowie, Television, The Smith's... It'll totally change your life."

"Yeah, totally," Will says with a smile. However, the smile is quick to leave when the two boys hear their mother yelling on the phone.

"Where the hell are you, Lonnie?"

Will slowly turns his head to the door, listening to his mother yell at his absent father.

"I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it." Jonathan mimics his brother's actions and looks to the door. Finally, he gets up and walks towards the door.

"This is ridiculous! I'm so sick of your excuses.

"One day is fine and next is black"

Before Jonathan sits down, he lowers the volume on the stereo.

"He's not coming, is he?"

"Do you even like baseball?" Jonathan asks softly.

"No, but... I don't know." He shrugs sadly. "It's fun to go with him sometimes."

"Come on. Has he ever done anything with you that you actually like? You know, like the arcade or something?"

Will shrugs his shoulders weakly. "I don't know."

"No, all right? He hasn't. He's trying to force you to like normal things. And you shouldn't like things because people tell you you're supposed to. Okay?"

Will only looks down at his feet sadly.

"Especially not him."

Will silently nods his head in understanding.

Jonathan decided to change the subject.

"But you like The Clash? For real?"

Will nods his head eagerly with a smile. "For real. Definitely."

"So... is Y/n a fan of The Clash?" Jonathan asks, genuinely curious.

A faint blush dusts Will's cheeks as he looks down at his hands. "Um, yeah, I think so."

"Maybe you should show this to him. I bet he'll like it."

"Maybe. You think?"

"Yeah, from what I know, he has great taste. He's pretty cool."

A loving smile spreads across Will's face. "Yeah, he is pretty cool."

There's a small pause filled only with the now dulled melody of drums and guitar drifting through the air. They had talked about it before, but only vaguely, never fully addressing it and it dawned on Jonathan that there was probably still loads of fear for Will because of it. He looks down at his brother who he loved more than anything and sent him an encouraging, honest smile.

"Will, you guys are best friends. You two are just too close to ruin the friendship. Why don't you think about asking him to the arcade or something? Just the two of you, maybe come back here for some mac and cheese or something if that'd make you feel safer, and you could " he shrugs. "let him know how you feel?"

Will looked up at his brother, shocked. But his body was flushed with relief, he could feel the air in the room hitting his sweaty and clammey skin giving him chills. Not quite knowing how to handle his brothers reaction, his eyes simply fall to his hands where they fidgeting in his lap.

"But what if that does ruin the friendship? What if he doesn't feel the same way, and decides to stop hanging out with me. Or if someone finds out- I just- I just can't. I'm not ready."

"That's okay. All I'm saying is, he is way too nice to be the kind of person who would do that. And you are way too important to him. And hey, if you ever do feel ready, or you guys do go out in the future..." Jonathan trails off, sensing the awkwardness creep up. He chuckles and looks back to his brother.

"All I'm trying to say is, I'm here for you. Always."

Will smiles gratefully and Jonathan leans forward to the volume back up.

"Should I stay or should I go? So you gotta let me know, should I stay or should I go?"

- 𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 4 - ao3 -

“Qishan Wen has sent the invitations for the discussion conference,” their father said. “They will be holding a competition.”

The elders murmured thoughtfully in response.

Lan Qiren wasn’t sure why, since the Wen sect always held some sort of competition when it was their turn – the other sects tended to vary the main event, feasts and hunts and academic discussions, but the Wen sect loved competitions. Although perhaps it was just Wen Ruohan himself who did; since he’d been the sect leader for so long, it was impossible to tell the difference between his preferences and his sect’s.

“Qingheng-jun can lead the disciples,” one of the sect elders said, and Lan Qiren’s brother stood and saluted respectfully before sitting back down. “As for the rest…what skills should we select for?”

“Equestrianism,” their father said. “And music.”

“Music?” one of Lan Qiren’s teachers – an old man who usually all but slept through these meetings, but respected enough that no one commented on it – asked, blinking awake and rubbing his eyes in a way that suggested he thought he was being discreet.  “Since when does Qishan Wen appreciate music?”

Lan Qiren's teacher in music, who'd clearly been about to ask the same question, shut his mouth with a poorly-hidden smile.

“They don’t have to appreciate it,” another teacher, this one of swordsmanship, said, his tone distant and cynical. “They just have to have someone in mind that they think will win. Qishan Wen values victory over all else.”

“And they are crafty," yet another said, nodding. "Including it in the listing might be a stratagem to get us to send more disciples talented in music and fewer in other areas, to reduce our chances of winning the main event –”

“Both riding and music are listed as the main events,” Lan Qiren’s father said, his cold clear tone slashing through the others’ voices and putting an end to the debate. “Let us proceed in selecting disciples to attend.”

The list was quickly settled, and for once Lan Qiren was nominated to go. He hoped it was on account of his musical talents, which he was pretty proud of, although he acknowledged it might very well be due to his heritage. He made plans to go to visit the library pavilion at once, thinking about what scores might be appropriate to study in preparation – based on the description in the invitation, there would be a technical challenge, in which they would all play the same piece, and then an individual selection where each player could show off their personal skills…

“Looking forward to showing off for your lover?”

Lan Qiren slowed to a stop. It was one of the wittier, more personable disciples, a distant cousin of his named Lan Ganhui – one of the ones that thought they were funny, and others seemed to agree.

“Are you talking to me?” he asked, puzzled. It seemed as if he were, but at the same time... “I don’t have a lover.”

“Really?” His cousin was smiling. “But we’ve all heard how highly Sect Leader Wen thinks of you.”

Lan Qiren blinked. “He complimented me once. Three years ago. When I was thirteen.”

With the benefit of hindsight and age, it was clear to him that his father must have been right about Wen Ruohan’s motives: he had only been making trouble deliberately, trying to stir things up. A test of his brother’s mettle as the prospective new leader of the Lan sect, no doubt.

Occasional teasing aside, what were the chances that he'd actually found Lan Qiren to be interesting?

“You’re far too modest, Qiren-xiong. Everyone knows how picky Sect Leader Wen can be – you must have done something to get his attention.”

Lan Qiren was not good at understanding people and their subtleties as a general rule, but he had sufficient practice at childish taunts to understand the implication, and he felt his ears burn.

“Do not speak ill of people,” he said, putting his hands behind his back to hide how his fists clenched. “You should report to the discipline hall for violating the rules.”

“Violation excused,” his brother said from behind him, voice calm – even cold – as always. “Don’t take things so seriously, Qiren; it’s only joking between friends.”

Lan Qiren was not friends with Lan Ganhui, but he probably should be. It was his duty as one of the heirs of the main clan to be magnanimous with the other disciples of the sect.

As irritating a task as that might be.

“Walk with me,” his brother ordered, and naturally Lan Qiren obeyed.

They went in silence for a while, their path the familiar one used to make the rounds of the Cloud Recesses – it was a task they were all assigned once they were old enough, and Lan Qiren recognized the twists and turns of it at once. He wondered what that meant, if anything.

If he were with one of his teachers, he would be able to extrapolate that the subject of imminent discussion was not a serious one; that they felt they could both fulfill their duties and speak with him meant that it was not a subject that required their full attention. But somehow, despite their closer relation, Lan Qiren sometimes felt as if he did not understand his brother anywhere near as well as he understood his teachers: it was possible that in this case the subject  was  important, but his brother more capable than their teachers of splitting his time and attention, or maybe simply didn’t care about one of the two tasks he was performing.

That was one of the things Lan Qiren had never really understood about his brother. His brother was the great hope of their Lan sect, the bright light of their generation; when he finally became sect leader, it was expected that he would help lead them to an ascendant position in the cultivation world and allow their clan to flourish, one andall. Yet sometimes it seemed as if he saw his duties as merely a burden, to be completed as quickly as possible – he was always trying to do more than one task at a time, trying to finish and put them aside, as if he had compared them to some ideal in his mind and found them wanting, purposeless, and therefore irrelevant, even if the task were key to the well-being of their sect.

Their teacher in swordsmanship – one of the few people his brother seemed to really like, though of course he was properly filial to all his teachers – said that he had the best chance of any in their generation of becoming a true immortal, if only he devoted himself, and Lan Qiren supposed that that was his brother’s goal. After all, hadn’t Wen Ruohan raised his sect higher and higher simply on account of having been there longer than anyone else…?

“This will be your first discussion conference in several years,” his brother said, drawing Lan Qiren’s attention. “Will it not?”

“Since the last time our sect hosted,” Lan Qiren agreed. It had been the Jiang the year after, and at fourteen he was too young to go to an official conference; then the Jin the year after that, and the Lan sect never sent too many people to suffer the rush and bustle of Lanling City. If he had had some extraordinary achievements, they might have sent him, but he didn’t.

This year, though, he was sixteen – just under the official age of eligibility for those not in the main families of the Great Sects, which was seventeen – and known to have some talent in one of the areas in question, so it would be a loss of face for their family  not  to send him. Otherwise, he suspected they would have waited another year until the discussion conference was held by the Nie sect, who as a close ally to the Lan sect would offer a much safer way to be introduced to the cultivation world.

“I see,” his brother said, and continued walking some distance. “You will need to be mindful of your actions, of course.”

