#honestly its probably better that as few people see this as possible

[contagious-watermelon]

i have a very important question that has been plaguing me for several years at this point i think. so i found this gif one time and sent it to my best friend and time to time i think of it again, but i do not know what it's called. i have it saved to my phone, so I'm not in dire straits, but i have no way of conjuring it when I'm on an app or a website that's not connected to my camera roll

anyway here's the gif so if anyone knows what i should search to find this in giphy please let me know i will be indebted to you forever

[pandoraslxna]

Alright but what if your an artist of the clan! But you have like a secret stash of naughty drawings and one of the guys (can be anyone honestly) found it and was either like these are good or they’re like ohh so would you be down to try this position? AHHH ITS 5AM AND I NEED TO SEE THIS IDEA OUT

Work of art

adult Neteyam x female omatikaya reader

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: explicit smut, minors dni, thigh riding, praise kink, p in v, creampie

Notes: you guys are literally so creative omg thanks for this request I loved that idea!! Also I hope it’s fine that I’ve picked Neteyam for this? ☺️

The omatikaya had many forms of art. Your clan had good singers, skillful weavers and wonderful dancers. And you were an artist, a painter. One of the rarest forms of art that the omatikaya practiced. The human scientists had introduced you to something they called pen and paper a few years ago and you couldn’t stop drawing ever since. Your favorite thing to draw were people, may it be humans or Na‘vi. You practiced drawing the human anatomy as often as possible, occasionally you even stole some of Norms biology books to do so.

But your favorite art reference when it came to drawing your own people, was Neteyam. The olo’eyktan’s oldest son and one of your closest friends. And the greatest work of art you knew. You had this little, secret crush on him, but in order not to put your friendship at risk, you never acted upon it. All you had were your little daydreams and fantasies and the drawings you made of him– they were obviously only meant to help you get better at anatomy and nothing else!

Neteyam often spent time with you when you were drawing. Most of the time, he was just laying beside you, taking a quick nap between his chores and duties. Sometimes he would just silently watch you, mesmerized by your talent. On other days, you could barely focus on drawing because the both of you were just too lost in a deep conversation about whatever topic you landed on today.

Today was no different.

"Tey, could you hand me another piece of paper please?" Not even glancing up from your current drawing, you point to the shoulder bag that was laying against a tree.

"Sure", Neteyam smiles, placing your legs, that were lazily swung over his own, to the ground before he raises to his feet and walks over to where you had pointed. Your bag was, as usual, full of non-essential stuff that made it hard to find literally anything in it. Neteyam rolls his eyes as he skips through several books, that you had once again only "borrowed" from the humans (without them knowing, of course), a few colored pencils and a handful of notebooks in various sizes. He glances over his shoulder to get a glimpse of the paper size that you would probably need and grabs the first notebook that was similar in size. It had a small heart craved into the front of its leather cover and given that he had never seen this one before, he only guessed that it must be a new one.

Knowing that most most of your notebooks were already full, he flips it open and searches for a blank page. Of course this one was filled to the brim with drawings, but these were… different kind of drawings, compared to the ones you usually made. Neteyam raises a brow as he examines them carefully, one in particular, before he turns back to you.

"Thats an… odd position. Did you learn that from the humans?" Neteyam flips the notebook for you to see and immediately, all color drains from your face.

The drawing he was showing you was one of your favorites and it was more than just obvious, that what you drew on those pages was supposed to be you and him….

"N-Neteyam!", you squeak and immediately stumble to your feet, "You weren’t supposed to see that, oh great mother—" You attempt to pry the notebook from his hands, but Neteyam only chuckles. He’s holding it over his head, too far for you to reach even as you stand on your very tip toes.

"It’s uhm, I uh– I just used it for anatomy practice, you know, it’s easier if you have a reference and you, uhm, you just happen to be there all the time so it was easier for me to draw you and, and—"

Neteyam grins as you struggle to explain yourself, all flustered and face bright red while he still holds the drawing out of your reach. He secretly enjoys the feeling of your soft hands clawing to his arms and how you unintentionally press yourself against him, because you try with all your might to get that damn book back.

"So you’re not up to try it?", he tilts his head, catching you off guard and you freeze.

"E-Excuse me?" You blink at him, internally questioning if you had heard him right. Finally, he lowers his arm, but all intentions to get your notebook back had left your mind completely.

"I said…", Neteyam bends forward, until his face is just inches from yours, "do you want to try that with me?"

You swallow thickly, your eyes narrowing as if trying to read him, to see if he was just joking. There was a smile spreading on his lips, almost innocently, as if he didn’t just suggest something so filthy that it made your belly tingle.

"I figured it could help you with your art, you know, if you didn’t have to use your imagination anymore", he explains nonchalant. You had to swallow down the next stupid thing that crossed your mind, ready to be spoken out, which was something along the lines of 'please fuck my brains out right now.' But instead, all that really came out was some sort of whimper, an almost pathetic and painfully embarrassing sound that even you weren’t sure how to describe.

Instead of answering him, you just sort of stood there. Staring up at him with wide eyes. Hands clenching into weak fists on your sides, because you really wanted to move them, touch him, respond in any way that didn’t embarrass you further because yes, you absolutely wanted to do that— but you just didn't have the brain capacity to tell him. Neteyam must have caught on on that, because you saw the little curl of a smirk pull at the corner of his lip and then he chuckled, "You’re so adorable."

For a moment, you think that he was actually just joking. That he had successfully managed to make a fool out of you, but then his hand finds the back of your head and he pulls you into a kiss. His tongue shot out immediately, loving the way you opened up for him and you let your eyes flutter closed.

"Okay, let’s see…", Neteyam murmurs once he breaks the kiss and then he sets the book down for both of you to see. For a moment, he pretends to study your drawing, pretends to think about what the first step to lead to this might be as if it wasn’t so obvious already and it makes you squirm in embarrassment. "I think we need to get you all nice and wet first", his voice is low and hot in your ear. You can’t help the very audible gulp that comes out of you when your eyes met his again, dark with want and mischief, almost as if he'd been planning to do this.

Neteyam leans over to dispense wet kisses up your exposed shoulder, until he reaches your throat. He covers your skin in dark, purple marks as he sucks and kisses and bites down softly, making you whimper. His hands slowly travel south, getting hold of your delicate wrists on his way and then he guides them to your loincloth. "Undress yourself for me", Neteyam tells you and your quick to obey, untying the piece of clothing and discarding it to somewhere on the ground. "Good girl", he praises and then wedges one of his thick thighs right in between yours, his hands now holding your hips.

His grip on you was firm, solidly guiding. You could feel the strength of his hands against your flesh, not really rough, but not exactly gentle either. He positioned you to settle on his thigh before he rocks your hips back and forth. You gasp as your core makes contact with his warm skin, the muscles of thigh creating enough friction against your clit to make you moan.

You whimper softly, the tips of your ears burning with an intense heat as you stare up at him through lidded eyes. You can feel the heat pooling rapidly in the pit of your stomach, heart beating hard against your ribs and pounding loudly in your ears as your breaths come out in short, rough pants.

Neteyam experiments with different paces and pressures, trying to figure out the best way to make you feel good and it doesn’t take very long to find out what works best for you. Your hips are rocking against his thigh, and he breaks the kiss he had just captured you in, with a muted gasp and a thin, glistening strand of saliva that connects your lips.

You were growing wetter by the second, so much so that a wet patch was beginning to form on his skin.

"You're dripping all over my thigh,” Neteyam notes amused and you shamefully try to hide your face in the space where his neck meets his shoulder. Every rock of your hips was bringing you a jolt of pleasure. It felt so euphoric that you find yourself never wanting it to end. Everything‘s being stimulated with each buck of your hips and small shivers shot up your spine every time you brush your clit against his muscles.

"Hmm, I think you’re wet enough now", Neteyam hums softly as he brings your hips to an abrupt halt, causing a whine to erupt from you. He takes another glance to the piece of paper laying right next to you both, as if he was reading an instruction. Then he swiftly turns you around so your back is flush with his chest, slightly arched and with your ass pressing into his crotch. You could feel his hard erection already pressing against your bottom and it made you wonder if you were really already so far gone, that you hadn’t even realized that he had pulled his own loincloth off too.

One of his hands snakes up your front and closes itself briefly around your throat, mirroring the position of your drawing. "This what you had in mind, pretty girl?", he whispers against the shell of your ear, right before he pushes the thick head of his cock between your folds. His free hand sets on your hip, holding you in place when his tip finally catches on your entrance and he pushes himself inside. "Fuck, yes", you breathe out and nod, earning a chuckle from him. You can feel the muscles in his arms tense, groaning when his pelvis was flush with your soft bottom and he was fully settled inside the tight heat of your cunt. You let out a long, uninterrupted moan at the full feeling of how deep he was.

Your hands reach back to steady yourself on his hips, but he’s quick to snatch them. He bends your arms to let them rest in the arch of your back, holding them together with his big hand. Now it was truly like the most detailed copy of the drawing that you made. The position you were in, it was straight out of your imagination, out of every wet dream that you ever had about this moment and then bought to paper by you, not long ago.

Neteyams pace is slow at first. Somewhat in a teasing way, but mostly to let you adjust to him. You were tight, your walls were heavenly, warm and constricting him and getting even tighter when he increased his pace. In no time, you were all but melting in his hold, moaning out nonsense that was music to his ears.

"Just as tight as I imagined. Oh, great mother– I won’t last if you keep squeezing me like that." Neteyam was moving even faster now and you were moaning, hot and loud, with your head rolled back in the crook of his neck.

It was the perfect position for him to let his tongue dart out and lick at the corner of your lips, to which you quickly turned your head and let him capture your mouth in yet another heated kiss.

He pounded into you then, using your arms as leverage as he thrusts his hips up and into you, the head of his cock rapidly hitting your g-spot in the process. Your jaw dropped and your fists clenched, but oh, that wasn't all that was clenching. Your breathing turned needy and higher pitched, struggling to keep steady as he was driving you over the edge faster than you could probably even process it.

"Tey", you whined the sweet nickname that was reserved for you and only you to use, "Tey, I‘m— I‘m gonna cum!"

"Be a good girl and squeeze my cock when you do, yeah? I want to– fuck, I want to feel you cum around me", he groans, sweating from his own exertion as he pushed right into your sweet spot. And who were you to deny him? You did as you were told, flexing your lower abdomen to squeeze the cock that was roughly thrusting in and out of your fluttering walls.

Neteyams head fell back at the sweet, savory feeling of your tightness, so wet that there was hardly any resistance at all as you finally reach your high. "That’s it, you look so pretty when you cum. Such a good girl for me", he breathes as you choke on a moan.

You keep flexing your inner walls as best as you can, until you feel him tremble with the change. Neteyam moans and it’s the most erotic sound you’ve ever heard and then his movements become jerky and you know he’s about to come. You try your best to keep your eyes open, turning your head slightly to not miss the look on his face when he does. His mouth is slightly agape, eyes half lidded as they land on yours and with one last thrust he stills inside you. His cum is hot and sticky and you can feel it fill you.

Neteyams hands finally leave your arms and they’re aching from the weird position they were in the whole time, but you’re quick to ignore the pain when his lips land on yours again. Your familiar with his kisses by now, relishing in the way he still kisses you so hot and open mouthed and wet, even after he just came.

Your panting heavily when you break the kiss to breathe and immediately, Neteyam lowers his head to continue with his very own work of art, that he had left on your throat earlier. Small love bites and hickeys were already turning purple on your pretty blue skin, making you especially sensitive there and a small gasp escapes your lips.

"Was that the reference you needed, my sweet girl?" He asks against your throat before placing another kiss there.

"Hmh yes", you hum, a small smile appearing on your lips as you let out a little chuckle.

"Good. Now show me what else you got in that little notebook. I’ve got plenty of time today."

[cosmos-coma]

My Sun, My Star- Part 2

A/N: Thank you all SO MUCH for your great comments on part one. I couldn't have asked for a better crowd to receive my work! Because so many people asked for it I've finally written a part 2! I honestly can't tell how good it is any more cause I've probably read it through 12 times in the last two days lol, so enjoy!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 7476 (whoops)

Warnings: Pregnant reader, Otherwise GN reader (no pronouns), Occasional use of "Y/n", Injury, Bucky's kind of an ass when hes upset (but redeemable), arguing.

Summary: Bucky finds out that you met the Winter Soldier and he is Not happy.

Part 1 | Part 3 | Epilogue | Bucky Masterlist

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________

“Doll…?” you heard the familiar voice call, rough and gritty from its recent use but still carrying that same soft tone he used with you.

Your heart swelled as you lowered your hand from your face “Bucky...?”

He looked tired, so so tired. What was once sweet blue eyes were now diluted with exhaustion, no longer the brisk gaze you had learned to find comfort in. But still, a smile of relief eased onto your features at the mere sight of him and slowly the spark in his eyes began to return. 

“Bucky!” You rushed to the thick door separating you, your hands eagerly jiggling the locked knob as you tried to get in. All you wanted to do was hold him, to hold his face, his hands; you wanted to feel and squeeze all of him just to know that he was truly back.

“Sheesh, hold on!” Tony complained, “At least let us take the wiring off first, we can’t have you coming in and messing up- hey! HEY, stop smudging the glass!” Tony shouted as he worked quickly to detach the wires of various machines from his head.  

Bucky laughed a bit as he sat up carefully, rolling the pain out of his shoulders and arms when something didn’t feel right. He winced as he felt his soft shoulder complain against the movements and looking over he spotted the bandage taped tight to his skin- a small dot of blood peeking through the solid white; before he could ask about it Tony was already sending a technician to unlock the door. 

“Alright, alright, we’re opening the door, stop your jiggling…” the billionaire griped.

As soon as you saw your opening you ran straight for him, your leg be damned as you stumbled into his waiting arms, “Bucky, my heart...” you whispered with relief as you hugged him as close as you possibly could. It was times like these when you cursed your body’s rotund transformation as it refused to let you get that much closer to him. But none of it mattered as his strong arms wrapped around you in turn, flooding you with the familiar scent and warmth of his amber-like musk. 

“Hey, Doll…” The super soldier rasped softly in your ear, his voice still a little rough from the muffled shouts of pain just minutes before. His brow tightened and he held in a wince at the impact of your hug, refusing to let you see him falter as pain jolted his shoulder. 

“What are you still doing up?” he asked with a smile, the roughness finally easing away and slipping back into the smooth rumble of his natural voice. His eyes trailed down your face and body, stopping abruptly at the bandage wrapped around your calf. He frowned as his brows creased together uneasily, “What happened to your leg? Who-” he started to ask, but before he had a chance to finish Tony interrupted with his usual reminders. 

“Alright, I’m sure you remember-” He paused a moment, shrugging, “well, maybe- that although you may not remember anything now, it should all come back over time,” Tony said as he typed updates into Bucky’s file. “Given that this wasn’t a very long recession- just a few hours- you should remember everything in a couple of days,” he decided with a firm nod, looking over to the disheveled man. “Do you remember anything from last night?” 

Bucky shook his head, “I remember the basement and the flashing lights…I remember following Sam back out to the jet, but it starts getting fuzzy there,” he said as he ran his fingers through his hair. His mind was exhausted from switching back and forth and he really didn’t have the energy to delve into it much longer. “I think I remember coming back to the tower, but it’s not clear.”

“Hm, Interesting,” Tony remarked as he typed in a few more long lines into the already lengthy files. Bucky couldn’t quite make out the words on the pages and pages of information on himself and the Winter Soldier, but then again, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know anyway. 

“Well,” continued Tony, looking at you now, “seeing as I’ve heard that your front door is in a state of disrepair-” 

“-Kicked in,” you corrected swiftly, making Bucky’s concern rise. 

“Semantics, ” Tony disregarded with a wave of his hand, “-you two are welcome to stay in the tower until we get it fixed. Barnes’ old room is still open; I trust you two remember the way there?” 

----

You stepped into Bucky’s old room, a few personal items still scattered around here and there, but barely anything significant. Strong arms snaked around your waist, careful of your belly as they pulled you close against their firm frame.

Soft laughter bubbled from your chest as you gazed up at him, your head leaning back against his solid build, “Just like old times, huh?” You mumbled happily as you rubbed your hand up and down his forearms. 

“Mmm, back when I used to sneak you into the tower every other night?” his body rumbled with a gentle laugh, remembering the fond moments. The two of you lingered in the peaceful space for a moment, both of you happy to have finally put the stress of the past few hours behind you. Large hands smoothed down your rounded belly, inching the fabric of his sweatshirt up so he could feel his little girl properly.

You hummed softly, contentment easing into your every pore as you let out a big yawn. You were finally feeling the full weight of the day and you wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the small mattress. You pulled back, bringing his knuckles up for a  quick kiss as you stepped away, “I’m gonna get ready for bed. I’m beat…we both are,” you said with a gentle pat to your belly. 

Bucky nodded as he watched you leave his arms, your gait just slightly uneven as you tried to hide the extent of your limp, “Doll…” he called, causing you to glance back. 

“You never answered me earlier. What happened to your leg? And what did Stark mean by our door being broken in…?” he asked, watching closely as you stood with your back to him. Your shoulders tensed the slightest bit as he asked, your gaze turning away as you searched desperately for the right way to tell him. 

