#it’s this deed insecurity they have and instead of facing the fact they need to shape up they just cover it with layers and layers of faux

[chewwytwee]

It’s so hard to become un-annoyed at unfunny losers so every day in jazz band is a test of my patience, one of these days I’m going to explode

[iovchlde]

hi!! may i request some reverse comfort headcanons for diluc, kaeya, childe, and xiao? maybe about relationship insecurity or something of that sort??

relationship flaws and insecurities.

no one is perfect— so what exactly are their flaws in a relationship? and what do they feel most conscious of in a relationship?

featuring diluc, kaeya, childe, xiao

diluc

he feels that he might scare you off with his overprotectiveness. he’s already lost someone before, and he doesn’t think he can handle losing you either.

it’s not that he wants to control your life— in fact, he wants you to live it to its full extent. but there’s always that small worry, an annoying voice, in the back of his head that reminds him that the wilderness of teyvat is dangerous.

subconsciously, he may find himself interrogating you if you plan on leaving the house early in the morning, or late at night. there’ll be times where small quarrels stem from this, and inevitably it can get heated sometimes.

if you walk out on him for more hours than what feels comfortable, to cool off, he might start to think if you’ve left him for good.

diluc’s sitting at the edge of the bed, and there’s a consistent tapping on the floor as he anxiously drums his foot against it. it’s way past his assigned time to sleep, knowing he has to be up early to run his business. he doesn’t have half the mind to check what time it is, at least, not right now. all he can think about is that you’ve been gone for way too long.

he expects this from the two of you, especially after a heated argument. you two take the time away from one another to cool off and collect your thoughts, but this? this is just outrageous. if he were to give an estimate for how long you’d been gone— it would be two hours longer than you’d typically be gone for. and this just feeds into his worries from earlier, about your well-being.

the whole fight was about you and your safety after all. you would tell him that you’re fully capable of looking out for yourself; he’d say that he has enemies who may come after you; it goes back-and-forth. sensing that the argument was getting nowhere, you took it upon yourself to see yourself out first. “let’s just,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “let’s just take time to cool off for a bit, shall we?”

“it’s been longer than a bit,” he mutters to himself.

he’s snapped out his thoughts as he hears the bedroom doors open slowly. you peek your head in, just to make eye contact with diluc. you two freeze, simply caught off-guard in the moment. he notes how your hair is a mess— it sticks out in certain areas, and obviously has not been brushed down— and you look a bit rugged. “hey,” you mutter sheepishly.

he wonders if he should ask you where you’ve been, but he holds his tongue. “are you okay?” diluc asks instead, and there’s a certain tenderness in his voice as he addresses you. “you look a bit... rough.”

you snort, throwing a feign hand of offense over your chest, at his words. “gee, thanks. nice to know i’m looking very appealing right now.” you joke. he stares at you, but you can see the faint smile on his lips at the way you’re joking around already. it’s good to know that you two are still okay. “but to answer your question, yes. i simply tripped over a pebble— it was so dark out and my foot got caught. who would’ve known that a pebble would be the one to take me down.”

he laughs at this, and you feel the tension from the argument completely lift.

kaeya

he’ll often wonder if you’re slowly becoming untrusting of him. he’s generally reserved, and quite mysterious— and it could easily be read in the wrong way.

kaeya knows that a relationship is all about communication and trust, well, for it to be healthy at least. and for the most part, he’s pretty open with you.

but there’s still certain aspects of his life that keeps in the dark from you. from his unknown past, to the business he does out of the knight of favonius— he likes that you look up to him as a respectable knight.

sometimes, you’ll ask him why he has duties to attend to at the dead of night, to which he reassuringly tells you that he’s simply off to bother diluc at the tavern. but he knows you’re catching on— diluc hasn’t seen him in the tavern for quite a bit.

“i know you haven’t been at the tavern.” you finally speak up, and you keep your eyes trained on the plate of food in front of you. you dig at the food, poking it around with your utensils— anything to keep your mind off of the fact that your heart is slightly racing right now. you don’t mean to be confrontational, but to be frank, you’re fed up that kaeya hasn’t been honest with you. “you can say that it came as a surprise to me when diluc said you hadn’t been there for a while now.”