“Of course,” Lan Qiren echoed, and despite his best efforts he felt some dissatisfaction. Beyond the resentment he bore him on account of their mother’s death, his brother had never really paid him all that much attention; Lan Qiren had been assured by several of his teachers that he was merely imagining how much his brother didn’t like him, or at least that the irritation would pass as he got older and more accomplished, less of an embarrassment. Most of the time, his brother’s gaze was turned inside to himself and his own cultivation efforts just like their father before him, so it made sense for him not to know too much about Lan Qiren, but…still. It wasn’t exactly like Lan Qiren was a known troublemaker that needed to be taken aside and especially warned to be on his best behavior.

He idolized his brother, Lan Qiren reminded himself. Just like everyone else. It was only the itchy emotionality of adolescence that was causing him such frustration.

“You understand what you did wrong, then, and will not repeat it.”

“…what I did wrong?” Lan Qiren ground his teeth together, realized he was doing it, and stopped at once. No one else had ever said he had done something wrong during that discussion conference, but perhaps they were only being polite. “Xiongzhang, I am too ignorant, and do not understand. Please tell me what you mean.”

His brother looked at him sidelong. “In connection with Sect Leader Wen.”

“Xiongzhang! I didn’t –”

“You are old enough now to understand how dangerous he is,” his brother said, cutting him off, and Lan Qiren fell silent, because that much was true. When he’d been thirteen and even more single-minded than he was today (and truly, how could he condemn his brother’s disinterest in so many things when he himself was similarly focused on his own interests?), he had been ignorant of the rumors that swirled around Wen Ruohan. It was said that beneath his seemingly composed countenance, he could be violent and moody, impulsive and selfish and cruel – how he had to have the best of everything for himself, and would stop at nothing to obtain whatever it was, no matter who it harmed. And then there were the stories of his mysterious Fire Palace, where he was said to collect implements of torture and to enjoy sating his bloodlust by practicing them upon those unfortunate enough to be his prisoners –

How much of that was true and how much merely rumor, Lan Qiren did not know, but he knew that it was well-accepted enough to be considered news rather than frivolous gossip.

"Yes, xiongzhang," he muttered, and dropped his eyes to the ground. "I know."

"This isn't like last time. We're going to be in the Nightless City, on his ground, not ours - you're not adept at politics, so you might not know it, but Sect Leader Wen's arrogance is beyond belief; he only sometimes considers himself to be bound by the laws and customs of the cultivation world, not like the rest of us. If something happens, I won't be able to protect you."

Lan Qiren nodded. He appreciated his brother's concern for him.

"Try to avoid him entirely," his brother instructed. "And if you do end up seeing him, don't pester him this time! Think beyond yourself: our sect cannot afford to draw his ire, if it turns out that he does not find you as amusing as he did before.”

It hadn’t been Lan Qiren’s fault that Wen Ruohan had found him amusing the first time. It wasn’t like he intended on spending time with the man – it had just happened!

“And what if he approaches me?” Lan Qiren asked, more to be contrary than out of any actual belief it would really happen. Wen Ruohan had seen him as a tool to needle his brother, nothing more, and had probably put him out of his mind long ago - it'd been three years, after all, and Lan Qiren was very young still; if it hadn't been for the Wen sect's selection of music as a main event, he probably wouldn't be going along at all.

“If he starts speaking with you, then you are to respond gracefully, and comply with his wishes until such time as someone can come to collect you.”

Lan Qiren frowned. “Are you sure?"

His brother stopped and frowned at him.

"I just mean, we've met in person before," Lan Qiren explained. "He won't mistake me for a servant; he'll know who I am. And the Great Sects are all equal, so isn't there a chance that we might lose face if one of our main bloodline yields to everything he wants at first request, as if we were some nameless clan beneath his…”

“Are you questioning me?”

Lan Qiren faltered. “No, xiongzhang.”

“I don’t want anything disturbing the discussion conference,” his brother said, his gaze already sliding away and his fists tight at his sides. Lan Qiren thought over his words and was ashamed of himself: he shouldn't have reminded his brother that he was part of the main bloodline, same as him; he knew it was a painful subject for his brother, and to bring it up anyway probably came across as arrogant and tactless. “I am acting as leader for this trip, and the responsibility for everything that happens is mine. Do not make me lose face. Do you understand?”

“Yes, xiongzhang. I won’t lose face for the sect.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

[brownandblackpearls]

🦇𝒯he  𝒱isitor (Alucard Tepes x BlackReader) Pt.3

PART 3 SUMMARY:

You’re given a lackluster tour of Dracula’s castle that adds more questions than it answers, yet your quarters are beyond admirable and enough to forget the mysteries for just tonight. His ice is slowly melting, but not enough for you to see anything certain. To help speed things along, you decide to be a friendly guest and cook breakfast for the both of you.

─── Alucard x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── explicit smut

─── Fantasy, vampires, hurt/comfort, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, magic user, cute bats, gardening, cooking, cottagecore MC, castlecore Alucard.

☾ previous. ☾ next.

┌───────────━┿──┿━──────────┐

└───────────━┿──┿━──────────┘

Your host is as gracious as the circumstances allow, you begin to realize. As immense and as glorious as the few parts of the castle you’ve seen are, your host confides that they were once even grander. He speaks briefly of there being a battle of sorts. He doesn’t say when or why, despite prodding, but it helps to fill in some of the gaps you have.

Spying some of the deeper gouges and gashes in the tough stone, you can’t help but wonder exactly what he was battling.

“You won the battle, then...?” You ask.

“Something like that,” he says simply enough, but it reads rather ominously to your ears.

You pause as you follow him, trying your best not to sound too afraid. You hope no enemies from this past battle still sneak about...

“So it’s just you and I, here…?”

He turns on you slowly, and a familiar dread rises in your gut as you realize you’ve angered him once again. Unfortunately for you, you’re not sure how. His features appear natural and still, but what you are feeling under your skin hints at the truth to his demeanor. You catch a hint of fang as he speaks, and you wonder if it’s intentional.

“Yes. Does that suit your plans?”

You hesitate, unsure.

“I…’plans’? I don’t—“

“—Allow me to assist you. Silver is a trifle. Stakes are laughable. Garlic does nothing, and no holy symbol nor water—no matter what wayward priest you find to bless it—will help your cause. Sunlight is a pleasure to my skin, which heals from fire, knife wounds, and all other maladies in conception, if you even manage to pierce it. If a Belmont had trouble making me bleed, you surely will. The few things that I am susceptible to, are magic, decapitation, and stakes, but then again, who isn’t? I implore you to try though, and wish you luck. Believe me, you will need it.”

Like before, as if you’ve been transported back behind the walls of books, he is upon you, and you cannot help but tremble. The ruby red is back, flickering just behind his sunstorm eyes. You are beside yourself but you do your best to think quickly as to what nonexistent offense he’s percieved.

‘Does he think I mean to kill him? How even could he assume such a thing…? From me, of all people...?’

“I do not wish to make an attempt on your life,” you say slowly, clearly. “My magic is very poor, but not my behavior towards hosts kind enough to allow me in their homes.” You put a heavy emphasis on the ‘host’ portion, hoping to remind him of his promise from before.

“Enlighten me then,” he asks in a tone that seeks anything but enlightenment. “Why do you want to know if we are alone, if not to better plan something that would require isolation?”

You find yourself frowning.

“You…you completely misunderstand me, sir…” you begin, stepping back. “I just…I asked if we were alone because….I…I…”

Something in your face must call out to his reason, because the red drains out from his eyes and he steps away, reeling back. The grieved look returns.

“You’re afraid,” he realizes suddenly, aloud. “You want to ensure nothing else lurks in these walls.”

You nod, happy to be comprehended, for once.

“Yes,” you insist. “The damage from the battle...I see it, and I think that your foes were very strong. I only hope they were all defeated and that it is just you and I here, alone, sir—er, Alucard.”

He nods, looking somewhat embarrassed now.

“It is only us, in these walls.”

You sigh happily, glad to have your fears discarded. The castle was still scary and intimidating of course, as large as it was. It felt as though something had to be tiptoeing somewhere around in the fortress, yet...he would know the place better than you, wouldn’t he...? And if he says its just you two, then hopefully that is so.

“Good,” you sigh. 

He makes no move at the sound of his name in your mouth, but he does think on your words before bowing his head ever so lightly.

“I apologize,” he admits. “I keep...jumping to conclusions. I made you fret after giving my word. Forgive me.”

You watch him with pleasant surprise, the corner of your mouth quirking up. 

So there were manners somewhere in there.

“You’re forgiven. I’m sure you must have had a rough go of assassins, being who you are and all.”

“I’ve had my share,” he admits, before turning to advance through the corridor. You don’t have time to think about his ‘share’, trying to keep up. You know he can move far faster than he is showing now, and you appreciate the effort he makes to go at a human pace so that you may follow closely behind. 

Deep down, you are still worried about what lays in the castle. You do feel safer, knowing something supernatural like him is at your side, and vowed to make sure no harm befalls you.

“Well,” you continue conversationally, trailing after him, “thank you for soothing my concerns. I feel all the safer for it.””