“I… It was an accident….” you said, trying to ease him into it as you started explaining from the beginning “I was at home in bed when-” You started, but he had already begun connecting the dots. The basement, the blood, the lapse in memory, only to finally find himself awake in Tony’s lab? It was all too familiar.

“You met him, didn’t you?” He asks quietly, “The Winter Soldier….”  The room went silent as you hesitated to answer, only the tremble of your beating heart to be heard in your ears, but it was all the reply he needed. 

He could feel the growing heat of anger simmer beneath his skin. He had failed you- he couldn’t frame it in any other way. He had tried so hard for so many years to keep you from meeting him, to keep you safe, and now- in your most vulnerable state- he had failed. Deep in his heart, he knew he was only angry with himself, but knowing it still didn’t seem to stop the way his words bubbled over and burned, “Why didn’t you tell me? Did he do this to you?” He pointed at your bandage, his anger was simmering into a rolling boil when it suddenly crashed into an icy panic.

“Shit, did he-” He gulped and continued with the faintest shuddering his breath, “Did he try to…? ” He couldn’t even finish the sentence, the thought too scary to speak into existence as his hand fell to your bump in worry. As an assassin his targets had always been adults in the past; would the Winter Soldier really target a child? Bucky couldn’t say for certain either way and that was enough for him to worry.

“What...? Bucky, no. He would never-“ 

“Do not tell me what he would and would not do, Y/n,” he seethed, using your name for the first time in what felt like forever. You had always been his doll….

“You think I don’t know the things he’ll do? You think I don’t see them again and again at night? No one is an exception to him, not even you-“

“But I-“ 

“And if you truly believe that-” his voice grew lower, his anger coming out in slicing breaths as he spoke, “-then maybe you’re not as smart as you let people believe you are….” 

You suck in a sharp breath as his last words hit you. You felt like a bucket of ice was thrown directly over your head and your brain reeled as it tried to make sense of it all. ‘Did he… did he really just say what I think he said?’  you questioned, but your brain just played those thorn-covered words on repeat, rubbing the truth into your open wounds. You tried not to take them to heart, you knew it had been a long day for the both of you, but how could you not? 

You took a shuddering breath as you looked down, tears welling in your eyes that you willed him not to see. You were too tired for this.

“Y/n..” he sighed as he watched you wordlessly gather his old clothes, long forgotten in the drawers from when he first moved in with you all that time ago. “Y/n, Where are you going? Come back here…” 

“I’m going to find another room.” You explained simply, forcing calmness into your tone, but you still couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Doll, I’m sorry-”

“No.” You said firmly, causing him to raise his eyebrows a bit as slowly you turned to face him, “I'm far too tired for this tonight, James. it’s been a long night, we’re both in pain, and you obviously need some time to cool down, because the Bucky I know? He would never speak to me like this,” You struggled to hold in your venom as you harshed out those last words, “Goodnight, Bucky.”

You let the welled-up tears finally break free as the door clicked closed behind you. Sniffling back the onslaught you wiped away your tears to peek around the hall, eventually settling on the room just across from his. “FRIDAY? Open up the door to room 7 please…” you asked, relieved when she did exactly as you asked- you’d have to thank Tony for that later. 

“Shit,” Bucky sighed into the empty room, now far too quiet for his liking. He always did everything he could hold to keep his anger in check with you, and it had been easy for the most part. Loving you had always come easy to him, and so he rarely had anything to be upset about. But this? This was new for him…. everything the Winter Soldier did was a means to an end. He was a deceiver, it was programmed into him over the decades and he couldn’t bear to let you fall prey to his games too.

Sleep eluded you for a while as you tossed and turned. You weren’t used to sleeping without him by your side, especially when you knew he was just a step and a knock away. But eventually, through your exhaustion, sleep finally came and you dreamed about your star that very night.

You dreamed of his eyes. Those intense blues that had rattled you so unexpectedly just hours ago. You were sure Bucky was wrong. Those eyes didn’t hold malice when they looked at you. No, they held knowing, like he had finally figured out a piece of himself. As if he had finally seen an aspect of what he could- no, what he would be. 

You also dreamed of his smile. As awkward and unpracticed as it was you still loved it. It was nowhere near as bright as Bucky’s, but it held reverence for you all the same. 

You dreamed of the promises he made against your belly. While you couldn’t distinguish the words he had said, you knew exactly what they meant; protection, strength, and the promise to return…. 

When you finally awoke your heart rang with a pang of guilt. Your dream-state comfort had been that of an assassin, an engineered “weapon”- and your heart’s blood-stained other half…. You sighed as you rubbed the sleep from your face. Was it right to be finding comfort in his icy blues instead of Bucky’s warm ones? Your thoughts fought each other for barely a minute more before you were brought back to the “talk” you and Bucky had yesterday. ‘He wouldn’t even listen to me! And then he’s going to go and call me stupid?! AGH’ you huffed as you slammed your fists down on the bed, your hands bouncing in an unsatisfying manner. 

Rolling out of bed, you got changed into Bucky’s old clothes, smoothing down the oversized items as you poked your head out of the room. All was quiet in the hallway and only a couple of distant voices could be heard from the kitchen and living area. Holding your belly you hobbled out, your leg searing with each step as you kept your head on a swivel for a certain super soldier. You weren’t quite ready to talk to him yet, all your frustrations still pumping through your blood in a slow but consistent course, However, your heart still found itself craving his familiar presence. 

A fleeting disappointment hung over you when you realized he was nowhere to be found, instead discovering Natasha and Sam as they chatted over breakfast. 

“It was.. weird, Nat. I know my interactions with him in the past have been limited, but I’ve never seen him like that before” Sam said and you knew they were talking about last night.

“Hey, you two…” You interrupted, causing them to pause as they watched you enter, but neither seemed uneasy as you butted in. 

“Y/N…” Sam greeted with a small smile, pressing a few buttons on the coffee machine to get something started for you, “How’s it going? It looks like your leg is still bothering you…” 

“Yeah... it’s burning more than last night, ” you rubbed your hand gently over your bandages in an attempt to soothe it, but it only stung more in retaliation. “Ah..” you hissed as you immediately retreated, “Yeah, it’s just a little sensitive….”

“We have some topical anesthetic and fresh bandages in the first aid kit if you want. I can grab them if Sam Is okay finishing off the rest of the pancakes?” the redhead proposed, holding the spatula out to him in an offering. 

“Oh?? I, Sam Wilson, get to finish making Natasha’s famous pancakes? What an honor,” He laughed as he feigned his esteemed admiration, taking the spatula and flipping the few already sitting in the pan.

 Nat grinned brightly as she made her way down the hall, whispering as she went past, “Truthfully? It’s a box mix. I just add vanilla and nutmeg and they never know the difference.”

You chuckled as you watched her go off to fetch the kit, truly thankful for the break in tension you were already feeling. You hadn’t gotten to know Natasha very well yet, on the off chance you visited the tower she was usually busy with missions, training, or paperwork, yet she welcomed you all the same. Part of you wondered if it was the former assassin in her that let her find friendship in you. After all, if you could love Bucky despite the Winter soldier, then surely you could be her friend despite her past, right?

You took a seat at the island's raised stools, watching Sam as he tried not to let the pancakes overcook. “So, Where is Bucky this morning?” You asked him, trying to be casual as you crossed your arms over the counter, thanking him as he placed a cup of decaf in front of you. 

But Sam paused; you always knew where Bucky was, sometimes more than they did at this stage in your pregnancy. He even swore sometimes that you two were attached at the hip. The fact that you didn’t know means something must’ve happened last night after he got reset. 

“He joined Steve on his morning run,” he answered as he leaned against the island opposite you, rolling his eyes as he continued, “It’s always ‘on your left…!’ when I run with him. I hope he gives Steve a run for his money this time…” he shook his head and smiled a bit as he watched you, trying to check in, but you just laughed, your face cracking into a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“Speaking of your elusive super soldier…” Nat started as she returned, getting straight to the point as both her curiosity and old spy ways got the best of her, ”I heard the infamous Winter Soldier made an appearance last night...” She eyed you as well as she set the first aid kit down.

You tried to keep your smile, but as the conflicting thoughts and feelings of just last night resurfaced it was no time before it slipped away. You frowned at your mug, watching the dark swirls that lingered amongst the cream you added, “He did… he showed up at the house last night unexpectedly.”

Natasha’s frown matched yours as she spoke, “That bad, huh?”

“No, not at all. I mean, besides the almost getting shot part-“ you motioned as you began unwrapping your leg, your gash now open for the world to see. Though It was still a blazing red, it didn’t seem infected and for that you were thankful. 

Her eyebrows shot up as she looked over your wound, it was a good-sized graze and a very near miss, “Y/N do we need to have a talk about toxic relationships?” 

“What? No, Nat-” You waved her off, trying to get back on track as you began carefully cleaning it, “he’s not the one who shot me.” 

You didn’t miss the way Nat’s eyes darted to Sam, surprise written on her face for just a moment before her collected expression came back. “He didn’t? That seems….”

“I told you…He was different last night,  he was on the defensive this time.” Sam chimed in, tying back to their earlier conversation that you had interrupted.

You nodded in agreement and continued, “It was the security team that shot me, some new kid. I didn’t recognize his number or his face,” You explained. You couldn’t even be angry at that poor dumb soul either, he more than got what was coming to him. All you could hope for was that he learned something when he was dangling so uselessly in the air. 

Sam thought for a moment, back to the bristling frustration he saw written all over Bucky as he left this morning, enough that he worried the Winter Soldier might have made a second appearance. His concerns dissipated when Steve managed to pat the man’s shoulder without receiving an immediate knife to the throat, but now it made him wonder, “Does Bucky know this?”

Your expression softened and you continued to frown as you took a small sip, “No… I tried to talk about it with him last night, but he didn’t want to hear anything after he learned who I met,” you huffed with annoyance, not even bothering to hide it from your two friends. 

Sam nodded and held his hand up, “Well, I can’t say much since we only came in on the end, but maybe Bucky would listen to the body cam footage?”

You paused, blinking a few times as you processed what he said, “Body cam footage?” You questioned, setting the roll of bandages down, “What do you mean?”

“The security team is always required to wear body cameras when they go out. They should be reviewing it now,” Natasha explained. 

You nearly jumped out of your chair, the pain in your leg the only thing holding you back. This could be it! If he wouldn’t believe your words, then maybe he’d believe his own eyes. Bucky deserved to know what kind of man his other side of him really was; he deserved to know that you loved him wholly, finding comfort in both sides of the coin. 

You were determined not to give up on your star, because while Bucky had his friends to back him up, your Soldat had no one. No one, but you. 

“Where can I get it?” You rushed to ask, looking back between the two, who in turn exchanged glances with one another. 

Natasha took over pancake duty as Sam slid a plate in front of you and said, “It should be available sometime tomorrow, I can let them know you want a copy. Since you were the one caught in the crossfire they shouldn’t have a problem giving you access.” 

You nodded quickly, excitement and relief easing into your shoulders as you took your plate, letting out a breath you didn’t you were holding. 

This was it. 

--------

Bucky’s feet hit the pavement in time with his steady heart, maneuvering past people like boxes in crowded alleyways. He was supposed to be on a run with Steve, but his mind had been wandering the whole time.  ‘The Bucky I know? He would never speak to me like this,’ you had told him, so calm and so even that he honestly wished you had just screamed at him. His legs went into autopilot as your words rattled around his head. You were right, never in his waking minutes would it have ever crossed his mind to say those things to you. He was just so tired, so scared, and to top it all off it seemed like you had completely forgotten his warnings on the Soviet assassin. Or worse- that you purposefully went against them.

“Buck? Bucky!” Steve’s voice finally reached his ears as a hand grabbed his shoulder. 

“What? What is it..?” The brunet shook himself from his thoughts as he slowed to a stop, looking back at his friend.

“Where are you going? The tower is this way,” Steve shot a thumb over his shoulder in the opposite direction, the tower in plain view above the surrounding shops. 

Bucky stopped, blinking as he tried to process his surroundings. Where was he going? There was nothing in this direction except-

The apartment. 

Bucky sighed as he quieted the subtle itch at the back of his mind, “Nothing, nothing. Just lost in my thoughts. I’m here now,” he assured, to which Steve nodded, but obviously did not believe. He was always too smart for his own good.

“Let’s head back to the tower, okay? It’ll be our final mile. We can even stop by the bakery on our way.” 

Bucky willed himself to keep his thoughts in line as they ran their last mile, the tension in his body slowly unwinding only as they came to a stop and stepped into the sweet-smelling bakery. His senses were hit with a deluge of warm bread and spices that seemed to quiet his nerves for the time being. 

“What can I get for you, sugar?” the older woman behind the counter asked. Her smile was tired as she nursed an old cup of coffee and Bucky assumed she had been there since its opening hours ago. 

“Oh, um…” Bucky hummed as he looked through their displays, his heart really wasn’t in it like he wished it was. He was about to step back without getting anything when he spotted a fresh tray of cinnamon rolls coming out of the back. Cinnamon rolls had always been one of your favorite treats and he had rescued many a bad day with a surprise from the bakery. Maybe he could turn this bad day around too.

“Three cinnamon rolls, and three of the blueberry lemon rolls too. Uh, and a black coffee…. Please.” He asked, pulling his wallet out. 

“Sounds like you’re having quite the party,” she commented with a little chuckle as she filled up a box with fragrant pastries. 

“Ah, almost…I’m trying to make it up to someone,” He admitted sheepishly.

“Hm…” She hummed, looking right through him with practiced eyes, “You want me to throw some heart-shaped sprinkles in there or is that too much?” 

A tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth, “I think it’s gonna be just right.” 

Bucky rehearsed the whole walk back, running his apology through his head dozens and dozens of times until it felt perfect. You still didn’t seem to grasp the level of danger you were in or how lucky you were to get out with just a scratch, but he knew you wouldn’t be able to listen if you were still angry with him. Maybe this would smooth things over enough for him to explain- for him to tell you all the things he did, all the things his hands will forever be stained with. 

You knew the gist of it of course. Bucky had made it a point to let you know exactly what had happened to him over those years and exactly what his job as a living weapon was. The last thing he had wanted was for you to resent him for tricking you into loving him. But you deserved to know more, and these gooey pastries going to be his entry point.

Yes. He’d give you the treats, say his well-thought-out apology, and then he could finally explain. Hopefully, then you’d understand.

Well, that was the plan anyway.

As the doors opened up to their desired floor, Bucky could hear you before he even saw you. Your laugh rang like bells as you chatted away with Natasha and Sam, his heart bolstering with hope that your good mood would only make it better as he stepped forward. 

“Hey, Do-“ he started before his eyes landed on your leg. It was propped up on the stool beside you as you were obviously in the middle of caring for it. He hadn’t had a chance to see it yet, part of him not wanting to know just how bad it was, but now there was no ignoring it. It was bright red, yelling its ferocity and pain as you tried to air it out. The wound itself was still trying to heal over, its soft vulnerable flesh showing barely any sign of scabbing. Blood stained your old bandage and it all made his stomach twist without mercy. 

His mind couldn’t negotiate with him how bad it was anymore. Even though it was just a graze, he could see how painful and uncomfortable it was for you. He had failed you. What if it had just been an inch over? What if it had hit your bump? What if it had hit your heart? 

He didn’t even realize he had crushed the flimsy cup in his hands until Steve stepped back, saying something about getting paper towels. Scorching coffee steamed up from his metal hand where it continued to drip into the puddle below it.

You looked over in surprise as you heard the splash, seeing your Bucky standing there with an intensity so adamant that you almost mistook him for someone else. But his eyes aren’t staring at you, per se, but your leg. 

“Bucky, It’s okay, really-“ you tried, but he would not hear you; He wouldn’t hear anyone as he dropped his cup, the loud clattering in the quiet room almost more jarring than anything he could have said back. “Buck. Bucky, wait-!” but he was already walking away, forcing his gaze ahead as he passed by you like a ghost. 

You tried to reach out, to grab his sleeve, but he slipped right through your fingers. 

“Barnes, come on…” Natasha gently scolded, but he still refused to react. 

You blinked back your shock, willing the threat of tears to subside when you heard the loud thud of his door closing behind him. You let out a shuddering breath, your hands rubbing down your face and you wondered just how long this was going to last. 

After taking a few minutes to re-wrap your leg, hoping maybe he had cooled down once more you made your way down the hall. “Hm?” You mused wordlessly as you saw the small white box placed on the ground before your door. Being careful of your protruding bump, you squatted down- earning a small kick of protest- and lifted up the lid. 

‘Cinnamon rolls… my favorite. And he even got us a special flavor…. ‘

With utmost care, you closed the box again and turned to face his door. “Bucky? My heart…?” You tried as you knocked on his door, putting your ear against it as you listened in.

Silence.

You tried again, louder this time, “Bucky, are you in there...?” But were again met with nothing. Was he really ignoring you now? “Please, can we just talk?” 

Quiet.

Your skin couldn’t help but burn as you tried to hold in your frustration. ‘So now he doesn’t want to talk to me? What did I even do?!’ You thought as you dug your nails into your palms, using the sharp pain to ground you once more. 

With a deep breath, you turned, picked up the white box, and left him to his begotten silence.

---------

Bucky’s ears were deaf to your calls as the shower rained over him, washing off the coffee and grime of the whole morning. His breath broke through the steam as he sighed, dipping his head under the rush of scorching water as if it would wash away his worries too; It almost worked until a searing headache made itself known. 

The pain rippled in violent waves that came out of nowhere, consuming him suddenly and causing him to reach out blindly for the support of the slick wall. It was worse than getting kicked straight in the head, but he knew from experience that fighting it would only make it hurt more. 

Squeezing his eyes shut against the pain, he made the perfect dark theater as flashes and snippets of memories played behind his eyes. 

“Bucky…?” A vibrant grin spread across your lips, lighting up the room brighter than the phone on your bedside table. Someone was calling you, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away and the more he watched, the more your face changed. 

Your eyes squinted as you looked deeper into him and for a moment he could swear you saw the heavy weight of loneliness that ached in his chest. He felt the coldness of his expression, emotionless and lifeless save for the way his brows knit together, eyes searching yours with confusion and… wanting? Your brows knit together, almost a reflection of himself he thought, as you seemed to consider who you looked at. 

He could feel the smooth cold weight of the knife in his hand as he took a step closer, his head shaking slowly. 

Then suddenly your gaze took on a horrified expression, your eyes darting to the phone to see who was calling. 

“Soldat…” You whispered. You tried to steel yourself, but he heard the way your nervous voice shook- he saw the way your pulse thrummed rapidly in your neck. As the phone went dark he took another step- quiet, so as not to send you running. 

Your phone buzzed again, lighting up the room once more as he stood above you now and you looked so scared, but his expression did not change. Did he feel anything as he saw your cowering form below him? Or was he just another husk of a weapon? Could he ever be anything more?

He glanced at the phone; his time with you had been interrupted again- your attention was drawn from him again. And he couldn’t have that. A low growl rumbled from his chest as you tried to reach for it, and immediately you recoiled again. He would take care of this. He would take care of you.

Wordlessly he declined the call and left you in darkness again. While his knife slipped away, his metal hand reached out. Something in him called desperately to feel your skin beneath cool unforgiving metal. He needed to see all the ways your soft scared body reacted under his touch.

He would take care of you. 

“Please… Just don’t hurt her..” you begged.  

Bucky sucked in desperate breaths as the memories of just yesterday finally faded. The headache lingered, but it was nothing compared to the incessant twisting of his heart in his chest.

What did he do to you…?

-----

You found solace in the quiet of your room after Bucky refused to answer the door, wrapping yourself in the comfort of your duvet rather than his arms. You sighed, looking about the empty room as you leaned your head against the armchair you sat in. “Hey there, baby…” you cooed quietly to your belly, your words immediately met with excited kicks. “Enjoying the rolls as much as I am?” you laughed a bit as you took another bite of your pastry. 

You were lost in the one-sided conversation between you and your belly when a knock came at your door. You furrowed your brow as you sat up a bit wondering who it could be, only to sigh and lean back again, “Nat, I’m not sure I’m really in the mood for-”

“It’s Bucky…”

You paused, your mind at war with whether you ignored him like he ignored you… when you received a swift kick to the ribs, your baby firmly letting you know you were acting stupid. “Ah, ow- Okay, okay. You win… nice kick….” You mumbled to the inevitable bruise forming inside you. 

“FRIDAY, Unlock the door to room 7, please?” you requested, to which she gladly complied. 

As the door let out a soft click you watched your boyfriend’s head slowly peek inside, a faint smile growing on his features as his eyes finally settled on you. “Doll…” he breathed as if the simple action blessed him with life.

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your features before you quickly pulled it all back in. You were still frustrated with him and you weren’t going to let him off so easily. You had to be strong and stick up for the Winter Soldier, after all, it was the least you could do. 

“Do you like them…? I know they’re your favorite,” he smiled as he motioned to the box of pastries, taking a few steps closer until he stood an arm's reach away. You wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of him against you and the tight safety of his arms, but that would have to wait.

“I do… Thank you,” you smiled faintly down at the box as you pulled the blanket tighter around you. 

He nodded, the ends of his lips remaining curled in a small smile, “I’m… I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to say those things, or imply that I don’t think you’re the smartest one in the room because you are.” His eyes cast down in shame before moving back up to you. He looked worn, as if he had been beating himself up for hours and you wanted nothing more than to take it all away. 

“I was tired, and in pain, and scared...” He tried to hide the slight tremble in his voice as he remembered the way his thoughts raced when he first learned you had met the Soldier. He frowned as he fought off the memory that had resurfaced just a short while ago as he continued, “I don’t mean to make excuses, and it won’t happen again, I just-,” he frowned, his jaw setting as he steeled himself and took a breath, “I can’t imagine the ways he must’ve hurt you, or the ways he intended to. It makes me sick to think that I wasn’t there to do anything, and even sicker to know I was the one doing them….”

But it was your turn to frown now, “Bucky, My heart. I keep trying to tell you he didn’t hurt me, He would never….” You assured, but this argument was beginning to look all too familiar.

“Doll, you can’t tell me that you really believe that…? You know the things he’s done, the indiscriminate blood on his hands-” he sighed as he also felt the argument beginning to go around in circles. 

Just as you were about to open your mouth FRIDAY interrupted, “Guest Y/N, Sergeant Barnes, Miss Romanoff has requested your presence in the living area. She asks that you do not delay.” 

You sighed as you looked at Bucky, who seemed to be just as confused as you were. Nevertheless, you peeled yourself from your blanket cocoon, steadying yourself on the chair’s arm briefly before heading toward the door. You could feel him following behind you, trying to stay a few steps back both in punishment to himself, and the urge to give you space.

You glanced back at him, offering your hand as you slowly made your way down the hall. Bucky took it immediately, holding your hand like it was a lifeline and you gently tugged him closer, urging him to fall in step beside you as you leaned on him for support; he has never been happier to be your crutch.

As the two of you walked into the living space you saw Natasha standing firm in front of the TV with the remote in her hands. Sam and Steve looked back from their place on the couch, waving a bit at each of you as you joined the group.

Before either of you could ask any questions Natasha got straight to the point, “Alright, I’m done feeling the tension between you two in the tower… you two have been arguing about something that- all in all, you two should just be happy went as good as it did..” she motioned for you two to take a seat before continuing, “But because you two are still at odds with each other I’ve asked to get the body cam footage expedited. We have the best of what they’ve gone through already and Barnes? I really think you should watch it…” she said with a pointed look and clear knowing. 

He cast an uneasy glance at Sam and Steve, but when he received a simple nod in return he nodded too, tugging you gently onto the seat beside him. With a sigh, he nodded at Nat to start the video. He wasn’t sure he was ready to see it, but he was on a mission and he fucked up, he deserved to know just how spectacularly he did it. 

You also motioned to Natasha, and she started the video. However, you could barely keep your eyes on the screen, instead, your eyes were glued to your beloved soldier’s face, waiting with bated breath for his reaction. 

Bucky tensed as the video started with the security team breaking through your door, leaving it broken and barely on its hinges as they rushed their way through the house. He took in a sharp breath as the video continued and he saw himself standing over you, the bunching of the sweatshirt making it evident that your baby- his baby- was fully exposed. But it wasn’t until he turned that Bucky’s body started to unwind, his expression still a mask of confusion as he saw you grab the assassin’s hand, his grip giving a comforting squeeze. 

“He…” 

Bucky’s heart twinged with conflicted feelings as you called out to the team, begging them not to shoot, while still pleading with him to stand down. He could see the look in the Soldier’s eyes, but it wasn’t one he recognized… It was tangled; a war between gentleness, vulnerability, and the unrelenting fight he had had beaten into him years and years ago. The Soldier stood unyielding, shielding the most vulnerable parts of you with his body as he brandished the small knife.

“He was… protecting you…?” Bucky whispered as he looked away, turning his eyes to your teary ones. Despite trying to blink them away, a few still found their escape down your cheeks.

“It’s all he wanted…” You nodded, trying to fight back the renewing well in your eyes, but you knew how it all ended, and though you knew he was still alive you couldn’t help but feel the loss of him still. “ He just wanted a place to call home, a place to be safe…” 

Bucky’s hand gripped yours, giving its own reassuring squeeze as he turned back to the screen. ‘My Sun…’ he called you, pure reverence and love in his voice that Bucky had never expected to hear from him. ‘My Star…’ you had called him back, desperate and pleading eyes as he turned back to you. 

The security team shouted at him to comply again, and the body cam shifted, showing a young kid whose gun trembled as if he was in the middle of a terrible earthquake. The woman wearing the camera recognized his anxiety and tried to talk him down, but he couldn’t listen and his gun went off with a bang. Bucky could see the kid’s surprise as he accidentally pulled the trigger, and the fear as you clutched desperately to your wounded leg. 

He winced as he saw the assassin’s cold expression return and again as a shot lodged square into his shoulder. He knew what was coming before he even lifted the kid in the air, your begging and crying out for his life ringing loudly in the background. No wonder you had been so adamant about defending him, he had done just the same for you. 

When the kid was dropped, yet still breathing and the Soldier returned to you Nat finally cut off the video, sighing a bit at the overbearing air of the room. 

Everything was quiet for a moment as Bucky took in the weight of the video until Sam and Steve broke the silence. 

“We were able to convince him to come back to the tower to be reset after that…”

“He was the one who patched up Y/n’s leg, and vice versa…”

You nodded in agreement, wiping your dry cheeks as you felt tears beginning to return, “He knew he had to go… and he was happy to do so. I think…” You took a breath as Bucky reached over to wipe the falling tears, “I think he was just happy to know he finally had more, more than one purpose.” 

Quietly Natasha waved everyone else from the room, giving you two much-needed space. 

“That’s why I’m so sure, Bucky... He would never hurt us,” you rested your hand on your belly, “He took bullets for us, just like I know you would- and I have no doubt that he’d do it again. And god, Buck- he loves her so much,” you choked out a sob as you spoke, “He promised her the absolute world and he can’t wait to meet her…” 

“Doll…” 

“And I can’t wait either,” you said firmly despite your current teary disposition, “I’m glad I finally met him, Bucky. Because despite the separation you and the team refer to him with he is still a part of you.” You looked into the softening eyes of your beloved as you continued “And I know he’s not a part you’re proud of but that won’t make him disappear. I know the things he’s done, and I know that you blame yourself for them, but his actions are not yours….” You said.

“I can’t condone the things he’s done, but I know what he’s doing now, and I know that no matter what you think of him I love every part of you, James Barnes. Even the parts you don’t want me to see.”

Bucky’s eyes blinked as they looked down trying to contain the swell of emotions creeping dangerously close to the edge. Slowly he lifted your hand to his lips, kissing your palm like it was worship, “I love you so much, Y/n… I’m sorry I didn't listen before. And though it still makes me hesitate, I’m glad you finally know who he is. He- We are beyond lucky to have you, and even luckier that you somehow manage to love the both of us. I was worried you’d hate me for him...” 

“Oh, my heart… I could never stop loving you in any way that would last.”

_____________

Bucky Taglist:

@writingmysanity @simpxinnie @mirtaqueen @blackhawkfanatic @mcira @aagn360 @nialiuwanderlust @waywardhunter95

thanks to everyone who wanted to be tagged this chapter! If you want to be added to the general Bucky taglist please just let me now!

[snenbubs]

I did it. I did it and nobody stopped me. I'm unstoppable.

I love this horrible big man spider christmas tree ass guy, a bit too much. I've alr done general romantic HCs but IT WASNT ENOUGH.

... so here. Mammon (Helluva Boss) x GN reader NSFW headcannons. I need severe help, but so do you, so....

NSFW Under the cut! 18+ Only!

♡ I've seen a few people claim he'd he a lazy lover, nd whilst i see where they're coming from, i completely disagree. He's the embodiment of Greed, not Sloth! I think, if anything, he's more like an overwhelming, smothering kind of lover ykwm.

- I've said this before, and I will reiterate it, his hands are gonna be on you, all over you. Four hands, might I add. 😋

- I like to think he'd keep one pair on your hips, holding you in place as close to him as he possibly can, because he just NEEDS every inch of you and the other pair would be constantly roaming your body, finding places to squeeze or hold.

- In addition to this i think he'd like any kind of position where he can be as close to you as possible. Your presence overwhelms him and he needs all of it at once so you better be prepared to be pressed flush against his fluffy body.

- His mouth? Always on you. He likes being able to taste you, in more than just one way; biting, kissing... and more...

Also, his tongue is forked. Just thought i'd mention it. Yk. A lil fun fact for your day.

♡ In regards to biting however, i mentioned in my other HCS that he's pretty possesive and that applies here too;

- He gets jealous easy and when he gets jealous he bites harder. Its like a mark, his special mark. He wants people to see you with those bruises, hickeys and bite marks coating your pretty flesh because it means everyone knows you're his.

- If he gets jealous, and bare in mind it does not take a lot to make him jealous, expect not to be able to walk in the morning.

- I feel, due to his needy nature, he's quite a rough lover. I want to believe he tries to be gentle because there will almost definitely be a size difference between you two and you could get hurt, but he can get caught up in the moment and i think he often ends up quite rough.

- Even rougher when jealous.

♡ In general though?

- He deffo drools. You can say "ew gross" all you want but to me? its hot, and he does it, and im the one writing this so theres NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT.

- He definitely has a thing for master/pet relationships BUT i think he also gets a big kick out of hearing you cry out his name.

- I also don't think he's too loud during the act. He makes some noises, probably grunts and maybe a whine if your lucky, but he's mostly silent. If he has his hat on then the sound of jingling bells will probably be extremely overwhelming.

- The thing is, he has to be quiet! Because if he isn't quiet, then he can't hear the sweet sounds you'll be making. And oh, he just LOVES them. He could get drunk off of them. He DOES get drunk off of them.

- By no means though, will he shut his trap. He likes making fun of you, mocking you, making jokes and being generally mean. It's just who he is you gotta accept it.

- His voice is hot though so its a win.

- He probably has a control problem, in that he has to be the one doing everything. If you beg, he might let you take the lead for a bit but ultimately he'll take charge.

- Often though its probably just because you aren't doing things fast enough for him, he has a very high and extremely greedy libido and he knows what he wants.

- Webs. WEBS.

- He is not against tying you up with them, all you have to do is ask. A lot of time, he'll so it so that he can be ever closer to you than he already is.

- But like i said, its your word. If you give the thumbs up then he'll have you bound in no time at all. I'll leave it to your own imagination.

Thats all for now... mayhaps in future i'll do more, make a pt2 or smth but honestly i'm outta ideas.

[cannellee]

pls i need alpha! Mikey rut hcs (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

ignore this if you’re busy though ヽ(´ー｀)

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ☆

alpha! mikey x omega! reader

— mikey during his ruts

my masterlist : ☆

I don't remember when I received this ask but I know it's been a while and once again I'm sorry for the long long wait!!

ALPHA! MIKEY

mikey is completely in phase with his alpha nature and feels his instincts so strongly.

he is an alpha through and through and nothing about him leaves place for doubt.

as a consequence, he lives his ruts intensely as well. it's like all his alpha traits are heightened for a week.

before his ruts hit, his protective instincts are entirely focused on his omega's well being and her safety.

while he doesn't really like it, he might allow you to go outside without him, but during this period, you know it's better to prepare for the week ahead of you.

you build your nest, assisted by mikey who honestly doesn't really add much to its realisation. he interrupts you every now and then to take a deep breath of your scent. he's always been obsessed with it but it gets worse during his ruts.

afterwards, he scents everything he possibly can and doesn't leave much the house anymore. you do the same thing, since leaving his side isn't really an option.

once his ruts hit for real, you're not going anywhere trust me. he's way too focused on you to let you go : his head is clouded with his desire for bonding and his omega.

I see him mindlessly hugging you tightly while inhaling your even more sugary pheromones. your scent tends to get way sweeter when he's in ruts, probably to answer to his own needs.

his scent also changes, it becomes more potent and to you, it creates an enticing and comforting smell that naturally calms you down. it serves as a subconscious signal of mikey's presence and protection.

however to others, it doesn't appear as soothing. the increase of his pheromones envelopes all of the place where you decided to spend his ruts at (usually at his). moreover, the powerfull scent is noticeable even from outside and is able to drive away potential threats that could set mikey on edge.

he's extremely more sensitive to other people approaching his omega and is likely to adopt a much more aggressive behaviour.

his natural possessiveness intensifies, he become more physically affectionate and tends to have tender but assertive touches, expressing his desire to mark and protect his omega during this vulnerable period.

during his ruts, mikey doesn't get as carried away with his omega as one would think.

his instincts lead the way obviously, which is why his libido is that high. he won't stop until he feels satisfied or that you seem too tired to keep up with him.

his desire for physical intimacy only strengthens the bond you already have. he understands he needs to be considerate and gentle with you, he isn't rough, just intense.

he will mark you though, and a lot. his possessive instincts are extremely high and he has this need to ensure his claim on his omega.

whenever you spend his ruts with him, it always feels like it's the first time he's touching you. he's feeling you, devouring you like a starved man and it makes you feel so loved and appreciated.

he's really attentive and listens to anything you have to say, he's lucid enough to not neglect you. his ruts are not about his pleasure only.

he's very passionate : like on impulse, he's driven by a desire to make his omega cum as much as possible and satiate his own breeding instincts at the same time. he won't let you go until he knows you're full of him.

his post-ruts offer a calm environment for his omega, it's like a reward after the intense days you spent.

expect a lot of affectionate cuddles, a clingy mikey and sloppy kisses and apologies to the freshly made marks and few bites he's covered you with.

he'll get you food and bath you, but you're still not leaving the nest!

he's still feeling a lot possessive and you'll have to stay a day or two together before he gets back to normal. for now, he's still defensive and wary.

you actually like the duality between his protective and gentle personality, his desire to care and provide for you during his ruts, never letting you lift a finger because his instincts command him to ensure his omega's comfort and happiness. and the undeniable contrast with his terrible hostility towards anyone foreign, or not.

he loves you so much and you can feel it so much during his ruts, when all of his focus is on you.