“...Odd,” he comments. “Hm?”

“You, feeling safer alone in Dracula’s castle, with a dhampir.”

You chuckle.

“I suppose it is odd when you put it that way. Just work on that temper of yours, and I’ll really be right as rain!” The jest is funny enough for you, but it doesn’t land so well with your present company.

He scowls, but the real heat is gone. Energized from knowing he is bound by promise and that there are no others here, you feel bold enough to place an assuring hand on his arm. 

He feels strong and solid, like stone. He stiffens before pulling away, peering down at you.

You try your best not to look too hurt. You smile assuringly instead.

“Believe me, Alucard. I’m not here to try and do you in. I mean, look at me! You think I’m foolish enough to attempt such a thing on you when I could hardly handle that crowd of ruffians outside?”

You laugh then, slapping a hand on your leg. It is the bare one from the rip in your dress, and the smack is much louder than you anticipate. It’s enough to silence you into meek embarrassment.

Alucard simply watches you before turning around and leading you on.

You follow him silently now, and you quickly find that the tour is rather lacking. He says little about the winding halls you are led through, and you can’t help but wonder the stories of each hallway, of each room. Will you ever learn of them?

The place is monstrous, and so the soles of your feet are a bit sore by the time you reach what Alucard regards as your quarters.

“You will stay here,” he gestures past a large emblemed door into a wide room. 

You peer inside, finding a beautifully canopied bed, heavy curtains attached to what you can only assume is a gigantic window. There is a large bookcase, a fireplace, an armchair, a desk, and a small door leading into another room. 

“That is your bathing room,” he notes.

When you stare at him curiously, he explains.

“My father possessed immense technological advancements,” he says quickly, as if he’s explained it several times before. Perhaps he has.

‘So his father is Dracula,’ you think. ‘But the stories of Dracula were much more…gruesome and cruel. If this is his son...this man is certainly scary when roused, but…’

His deep voice breaks you out of your reverie.

“The washing room has a basin called a ‘tub’. There is also a bidet with a smaller basin called a toilet. No need for outhouses or bringing up jugs of water here. We have plumbing.”

Now, you’re utterly confused.

Alucard sighs.

“Just…follow me. I’ll show you.”

You do just that and watch, engrossed, as your host thoroughly lays out and points to every faucet, knob, and all of their uses. Before long, you ascend from a common traveling woman to an expert in an alternate world knowledgeable on things such as ‘plumbing’.

You beam at the tub and sink, too giddy with joy to hide it. You bounce a little, your hands drawing to your chest excitedly.

Alucard levels a raised brow at you, pausing.

“...Are you alright?”

You nod happily, twirling in the bathroom to face him.

“This place is incredible! Plumbing! Who would’ve thought? There was almost something like this I saw over the Eastern seas, but the people there called them…acq..acqueducts! They were these large beams that delivered their water…oh, but no matter! My hair! Goodness, it will be leagues easier…”

Alucard glances at your crown of curled, kinky locks before refocusing on you.

“How did you manage, before?”

“Oh, ponds. Streams. Rivers. The seaside. That sort of thing,” you say absently. “The chill of the water did wonders for my mane, but I felt like an icicle the entire time. And you say I can have heated, freshwater through these devices? I can’t lie, I’m ecstatic!”

Alucard nods shortly at that, watching you curiously, but seemingly unable to share your interest in the fixtures. Perhaps you’re more of an interest for him at this point than the plumbing. You eyeball his own healthy mane and assume he’s long been used to such luxuries.

“Oh, but…can I wash my garbs in the tub, too?”

Alucard tilts his head at that before realization sparks in his eyes.

“No. No, you’ll wear something else. That’s fairly ruined.”

You silently leave out the part that it is partially his fault, but he seems to catch on anyway.

“I…” he tries stiffly. “I apologize again. For before.”

“Oh?” You respond innocently. “For what? Scaring me? Yelling at me? Threatening my life? Tripping me?”

He sinks a little lower with each act. 

“All of it.”

“Oh! Well, then you’re forgiven. As much as I appreciate the apology, I have a feeling that this ‘tub’ will more than make up for it.”

Alucard seems to relax at that, showing you the cabinets with everything you’ll need.

“I’ll…” he trails off. “I’ll find you some clothing.”

He turns to leave, but you reach out to gently grip the tuft of white blouse peeking out from his sleeve. He turns, watching you sharply. 

He does not pull away, though. You call it progress.

“Alucard,” you say. “Thank you for your hospitality. Sincerely.”

He looks to the floor instead of your eyes—as if he’s afraid of what he’ll find there—before gently pulling away and wordlessly leaving the room.

───────────━┿──┿━──────────

You are lucky enough to find interesting soaps and good-smelling candles before working the bath. With some maneuvering and much delight, you are able to conjure bubbles through use of items you’ve scavenged from the cabinets. You find washcloths, sponges, brushes, and an assortment of other things.

You want to wait for your host to return first, but as the minutes continue to pass you realize you need to take advantage of the hot water before it cools.

You shed your clothes, undo your hair, and step into the water-filled basin.

“God…” you whisper, goosebumps rising on your skin.

It feels incredible.

You sink into the water, a smile on your face. You haven’t felt something this good since traveling to hot springs in your more daring adventures. Back then, you had to evade the cultist locals for a hint of heated water. This was so different, as it was your own personal hot spring whenever you desired!

You sink deeper into the water for a bit before beginning to scrub and lather your journey off of you. You decide to empty and fill the tub once more, just because you can, and bathe a little more before feeling pristine to your liking.

Stepping out, you massage in some leftover body oil from your pack. You clean the basin before peeking out into your room.

There is no one present, but a new, soft nightdress lays comfortably on the chair. Your fireplace is even lit.

You smile to yourself as you step out and lift the nightdress, assessing it.

“So his bark is louder than his bite,” you decide aloud.

You change swiftly, and despite being in such an strange situation, once in the massive bed, you find sleep has come right on your heels. Your eyes almost slide shut until you hear a knock at your door.

You open your eyes and slip out of bed. You push open your door—which has a heavy lock, you now realize—to see Alucard, in low lantern light, gazing back at you.

“I trust you found everything,” he says, rather than asks. You hear the question for what it is.

“Yes,” you smile. “Thank you.”

He considers your expression for a long moment before nodding his affirmation.

“Hm. Very well. There is a lock on the door of your room…if that’s any consolation to any fears you may have. Feel free to use it. Good night then,” he says, turning to leave.

“Alucard?” You call.

When he waits for you without turning to face you, you speak.

“Where will you be staying?”

‘If I need you,’ you think. 

You soon realize that this may become a situation where Alucard hears something in your speech that is not really there. With a solemn look, and the absence of an anger just as disturbing as its presence, he points to a door just down the hall from you. You would be pleased if not for the expression on his face.

“Just there,” he says. 

You realize that due to the two misunderstandings being him assuming you want to kill him, that this is likely what this third time revolves around. 

“Alucard,” you try, “I don’t intend to condescend, but you must know, I only ask for my own concern. I’m happier to know that my host is nearby. I meant no ill will by it. I’d be a poor assassin, remember?”

“Yes,” he answers quietly, as if he really is just recalling it. “I remember.”

“You’d hear me before I even entered, I bet!”

“I would.”

“So there is nothing to worry about…right…?”

His stiff shoulders finally seem to relax an inch. 

“I suppose. In any case…You are not to enter my domain, under any circumstances, outside of imminent danger. It would be…unwise of you.”

You nod, unsure of what exactly he means but positive he that he does mean what he says.

“I will see you in the morning...?” 

He pauses at that, looking somewhat bewildered. 

“I…yes, you will.”

“Alright!” You nod, pleased. “Good night then.”

Closing the door, you turn to the large, firelit room and beam.

It is a princess’s quarters…no, a queen’s! You will live lavish while you’re here, it seems.

You lay on the soft mattress under the thick covers, knowing pleasure you’ve never felt before until sleep takes you gently into the night.

───────────━┿──┿━──────────

When you wake, it is before the sun has fully broken into the sky. Pretty blues and pinks spill across the sky outside your window, so different from the cold colors of the day before. Rising in your nightgown, you spy a dress on the chair of your room. Alucard must have entered in your sleep. Had you locked the door...? You cannot recall. Under normal circumstances, traveling on the road, you would have never forgotten such a thing as utilizing a lock. For some reason, perhaps last night you felt you didn’t need to. 

You absently palm your neck for pinpricks of the vampiric sort, and find nothing.

‘Good enough for me, then.’

The dress lays before you, waiting

It is different, without any tears, and deep in its color. You pause before adorning it, turning this way and that in the looking glass before attempting to do something with your hair. 

‘I look rather stunning in this. Why does he have such nice women's clothing lying about, I wonder...?’

Once complete, you decide to do something as equally nice for your host as this dress was for you.

“Breakfast! I’ll make us breakfast. Dhampirs can eat food, right…? Now, if only I could find the kitchen…”

You spy your basket by the door. Another gift from your late-night visitor.

You pick up your newly returned basket from the room’s entrance, flipping over the blanket to spy your stolen vegetables still intact. 

You leave your rooms with a smile that slowly falls.