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter 5 - Wouldn't It Be Nice?

<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter -

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Dubcon, Plus-sized Reader/OC, female Reader/OC, John introduces Doll to some normal people, Everyone learns new things about each other, Manipulation, PTSD, Doll has a tragic backstory, Doll is kinda sorta Catholic? Who knew (me I knew)

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above but honestly this chapter is pretty mild all considered.

Ghost, Soap and Gaz come back a few hours later with the blue sports car (a bit scratched up, but tail-light repaired) and a pick up truck that looks a lot like the one John had before, but a generation older, and green instead of gray. John speaks to them briefly before he coaxes you into the truck and drives off, promising that the others will be gone before you get back.

He drives a few miles down the road, and pulls up in front of a little farmhouse. It looks idyllic, children and a dog playing in the yard. Two people on the porch wave, and John hops out and circles around right quick to open your door and help you down.

The couple trots up to greet you both. "Who's this?" The woman asks, looking at you and beaming. "You finally introducing us to a girlfriend?"

"Doesn't feel like the right word, does it, doll?" John winks at you, like your circumstances are all just a funny little blip, nothing nefarious or terrifying about it.

"No, it doesn't," you agree, keeping your face carefully neutral. "I'm Dalisay. Nice to meet you, um, Melissa, right?" You stick your hand out and shake hers. There’s no sense in being rude to them, just because they know John. He’s probably smart enough to keep his old life, and his boys away from his new one as much as possible.

"The very same! We were a bit worried John was going to be an eternal bachelor. Nice to see he's found someone." She introduces her husband, Rob, and her kids, Hannah, Haley and Jackson, who are ten, seven and five, respectively.

"Do you want to see the puppies?" Haley asks, grabbing your hand. Jackson grabs the other one and they pull you along to the garage, not waiting for an answer. You very deliberately don’t look over your shoulder at John, because you’re fairly sure that he’ll be looking back at you with a sickeningly hopeful expression. His comments from last night still ring in your ears, and you’re not willing to indulge that foolish fantasy of his.

The puppies are in a play pen with high enough walls to contain them, but still allow their mother to hop in and out. She hops out to inspect you, sniffing your outstretched hands warily. Her tail starts to wag after a moment, and you give her a proper pat, smiling. The dog has soft ears and a silky, black and tan coat, but you're not sure what type of dog she is.

"What's her name?" you ask, kneeling down.

"Bonnie-bell," Hannah says. "And our other dog is Charaid."

"Proper Scottish names," you say. The kids all have a slight burr, and although Melissa sounds scouse, it's the first hint as to where you are.

"Da said we was gettin' too English, livin' in London," Haley says. "I like it better here anyway. Mum says maybe we can get some coos. "

"I grew up near Aberdeen," you say. "But I've lived in Manchester too long. Lost my accent."

"No' far off, then, aye? We're only about an hour and a bit south and west," Rob says, appearing at the open garage door to supervise. His stern face looks friendlier now that he knows you're not proper English. "Was worried John dragged some poor city girl out'f England to live out here."

You hum. "Well, I am something of a city girl now. Been in Manchester since I was seventeen."

"Weel, welcome home then," Rob says with a wink. "We'll get ye proper re-acclimated soon enough." He leans over and plucks a puppy out of the sleeping pile inside the pen, and hands it to you. The pup is at the age where its somewhere between looking like a potato and a proper dog, maybe six or seven weeks old. "Gordon setter, by the by," he says. "Good dogs."

"Cute too." You settle the puppy in your lap, petting its soft little head. Bonnie-bell licks your wrist and hops back into the pen to lay down next to the others.

"Ye want one? This girl's no' spoken for yet. John's been hemmin' and hawin' about it, but I figure he wouldna want ta leave ye home alone, neither."

"Oh, I'm not sure I'll be staying that long. I'm only here because there was an incident at my apartment and John wouldn't hear of me staying anywhere else." You're not certain why you're stretching the truth to fit around what he and his wife think is happening, but you have no idea what John would do if you did say something. Maybe he would laugh it off like you were making a joke, or maybe he would snap. You don't really think he would hurt these people, but there's a wide-eyed prey animal in the back of your mind that warns you to be cautious, to be careful.

"We'll talk about it," John says from behind you. You hadn't even noticed his approach, with the noise the kids had made when they dashed back outside. "I'm trying to convince her to stay."

"Ye've gotta buy her a ring, ye daft bastard," Rob says, laughing. "A good catholic girl isna goin' ta wait for you ta get yer head out'f yer arse."

"If you don't, I'll introduce her to some lads in town that will," Melissa threatens. "Pretty girl like her has better options than you, old man. Better make your move before she realizes it." She swats John on the arm playfully.

You laugh nervously, touching the little cross around your neck absently. The puppy in your lap seems to sense your discomfort, because she starts wiggling in your arms and trying to lick your chin, little tail wagging. John kneels down beside you so he can pet the puppy too, eyes creased with a smile. "Is that it, doll? You need me to buy you a ring?"

"John," you say warningly. "We don't need to talk about this right now."

"No, I suppose you've had a rough morning. I'll try again later."

"You're impossible."

"Think you might kind of like that about me," he says.

"Not remotely. I think you're an awful, stubborn man," you tell him. Your voice comes out softer and sweeter than you intend, like you don't really mean it, even though it's true. The smile around his eyes grows deeper.

"I am." He picks up the puppy and holds her up in front of his face. "What do you think, girl?" he asks. The little dog's tail wags furiously, and she answers with a high pitched yip. And then she endears herself to you by trying to bite John’s nose. He looks stunned for a moment, but he grins when you start laughing. “Guess we’re all in agreement then,” he says, setting her down in the pen and standing up.

You accept his hand up, and quickly put a little distance between the two of you, before he anchors you to his side with a solid arm, or tries to reel you in close for a kiss. Rob and Melissa invite you in for a cup of tea, and somehow you end up sitting at a dining room table that’s obviously mostly used for crafts, and handed a piece of blank printer paper by Haley, and told by Jackson that you should draw dragons with them. The walls of the dining room are filled with tacked up juvenile masterpieces— Dragons seem to be a particular fixation of Jackson’s, whereas Hannah and Haley have more varied portfolios.

John stands leaning in the door to the kitchen, talking to Rob and Melissa quietly enough that you can’t quite pick up his words over the children’s chatter. You hate him a little for this, dangling Rob and Melissa’s idyllic little life in front of you. The implication is obvious. We could have this, his blue eyes seem to say when you look his way. Wouldn’t that be nice?

It’s frustrating, and confusing. You want to keep him at arms length for your own safety, but he’s already doing his best to roll right past your doubts and better judgment, like they’re just silly barriers between now and the future he’s dreamed up for the two of you.

And worse, you do want it.

“Didn’t know you were an artist,” he says on the drive back. Jackson had been so excited about the dragon that you drew for him that he’d shown his parents and John.

“There’s a long list of things you don’t know about me,” you say.

"For now. We'll get there, sweetheart."

You hum, looking out the window. Spending time with the Stuarts has you wistful and homesick for something you can't get back. Days like this, you'd usually pour yourself a glass of wine, look through your family photo albums and have a good cry before going to bed early. It's been a while since it's caught up with you like this, but you'd always been reliant on your routine, burying grief in structure and familiarity. "Do we need to?"

"I'd like to."

"I'm not going to be what you want me to be."

John drums his fingers against the steering wheel. "What is it that you think I want?"

"Some little housewife. Someone soft and sweet to come home to."

"You seem plenty soft and sweet to me."

You sigh, pulling your arms around yourself. "I'm not consistent. I don't know what Johnny told you I was like, but he only knows me from work. I'm not like that all the time."

"I don't expect you to be."

"You say that now, but you'll change your mind."

"I'm not stupid enough to change my mind based on a bad day or two, doll. You're allowed to be upset. I wouldn't blame you if you spend the next week slamming doors and snapping at me. I'm still going to like you." He puts a hand on your knee and squeezes gently. Men like him shouldn't be allowed to have such attractive hands, and you shouldn't be attracted to hands like his, scarred knuckles, a few fingers broken and healed crooked. You know he's killed people, know it would be so easy for him to kill you. It turns your stomach that you feel any kind of desire for him at all.

Men like him are no different than the ones that killed your parents. Dealing death is not a noble trade, there's nothing honourable about exporting violence.

You push his hand away, and keep your eyes trained on the window.

He sighs, but he doesn't press the issue, just clicks on the radio to fill the silence.

When you get back to his house he sets you up in a cozy room down the hall from the more open main space where the kitchen is, an office of some kind with a couple of arm chairs and a desk with a clunky looking laptop set on top. The room smells kind of smoky, but you're just glad to have a door you can close while he "moves some things around". He opens the laptop up so you can watch something, but you just curl up in one of the armchairs and fall asleep.

When you wake, the door is open, one of your blankets is draped over you, and there's a mug of tea sitting on the desk, alongside a couple biscuits. You uncurl, your muscles stiff and joints cracking from not moving for too long, and pick up the tea. It's cold, like it had been left a while ago, but you drink it anyway, and eat the biscuits. There's a note underneath, explaining that John had run out to the shops, and that he'd be back by 18:00. You shake your head, and check the time on the laptop. 18:00 exactly.

Military habits must die hard. You imagine he’s usually prompt too, so you wander out into the main room, and put the clean dishes in the rack away. You realize that the living room side has been rearranged, condensed to a slightly smaller footprint, with some open space left by the far corner behind the bigger couch. The smaller leather sofa has been replaced with the little red love-seat from your apartment, and your T.V. is sitting on it’s familiar perch on the refinished credenza that you’d painted twining vines and little red flowers up the side of. You’d found it on by the curb on the Kinsey’s street a few years ago, and your friend Ripley had bused over and helped you carry it all the way back to your apartment.

You’re not sure you like seeing more of your things merging into John’s house, like any of it belongs there when you still want to insist that you’ll be leaving soon. You hate him for being presumptuous, but you can’t help but think it’s sweet, too, that he makes space for you so readily, that he’ll happily include your painted flowers and colourful blankets and bright red couch into space that was all his just twenty four hours ago. That he would leave you tea and biscuits for when you woke up, that he would tuck a blanket around you while you slept. You’re not used to someone wanting to take care of you, and it feels strange.

Strange, but nice too.

You glance at the clock on the wall, realizing that it’s twenty past six, and John still isn’t back. It’s getting darker out there, the sun nearly setting, and as much as you try to tell yourself that you’re not worried, it’s hard to deny the stab of relief when you finally see the truck's lights pull up the wooded drive.

You slip on your trainers and step outside as he parks. He grins at you around a lit cigar as he hops out. “Did you miss me, doll?” he asks, insufferably smug.

“Your note said you’d be back at six,” you say lamely. “I just wasn’t sure if you’re usually on time.”

“Usually am. Got caught talking to Wells, down on the corner. Seems someone drove right through his fence last night. Teenagers, like as not. I’m goin’ to help him fix it tomorrow.”

“Oh.” You grimace. He must know it was really you. “Sorry about that.”

“No harm. By the sounds of it, you’re quite the driver. Soap said you nearly ran him off the road. That what they teach these days?”

“Defensive driving is well and good, but offensive driving gets you the last good spot in the lot,” you say.

He laughs out loud at that, and leans over to pick up a big paper bag from the passenger side. “Here, can you take this in while I grab the groceries?”

You take the bag (which is slightly greasy and smells like curry), and shift it to one hip. “Can I take anything else?”

He nods and hands you a second paper bag, this one with two wine bottles inside. “Wasn’t sure if you liked red or white, so I got both.”

You settle the bags in your arms and turn to walk away. “Bad time to tell you I like rosé hm?” you tease, glancing over your shoulder.

“Terrible timing. But that’s alright. One more thing, doll.”

You turn back toward him, and he’s right there. One big hand cups your jaw and then his lips are on yours, pressing a kiss that tastes like smoke against you. You stand frozen, holding onto your cargo for dear life, too surprised to do anything. It’s just as well, because in that moment you’re not sure if you’d slap him or pull him closer.

He pulls away without trying to deepen the kiss, which is a relief. You’re certain that you’d drop dinner and the wine.

“John, that wasn’t fair.” Your feet are still frozen in place, and his hand is still on your cheek, his fingers threaded into your hair.

His eyes practically sparkle. He’s entirely too pleased with himself. “Not fair because I kissed you, or not fair because I stopped before we got to the best part?”

Your cheeks flame hot, and you pray that he can’t feel it. “You can’t just— You’re impossible.” It takes concentrated effort to take ordinary, measured steps to the door instead of running. The effect he has on you is apparently very obvious. He never would have tried it if he didn’t know you were teetering on the edge of giving in already.

Boundaries need to be set-- Set and followed-- before you can really even contemplate letting this get any further. Unchecked, you have no doubt that John will have you underneath him in a matter of days. Once that happens you know he'll never let you go, and you'll never have peace of mind if you don't really get to know him first. You know he's not as good as he makes himself out to be, but you suspect he's a better man than your deepest fears might whisper to you. He's genuine about his wants, but that's not enough. You need to know him before you can trust him.

You set your packages down on the table and turn to open the door wide for John as he carries a tote full of groceries into the house. “Thanks, doll.”

The paper bag rips when you open it to pull take-out containers out, setting them on the table neatly. "John, can we talk?" You ask, glancing at him as he stows things in the fridge.

"Course, doll. What's on your mind?"

Nerves threaten to choke you, so you take a steadying breath, in and out, trying to quiet the sea of dread that pitches back and forth in your stomach. “You can’t just take what you want from me. Not if you’re serious about wanting this to be something. I’m afraid of you, John, and I’m not going to fight you. If you push me, I’ll fold, and I’ll hate you for it.”

He pauses, holding a box halfway lifted to the cupboard. It takes a moment before he moves again, setting the box on the shelf slowly. The silence is palpable in the room, settling across both of you like a thick blanket of snow. You fold the ripped takeout bag flat, nervous, the crinkle of heavy paper hardly breaking through the rush of blood in your ears, the panic that grips you by the throat. It’s as though the admission has given your body the chance to catch up with everything that’s happened in the last two days.

You’d been drugged and taken from your home, you’d been handed off to someone you didn’t know, with no clear indication if you’re free to leave or not, you’ve been picked up and manhandled and shot at.

Darkness flickers in the corners of your vision. All you can hear is the pounding of your own heart, the sick, dizzying drums of war, and high pitched ringing like a flat-lining hospital monitor, and screaming, and the rapid burst of machine gun fire. No. The screaming you hear is just in your head, the gunshots aren’t real, they can’t be. It’s not happening, it’s over, it’s been over for a decade, you’re safe.

Except you’re not safe.

Hands land on your shoulders. You lash out, fists striking something solid, knocking the hands away. You have to get away, you have to hide until it goes quiet again. Arms wrap around you in a tight hug, stilling your thrashing limbs and bringing you down to the floor gently.

“Doll! Dalisay, sweetheart, you’re alright, come back.” The voice has authority. You know that voice. It rumbles, shaking loose memory. “Come on, love, breathe slow. You’re okay.” You breathe in, warm spice and tobacco smoke, not burning petrol, not scorched flesh. You’re kneeling on the floor, and John is holding you tight, thighs bracketing yours.

The fight melts out of your limbs.

You’re not safe, but you’re not in danger either. John loosens his hold on you and cups your face, his worried face eclipsing all else. “Doll, where’d you go?” he asks. “What happened?”

“Panic attack,” you lie, because that’s easier to say than My parents were killed in a terrorist attack while we were visiting London ten years ago and sometimes I get so stressed out that I forget it’s not still happening. “I’m fine, I’m sorry.”

“That wasn’t a panic attack, doll. Worked with Simon long enough to recognize PTSD. You were somewhere else.”

It’s hard to imagine that Ghost is as fallible, as human as you are, but you suppose there’s no shortage of opportunities for even the the biggest, toughest military men to to wade hip deep in trauma. The worst day of your life would be just another mission for them. The worst day of their lives would probably kill you outright.

"Yeah, I guess it was," you admit haltingly. "Everything just caught up with me. I won't let it happen again."

He shakes his head. "Did I set it off? I need to know— I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

"No, it's not like that. It’s just stress. It's been building since I got here."

"I guess that's what you meant in the truck, huh?"

You nod weakly. "I don't think I can explain it any better right now. But maybe tomorrow."

"Alright." John sighs, some of the tension in his shoulders releasing. " I don't want you to be afraid of me, doll."

"Then you're going to have to give me time, and space. I need to know what kind of man you are. And you should get to know who I am too.” There’s a wrinkle in his shirt, so you fixate on that rather than look right at him, smoothing it out with your fingers. “Let’s worry about becoming friends, for now. And then we can see if there’s something more.”

He doesn’t like that, you can tell by the way he pulls his hands back, reluctant to let go of you. But still, he nods, and smiles ruefully after a moment. “Guess I’m not as patient as I think I am. Too eager to get to the good part.”

You laugh lightly, the sound shaky from frayed nerves. “John, if we can be kind to each other, and come to an understanding, then it’s all the good part. You can’t build the things you want on foundations like this and hold it all together with sheer force of will.”

“You sure about that?" he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. "I’ve heard I’m pretty stubborn.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his. You still feel unsettled, your heart still pounding, your stomach still roiling with anxiety. The emotion in those blue eyes is something you can't identify, something fathomless that strikes you with a foreign kind of fear, the kind that's shot through with hope that you shouldn't feel.

“You don’t know me too well yet, John,” you say gently, “but so am I.”

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[hopelessromantic5]

Part 2 of ghost-visit merthur Drabble.

Magic reveal included.

The blonde studied his manservant, as he was in the habit of doing, lately. Merlin was nervous and perhaps even…scared?

What possible reason could Merlin have to fear him?

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” Arthur did not need an answer, he already knew that he wouldn’t.

“Maybe-“ Merlin stopped and started again. “It might be easier if I show you.” He was quiet, only illuminated by the light coming into the princes chambers from the corridor.

Arthur honestly didn’t have any idea what was about to happen.

When it was over, he felt like an idiot for not seeing it sooner.

The first thing Merlin did was cup his palms together, in front of his chest, eyes closed, as if he were praying.

He, all at once, opened his hands and his eyes, revealing a glowing blue butterfly, Arthur focused on it only for a heartbeat, gasping at the sight.

Then he caught Merlin’s own gaze, blue eyes turned golden like the heat of the sun, shining brighter than any fire Arthur had ever seen.

The Prince felt many things. Confusion and shame and anger, at himself, at Merlin, at his father.

But surprisingly, Arthur felt no fear. He didn’t get that sickening drop in his stomach that normally occurred when confronted with magic.

He had the quick thought that maybe it was because the magic was always being used by people who wanted him dead.

Instead of that unbearable chill in the air, Merlin’s magic left Arthur feeling like he’d just been out training in the summer. He felt renewed, recharged.

When Merlin let the butterfly disappear into the room, brightening the space about a foot in either direction of its flapping wings, his eyes faded back to their stormy blue, rainclouds over the ocean.

Arthur was speechless.

A million scenes over the past few years played through his mind’s eye with this new knowledge now secured. Everything seemed to make a little more sense. The prince never being able to find Merlin in times of trouble, his manservant always disappearing and hiding behind trees while bandits were being tripped by roots that weren’t there before, felled by branches falling at the perfect time. Victories being won against foes that Arthur had no recollection of defeating.

Arthur should be dead ten times over, probably. If not for the man who stood before him. If not for magic.

He couldn’t find words for a long time.

Merlin did not rush him.

He just stood silently, waiting for whatever fate he assumed was awaiting him. Arthur could only imagine the worst case scenarios playing through his manservant’s mind and it was enough to make him sick.

Finally after taking a deep breath into his lungs, the prince spoke.

“I understand.”

Merlin blinked his eyes three times, an instinct in Arthur nearly verbalized that he was akin to an owl, he thought better of it.

“You-you what?”

“I understand why you didn’t tell me. I can only assume this is not a fact that you share with many people, let alone…you know, me.” Arthur’s nerves were beginning to catch up to him. He wasn’t used to being so bare and unguarded, and certainly not in front of Merlin.

But another fact he was settling upon him was that Merlin had the upper hand here. He’d possibly always had it, from that very first day. Yet, even when Merlin was his most fed up, his most aggravated with Arthur, even at times when they refused to speak to each other out of pure stubbornness, Merlin never turned on him. Never even used his magic to give Arthur a good smack over the head (that he probably deserved).

Even when Merlin had to watch his own people die on the pyre, he never turned on Arthur.

Not even when he learned what Arthur did that awful day. A quiet Druid camp drowned in the screams of the innocent because he was too much of a coward to stand up to his father, and not enough of a Prince to get his knights to obey his orders of sparing the children. Even though, he failed.

Merlin never lost faith in him. The prince still sees it, even now.

“You’re not…angry?” This voice was small compared to his usual boisterous demeanor.

“I am angry.” Arthur nodded. “But only at our circumstances. If I were not here and you were not there, none of this would be as difficult as it is.”

“You must know,” Merlin whispered. “I’ve only ever used it to help you. To ensure that you and this kingdom were safe.” The prince saw him swallow, one of his many tells. Merlin is nervous. “Arthur, I told you this once before, but back home I was…lost. I had all of this pent up energy and nowhere to put it down, I felt I had no true purpose there. I’ve since learned many things that all led me to one conclusion. I’m supposed to be here, at your side. To make sure you actually survive long enough to ascend the throne-“

Arthur almost interjected to say he didn’t need protecting but clamped his mouth shut because he knew, now, that wasn’t necessarily true, as much as he hated to admit it.

“-but also because…Well,” Merlin cleared his throat, Arthur took a moment to wonder what he was about to say that was causing him to be so antsy. “I do not think I could leave, even if you ordered me to go. I…I think being away from you would probably rip me apart.” He laughed a humorless, pitiful laugh and was looking down at feet. Arthur watched a tear fall from his eyes like the first raindrop and land on the stone floor.

“I could never send you away.” Arthur shook his head. “You’re just as necessary to this kingdom’s survival as I am.”

Merlin audibly gasped, Arthur went on as if he didn’t hear it.

“I want Camelot to be…I don’t know, good, for lack of a better word. I want it to be welcoming and bright and full of life. Not plagued with death and decay and heartache. I do not want even our poorest citizens to have to wonder what they will eat in the winter. I don’t want another person stepping foot into this kingdom and immediately witnessing a beheading, or a pyre being lit. That is not the kind of place I wish to govern. All I can do is my best, but I need you here. I need you with me. I only ever considered that I could truly change the way things are, when,” he took a heavy breath, “when I realized that you actually believed in me. That you, an insubordinate, treasonous, outsider that had absolutely no reason to ever think such things, you actually had faith that I could do it. And since that day, your faith has been what keeps me going. So you can’t-“

Arthur hadn’t dared to watch Merlin while he spilled his messy heart all over the room. The first shining of the sun was rising over the horizon and soon, they would have to face each other in the daylight.

“You can’t leave, okay?”

The prince walked further into his chambers as he spoke, away from the door, lest any of the guards overhear their conversation.

“That may be selfish of me to request, knowing that you are constantly in danger here. But I am also in a position where I can make sure that you never face the hands of my father. I would never let him hurt you, you know that, right?”

A chuckle was heard from where Merlin still stood behind him,

“I do now.” It was emotional and ridiculous but Arthur was relieved. That Merlin was still Merlin.

“Good.” The prince sighed. “We can discuss this more tomorrow. You can tell me everything I’ve, apparently, missed.”

“Absolutely, sire.”

Arthur turned after a few moments of silence and Merlin was still standing there, in the middle of the room.

“Merlin?”

“Yes, sire?”

“Is there something else you wanted to say?” The prince couldn’t help the smile that was creeping up his face.

“Um…” The raven boy cleared his throat, again. Looking unsure, with more light in the room, Arthur could see his brows pinched. “No, no. Nothing we can’t discuss tomorrow.”

“You’re sure?” At this point Arthur was wondering if either he or the both of them were in immediate danger.

“Well I’m not exactly sure if she would want me to tell y-“

“She?!” Arthur voice, embarrassingly, cracked in the middle of his outraged cry. Merlin looked at him like he had goat horns growing out of his head.

In a much calmer tone, Arthur continued.

“And who is ‘she’?”

Something bloomed on Merlin’s face that had Arthur wary.

“Before we get to that, I have a question for you.”

“For me?”

“Considering this is officially the first day that we’re being honest with each other, someone told me that you have a secret of your own and I’d like to know what it is.”

Arthur, dumbfounded and feeling somewhat ambushed, could not think of anything to say other than,

“I didn’t hear a question.”

Like an idiot.

“Must you be so difficult? What is it you’re not telling me? How do you even have time in the day to keep secrets? I know where you are every minute.”

“Technically, I already told you.”

Arthur decided he would much rather brood out the window, staring at the sunset than watch Merlin flinch away from him in disgust.

“When?” The man honestly had no idea.

The prince rolled his eyes, pushing away a stupid smile.

“Just now, you idiot.”

“Did I miss part of the conversation? When did you-“ at the sound of Merlin cutting himself short, Arthur’s neck swiveled. He watched the pieces come together and realization finally hit.

He looked confused.

“I’m confused,” Of course. “You can’t possibly mean-“

“When I said your faith keeps me going, I meant it, Merlin.” There he was, standing in the morning rays, breathtaking as ever, the reason Camelot remains standing. Looking at Arthur as if he were speaking a different language.

“I rise out of that bed every morning simply because I know you will be there.”

This was not the prince and his manservant, this was just Merlin and Arthur. Two boys that met under unfortunate and unfair circumstances.

“And in those gut wrenching moments when I can’t find you, the fear feels as if it might kill me. If anything ever happened-“ Arthur turned his head away and swallowed a sob that threatened to ricochet through him at the mere thought.

“I would probably burn the entire world to the ground.” He whispered. More as a thought to himself, a thought he had never let come to pass.

It was silent for a few heartbeats. Merlin broke it.

“There is a word for that.”

Arthur hung his head at that. Defeat.

He’d finally been bested.

It finally caught him. He’d been evading it for years before Merlin came along, always sidestepping its ever-growing reach.

“Yes, there is.” He admitted. The morning was surreal and glowing, everything had a halo of rainbows. Arthur was running on nothing but adrenaline and at his confession, all of the energy completely drained out of him.

“Though,” Merlin took a step in his direction, and then another. “I shouldn’t. Against my better judgment…I love you, too.”

Arthur had been branded in that moment. As if Merlin had touched his bare skin with a red-hot poker. The words echoed through his emptying mind and bounced off the walls of his chambers.

“I don’t believe you.” Arthur could not catch them before the words fell out of his face.

He was met with chuckling.

Had he said something funny?

“You don’t believe me? The entire bloody kingdom can see it and you, stubborn arse, refuse to believe it, of course.” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Why would I tell you I love you if I didn’t mean it?”

“To make me feel better?” Arthur offered.

“As much as I would hate to hurt your feelings, I would never lie to you about that.”

Arthur suddenly had a thought.

“If that’s the case then who’s the woman?”

“What woman?”

“Earlier you said you weren’t sure if ‘she’ wanted you to tell me. Who’s she? And what did she tell you?”

“Oh.” Merlin fell silent.

And simultaneously, the room went dark.

Arthur’s first thought was that he blacked out. But no. He was still standing in place, he could hear the bustle of the castle beginning to rise for the day.

Someone had merely closed the curtains, blocking out the sun completely.

“Merlin? Did you do that?” Instinctively, his hand when to the hilt of his sword.

“No.” Followed immediately by, “Take my hands.”

“What?”

“I’m going to show you something. Take my hands.”

Arthur could only ever trust Merlin. With everything. His heart, his life, his kingdom.

His manservant’s eyes began to glow the second their hands touched.

It took the prince by surprise by he didn’t pull away. It seemed to take Merlin somewhat by surprise, also. His hands were buzzing, humming with power, Arthur fingers became numb from it after seconds.

Over the ringing in his ears the prince heard Merlin mumble,

“She’s here.”

The buzzing of his skin ceased, his eyes remained golden, blinking and unseeing.

“Who’s here?”

“Turn around and see for yourself.”

Arthur’s brows pinched in confusion, the heavy door at the entrance to his chambers had not been opened. They would’ve heard it.

He turned, dropping Merlin’s hands in the process, shocked beyond words to actually see a figure standing there.

Pale and beautiful. And sad.

He knew her upon sight.

Not because he had any memory of her face to call upon, no portraits were ever painted of her, but he knew, the way every child knows their mother.

He was stuck in place, memorizing every detail that he could to take with him later. To cherish.

“Arthur, my boy.” She spoke softly, only interrupted by her own crying.

Rather than trying to speak again, she crossed the distance between them and engulfed him in a hug.

The hug Arthur thought he would never have. The warmth of which, he’d gone an entire childhood without.

There truly was nothing more healing than being surrounded by a person who loves you, unconditionally.

“H-how did- why-?” Arthur cut each thought short because they did not seem important enough.

“I’m so sorry, mother.” He whispered into his mothers shoulder, silently letting wells of tears flow. “You should never have met such an awful fate because of me.”

“Hush now, none of that.” The Queen placed her hands on either side of Arthur’s face, holding him up. “I have been here with you, all this time, Arthur. That is all I ever wanted; To be with you. That is the only regret I carry regarding your birth, I would do it all again, if it meant you got the chance to live.”

“You’ve been…here? In the castle?”

She nodded.

“Seeing but never seen.” Arthur was both elated and heartbroken at seeing his mother this way. “That was the rule. Though, I think with your friend over there, anything is possible.”

“Yes, I’m beginning to think he’s more powerful than he lets on.” The absurdity of this conversation was not lost on him. If anyone had told him five hours ago that this would be his new normal, he’d probably have them thrown in the stocks.

His mother laughed and it was a beautiful sound, like the the high chiming of the wind charms made by a woman in the lower town, citizens hang them to hear them sing when the Earth is speaking through the breeze.

“I think you underestimate him quite a bit, your highness.” She shook her head at him, as every other mother had that Arthur always looked upon and wondered. “Merlin is magic. He is the power of the earth made human. And his loyalty is to you. You are a very fortunate king, indeed.”

“Not King yet, mother.”

She sobered immediately from her playfulness.

Arthur did not have to guess why.

“Do not listen to your father, Arthur. It may go against all you’ve been taught but he is not always right. In fact, he is almost always wrong. Especially in terms of political affairs, but always with you. What he says to you, of you, is what he thinks of himself. He is angry because he is getting old and he cannot control time. He has taken his life’s hardships out on you and you never deserved that, Arthur. You are a great man and you will make a fantastic King.”

As the last words fell, she began to fade, slowly. But her skin was turning more translucent with every second. Arthur mourned all over again.

“Our time has run out, my boy, even our Merlin can only hold the connection so long. But I will always be here, should you need me.”

“I love you, mother.”

“I love you, too, Arthur.” Faint, but Arthur heard it.

Then, she was gone.

And now Arthur had to pick up the eight year old version of himself that was currently balled up in the center of his chest, and put him back where he goes. In a dark dusty corner of his mind.

It was quiet for a few moments.

The prince turned to find Merlin sat in the floor, the same spot he had been standing, on the other side of the room.

The manservant rose shakily.

“Well, that was…”

“Yeah, it was.” Arthur sighed, long and exhausted.

“Merlin, you are going to go tell my father that I have been unwell since supper last night. Then you will come back here.” Arthur began to unclad himself of belts and tunics.

“Tomorrow, we talk. Today, We are taking a well-deserved nap.”

“You’re inviting me to…take a nap with you.” The blonde could hear the smile creeping into Merlin’s voice as he spoke but decided he was too tired to scold him.

“Yes, Merlin. Or you’re welcome to go sleep in Gaius’ chambers with him banging beakers and books around all day. Be my guest.”

“I’ll be back in a flash, sire.”

Arthur turned just in time to see Merlin wink at him before leaving.

So, this was the new normal.

Arthur liked it.

[llamagoddessofficial]

how would the normal boyo's react to mc's death?

no murder, nothing crazy, just old age taking away the love of their lives.

and for bonus points lets say they had been happily married for decades as to add on the memories and the sudden shock of losing someone that had become such a key factor in your life.

I think I've mentioned this before, but it doesn't hurt to bring it up again. Aggre Mc is going to live a lot longer than she expected. Even with absolutely no intervention, thanks to her connection with the guys, her Soul has three major sources of magic nearby that instinctively constantly share their power with hers. It will probably expand her lifetime by a century, minimum. Her big issue isn't going to be dying; it's going to be dealing with the implications of living so much longer than she thought she would.

There's also the topic of a Soul bond. If she Soul bonds with any of the three of them, and doesn't have kids, she's pretty much going to live as a monster does (forever, unless interrupted). In Aggre, they definitely discuss the subject of her possible death eventually- and my personal canon post-Aggre is that after settling into a rhythm and spending a few decades together, when Mc decides she wants to Soul bond, the boys elect Sans to be the one she bonds with. She'd then live with them like that.

But... in a hypothetical scenario, where Mc resists everything and dies... I think this is how it would go. Obviously, angst and death under the cut.