‘He said not to disturb him…perhaps I can find the kitchens myself? They must be on the first level, maybe the underground chambers, if anything. That’s how all castles are. I’d better start now if I hope to finish in time.’

You’re certain you will get lost, but you have a feeling that your host can easily find you again.

You pause, realizing something.

‘I hope I don’t find bottles of blood or something lying around…or something else’

On that sobering thought, you strap your dagger’s hilt tighter to your thigh. Alucard said you were both alone, but it couldn’t hurt to be vigilant.

You venture out and do your best to recreate the inverse of Alucard’s path to the great hall. After several turns and rerouting, you finally begin to recognize the way back to the grand hall. It takes far longer than you anticipated, and your soles begin to complain a little once you find the grand staircase.

With some exploration on the main floor, you finally come across a door leading into what appears to be a small kitchen. The floors are clean as are the pots and pans hanging from their hooks on the walls. You spy plenty of utensils, knives, and what appears to be another basin...plumbing. You will ask Alucard the name later.

You set down the basket, pleased to have reached your goal, and get to work.

“Can’t have just a vegetable scramble. He’s a literal dhampir, and I could use some protein.”

You can't find any aprons about, and so you wrap what looks to be a tablecloth around your pretty dress. No reason to ruin it with the trials of breakfast.

You hunt for eggs, meat, nuts, and anything of the protein type. After some pillaging, you are able to find all three and get to work. The eggs are small, and the meat is fox, rabbit, and fish instead of the typical villager fare of cows and pigs, but you make it work. You wash your hands and begin to carve out fillets, prep vegetables from your basket, and luck upon some spices. You search for oil, but can only find butter, and so you do your best with it.

Soon enough, the kitchen begins to fill with the scents and fumes of a bountiful breakfast. You plate the spiced eggs, the braised meat, the sautéed vegetables, and fill a pitcher with water. You think about finding the secret garden nearby once more to perhaps make juice from berries and fruits, or even preserve. Turning to the wood table, you set everything down before finding your final item.

The loaf of bread is well hidden, but not well enough. It is a little stale, but not enough to discourage. You claim it and cut it before setting it out on the table as well.

Turning to wash your hands one final time, you are unsurprised to find Alucard stalking in the doorway of the kitchen when you turn back around.

“What are you doing...?” he grouses, clearly just having recently awoken.

“Cooking us breakfast,” you sass, “you’re welcome, by the way. Oh, uh...you can eat food, right...?”

Alucard’s sleepy demeanor slowly fades as he nods, his interest growing as the smells of food clearly begin to assault him and cause wonders for his mood.

“Well?” You say, undoing the tablecloth-apron and taking a seat for yourself. “What are you waiting for? Sit with me, let’s eat!”

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AN: Do not under any circumstances copy, repost, or edit any of my work. If you see someone do so, please let me know.

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[coping-via-clint-eastwood]

CSI Characters as Ancient/Medieval Fantasy Warriors (title is tentative)

I WROTE THIS ALL IN ONE SITTING!!!!!  CAN YOU BELIEVE IT???????

*ahem* This is speculation about what powers and skills the CSI characters would have if they were warriors in an ancient/medieval fantasy setting, amongst other things. This was probably inspired by my recent wallowing in medieval fantasy (specifically Songs of War {if you don't know what that is, it's okay}), and I thought, why not entertain the idea? And after writing it out, I can say that it was fun toying around with it. If this inspires anybody to add on anything, or write fanfiction, or whatever, by all means go ahead.

@addictedtostorytelling @bartramcat @buildinggsr @davesdude80 @dobbyofearth @fandomismymiddlename @originalpinkranger @panchostokes @space-helen @stokes-theorem

All the people written about here are humans with powers.

Gil:  He has enhanced eyesight, and is a sniper archer. If I may draw your attention to the ending scene of season 4 episode 2, All for Our Country:

Bonus shot because it reminds me of his Will Graham days:

He is canonically a deadeye. So, I am extending that to be a superhuman power. I'll put it this way: he can aim and shoot at the same target a contemporary sniper with a scope could; he does not require (or have, for that matter) a scope. Because he is not so able as his younger teammates, so he cannot be in the direct area of battle and fend off opponents. But he has excellent eyesight, so he hides up in a tree or on the edge of a cliff that overlooks the area or wherever is applicable, and shoots any targets he can.  He uses a crossbow, since not as much strength is needed to pull back the cord as compared to a bow.  He also has a light wooden staff which he uses to help him walk up inclinations. It's also his defensive staff; if an enemy manages to sneak up on him, he can point the staff at them and shoot a forcefield that will blast them back. But this is only effective at close range, hence why he has to use the crossbow for opponents further away. He wears a hooded cloak which is green on one side and a dusty brown on the other, so that he can camouflage himself, turning the cloak to whichever side he needs to match his surroundings.  He is not the only one to wear a cloak however; Catherine, Ecklie, Jim, DB and Finn wear cloaks (more details when I get to each) as well to show they are of higher ranking, but only Gil's is hooded for practical purposes.

Warrick: His power is that he can jump really high. He can jump over a small hill and land on the ground on the other side. He's the one who helps get Gil to his perches if needed; he puts him over his shoulder and jumps, holding him with one arm and his war hammer in his other hand. He is strong enough to carry Gil. And Gil trusts him and is comfortable enough to let himself be borne in such a way, never struggling or crying out in fear when he is suddenly brought off the ground at such a high rate. In tandem with being able to jump high, he can strike his hammer on the ground when he lands and cause a quake. His hammer's enchantment depends on how high he jumped. On the ground, he swings his hammer at an opponent and sends them flying back (at a much greater distance than Gil's forcefield).

Bobby Dawson: He's the archer who is in the direct area of battle. He uses a small hunting bow, and also has a gladius in case any opponents manage to get close to him. He has enhanced reflexes, so he is able to turn around, draw weapons, and load and shoot his bow faster than normal.

Catherine:  She is telekinetic.  She does not use weapons because she prefers to have her hands free to gesticulate and help her focus on moving the objects she is controlling.  Her cloak is a beautiful royal blue.

Heather:  Mind control + reading minds + telepathy.    And invisibility.  Aside from turning the team's opponents against each other, mind control is useful for helping friends escape from dangerous situations; sometimes, it's easier than telling them what to do.  She needs very strong concentration for her mind control, which is the ability she uses the most, so she makes herself invisible and keeps out of the way, but stays where she can see the person she is manipulating.  Like Gil, she has the defensive staff in case anyone finds her.

Nick and Sara: They are what I like to call the speedster twins. It is very satisfying to wash them nyoom about and quickly kill any opponent in the path of their run. Typically, they start out standing next to each other at the same point, and then run on one side of the battlefield each. So they take out the opponents on the skirting of the battlefield. Sara has a cutlass while Nick has twin daggers.

Greg: He can talk to nearby spirits and ask them to help his team in the fight. With the power of this necklace that he has, he can conjure a protective invisible dome-shaped barrier around himself, which is invulnerable to any and every form of attack. Except if somebody were to dig their way up from below him of course. However, he has to stay in the same spot when he is inside this barrier, and has to deactivate it if he wants to walk (or run or whatever) somewhere else. The spirit of the person who gave him the necklace follows him everywhere, and stays by his side on the battlefield to protect him from any opponents who manage to get close.  Greg has a curved cleaver in case he needs to fight.

Al:  Aside from being a healer, he can freeze time.  Sort of. He can freeze the movement of anybody who is coming at him, no matter how many there are. He does not wield weapons. He has wooden legs (which are enchanted to be completely painless for him) and a staff, but without the power that Gil's and Heather's have. To heal someone, he just has to touch them, for as long as it takes for the wounds to completely heal. **I was thinking about making him have something to do with necromancy, but I thought that that's too much like Greg's power.

David:  He is the other healer, and is the one who kills the people that Al freezes. He just makes them fade out of existence. It is completely painless, and that way they don't have any bodies lying around the healers' area. Also, while Al heals physical injuries, David actually cures illnesses. So he has to touch his patient for as long as it takes to eradicate the infection.

The two healers typically stay in one spot, ready to head out into the battlefield if any of their teammates are injured.

Archie: He is the cryokinetic guardian of Henry, Wendy, Mandy, and Hodges, who are not combatants. He does not use weapons.

Henry:  He is a blacksmith, in charge of repairing the people's weapons, and making new ones if necessary. He also makes the arrows for Gil and Bobby.

Wendy: She is an enchanter who imbues weapons with offensive powers, such as the quake and blast effect on Warrick's hammer, or the enhanced sharpness of the speedster twins' blades.

Mandy: She enchants weapons with defensive powers, such as Greg's necklace, or Gil's and Heather's staves. She is also the one who made Al's wooden legs painless.

Hodges: While Al and David are physical healers, and while Wendy enchants weapons, Hodges is the one who restores the powers of other people. He is not really drained when he does it, but it is better for him to stay still and rest while other people fight. It works exactly how Al's and David's healing does.

These five people typically stay near the healers.

Jim:  He can control the weather.  That also means he can summon lightning.  And hailstones.  And rain (creatures that are made of fire or lava are susceptible to rain).  Like Catherine, he has his hands free to focus whatever he's bringing down from the sky onto wherever his target is.  His cloak is pitch black in colour.