Sans: Honestly, Sans takes her approaching death the best. Which should really worry you about how the other two would react. Does he fall apart? Absolutely, the last time he felt this kind of agony was when he lost his mother. But Sans has always been good at disguising his emotions, hiding tremendous pain under an easygoing exterior. He keeps up with the dishes, organises her end of life care, keeps contact with his friends. Papyrus would be the only one to see even a fraction of the true extent of Sans' grief. Sans is about to lose the love of his life, and has completely frozen over to avoid crumbling.

Red: He definitely takes it better than you'd expect, considering he'd have a mended relationship with his brother. But it still hits. It's cruel that the universe sent him someone who taught him how to let himself feel, then took that person away and delivered the worst pain he's ever felt.

Mc would be proud of him, though. Despite the pain, he avoids falling back into the worst of his old addictions, because he knows its not what she would want and it won't actually make the pain go away. It will just numb him to everything; including those who are trying to help. He picks up smoking again in the days leading up to her death, but he avoids the bottle.

Skull: It's hard, for him. It's really hard.

All of them knew it would be particularly difficult for Skull. They had a long time to discuss it- a long time to talk the subject over. Mc prepared stuff for him, for after she's gone... people to talk to, things of hers to hold when it hurts, exercises for him to hopefully learn to deal with it. For a while, everyone was convinced Skull was ready. Even Skull.

... But he just... he just can't do it. He can't do it. He can't let her go. It doesn't matter how many hours she spent holding his hands, how hard they all believed he'd be fine without her- it doesn't matter how much he healed by her side and how well adjusted he seems now. The moment he realises she's really genuinely dying, the journey ahead of him looks so impossibly dark, so frightening. He holds her as she's dying and he feels so small. He cries like a baby and begs her not to leave him behind.

The moment she dies, he catches her Soul. He holds it in his hands, hushing it like a scared bird and tucking it away into his chest, where he can keep her alive. Honestly, they'd have to cut him open if they wanted to let her pass on.

... But I think at that point, Red and Sans aren't exactly fighting to make him let go. In fact... something unspoken passes between the three of them. Skull just did what all of them wanted to do.

Skull gives her to Sans, who keeps her hidden away, within his own Soul. Her Soul knows his best, and will feel most comfortable there long-term.

They'll figure out something. They have all the time in the world.

[xjulixred45x]

Platonic! Korra Gang x Chef! Reader

This is the Request of @chantillymoon i hope You're doing good with your Cooking, i'm sure it's fantastic😋! I hope this give you a little motivation💞

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: neutral

Warnings: none, pure fluff

Korra

Korra probably met you in the events of book 1 (did you see the Gala where Mako went with Asami? one of those), you were in food service.

and since Korra was a bit moody and in a new city, you were friendly with her and they got along quite well. You tried to entertain her a little with your cooking (like the chefs in certain Asian places, if you're a firebending master or something like that, even better).

Thanks to this Korra was going to see you when she needed to talk and generally let loose a little. You guys became friends pretty quickly.

If you have your own place, Korra tries to promote you when she interacts with important people and the topic of Catering comes up.

She firmly believes that your food is much better than the holidays food honestly. especially those of Unalaq.

I have a feeling that in the water tribe, especially in the south, there is not a very complex gastronomy thanks to literally living at a pole.

It's a more personal hc, but I think Korra grew up eating mainly fish and its variables (maybe rice and vegetables)

Obviously, she ate more things in her training to be an avatar, but it's not like it was food as such to "eat" but rather those for nutrition purposes.

so when she becomes a friend of yours (cutie) and you give her VERY varied and VERY delicious food, she is delighted.

like “FINALLY something that is nutritious and TASTES GOOD!”

Besides, you cook a lot of variety, so Korra doesn't know where to choose. but she has a big appetite, so it's not unreasonable to think that you probably won't run out of leftovers with her.

If you're stressed about a particular recipe, she may try to help you by giving you a hand with things in the kitchen that she knows she can't screw up, like reading you the recipe book or handing you things, all while trying to joke with you to relax you and make you laugh.

If you want a definitive break, flour war! Whoever ends up completely white loses and Naga will have to clean it up!

Now, apart from improvised or high-survival food, Korra doesn't cook shit, she doesn't know how to handle herself very well, so seeing you be so fluent in that habit is something new for her. Of course, she was used to her parents cooking. but not at your level, so there's a lot of excitement on Korra's part about how you learned all this.

If you try to teach her, can she go either very badly or...decent? which cannot be said whether it is good or bad.

Since at first Korra may even, trying to make things easier (or imitate you, if you use your elemental control to cook) use her avatar skills in the kitchen, which since she has no experience ends very badly 😅 with muddy dough everywhere.

or even with BURNT water in some way??

but after a few attempts and several burnt bouls, Korra gets the hang of it and manages to start improving her cooking skills!

She can make simple meals now at least.

but she always prefers yours, you make them much more delicious, according to her.

Korra is not going to tolerate any destructive criticism of you, who does she have to hit?she's going to scare them with the fucking avatar state🤣😅

Sure, she can TOLERATE constructive criticism because it's not malicious, but she doesn't understand why people eat your products if they're not going to like it anyway?

do not understand.

In general, Korra encourages your vocation a lot and encourages you to try new things with her :3

Asami

Asami knows you because of Varrik, he needed as many staff as possible, including the kitchen, so he hired you as soon as he liked one of your meals without thinking about it.

Asami needed a break from all of Varrik's antics, so she went to the staff areas for a while (without realizing it) and you noticed her state.

So you talked to her while you prepared something simple for her to eat and get energy back.

It was kind of nice, since you didn't feel intimidated by her or what had happened with her father, a breath of fresh air, so you continued seeing each other after that (in a platonic way).

Asami is used to eat in High Quality and/or fancy places before this, and still doing it.

which most of the time is not bad, on the contrary, it usually produces rich and delicious food.

but there are also times when for some people (ahem VARRIKahem) it just needs to be prettier and tasteless to be considered "gourmet" and even if it's not high quality food, Asami sometimes misses the feeling of having a normal meal. .

That's when you come into her life, her bubbly friend, to make things way better.

Asami probably never had a home-cooked meal as such (no, it doesn't count if CHEFS make it for you Asami) so it was a new experience for her. In the good sense.

Instead of eating aesthetically impressive but disgusting food, with you I could eat things that were really modest but that TASTED GOOD.

If you are having problems like not finding someone to give you more advanced cooking classes, don't worry! Asami will give you a hand with her contacts and help you find a good tutor.

If you already have your own place, rest assured that Asami (and in general the entire Avatar team) will come to see you and buy you food often no matter what you sell.

Even if you have any financial problems with the place, Asami has your back and helps you as much as possible. You may even become a constant Catering associate for the company!

Asami also tries not to let her friendship with you affect you so directly, especially when scandals arise with her father.

He goes to you for advice when they go out to eat, your food gives him a certain feeling of peace after all, so when you both go out he can be with a cooler head.

It's a feeling of familiarity that she hasn't felt in a LONG time.

You can definitely see Asami especially liking food with meat or more complicated things, but then again, he also really likes it when you make really simple things, like pasta or pizza, for example.

She says that it is because "you do it with love" and it is partly true, that you put so much effort into the preparation makes it much more special and she appreciates it a lot.

but in general I think she doesn't usually give you negative comments.

I mean, if you happen to screw up some food and it tastes REALLY bad, you know it just by looking at her face, even so she will never give you a "bad" word so to speak, she use very sweet constructive criticism and still assure you that you did a good job.

and you can also guarantee that if there is a particular food that she likes, she will pay you to make a couple of reservations for her ;) she can't help it! She loves how you cook!

If someone tries to criticize you in a non-constructive way and is simply Bullying you, she will directly kick their ass and deal with the consequences then why would someone be mean to a little sun like you? It doesn't make sense to her.

In general, a friend who supports you financially, emotionally and psychologically is always willing to give you a hand in the kitchen.

That's right, don't let her cook☠️ she may hace good intentions but she'll burn everything.

Mako

OMFG he LOVES THE FOOD YOU MAKE FOR HIM.

Now, let's get a little sentimental.

Mako and Bolin growing up on the streets probably never really had much to eat, not to mention they probably didn't eat every day.

especially Mako, I imagine that he probably even gave what little they had to eat to Bolin.

It's a habit for him.

So when he meets you and you give him a taste of your food, for FREE, he thinks you're too good to be true.

but he appreciates it very much.

but seeing how much his opinion matters to you. warms his heart.

For the same reason you could feed him the most disgusting thing you could cook and he would eat it like a big child.

He will tell you the truth, but he doesn't leave a crumb.

For the same reason, I have two possible versions of how the two of you met and became close friends.

One, the one I like the most, is that probably when you were younger and trying to cook on your own, Mako and Bolin tried to steal your food, failing miserably.

But from then on you started leaving food scraps on your window for them to grab so they wouldn't die of hunger.

Thanks to this little by little they began to interact more and even began to help you to apply seriously in the kitchen!

and the other possibility is that he knew you thanks to Pro-control, being the one who will be in charge of the food at the events.

In this scenario at first he would be colder but eventually either because of Bolin or because of your adorable personality, you end up liking him.

other than that he can see that you can't swing a fly, and that you're REALLY passionate about your job, so he respects you a lot for that.

We all know that Mako is more of a tough guy or expresses that he cares through actions, so he shows that he cares by showing interest in your hobby and helping you as much as he can.

But when he already has a stable job and can give you a hand.

When something specific goes wrong, he tries to cheer you up in an unconventional way, such as telling you something about his work to distract you a little or even inviting you something to eat to de-stress.

Maybe even Mako himself has learned to cook from you, of course, he is not at the same level but when you are very stressed or tired he has your back.

and when you manage to do what you want, he sincerely congratulates you, he knows that you deserve it after all.

Similar to his other friends and Bolin, Mako is quite protective of you, especially if you can't control any elements.

It's like the dynamic of "Sunshine + Sunshine protector" basically.

It also tries to help you accept criticism well, which is necessary to improve after all.

Although of course, if there is someone who is telling you shit just because and without really wanting to help you, give them the names, they will not tolerate it.

In general, he is a friend who is a bit rude but who defends you, appreciates you and supports you in your tastes, hobbies and career. regardless of how You two met.

He knows that you are as good a person as you cook well, and you are a VERY good cook ;)

Bolin

Again, HE LOVES THE FOOD YOU MAKE FOR HIM.

Bolin, similarly to Mako, has two possibilities for how he met you.

one more painful than the other.

the first, in which he knew you for trying to steal something from your leftovers when he was little, in itself, living on the streets of a republic city is not nice.

but at least you took pity on him and started leaving him leftovers. which left him EXTRACTED because (according to him) YOU COOKED AMAZING. even if at that time you were just practicing.

Even if you try to tell him that he was probably just saying that because it was his first meal in god knows how long, he still thinks the same thing.

and the second way, unlike his brother, is that he simply found you working somewhere he likes.

Maybe even with his amorous nature, at first he had a crush on you, but over time he realized that it wasn't what he really felt.

In general he is your personal cheerleader.

No matter how many times you fail to make a particular meal, Bolin eats it like his life depends on it. unlike Mako, he doesn't have the heart to say anything even remotely critical of your food :,)

He's also the kind of friend who constantly gives you ideas for new recipes. some good, some not so good, and some quite extravagant.

ex: some dessert based on Pabu.

It breaks Bolin's heart to see you sad when you don't get a particular recipe, but he will immediately move on to a session of giving you compliments and reminding you how you made other recipes to motivate you.

I can definitely see him recommending you to the important people he hung out with when he worked with Varrik, both to do you a favor and to be able to see you in those moments when Mako couldn't pay attention to him.

Bolin's favorite food is definitely desserts. cakes, cupcakes, pies, candies, anything that is sugary.

and if you get to practice making animal food (like for Pabu) Bolin is OVER THE MOON.

I can see Bolin trying to learn cooking things with you, both to spend time together and to be more independent, to help Mako out.

Apart from that, he would have the opportunity to try more of your food :D but he makes a great effort to listen to your advice and follow the instructions you leave him.

The results are quite promising! along with Mako, he is the best cook of the group (hc personal).

Similarly to Asami, he seeks advice from you when he feels left out of the group and doesn't know what to do.

Normally you prepare something hot for him so he doesn't feel so bad. It would probably be his second favorite food of yours, hot soups. In general they remind him of you, a warm and comforting presence.

Bolin is more passive when it comes to criticism and when it is constructive he makes sure to remember it and even writes it down so as not to forget it and thus apply it in his own attempts.

but eventually you can better distinguish between constructive and destructive criticism.

and when someone like that shows up, no matter how strange it may seem, they usually just ignore it. He wants to believe that he is better than them after all...

...only to launch Pabu on the attack in defense of your honor. Although well, didn't you see it coming?

He is generally a very sweet friend, he does not distinguish in social class or how or how long the two of you have known each other. He is convinced that you have genuine talent for cooking.

and he is very willing to show you that you have that talent and support you through everything.

Conclusion: They all love your food but they love the person behind that food more and how you support them in difficult times :,)

Shares, reblogs, and comments are very welcome!

Thank you very much for this Request ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[drdemonprince]

this will sound like one of those "let men be masculine" level niche internet community brained posts, but i honestly really was embarrassed of how much i like drag for a while. in the circles that i run in, liking drag too much is seen as pretty cringey and for wealthy cis gays. like everybody knows a few cool avante garde local performers that they fuck with who run queer dance parties that are inclusive and the like, but very few people that i know will just go to a drag show at an entertainment or social engagement for their own sake. it's almost seen as a tourist thing, a normie gay thing.

but its one of the few spaces where i can actually recognize a lot of feminine men and nonbinary man-thing-girly-freaks like of the particular type that i am. leather bars are so masc and buff and im often invisible. bear bars are really nice and i do feel welcome there! but people are only feminine in their mannerisms, not presentation very often. the more explicitly gender inclusive trans/queer spaces cater to more of a wlw and adjacent crowd whose relationships to masculinity and femininity are different from mine. circuit gay bars are obviously terrible.

drag is nice. there's guys with weird little haircuts and long earrings who aren't buff and are swishy and dress interestingly but are a little uncomfortable as their regular selves and have to don alternate personas in order to be outgoing. and i even like that it's okay to be bitchy and insulting sometimes in drag world, like sometimes that is just your genuine feedback on the work someone has done and it's not the end of the world. there's lot of open conflict in the drag world that actually works out pretty alright.

it's a local nightlife scene like all the rest, its got its theater kid bullshit and egos and superficiality out the ass and so many people are trying to be famous or make money, but even to this day i forget that i can just be a really weird feminine guy until i'm around some of them and watching them prance about. i worry about how i look or am being read and then even just watching a fucking drag race episode i'll see like 9 different guys who are so fucking androgynous with their weird assymetrical self cut haircuts that they pass less than i do and they're cis men. they have bodies or faces like i do. and in the local scene it's obviously even better because you're looking at real life people. maybe i should be over it by now but im not, i need to see weird little awkward feminine guys with funny outfits playing dress up and crying and fighting with one another because they never got over their last picked in gym class baggage. its meeee i relateee. i even like that its a little toxic! we've got some issues out here, let's joke with them and make a character of them instead of pretending to be nice!!

i tend to be pretty skeptical of "representation matters!" type shit but part of that is probably because i never really feel represented. i know, boo hoo, thin white man doesnt feel depicted on screen, sounds very silly. but then i see kade gottmik on drag race and i swell with emotion and suddenly feel like who i am is POSSIBLE in this world and i realize that even with all my privileges i am starved for representation and that it does benefit you to have it. theres trans guys on screen but thats not close enough to ping that ooh!!! ahh!!! i can love myself!! radar for me. it has to be a very particular kinda person. matt bernstein makes me feel similarly

[readyplayerhobi]

Knife's Edge | Epilogue

; Mafia!Jungkook x Reader, Jimin x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, mild angst

; Word Count: 3.6k

; Synopsis: The Jeon Clan is Family, built on blood and loyalty. It’s been an  unspoken fact that one day you will marry the heir to the Clan, Jeon Jungkook. You would be a fool to deny that you love him, but what happens when you meet a blue haired man who offers you a chance at normality?

; A/N: Recent interest in this series again has inspired me to finally write an epilogue - it's just fluffy nonsense, honestly. But I hope you enjoy it either way! Thank you for all the love on this series!

Previous Chapter

-

Five Years Later

Humming quietly, you carefully take the baby foxglove out of its pot and place it into the hole you've dug. The dirt is soft and malleable - not too hard to dig, but not borderline mud, either. The plant looks tiny compared to some of the giants surrounding it, but you know this little one will grow taller than them all.

It might not be much now, but in a few months, it will be a few feet high and blossoming with delicate purple blossoms, the petals sighing down to the ground. Beautiful flowers that will hide a dark secret - foxgloves are as deadly as they are pretty.

That wasn't why you were planting it, though. You just thought they were pretty, the reason why you'd planted everything in the extensive garden of your home. The mansion Jungkook lived in, and now you, was huge and the gardens were equally so.

Neither of his parents had ever cared what the gardens looked like, so they'd just hired landscapers and gardeners to care for it. But when you'd married Jungkook and officially moved in, you'd asked if you could take over the garden beds. It was a new passion you'd discovered over the months leading up to your wedding - hours spent knelt in the dirt in between your classes and exams.

Unlike people, plants weren't judging. They didn't care what you'd done, or what you thought and they had no opinions of you. They just existed, and they were happy to get the attention.

It probably wasn't too healthy, but you'd used the plants as therapy. Hours upon hours had been spent with you whispering all your secrets to them, your hopes and dreams and fears and regrets being woven into their leaves as they grew. A real therapist would've been more helpful, but what kind of therapist would be able to help someone like you?

They'd have to be Clan approved, which in turn would mean you couldn't possibly tell them what you really thought. No one knew why Jungkook and you had suddenly had a rift so deep that he'd refused to see you for weeks. And everyone knew that something bad had happened - Jungkook was, and still is, infamous in the Clan for his weak spot for you.

Anything you told a therapist would be spread throughout the Clan like wildfire, the winds of gossip spreading the fires of rumour faster and higher than you could hope to outrun. The whole Clan would know that you'd cheated on Jungkook, that you'd betrayed him in the worst way a woman could in the Clan. On top of that, everyone would know that Jungkook had overlooked it - that he'd opted to forgive you for your transgression and love you still.

You'd be vilified for being unfaithful, and he'd lose all respect from the Clan he now ruled. 

No, you couldn't tell anyone what had happened. A secret you would take to your grave, with only 3 people aware of it outside of yourself. And none of them had any interest in it getting out.

Still, you hadn't wanted the ghost of unsaid anger and resentment haunting your relationship, so you'd done a lot of research into therapy. It’s not as good as going to an actual, qualified therapist, but it's better than nothing. Plus, you can only imagine the judgment if people find out Jungkook had been attending therapy - the backwards views of the Clan would have them screaming that he wasn't fit to lead if he was going to therapy of all things.

So you watched videos and you read things, until you had a basic understanding of how to navigate things. Jungkook and you talked things out instead of keeping secrets, you let him know if you were feeling lonely or sad and he let you know if he was feeling overwhelmed or unhappy. Some things you'd improvised yourself, all in the name of making sure you both communicated.

If there was an argument, then you would both write down why you were angry on a piece of paper and then let the other read it. Jungkook had thought this was silly at first, but getting out his stress and anger on paper instead of shouting it let him think through what he was annoyed over. Most of the time, you both discovered that you weren't angry at the other, but at something else and it had simply bubbled up.

Just last year, you'd both had an argument with you snapping at Jungkook for not taking his laundry upstairs. He'd snapped back, pointing out that he'd been busy all day and the laundry was the least of his worries. Cue a ten-minute argument before Jungkook grabbed a notepad, ripped out two pages and handed you a pen. The two of you had scribbled furiously, brows creased in concentration and jaws tight with frustration.

What had started with you being annoyed at him for not taking his laundry, after asking him many times, was revealed to be that you were feeling lonely in the big house on your own. He'd been busy, true, which meant he'd barely been home for a month and when he had been home, he'd been either asleep or locked in his office. Whilst you'd been able to graduate college and take a job as a teacher - much to the shock and horror of pretty much everyone in the Clan - it had summer vacation. You'd had no work to do during the time off.

As unhealthy as it was, he was still your only friend in the Clan - other women steered clear of you after the Incident - and you'd been desperately lonely and sad. You’d had casual friends - acquaintances from work and a few elderly folks from the gardening club you'd joined, but no one you could be open and honest with. You'd wanted your husband, your best friend.

Ironically, Jungkook had been irritated by his work just like he'd said. But when he drove down into it, he was annoyed that the busiest period had occurred at the same time you were off work. He'd wanted to spend time with you, maybe even go on vacation, yet he'd barely seen you. Add on his irritation at idiotic people in the Clan putting people's lives in danger and he'd been a powder keg of annoyance.

Understandably, you'd both apologised once you'd figured out why the argument had happened. Though Jungkook had felt terrible that you'd been so sad - he'd never quite forgiven himself or the Clan for isolating you, even if it had been warranted at the time.

Patting down the soil around the plant until it's fully compacted, you hum lightly before brushing your hands together. Dirt falls to the floor from the gloves and you sit up, stretching your back with a wince and a groan. As much as you love being in the garden, your back certainly doesn't.

Standing, you grab the empty plant pots and begin to tidy up after yourself. It's meant to rain later tonight, so you don't bother watering the new plants.

Before you even get to the door that leads to the kitchen, you hear the low tones of Jungkook's voice from inside. He's home early, you think, you check the time on your phone before washing your hands in the sink.

“Here's mommy!” He coos, and you turn to see him holding your four-month-old daughter in his arms, her back to his chest. Jungkook grins at you over the top of her head, his hair perfectly gelled into place as dimples dot his tan skin.

He hadn't even bothered changing yet, still in his crisp all-black suit that he'd left in this morning. The only thing he was missing was his shoes - instead, he was just wearing black socks.

Hana squeals with excitement as she recognises you, chubby legs kicking out as her arms windmill and your heart swell with love and adoration for her. For him, too. A few years ago, you'd thought this would all be an impossible dream - yet here you are, married to him and with the perfect little girl.

“Hey, beanie! You being good for daddy?” Leaning forward, you tickle her sides and smile in delight as she wriggles in Jungkook's arms. She's such a perfect baby and has been adored by Jungkook and you since you'd seen the two pink lines in the pregnancy test. Life without her was an impossible thought, and the whole Clan knew that Hana was more important to Jungkook than anything in the Clan. He didn't care if the idea of him being a loving parent shocked some of them, if anything he believed that there were people in the Clan who needed to see what an actual parent should be.

The only thing that concerned you was Jungkook's love for Hana and you were also well known to other Clans. A deep-rooted fear was that one of them would try to attack him through Hana, despite the high levels of protection he put in place. It was something that the two of you could only attempt to mitigate, as there was no way to completely cut off the threat. Even turning whistle-blower to the government wouldn't guarantee protection.

But Jungkook did what he could. You both at least had the relief of knowing that Hana, and yourself, were safe from the rival Clan in your city. Jimin had taken over a few years ago, and even though your friendship was much more sporadic than it had been, he'd made it clear that no one was to hurt you or Hana for fear of a war breaking out.

That was his excuse, but you knew he just didn't want you or your baby girl hurt. Whilst Jungkook wasn't exactly thrilled that you were still friends with Jimin in some way, he'd been grateful to find out that Jimin had given you friendship and comfort when the whole Clan had turned against you. He was even more grateful to find out the protection that Jimin had bestowed, and if it wouldn't have caused issues with both sides then he would have let you introduce Jimin to Hana.

No one could ever say Jungkook wasn't a reasonable person. If anything, he was too reasonable when it came to you, but he'd put aside his dislike of Jimin because he'd been the only person there for you in your darkest days.

“I'm guessing you turned off the monitor, as mine didn't go off.” You ask Jungkook, gesturing to the baby monitor attached to your belt. He liked to surprise you with her, and there was nothing more you loved than seeing your big, tough husband holding his tiny baby girl. You didn't understand the logic of it, but it made you want to do things that could not be spoken aloud around Hana.

“Yeah, she was just starting to wake so I thought I'd take her instead of bothering you. You seemed pretty happy in the garden.” He replies, kissing Hana’s dark hair fondly.

No matter what the Clan thought of you, there could be no denying that Hana was Jungkook's daughter. She'd inherited his eyes, from their shape to the way they seemed to shine at nothing. The two of them next to each other made the family resemblance even stronger.

You'd made some terrible decisions in your life, but you liked to think Hana made up for them. She sure made Jungkook happier than he'd ever been, which was more than enough for you.

Leaning forward, you kiss Hana’s forehead and cherish the squeal of delight she gives at the affection. She adores her mommy and daddy - you won't accept anyone’s comments that she's a baby and they all love their parents that much. Hana, of course, is special.

“Someone's had a good nap, haven't you? You get it from your daddy, he sleeps like a log, too.” Smiling, you tickle her stomach around Jungkook's arms and enjoy the sharp peals of laughter she gives. Pregnancy hadn't been fun, and there were nights when you questioned why you'd done this, but it all went away when you heard that laughter.

“The sleep genes are strong in the Jeon's.” Jungkook laughs, leaning past Hana to press a kiss to your lips. He's not wearing his lip ring, or his earrings, as Hana had a habit of grabbing them and not letting go. Jungkook might be the head of an entire Clan that does plenty of shady shit, but he whined like a baby himself when Hana was tugging on those rings and you were constantly afraid she was going to accidentally rip them from him.

You missed them, but he put them back in for date nights or when he was going to his job. Miss Hana would have to wait till she was older to get to see daddy with his piercings again.

You're distracted away from that thought process by the way Hana starts making familiar noises, her tiny body bouncing in Jungkook's arms whilst her eyes are focused firmly on your chest.

“Okay, looks like someone is hungry.” You say, reaching out and taking Hana into your arms. She almost immediately starts nuzzling, trying to root out her source of food and makes some cranky noises when your top prevents her from reaching her goal. It’s a familiar process by now, and you take comfort in it as you head through to the living room - despite the house becoming Jungkook’s after he took over for his father, the two of you only use half of it, with the other half still housing his parents.

You’d had no interest in kicking them out of their home, especially as you thought this house was ridiculously large anyway. So, instead, Jungkook renovated the mansion until it was technically two houses in one with an office section in the centre for Clan business. It gave you the privacy you needed, without taking away from the prestige it gave to Jungkook. You didn’t have to worry about Clan business being brought into your personal space, as there was no way to access your side from the offices.

The living room was still an obscene size, but you’d chosen an equally large sofa to take up most of the space. It was somewhere that Jungkook and you enjoyed laying on to relax after a long day, and Jungkook had installed a screen projector instead of a TV. Hana was going to love this room when she was older, and you could already see the fights between her and Jungkook when they wanted to watch something in particular.

“Hang on, lemme just sort this-” Jungkook mutters as he moves past you, heading over to where the corner of the sofa intersects with the other part and patting the cushions into place. He was the master at creating a snuggle zone for you with enough support that nursing Hana didn’t cause any backache, but today you wanted to enjoy the fact he was here with you.

“Can you sit with us? Or let me lean on you?” You ask, bouncing Hana lightly as you try to distract her enough until he’s done. She’s getting impatient though, and the soft whining sounds are starting to turn a little more upset. Another few minutes and she’ll start crying.

Jungkook pauses, looking up at you with raised brows before smiling. He doesn’t even try to hide the happiness that takes over, and your heart skips a little at the pure joy and love radiating from him.

“Yeah, gimme a sec.” He says, rearranging the cushions so it’s comfy for two to sit in before quickly taking off his jacket. It’s thrown onto the sofa without a second glance, and you take a moment to wince at the elegant fabric - it’s going to crease and you know for a fact that jacket is worth a few grand. But he’s never cared about stuff like that, and you need Hana fed sooner rather than later so you don’t mention it.

“Okay, come on princess, let’s get our little bean fed.” Standing back for a second, Jungkook grins at you happily as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms, revealing the ink on them that is a colourful contrast to the rest of him. He sits down and holds out an arm, which you happily sink into before readjusting until you’re comfortable enough to sit for a while.

Hana’s face creases and the first sounds of that heartbreaking cry start to leave her. Hurriedly, you coo to her as you lift your shirt and pull your nursing bra down slightly. There’s a brief moment where you’re worried she’s going to start screaming, but her mouth latches onto your nipple and almost immediately she settles as she begins to feed heartily.

Letting out a deep breath, you let your head roll back onto Jungkook’s shoulder before smiling at him.

“Crisis averted.” You laugh, wincing ever so slightly as Hana suckles a little too painfully. Jungkook smiles at you and looks down at his little girl, his smile turning so soft. Being around Hana is always so soothing to him, even when she’s screaming with tears flowing because she’s the complete opposite of his job as the head of the Clan. She’s peace and joy and happiness and love whereas his job is often anger and frustration and violence.

He’s made it clear to you that Hana will get to do whatever she wants when she grows up. If she wants to go to college, she can or if she wants to join the Clan, then she can. Jungkook refuses to let her gender hold her back, and even though he doesn’t want her involved in the dark side of his life, he’s going to let her decide. If she wants to walk away from the Clan forever, then he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she’ll live a safe life. There’s going to be those in the Clan who will bristle at these decisions he’s making, but he’s already told you that he doesn’t care. His daughter and her happiness are more important than anything else, and you’ll support him 100%.

Sighing quietly, you let yourself relax and just watch Hana as she feeds. Her life is so uncomplicated right now, and she’s got so much to look forward to as she grows.

“Are you happy?” You ask Jungkook, not even realising you were thinking the words until they’ve left your mouth. There’s a moment of silence as Jungkook processes what you’ve said, and you feel him tense ever so slightly.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” The tension in him is from confusion more than anything else, and you let out a soft sigh before shifting until the back of your head is resting in the crook of his neck. Of course, he’s happy, why wouldn’t he be? But deep down inside, you know that you’ve never forgiven yourself for what you did, and there’s a part of you that’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The small part of you that’s terrified you’ll make a mistake one day and Jungkook will throw you out again, only this time keeping your daughter. It’s ridiculous, and you know that he’d never do it, but you’ve never been able to get rid of that tiny voice that says dark things to you in the back of your mind.

“Ignore me, seriously, ignore me - I’m happy and I know you’re happy. I love you. Hana is perfect, and I love her so much. She’s the best present you’ve ever given me. I dunno, I’m just tired and taking crap.” Letting out a huff of laughter, you inhale deeply and let it out in a slow motion. You’re not lying, you are tired lately and still hormonal. A four-month-old baby who relies on you to feed her means that you’re exhausted, and you’re already feeling your body start to shut down as you sit comfortably in the arms of your husband with the warm weight of your baby against you.

Jungkook presses his lips to your temple, letting them rest there for a moment.

“One day, you’ll finally believe me when I say I forgive you. But I’ll say it again - I forgive you, and I love you, and I don’t want to spend a day of my life without you. If I died tomorrow, then I’d die happy knowing I got the chance to love you and Hana. So yes, I’m happy and I’ve been happy and I’ll be happy. Please, stop beating yourself up for it.” He kisses your head again, and you’re too tired and hormonal to be hearing his words rationally. 

You start to cry, your chest heaving in a way that makes Hana grumble at being jostled but the thought of him being gone makes your heart ache so painfully. 

“Please don’t die, please.” Your plea makes him laugh quietly, and he wraps his arm around your front, just above where Hana is, and hugs you.

“Okay, okay, those were the wrong words to say when you’re nursing. My bad, forget I said it. I’m not gonna die, okay? Just…focus on that I love you. I love you, princess. Always have, always will.” Tears falling down your face, you tilt your head up until you’re able to kiss him. It’s nothing vulgar or intense, but the depth of emotions in that small kiss makes you feel so much.

“I love you, too. And Hana, I love her so much.”

[fourmoony]

How about James teaching his crush!reader how to ride a broomstick because he wants to help overcome her fear of heights? (he’s so in love, he’ll do anything for her)

thank you sm for requesting lovely!! hope you enjoy :)

1.4k reader x jamie fluff

masterlist

James is standing a few short paces from you, an encouraging smile on his face, arms outstretched and urging you forwards.

It's not helping.

He's trying. Bless him, he's trying. But it's not helping. Your hands are shaking and your legs feel like jelly as you stand with his broom between your legs and what you hope is a determined look on your face. You really couldn't stand if he knew just how nervous you actually are. What you're supposed to do is hover mere centimetres off the ground and fly the incredibly short distance towards him, but what you feel like doing is abandoning all hope, calling it a day, and high tailing it back to the castle.

It's ironic, really, these feelings you have for a boy who is so well versed in flying and yet, the mere idea of sitting on a broom makes you nauseous. Sure, there's more to James than flying. He's kind and thoughtful, he's so pretty it almost hurts to look at, and while he can be arrogant and crass sometimes, he's got a heart of gold, and is probably one of the most genuine people you've ever met. You don't know many people who would give up their afternoon in Hogsmeade to help you overcome a silly fear like flying. But ultimately, he's Hogwarts' elected Quidditch King and the idea of letting him down feels utterly overwhelming. You know he won't care either way - he's James, after all - but you care.

He always makes such an effort with your interests, reading, drawing, he even spends time with you in the green houses on a Wednesday night as you tend to the abnormal plants he knows nothing about, other than that you've singlehandedly brought most of them back from the brink of death on sheer determination and care.

The fear claws at your throat like a dull ache, your heart hammering against your rib cage. But James is there, kind eyes and encouraging words, and you feel like maybe this will be possible.

James urges you forward gently, encouragingly, a kind smile on his lips that makes you believe you might actually be capable. With a shaky breath, you go over the rehearsed check list in your head; hands tight, legs firm, kick off, lean forward, breathe normal.

The broom seems to lift off on its own accord - James' own broom is better than the Hogwarts assigned brooms - and it carries you safely, albeit a little quickly to James. He's there, like he said he would be, holding you by the shoulders and bringing the broom to a halt. He's smiling something breathtaking and it makes you smile, too, despite the fact that your tiptoes are barely touching the ground.

"Told you you could do it." His voice is filled with affection, sweet like honey and it warms your chest.

He's so lovely. It's dizzying, almost.

"I think I might be sick." You tell him honestly.