Conrad: He can clone himself; up to five clones of himself can exist at a time.  It's alright if they are hurt or killed; so long as he is still alive.  He wields a scythe.  His cloak is a really dark grey, almost black, but not really.

Morgan:  She can fly. This is not a power which requires restoration. Since she does not use wings, she can fly in rain. She uses twin swords.

Sofia:  She is a shapeshifter.  But she can not only turn into other creatures; she can turn into objects like a boulder or something. In such forms, she is invulnerable to like, say, a fist striking her, but if someone were to try and blow her up, she would have to turn into something else and run away. You know those fire creatures I mentioned? If she turns into one of them, she can harness their powers. Basically, she takes on the abilities of anything she turns into.

Riley: She can turn into any of her opponents, whether she has killed them herself of if they are standing right in front of her. Heather would be aware that this in fact Riley (telepathy yo), and Riley will work together with the person Heather is controlling. Unlike Sofia, while she becomes the mirror image of someone, she cannot have the skill level of the person she turns into. She herself is proficient with a club; if she turns into someone who was a swordsman, she would be wield a blade as well as them, and will continue to use her own weapon. If she turns into one of those fire creatures, she might be able to use their fire, but she doesn't have as fluent control over it as the original person. In fact, it is much safer for her to not turn into such creatures.

Ray:  He has enhanced strength, which enables him to rotate his huge double-headed battle axe about his wrist above his head.  And by "huge", I mean that the stick is almost as long as him, and the blades are bigger than his head. The stick is also quite thick; it has to withstand the weight of the blades, and the impact with which it is struck. By "rotate", I mean Ray is able to hold the handle at the very base, and pivot it perfectly around.

DB:  Teleportation.  This son of a bitch randomly popping up out of nowhere?  Yeah.  His weapon is a really small but especially sharp dagger, easy to conceal, and a quick and effective killer.  He appears, quickly pokes his opponent, and then teleports to the next one.  He can teleport anywhere within his viewing distance; he has to be able to see where he is teleporting to to go there. His cloak is silver in colour.

Finn:  She is pyrokinetic.  Her cloak is typically orange, yellow or red, but it can change colours to whatever fire she is wielding, which includes green, blue, purple, white, and even black fire.  She does not use weapons.

Additional idea: Gil and Sara are soulmates. But they were not fated from birth; rather, their soulmate bond formed when their connection deepened. Before they met, their soulmates could have been anyone else, or they could have gone without a soulmate for the rest of their lives. Even when they met and fell in love at first sight (I'm one of those who hc that they did; ymmv), they were not yet soulmates. It was when they really got to know and understand each other implicitly and became unbreakably steadfast in their connection, of their own accord, that their soulmate bond formed. The physical manifestation of it was when their soul marks appeared; Gil has a butterfly on the right side of his neck, close to the back of his neck, and Sara has a rhinoceros beetle on the underside of her left wrist. Being soulmates, they can heal each other and restore each other's powers. The most soothing times for them to do it is when they can lie down somewhere private and hold each other close.

When their marks first appeared, everyone kept congratulating them; there was a lot of friendly teasing from Warrick, Nick, Greg and Hodges. As for themselves, they remained passive until they were in the privacy of their bedroom.  They sat down on the edge of the bed, embracing and leaning their foreheads on each other's, uncontainable smiles on their faces as they had a little heart-to-heart.  They did not really have to vocalise much; they had always been able to understand each other with just a few words.  Then, they leant back from each other, but remained close.  Sara lowered her head and slowly, reverently kissed all over Gil's mark; he closed his eyes and let her do it, enjoying how it felt, moving his head to one side so that his skin on the right of his neck was stretched flat and easier to kiss.  When Sara was done, they leant back again.  Gil lifted Sara's wrist to his mouth and kissed all over her mark, with as much care and adoration as she had done his.

[black-dragon1998]

Stoic keeper and sick girl chapter 4

Summary: (Y/n) and Lexa tell the team everything and emotions surface.

Also, COVID19 doesn’t exist in this fic!

warnings:  Talking about cancer. if this is a trigger don’t read. Everything mentioned is from my own experience as may not apply to everybody.

Talk about past trauma’s and shitty childhood.

part 1 -part 2- part 3

Waking into the dining room you noticed it was still rather empty. The only ones who were already there were Alex, Kelley at one table and Alyssa at another. Alyssa was probably the safer one to sit at. The younger ones would probably want to joke with Kelley and move around a lot, Alyssa most nights stayed at her table and was one of the most rational people on the team.

The blond keeper looked up when you neared with a nervous Lexa. You tried to reassure her with a hand on her shoulder as you let her closer to the table.

“Alyssa I like you to meet Lexa. Lexa this is one of my many good friends, Alyssa Naether. I know she looks scary but she is a big softy inside.” You introduce. Alyssa rolls her eyes at you but introduces herself to the girl. She could see that the girl was relaxed around you.

“it’s nice to meet you, Lexa.” Lexa doesn’t say anything but does give Alyssa a little nod so the keeper took that as a win.

“is it okay if the two of us sit with you? That way she can take off her facemask and eat in peace.” You ask Alyssa, who looks a bit confused at your panicked state. Normally you were far more relaxed with her.

“sure.” She said trying to reassure you with her eyes. If you were freaking out then it has to be pretty serious about what you had to tell or what was going on. The only thing she could do was support you.

“sure.” Alyssa tried to reassure you with her eyes and a kind smile.

“Thanks, Lyss, you’re the best.” You beamed the keeper with your best smile as you put Lexa’s bottle down on the table and lead Lexa toward the food.

“come on Lexa let’s go see if they're in anything you like.” you tried to stay optimistic, you knew how hard it could be to eat when everything you smelled or saw tasted disgusting. Even too today you had days you couldn’t swallow anything and had to fall back on meal replacement shakes.

Throughout the whole buffet, there was nothing Lexa seemed to fancy at the end you sighted, Lexa looked up with a small face.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered under her breath, your heart broke. It wasn’t her fault she wasn’t feeling like eating.

“hey, you don’t have to be sorry about this okay. I will talk with the trainers, normally they have some shakes for me when I don’t feel like eating. I will get you to try one-off those okay. Maybe a cola.” She shakily nods looking down at the floor. Taking her chin between two fingers you make her look up at you.

“say it to me.” Your voice is stern but comforting. You don’t want her to live in the constant fear of disappointing you. You give her an encouraging smile.

“I have nothing to be sorry about.” She told you. Not as confidently as you liked but it was a start. You lead her back to the table and tell her you will be back. Taking her sports bottle with you to fill with some cola.

Alyssa watched as you placed the little girl on the chair in front of her and reassured her that you wouldn’t be gone long. Alyssa had never seen you this tender.

Like the rest of the team, Alyssa had questions, after the end of the game. You had disappeared just after the final whistle had been blown and they had found you thirty minutes in the trainer's locker room with a little kid. When Ali and Christen had tried talking to you, you had given them some very specific orders that the girls couldn’t place. Now seeing the girl in front of her with the face mask and bandana with baseball cap those question only rang louder but they were for later.

“Hey, Lexa.” Alyssa tried to get the girls attention by calling her. Het girl looked up at the keeper with big uncertain eyes.

“Don’t you want anything to eat?” Alyssa asked pointing to her empty plate. All Lexa did was shake her head and look down at the table. Alyssa decided to drop it not wanting until you got back, it was clear you had a connection with the little girl.

 The silence in the room was broken when more of the team dripped into the dining room and when more of the younger players it even became rowdy and Lexa flinched at every harsh sound and hoped you would come back fast.

 You returned to the dining room with Lexa’s sports bottle filled with cola and one of your shakes. After doing the whole story to Vlatko he had promised to help you with the legal papers and that set up an appointment with your doctor for tomorrow and one for yourself also.

After the whole ordeal, you felled exhausted, all the emotions of the day catching up to you and all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep.

Emily spotted you halfway through the room and strode toward you. Like the rest of the team, she had heard about the kid and had seen her with Alyssa. No one of the younger players dared to approach in fear of the older keeper.

“hey (Y/N) how’s the little squirt doing,” Emily asked hoping you would spill something but you weren’t int the mood to talk to anybody.

“buzz off Sonnett.” You growl not being able to contain your frustration and exhaustion. The conversation with Vlatko was a heavy one. Now the stress of getting your blood draw tomorrow was causing extra stress. You had awful veins and you dreaded it.

Emily was taken back by your tone, normally it took you a lot more to rile you up.

“wow, what got your panties in a twist?” Emily tried to lighten your mood.

The conversation between you and Sonnett had drawn the attention of the rest of the team. You could already see Ali and Ash make their way toward you.

Lexa had gotten of her chair and was running toward you, she could see how stressed you were and she wanted to help because you always helped her.

“(Y/N)!” Lexa grabbed your hand tried to give it a reassuring squeeze but because of her weakened state, it wasn’t hard and also tried to give you a reassuring smile. You didn’t know if you should laugh or cry, how could a child that had gone through all she had to be still so compassionate. Sinking through your knees make you almost eye level with her.