He chuckles. Not at you, never at you, but at your delivery, your shaky legs as he helps you back onto solid ground. It'd taken you an hour to even sit on the broom and James knows you've probably missed lunch, by now. He looks to the sky, head tilted up so you can see the planes of his throat more clearly. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, assessing the grey storm clouds rolling towards the pitch. He frowns, and you do, too. The approaching storm means your time together is over.

"How about this time, I fly, you hold on?" James suggests, desperate to find a way to keep you close to him, "That way you can get used to the height without worrying about being in control of the broom."

His hand is on your shoulder, thumb brushing the juncture of your neck and it's really hard to be worried about your fear of falling to your death via Nimbus 2000 when James is touching you so softly, so affectionately. It steals the breath from your lungs, imaginary birds swirling around the crown of your head like some sort of cartoon. All you can do is stare dazedly at him, lips parted.

Surely he knows how he affects you. Surely he's put the pieces together. Everyone knows you hate flying, you've never had any willingness to learn. Even the flight lesson professor had dismissed you from any and all classes, tired of having the same argument every week. James must know there's a reason you've agreed to such an activity on a random Saturday in November.

His eyes are full of warmth as he looks down at you, lips upturned just slightly as he pulls his broom from between your fingers with his free hand. His thumb presses your pulse point as a reminder to his question, eyes full of something you can't read, and you find yourself nodding. The opportunity to hold onto James, to place your head on his shoulder and your arms around his waist, to smell the bergamot sweet cologne he's wearing up close, it's all too tempting, and you find yourself agreeing, climbing onto the back of his broom.

"Hold on, love, okay? I promise you're safe, but we can stop at any time." James mumbles, his right hand warm and soft as he squeezes at yours placed firmly over his stomach.

He's toned through his woollen jumper, and that's just something you don't want to think about too hard.

James kicks off softly, at first, flying in slow circles around the pitch and slowly increasing his height each time. He talks you through it all, voice soft and comforting, but assuring in your safety. You've never felt so safe on a broom before. Maybe it's James, maybe it's just that he's such a steady flier. Maybe it's the way he's steering with one hand, the other laced through one of yours, firm and strong, keeping you tethered to him.

The wind is biting and cold, so you hide your face in the planes of his back against soft wool and breathe him in. It's comforting, warming, it makes you smile.

You refuse to look down, still, refuse to move an inch, refuse to actually pay attention as James explains how leaning one way or the other is beneficial, how leaning forwards and backwards isn't always the best way to control speed. His voice drones on in your ear as you become engulfed by him, feeling safe and in control, even fifty feet in the air. You know James will stop whenever you ask, so when the wind becomes too much, your cheeks and nose sufficiently numb, and the broom begins to jump like airplane turbulence because of the wind, you do ask.

Your legs feel wobbly back on solid ground, but James' hands on your waist are steadying. His face is bright with happiness, fond with pride. It makes your heart swell and your cheeks flush a deeper crimson.

"Thank you," You whisper, fingers toying with the hem of his jumper, "For keeping me safe."

James' smile grows impossibly wider, impossibly fonder, "Always, lovie."

You groan at the pet name, one he knows makes you flushed and embarrassed.

"Thanks for pretending to be interested in learning to fly just to appease me." James' voice is cheeky, his hands squeezing teasingly at your waist and you guffaw.

"I wasn't pretending!"

"Please," James rolls his eyes in amusement, "We both know the only reason you got on that broom is because I was looking at you like I wanted to kiss you and it was distracting."

So he does know. James is always flirty, always very bold and confident where you lack in that department. It's fine, in his eyes, he can flirt enough for the both of you.

"And did you?" You ask, channelling the final dregs of braveness in you for today.

James laughs, surprised by your boldness, "I did."

"So do it."

And he does. It's soft and sweet and everything you never imagined kissing James Potter would be. Sure, he's a kind boy, gentle with you always, but he's a massive flirt, and you'd always assumed he'd kiss like one. But this is better. So much better.

He pulls you close, a hand on your jaw and his lips moving in slow, languid kisses, breath warm as it fans over your face. He tastes like Sirius' mint lip balm concoction - the sure fire way to make sure my Moons always wants a snog - and coffee from breakfast. He's strong and firm as he stands there, allowing you to lean into him fully.

The kiss only lasts a handful of seconds, but it leaves you short of breath, your cheeks appled out from the sheer force of your smile.

"So," James speaks softly, tucking a fallen piece of hair behind your ear, "Flying, have I changed your mind?"

You laugh, leaning further into his sturdy chest, "If you kiss me like that every time I get off a broom then yes, Jamie, you've changed my mind."

[thestarstoasun]

Some of my PJO ships & why

Percabeth (Percy/Annabeth - They invented love)

Ruegard (Clarisse/Silena - THE LAST OLYMPIAN, THE PARALLELS, PLS)

Clarisse/Chris (*I do not know their ship name, my bad - The Labyrinth, need I say more?)

Silena/Beckendorf (*Idk if they ever had an official ship name - They were so tragic)

Clarisse/Beckendorf/Silena/Chris (Polycule, bc multishipper really)

Jake Mason/Michael Yew (I have a thousand reasons and I don't think any are canon)

Conchell (Connor/Mitchell - THE FANFICS PLS, but some of them need to remember these are minors pls)

Connor x Malcolm Pace (I saw really cute ship art 1 time and I was sold)

Connor/Mitchell/Malcolm (I think they'd be really cute together and I don't care if it's impractical)

Luke/Lee Fletcher (Lukelee - Honestly, its more of a crack ship for me, but some people on Tumblr have me considering how much)

Luke/Ethan Nakamura (Lukethan - I can't be alone in this, pls)

Theyna (Thalia/Reyna - They would make an awesome QPR, and I thought this even before Reyna was revealed to be aroace. They flirt endlessly if only to enjoy the confused looks on their friends faces)

Tratie (Travis/Katie Gardner - Is there anyone who read the books in the 2010s when the fandom was like super big that doesn't ship them? It's big now, but like, still.)

Tyson/Ella (They deserve the world)

Solangelo (Nico/Will - Tbf, I shipped them since The Last Olympian AS A CRACK SHIP, but A WIN IS A WIN)

Grover/Juniper (Just yes)

Sally/Paul (The King that our Queen Sally Jackson deserves)

Shelper (Shel/Piper - The plot twist I didn't know I needed)

Valgrace (Leo/Jason - When I read The Lost Hero, I just thought "these two idiots could definitely work well together.")

Jasper (Jason/Piper - It isn't my favorite, but I think they're cute together. I hate that their relationship was built on the Gods interference, because neither of them deserved that. I would probably like it more if it didn't start because of Hera.)

Ethabaster (Ethan Nakamura/Alabaster Torrington - The fandom is the reason I ship them mainly tbh. I ship Ethan with Luke more, but Ethan honestly deserves better)

Jercy (Jason/Percy - I have read a single Jercy fanfiction and its kind of growing on me)

Cecil/Lou Ellen (They are literally the idiots in love that annoy Will until he gets with Nico {personal hc}, Love them)

Sherman/Miranda (I didn't think I would like this as much as I do, but its in so many fics I've read I'm low-key a little attached. Like, yeah Sherman show off, get your girl)

Damien/Chiara (I couldn't see them with anyone else tbh, but honestly could possibly change that one day, they will always hold my heart as #1 together though)

Frazel (Frank/Hazel - They are one of the sweetest pairings in the series)

Jason/Percy/Annabeth/Piper (Yes, another poly ship. I've seen this in a few fics and honestly, I think the way its written has grown on me.)

Castor/Will (Literally, because of a single fanfic. They were probably each other's first crushes and didn't even know it)

[theabigailthorn]

Hey Abigail, I don't know if you'll see this, but I just wanted to say it. You were not out when I started questioning my own identity, and honestly you came out online only a month or two after I finally started to admit to myself that something was off (transgirl - honestly even now I still have a hard time admitting it in any real way on or offline; slowly been getting better at it, found a few friends who accept me online), and it took me so long to admit that. I just wanted to say and ask you one thing each. Question first - How did you admit it internally? Like, I guess I mean... ugh brain why don't you work? Let me start over; I, personally, doubt every little thing I think and feel... I gaslight myself, and I have no real idea how to stop. I just wanted to ask if you had anything like that happen when you questioned, and if you did, if you have any advice on how to stop? Sorry if this is too personal a question btw, I understand if you don't answer for that reason. But yeah. Now what I wanted to say... thank you for being here. For being a voice I can look up to, and for just... being you. It's nice to see someone like me being their real self and being proud and everything... so, yeah, thank you. Thanks for reading if you have, sorry its so long, I tend to ramble, as you could probably guess.

Sounds like the question you're grappling with is "What if I'm incorrect?" which is one I considered briefly after I came out to myself. I knew intellectually that people can have strong feelings about things that turn out to be incorrect, so I thought it would be worth weighing that possibility even though emotionally I had no doubt at all. I asked a trans friend of mine about it (Mia Mulder, as it happens!) and she gave me some very good advice - who cares if you're incorrect if you're happier and better this way? If you're incorrect you can detransition: no harm or shame in trying something out for a few years or even longer and then going, "You know what, this isn't it." Do you want it and are you happy?

"I'd rather have a good time by accident than a bad time on purpose" she said

[genderkoolaid]

hi! your blog's been encouraging to me as a trans guy, but i've recently felt that i should no longer call myself that/should just "go back to" being a girl, and idk if my train of thought makes any sense...so i just wanted to ask someone w more experience (but feel free to ignore this rant/call me out if im not making sense btw)

so yeah, my cousin's been out to me as a (binary) trans man for a few years now, and in trying to find understanding, i came out to him a few months later, but got a very flat/kinda disgusted reaction. despite my consistent support for him over the years, he has continued to "joke" about my looks/short hair and dismisses any attempts at serious conversations or even just jokes about gender/being a guy too. he also calls me things ive told him makes me uncomfortable (gender-wise) and then acts like it means nothing. he generally brushes me off by telling me to stop trying to compare myself to him, and is either prickly about it or just in-your-face "idgaf what you're talking about and i'm tired of you." it barely hurts me anymore, but ive felt connected to trans-ness for so many years (longer than id even known he was too) and his reaction to this part of me has honestly made me wonder if i'm just making it up/am trying too hard or something,,,like maybe i'm just trying to cover for being a gross 20-somethings woman ?? idk ?

i'm probably just being over-sensitive, and i dont feel it's outright malicious or anything (maybe he just doesn't think/care about it as much as me?), but i have nobody else to ask (no irl friends/people im out to) and i'm currently renting/living with him, which has brought these worries to the forefront. thanks if youve read this far, but please don't feel pressured to respond!

Your cousin sounds like he has a lot of internalized transphobia he's directing at you. Unfortunately there are trans people who try to prop themselves up and make themselves feel more confident in their transness by tearing down others. You are not being over-sensitive, and regardless of what he thinks he's doing, he's actively being cruel to you. You are well within your rights to be hurt by his actions. Living with someone who is constantly being transphobic to you is traumatizing- detransitioning can be a coping method for those who have to constantly defend themselves from transphobic abuse.

If its possible, I would recommend trying to see if there are any queer orgs in your area you could connect with (physically or online). At the least, you may find some people who can give you emotional support, and they also may be able to find you a better living situation. Even if that's not possible right now, keep reminding yourself that his behavior is cruel and you are allowed to be upset about it. You do not need to take any of his opinions on your gender seriously. You are not making up your transness or trying too hard. You are not over-sensitive, you are being hurt.

[nevertheless-moving]

stormlight au number 35 (help me i'm lost in the sauce)

Jasnah, Dalinar, and Renarin (surviving Kholin Radiants) travel from End of World all the way to right after Gavilar's death.

Vengeance pact still happens, but plays out very differently. We don't need absolutely every man in the kingdom to join the army, alright Elhokar? And we're making sure Dalinar is there to accept their surrender, actually win in reasonable time frame and 'conquer' them (no Alethi want to live out there anyway, and as long as they send gemhearts in tribute we won't enslave them. actually elhokar, your sister wanted to talk to you about slavery—).

Honestly, just an excuse for:

A) Adolin to have a breakdown that his entire family has been replaced by voidbringers, before eventually accepting with relief that they're still his family, they've just become voidbringers, but its ok because he loves them and will protect their increasingly heretical actions with his life. Hugs his glowing red and green eyed little brother a lot.

Adolin: do I — should I also learn to read?

Jasnah: do you want to?

Adolin: not really, no.

Renarin: to be honest, it's probably for the best if you just focus on being, well, a good Vorin Alethi. One of us probably should be, if we don't have a desolation as a distraction.

Adolin: ok! sure! I can do that. Also thought id mention that if possible, I would personally appreciate *not* having a desolation.

Jasnah: it may prove necessary.

Adolin: I know, i know. Just thought I'd put my feelings out there.

Dalinar: and we'll need you to produce Kholin heirs. Neither Renarin or Jasnah are likely to, and I'm not remarrying a younger woman.

Adolin: Sounds good!

B) Kholin family to have way too strong a reaction to this random darkeyed surgeon in training when they visit Kharbranth, scaring the absolute shit out of said darkeyed surgeon. Adolin walks into a wall when he sees Kaladin. He doesn't even know about the Radiant thing, it's just that

C) Kaladin dresses really hot in this au. Ok. I lied. this is actually the main reason for this au. It — there's a whole chain of events. I – don't look at me like that. The character development works, alright?

A lot of it boils down to distracting people from groping the female medical trainees.

He realizes that breathing in a certain way, while it makes you focus better and move faster, it also makes you more...present somehow? people pay attention to you, for better or worse. Some of the ladies teach him that there are different ways to channel people's focus on you, if they're looking anyway.

And apparently, for the first few years Kharbranth medical students, light and dark eyed alike, have basically no protections from wealthy patients or Lighteyed chief's of staff who are a bit too interested in teaching you to use your safehand, and its not like Kaladin can challenge them to a duel - he doesnt know how to fight, and it would get him and the person hes trying to protect kicked out of the program. So much for honorable lighteyes being real.

But I mean. If wearing some eyeliner, and a gemstone in your hair, if taking your right glove off first after an exam, conspicuously leaving the left on while talking, if bending over to pick his clipboard up in a certain way... if it gets people to not focus on his friends...

...one could probably get pretty angsty with this concept, ngl.

The Stormlight understanding and oaths come in time. There might also be some Radiant Disguise Superhero hijinks, havent fully decided but it's not really a major stretch from canon to say that Kharbranth struggles with violent crime. Also Kaladin gets to learn about institutional racism in school. It's great. I have a lot of Kaladin thoughts but so does everyone in this au so its ok.

Kholins visit Kharbranth:

Jasnah: you've been moping for days. Is your new fixation of the week not responding to your advances?

Adolin: I don't want to talk about it

Dalinar: son, you've clearly been in a mood—

Adolin: look, I'm not — the individual is not suitable for my station, alright? I'm not courting someone I could never actually marry, because that would be stupid.

Jasnah: while it would complicate matters, you know your brother and I have plans to alter the alethi codes around eye color, considering they're clearly a crude derivative of radiant mythologization

Dalinar: I thought we agreed that was low on the priority list

Jasnah: You said that uncle, Renarin most certainly did not agree, and his arguments are sound

Adolin: He's just some surgeon, alright! He's not just darkeyed, he's a darkeyed man. I said I'll get over it! I always do.

Dalinar: ah.

Jasnah: ...did you say surgeon?

Adolin: Yes? Why?

Dalinar: why does it —

Jasnah: how did you meet?

Adolin: He was — he was with this group of women at a winebar, and he was dressed like – but it turned out he just goes to protect them from - and it was so — why are you asking me about this?

Dalinar: Oh! A darkeyed surgeon. Protecting, you say? He sounds...honorable.

Jasnah: Very honorable.

Adolin: He is! He volunteers at this house for injured soldiers, and you wouldn't believe he'd never been to war, I mean his spear Katas — he's – it's like he was born for it —

Dalinar: He sounds like a fine young man. Perhaps you should bring him to meet us.

Adolin: I — while I appreciate that father, I really do, I thought I was the one who was supposed to well. I mean my role in...all of this is to produce heirs and look proper, right?

Jasnah: Hm. when you put it it that way...

Dalinar: I mean, Navani and I might be able to...

Jasnah: Don't be ridiculous. I'm perfectly capable of producing a child, should it prove absolutely necessary,

Adolin: Jasnah?

Jasnah: Provided the man you're courting is of worthy quality.

Adolin: We're not — I haven't been courting! I didn't think it was an option! I don't even know if he's interested! From what I can tell he has people throwing themselves at his feet all the time!

Jasnah: An abnormally honorable darkeyed surgeon, natural warrior, magnetically charismatic personality...yes that might make a worthwhile addition to the family.

Dalinar: I can write to Elhokar at once, recommend that he and Aseuden —

Jasnah: Uncle we've been over this — this is exactly the sort of thing that led to me insisting you come with me on this trip! If we cripple his ability to lead—

Adolin: Are we — are we moving into the discussing the future part of the evening, because I can go guard the door—

Dalinar: wait, when you say produce a child, you don't mean through soulcasting, right?

Jasnah: I don't see why I should answer that question.

Adolin: Yeah, i'm just going to go guard the door now