This caused all the veterans to immediately come running toward you while the younger players just watched. There was a small panic going around the team, you never showed emotions so openly.so I kind of freaked them out. Even though you hadn’t shed a single tear you looked exhausted.

“I’m okay Lexa. Thank you.” You whisper to the girl, looking at her gave you enough courage to scrape yourself together and lead her back to the table. When she sat down you handed her the coke and shake, which looked at sceptically but opened it when you told her it tasted like strawberries. After the sip, she takes another and another.

 When the team decided you have ignored them enough they send Ali and Ash to talk to you. Seeing as they had the best track record with you.

You could feel their eyes burning into your back and it was just a matter of time before they tried to talk to you. For the moment you just watched Lexa enjoy her shake.

“your friends are staring at us,” Lexa commented looking at you from under her cap. She looks cute with one of your caps and hoodie.

“I know. They will come over here any moment to talk. They like to do that. You want to tell them?” you would leave the choice to her, it’s her life and you would support her either way.

“I want to stay with you.” She confesses looking up at you with big eyes. It makes you happy she felled secure with you.

“I know that sweety but that doesn’t mean I am forcing you to tell them. I’m not going to force you to tell them anything you don’t want to.” You assure her.

“But I want to be honest with them.”

“well if you are brave enough maybe I could half as brave and do the same.” You stroke her cheek and smile at her. Krashlyn took that moment to interrupt you.

“What should you tell us?” Ashlyn asked while she and Ali sit down in front of you before you look up you catch Lexa’s eye.

“ready little warrior.” She gives you a simple nod. Turning to the couple and try to give them a reassuring smile.

“Lexa and I have to tell you all something.” Suddenly a lot of voices started talking. Asking what it was and how you met Lexa. You cut through it with a sharp whistle and instruct them all to take a seat and listen. You had never seen them sit down so fast and be shut up, maybe you should try that whistle more.

“you want to tell them first?” Lexa swallowed hard before she looked up at the soccer players.

“okay guy’s this is Lexa I met her today after the game, after talking to her I have decided to become her legal guardian. Vlatko is helping me with the papers.” You pause for the information to sink in but not long enough for chaos to break out.

“wait with the questions and judgment until after Lexa and I have done our story.” You gave Lexa a reassuring smile while glaring at your teammates. Lexa grabs your hand for support.

“I have leukaemia and (Y/N) had promised to stay with me so I don’t have to do the therapy alone. I hate being alone in the hospital and she makes me feel safe.” The weight of the word behind the childlike didn’t go unnoticed by you.

Many of the soccer players in front of you had unshed tears in their eyes. After her story, Lexa buries her face into your shoulder. Hugging her back in return almost seemed like second nature.

“you were so brave, little warrior. I’m so proud of you.” You Lexa while hugging her close. When I was obvious she wouldn’t be say anything more.

“I saw Lexa in the stands alone and could immediately tell what the problem was. A couple of kids were picking on her for it, that is when I decided to step in and take her inside with me, I didn’t know how bad her immune system was so I didn’t want to take any chances. Tomorrow both of us have to go to the hospital for a blood test. Then I can tell how much resistance she is against bacteria.” You explain stroking Lexa’s back soothing her and trying to minimize her stress.

“why would they be picking on her?” Christen asks, not understanding why Lexa would be bullied. You have to chuckle at their childlike innocence, most never had to deal with people looking at them weird or shinning them for being different.

“Because people are A-holes, who mistreat everything that is different and not to normal standards.” You grith out between clenched teeth, memories from your past resurfacing. You still remember the stares and the whispers from when you were in a wheelchair because you were to weak to walk. People were far less subtle than they thought they were.

“yes, they are.” Lexa agrees with you while climbing in your lap to hug you. You figured all the emotions and exhaustion were getting to her, so you drab your arms around her so she can rest a bit.

 The whole team looks at you shocked at how soft you are with the little girl. They had never seen you so soft. Some of the veterans were concerned when you told them you were becoming this little girls guardian, to team standards you were still a baby. Only being a couple of months older than Tierna but seeing you like this changed their minds. Also, an unspoken promise was going through the group, they would help you in any way they could.

Taking a deep breath you looked at your team, who were watching you and Lexa with big eyes. Now was as good a time as any to drop your own bomb, hoping that having Lexa with you will lessen the yelling they were going to do.

“There is something I want to tell you guys,” you speak before losing your nerves, freaking out internally. What if they start treating you differently? What if they start looking at you with pity?

Well, you couldn’t go back now.

“There is another reason I stepped out into the crowd today. I saw a lot of myself in Lexa. Because I also had leukaemia as a kid. Twice actually.” Gasp go through the group moments before questions are fired at you.

“(Y/N) sweetheart, why didn’t you tell us?” Ali asks coming closer so she can give you a reassuring smile and doesn’t scare you away.

“This is the only place I feel normal.” You confess not looking up at your team.

“it’s tough being a kid with leukaemia, people treat you different when they know. I was diagnosed for the first time when I was six. You are forced to grow up mentally and emotionally so fast sometimes you forget you are only a kid. I learned to put things into perspective fast, fearing you are not going to going to make it to the next day makes other kids tantrums banal in comparison. This caused me to stick out around my peers and made it hard to make friends. Not that it bothered me that much at that age, I was in the hospital a lot. You take a moment to take a couple of breath before you continue.

“Football is something I love and I didn’t want to be treated differently because of it. That is the big reason I didn’t tell anybody.” A lot of the woman around you are crying or holding each other for comfort. Lexa tightened her hold on you.

The silence in the room is heavy buy familiar. Most people didn’t know what to say after you told them so you decided to let them process everything first before they had to speak to you.

“Alright, that is enough emotions for one day. I’m taking Lexa back to my room so she can rest.” Getting up you grab her sports bottle with you while making your way to the elevator with Lexa in your arms.

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[aspoonofsugar]

Semblance of the Soul: Qrow and Raven

The Branwens are two people with a shared past, that have taken different routes in life:

Ozpin: Everyone has a choice. The Branwens chose to accept their powers and the responsibilities that came with them. And later, one of them chose to abandon her duties in favor of her own self-interest.

Qrow has made an altruistic choice. He hates the crimes of his tribe and is happy to help people by working for Ozpin.

Raven has instead decided to prioritize herself and her tribe and sees Ozpin’s cause as foolish and reckless.

At the same time, they are twins, but have chosen different families. This is why the concept of family comes up so often in their interactions. After all, they first meet in the episode called Family:

Raven: Hello, brother.

Qrow: Raven. So, what do you want?

Raven: A girl can't just catch up with her family?

And their last exchange is this:

Raven: Sorry, brother. Sometimes family disappoints you like that.

Qrow: We're not family anymore.

Raven: Were we ever?

Qrow: I thought so, but I guess I was wrong.

Still, how are they doing with their families of choice? Are they happy with them? Do they have healthy relationships?

For the both of them, the answer is no. This happens because Raven and Qrow are both scared to grow close to people.

It is just that this fear is declined in opposite ways. Raven is scared for herself (selfishness), while Qrow is scared for others (selflessness).

This trait they share, but show in different ways, is well conveyed by their respective semblances. This analysis will use their powers as means to explore both characters and their foiling.

RAVEN: BIRDS OF A FEATHER

Raven’s Kindred Link perfectly embodies the saying...

Birds of a feather flock together...

...until the cat comes:

Raven: I...I'm sorry...

On one hand it lets her create portals to the people she has a strong bond with.

On the other hand she mostly uses it to run away from those bonds.

Why does she do it?

The answer is clear:

Lionheart: I'm helping her for the same reason you are - I'm afraid. We... we can't stop her... no one can...

Raven is just another version of the Cowardly Lion. She is a coward like Leo, but does not aknowledge it and prefers to hide behind a pragmatic and survivalist mask:

Raven: That's why I tried to leave when I did. I'm not afraid, I'm smart.

This is why she goes back to her tribe after she leaves Yang and Tai. She says she does so because she considers them her family and wants to protect them.

However, her motivations are implied to be more selfish. She goes to them to run away from things that scare her.

To be more specific, the tribe protects Raven psychologically in two different ways.

1) It lets her be the monster, the criminal, the most violent and powerful one:

Mercury: We’re the guys you should be afraid of.

Raven: I doubt anyone should be afraid of you.

Here, Raven mocks Mercury, but the irony is that her coping mechanism is really not that much different from his. She hides behind a Grimm mask, a universal symbol of fear, but she is the scared one.

2) She goes back to the family who raised her and neglects the family she is supposed to raise (Yang).

Deep down, Raven is just an adult, who fails at being an adult.

Mostly, this shows in her inability to make a choice:

Yang: Which is it, mom? Are you merciful, or are you a survivor?

 As a matter of fact she keeps changing her mind because she is not brave enough to stick to one decision.

Initially, she is sent to Beacon, so that she could learn how to kill hunters. However, she ends up becoming a huntress herself and she accepts to fight Salem. She is considered so loyal that she is even given magical powers. Finally, she enters a relationship and has a daughter with Tai. She basically starts creating a life outside the tribe, only to leave it all behind at a certain point. It is not clear if it is because she saw something specific or if it is the result of a longer struggle.

The point is that nobody forced her to fight Salem. She could have also refused Ozpin’s powers. Finally, she could have told Ozpin and the others she wanted to stop. In any case, she did not have to leave her family to stop fighting Salem. What is more, she could have brought her family with her, when she ran away.

She chooses instead to leave everything she has built behind and goes back to the world she was a child in. It might be a violent world, but she sees it as safer.

Let’s highlight that she has the same tendency of changing idea in the series itself. She switches sides and organizes a risky plan, which puts almost all her major bonds (Qrow, Vernal and Yang) in danger. She does all that because she wants the relic, so that she has leverage against Salem. After all of this, even after Vernal’s death, she simply runs away. She is obviously shaken by her confrontation with Yang, who calls her out. However, Yang is perfectly right when she says so:

Yang: Because you're afraid of Salem!!! And if you thought having Maiden powers put a target on your back, imagine what she'll do when she finds out you have a Relic. She'll come after you with everything she has. Or she can come after me. And I'll be standing there, waiting for her.

Taking the relic would just put Raven in danger. For her it is safer to open the vault and disappear, so that someone else can take care of things. Even if this someone else is her daughter.

In other words, Raven is a failure of a mother. This is shown by her failing all three of her “daughters” (Yang, the Spring Maiden and Vernal). Moreover, it is perfectly conveyed by her being a Maiden.

The idea of maidenhood is symbolically juxtaposed to the one of motherhood. Of course, this does not have to be true in-universe for all the Maidens. Still, in Raven’s case, this juxtaposition is deliberate. Raven is an eternal Maiden, who runs away from her parental responsibilities.

This is why she received the power from her protegee instead than from a mentor figure. She is so selfish she takes from the people she should protect:

Cinder: Vernal was a decoy the whole time. The last Spring Maiden must've trusted you a great deal before she died. I bet that was a mistake...

What is more, it is strongly implied she killed the previous Maiden to take her powers. This is interesting because it ties to a second meaning of her semblance.

Her ability symbolizes the unfairness of the bonds she forges. She works to create those bonds and there is affection involved. However, these bonds are double edged swords for the other party involved because of Raven’s moodiness. She can leave when she wants and come back out of the blue. She can always go to others when she needs it, while others can never reach her. This leads to an unbalanced dynamic in Raven’s favour.

This dynamic can even become extremely dangerous for the other person:

Raven can potentially use her ability to attack the people she is bonded with. She does not use her semblance this way in the series. Still, what happened to the Spring Maiden is something similar. To receive the power of the Maiden, Raven must have been the last person in the girl’s thoughts before death. This probably happened because the two shared a close bond. A bond Raven betrayed.

In other words, the nature of Raven’s semblance hides in itself the potential of betrayal:

Raven: Aura can't protect your arm, it's Grimm. You turned yourself into a monster just for power.

Cinder: Look who's talking...

As Cinder points out, Raven too, like her, has become a monster to obtain power. The difference here is in how this montrosity is conveyed.

In Cinder’s case, she is literally turning into a Grimm. She has accepted this metamorphosis to take the Maidens’ powers.

In Raven’s case, it is ironically the opposite symbolically. She wears a Grimm mask, but the true monstrosity is the Maiden behind it:

Raven is monster-like because she stole the power from a person, who trusted her.

Let’s highlight that the motif of the Grimm mask has come up several times in the series. So far, it has been used by people, like Raven and Adam, who want to be feared. Something similar can be seen in the Hound as well, who is not really wearing a mask, but whose humanity is hidden behind his Grimm appearance.

In all three cases, the true scary thing is what is behind the Grimm-face:

It is always the humanity behind it that is scary. Be it the victim behind the monster in the Hound, society’s mistreatment of Faunus or Raven’s cowardice and what it led her to do:

Yang: You're right. I don't know you. I only know the Raven dad told me about. She was troubled, and complicated, but she fought for what she believed in, whether it was her team or her tribe! Did you kill her too?

Yang’s question is poignant and underlines how all Raven has done is simply to hurt herself. By hurting the people she loves, she has been killing a part of herself.

This is also conveyed by her emblem missing from her possessions. According to the wiki, Raven’s emblem is this:

Raven's emblem is a winged eye with a clock inside of it. This emblem has not appeared on any of her possessions so far.

This is a reference to Raven and Qrow’s allusion to  Hugin and Munin, Odin’s two ravens, who travel the world and bring him information. Raven and Qrow do the same for Ozpin and they are his eyes.

Qrow is the left eye:

Salem: The last eye is blinded... you disappoint me.

While Raven used to be the right. So, her emblem is probably the right version of Qrow’s own one. Still, Raven refuses that part of herself and this is why she is not wearing her emblem.

In short, Raven used to be a bird of a feather with Qrow, but she is not flocking together with him anymore. This is because a scary cat has come:

And Raven has sacrificed her bonds out of fear. Not only that, but she has weaponized them:

Yang:  You turn your back on people, you run away when things get too hard, you put others in harm's way instead of yourself!!

Raven has been using her most loved people as assets, so that she can shield herself from danger. Maybe it is because of this that she symbolically uses Omen to open portals. This even if she can apparently do so without it, since she opens them even as a bird. However, using her sword is a way to distance herself from the true nature of her ability (bonds). It is a way to reduce her ties with people to simple things she can use.

That said, this is damaging Raven herself.

To be more specific, she is making herself weaker and weaker:

Yang: Oh, shut up!! You don't know the first thing about strength! (...) You might be powerful, but that doesn't make you strong.

Raven is powerful, but weak. This weakness is symbolically conveyed by her behaving in the opposite way her semblance would need to truly shine.

Raven’s power works thanks to bonds, so it can be assumed it would be at its strongest if its user cultivated them both in quality and in numbers. However, Raven has few bonds and she is cutting them off one by one:

Yang: You can bond to certain people. And when you do, you could create a portal that takes you straight to them. You've got one for Dad. One for me. And you've got one for Qrow.

We know that Raven is also bonded with Vernal. Still, Vernal dies at the end of volume 5. Of the other ones Yang mentions, Raven has pushed away both Qrow and Yang through her actions at Heaven.

This makes this scene interesting:

Did the portal Raven opened at Heaven go to Tai? Did she go there because she felt nostalgic and missed him? Or is he the only one (both practically and symbolically) she can still run to?

QROW: A SCARE-QROW SCARED OF CROWS

Qrow’s semblance is Misfortune and it is basically a Bad Luck Charm:

I am no one's blessing I'll just bring you harm I'm a cursed black cat I'm an albatross I'm a mirror broken Sad to say I'm your bad luck charm

Qrow causes bad luck around himself. Because of this, he sees himself as a curse.

However, this conflict Qrow has with his semblance is actually symbolic of a turmoil developed on multiple levels.

Let’s begin with this:

Raven: You're the one who left. The tribe raised us, and you turned your back on them.

Qrow: They were killers and thieves.

Raven: They were your family.

Qrow: You have a very skewed perception of that word.

Qrow was born in a tribe of bandits and was taught how to kill and steal. Finally he was sent to a hunter academy, so that he could learn how to kill his classmates in the near future.

Qrow’s semblance is nothing, but the manifestation of his self-hate, that was probably partly caused by the environment he was born in. In a sense, it is his symbolical response to his childhood.

Let’s highlight that this response is very different from Raven’s. This is shown by their opposite behaviours toward their tribe. Qrow leaves it, while Raven goes back to it.

This difference can also be conveyed by how both Raven and Qrow share a specific motif, but embody it in different ways.

Both twins are associated with bad luck. Both can turn into ravens/crows, which are birds linked to misfortune. Moreover, their weapons are called respectively Omen (Raven’s) and Harbinger (Qrow’s).

The meaning is clear. The twins were born and raised with the idea that they should be symbols of violence and bad luck for their enemies. It is just that Raven wants to be a bad omen because it makes her feel strong. Qrow does not want it, but thinks he is:

I'm a harbinger, I cannot lie, I will change the color of your life.

It is to try and free himself from this curse that Qrow started working for Ozpin. He literally becomes the Scarecrow of the story to try and exorcise the bad fortune he brings. He is trying to scare the crows away. He thinks that if he does so, he’ll become a full person.

This ties with the original story of his allusion. In The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, the Scarecrow wants a brain because he is told by an old crow he would be just like a real man, if only he had one. In short, the Scarecrow wants a brain to become a real man, so that he can scare crows better than he already does.

Qrow too wants to be a full person, but he believes he is not. He thinks he is cursed and as a reaction to this he has attached himself to Ozpin and to his cause:

Qrow: No one wanted me... I was cursed... I gave my life to you because you gave me a place in this world... I thought I was finally doing some good...

This is why he reacts so badly when he discovers that Ozpin (who is basically a father figure for Qrow) has hidden so many things from him. Not only that, but he feels that the impossibility of truly defeating Salem (of truly defeating evilness) makes his life meaningless.

The point is of course that this is not the case and that Qrow does not need to do anything specific to be a true person and to be loved:

Qrow: Every choice I've ever made has led me here, and I've dragged you along with me. Oz, myself, the others... We're responsible for the mess the world's in now. I shouldn't have come, shouldn't have let any of you come... What was I thinking?!

Ruby: We're all in this together, and we're all going to do the best we can. That's all anyone can do. And I know it's what you've always aimed for. We would've come whether or not you'd let us, so stop talking like we're your responsibility! We're not! But we could still use Qrow Branwen on our side.

Ruby’s confrontation with Qrow at the end of volume 6 is basically the opposite of Yang’s confrontation with Raven in the finale of volume 5.

Yang calls Raven out because she refuses her responsibilities. She pushes them on others and leaves her own daughter to fight a battle she ran away from.

Ruby calls Qrow out on taking too much responsibility on himself. The kids were not forced by him to come. Qrow should not be completely responsible for them, but should learn to fight by their side.

Later on, Qrow is basically told the same by Maria:

Maria: You weren't half bad yourself today, Qrow.

Qrow: I feel like they did all the heavy lifting.

Maria: But you were there to help when they asked for it, and you were there to catch them when they fell. Literally, if I recall.

This is important because Maria appears just after Ozpin (aka Qrow’s mentor and guide) disappears. She is the person Qrow aspired to be:

Qrow: You never used your name, never showed your face. Lots of us thought you were just layin' low. Eventually, we just came to accept that you were probably dead. But the stories about you, I based my weapon off of yours. I wanted to be as good as the Grimm Reaper.

At the same time, Maria too, like him, considers herself a failure:

Maria: Well, I'm nothing but a disappointment, so you're well on your way.

However, at the end of the volume both Maria and Qrow realize that they do not have to save the world by themselves or to be invincible heroes. They just need to be there for their loved ones and the new generations. In short, Maria mentors Qrow on how to be a proper mentor.

And it turns out that he just has to take better care of himself:

In short, Qrow became the Scarecrow to scare crows, but ironically all he needs to do is to overcome his own fear of one Qrow.

If he does not, his semblance is bound to become a self-fulfilling prophecy, as it is shown in his two fights against Tyrian (vol 4 and vol 7).

1) In volume 4 he manages to protect Ruby, but ends up injured and unable to help the kids for the rest of their journey. He goes from their protector to a wounded man they have to take care of.

Narratively, it happens because of this:

Ruby: This is a lot to take in, and it all sounds crazy, but... I'm willing to do whatever I can to help because I trust you. But why couldn't you trust me? Why couldn't you just travel with us, instead of this secrecy, and, and--

Qrow: Look, this has nothing to do with trust. I-- It's a long story, okay?

The whole fight between Tyrian and Qrow could have played out very differently if Qrow were better at communicating with his niece. He wanted her away from Tyrian and himself because of his semblance, but Ruby interpreted it as Qrow not trusting her.

2) In volume 7, the battle ends with Clover’s tragic death being framed on Qrow.

Why does it happen?

Clover: Sometimes the right decision is the hardest to make. I trust James with my life! I wanted to trust you.

Once again, the problem lies in a lack of trust.

Qrow and Clover genuinely like each other and have bonded. Still, they fail to trust each other in a key moment and make the worst possible choice.

This is true for both characters:

Clover: I enjoyed working with you, you know. Even with that endless cynicism of yours.

Qrow: I'm usually proven right.

Clover: We don't have to fight, friend.

Qrow: You don't know my friends. That's how it always goes.

Qrow: Why couldn't you just do the right thing instead of the thing you were told?

In a sense, the whole fight can be read as The Scorpion and the Frog. In the original fairy-tale, the point is that one can’t overcome their own nature. The scorpion will sting the frog even if it goes against its own survival. Here, it is the same for the characters. In order for things to go well, either Clover or Qrow should overcome their flaw, but they fail.

Clover is not able to let go of his loyalty for Ironwood, even if it is clear the orders he received are wrong.

Qrow goes back to his usual cynism and makes a pact with Tyrian:

Robyn: I’m sorry for what happened. It wasn’t your fault.

Qrow: It was, though. I made a deal with the darkness, and he paid the price. It was all happening so fast, but Clover wouldn’t let up. Could have worked together against Tyrian if Clover just... 

Tyrian is the poisonous scorpion, while both Qrow and Clover are two frogs, who are hurt by him. Ironically, the frog’s mistake in the story is to trust the scorpion, while the mistake of our two frogs is that they did not trust each other.

Still, why is it so narratively? To be more specific, why is that so when it comes to Qrow’s character?

The answer is here:

Qrow: But the thing that really stings? For the first time in a while I thought, maybe, maybe I could be around somebody - anybody - without my semblance making it… complicated. And now, it just feels like a childish dream. Gone... like everybody else.

Clover is narratively this:

Blake: You have to understand that all of you are looking for simple answers to a very complicated problem.

He is a very simple answer to a very complicated problem that has its roots in Qrow’s interiority. Qrow’s flaw, what goes in the way of his relationships and happiness, is not that he is unlucky, but that he feels unlucky.

He feels worthless and thinks of himself as bad for others. This is why he keeps his distance and refrains himself from growing close to people.

He blames it on his semblance and this is why he makes an exception for Clover. It is because he sees in the other’s ability an easy fix to his struggle.

Still, he is proven wrong because in the moment of truth, they fail to communicate and everything goes to hell.

This is not to say that Qrow and Clover’s relationship was bad or that Clover deserved to die. In-universe their bond had beautiful aspects and could have grown stronger. Moreover, Clover could have developed and left his flaw behind.

Still, narratively Clover serves a specific purpose and him dying is a part of said purpose.

Clover brings a superficial harmony to a situation and a group dynamic, which is actually not harmonic at all:

Clover: What would you guys do without me?

The Ace Ops are a group of individuals repressing their own feelings and identities for the sake of an unspecified greater good. They see the world in black and white, not because they are stupid, but because they refuse complexity:

Robyn: Yeah, because you don’t care about the truth. You just want someone to be mad at. Easier than taking an honest look at what side you’re on.

Winter: Penny. The general is making hard choices so we don't have to.

This fits with them being a group based on Aesops aka short stories with a very well defined and often simplicistic message.

In short, Clover is the one that keeps his group together. Once he is gone, his group starts deteriorating. All because they refuse to aknowledge their feelings:

Ren: That’s why you lost against Team RWBY. You, you try to fight how you feel about each other, so you’ll never truly work as a team.

Once he is gone, Qrow is similarly forced to grieve and self-reflect. Luckily, he is not alone:

Robyn is the opposite of Qrow in terms of symbolism.

Qrow is associated with crows and bad luck, while Robyn is linked to robins, which bring good fortune.

She is also a symbol of unity and hope (her emblem is basically Katniss’s symbol in the Hunger Games, after all):

Tyrian: Robyn Hill. For such a little bird, you have quite the impact around here! Bringing hope and a smile wherever you go! I find it…upsetting.

Despite this, Robyn too has suffered isolation, just like Qrow:

Robyn: Believe it or not, I know a little of what that’s like. When people are worried you’re gonna sniff out their secrets, they tend to push you away. It makes a real connection… difficult.

Qrow: I-- never thought of it that way.

Robyn’s line is important for two reasons.

a) It shows Qrow that he is not the only one who has met difficulties in life because of his semblance. His case is not unique.

b) It links to the idea that trusting others is difficult and it is not something that comes without dedication and work.

As a matter of fact Robyn’s semblance is specifically symbolic of trust. It is the power to detect lies through touch, so if you are going to work with her, it means you must be ready to trust and to be trusted:

This also ties figuratively with the act of shaking one’s hand as if to make a pact (an act of trust). If Raven’s power is about asymmetrical bonds, then Robyn’s is about mutual ones.

Robyn highlights that this creates problems for her because it is not easy for people to trust. Some can’t be trusted, while others do not trust Robyn won’t cross their boundaries.

However, this also means that the relationships Robyn manages to forge are strong bonds, where everything or almost everything is out in the open. This is the exact opposite kind of environment than the one realized through Clover’s good luck semblance. It is a harmony more difficult to reach, but it is a more stable and genuine one.

It is these kinds of bonds Qrow should aim to create. In order to do so, he must accept his semblance and his past as parts of themselves. Still, he should not let them define him. Not only that, but he should learn to trust others and their strengths:

Qrow: Ruby, stop!

Ruby: I need you to trust me.

Only in this way, Qrow can truly grow. The secret is that it was never about scaring the crows away, but to learn how to live with them.

HUGIN THAT RUNS AWAY AND MUNIN THAT MAKES EVERYONE WORRIED

Raven and Qrow’s issues can be synthesized by this quote:

"Hugin and Munin fly each day over the spacious earth. I fear for Hugin, that he come not back, yet more anxious am I for Munin."

Raven never comes back, while Qrow has his loved ones fear for him because of his self-destructive tendencies.

In order to overcome these flaws, they must grow in opposite directions.

Raven must realize that her survivalism is actually self-destructive. It makes her survive, but it negates her the chance of living. She must become more selfless and trustworthy to make it up for the unfair bonds she created.

Qrow must accept that his self-destructiveness is actually selfish and damaging to his loved ones. He must start to trust others’ strengths, so that he can be brave enough to live together with them, instead of looking at them from afar.