“i guess it was only a matter of time before you’d ask diluc about me, and my whereabouts.” he sighs. he’s leaned into his chair by now, and he’s looking at you. your lips are locked into a tight line, a little peeved at the way he still talks so smoothly, and treats this so casually. as if he weren’t taking this seriously, and that this was just some other conversation to him. “i’m simply handling nightly duties.”

your grip becomes slightly tighter around your utensils, and he notices; your knuckles are turning slightly white, and your breathing is slightly out of pace. there’s a small change in his expression, and you can see the way his eyes narrow slightly.

“does it hurt to be honest to me about these things?” you ask him, genuinely hurt at the way it feels like he doesn’t trust you enough. “as your significant other, i guess i’d expected you to be more open to me. i’ve already told you countless times that no matter what, i’ll stick around— and even right now, i mean those words.”

once i tell, there’s no going back, is what he wishes to say. that it’ll be hard to look at someone the same way you’ve done before. “look,” he says as he sighs. kaeya wracks his mind for a way to respond— in a way where he wouldn’t be lying, but he wouldn’t subject you to danger either. “these matters, my nightly duties if you will, are matters between the abyss order and i. i’m afraid that if i tell you anything more about what goes on, you’ll become a target as well. too much knowledge can be harmful.”

“and you couldn’t just tell me that from the get-go?” it’s a fair point, and he throws you an apologetic look from across the table. “i understand, okay? just,” you swipe a hand through your hair. “no more secrets. i don’t think i’ll be as understanding if there’s a next time.”

“of course, my love.”

childe

he fears that one day, he’ll come home and you won’t be there anymore; his involvement with the fatui doesn’t make it any better.

the fatui is known for... it’s notorious deeds, to put it lightly. he had warned you beforehand, that dating a fatui harbinger will be exhausting. mentally, that is.

he’s bloodthirsty and thrill-seeking— it’s his nature. but he knows you don’t agree with the brutal ways the fatui handles their business, and he tries his best to take your mind off of it.

but it’s hard to ignore the words that circulate around liyue about certain things that he’s been up to. childe wonders that if you’ll get fed up one day, and just leave him.

there’s always a small amount of anxiety that bubbles up within childe whenever he approaches the doors of your shared bedroom. there’s that slightly irrational fear that he’ll walk in, and the room will be empty; you won’t be beneath the sheets in deep sleep, and your small breaths wouldn’t fill the room. his hand is hovering over the doorknob, and he almost laughs. a man like him, who stares death in its eyes, too afraid to open the door in fear that he’ll see something he doesn’t like.

childe gathers the courage to twist the knob, and the door creaks softly as he pushes it open. he pauses halfway, the fear taking over him for a second, but pushes through. he lets out an audible breath of relief— seeing you alive and well in front of him, and the comforts of just seeing that. his shoulders slack visibly at the confirmation, and he allows himself to enter the room.

he strips himself of clothes that he’s worn outside, changing into ones more fitting for bed. he’d jump straight into your arms if he could— but he knows that even in a sleepy state, you would still scold him.

he stalks towards the bed after doing the necessities. you stir at the way the bed dips beside you, feeling a pair of strong arms wrap around you. “childe?” you mutter. your voice is laced with sleepiness having just awoken, and you’re rubbing at your eyes as you turn to face him. it takes a second for your brain to start functioning, and you blurt out the first word that comes to mind. “hi.”

“hi to you too,” he mirrors, a small smile gracing his lips. your eyes are barely open as you glance at him, and your words are slightly slurred— but despite that, he truly thinks he’s the luckiest man in the world that he has someone as good as you. someone who sticks around, despite his affiliation. “i’ve missed you a lot, y’know.” he says.

“i missed you more,” you challenge, even in your sleep driven state.

he chuckles at you, before pressing a small kiss to your nose. “sure, sure. let’s fight about who misses each other more in the morning, okay?”

xiao

he’ll often doubt why you’re with him— and wonder if there’ll ever be a day where you run out of patience with him.

he’s getting better with affection, and he’s not finding it as weird as he had before. he doesn’t initiate things, still too embarrassed about the last time he failed to hug you. he wants things to be intimate, but there are still times where he flinches if you touch his hand or hug him, after forgetting to give him a heads up.

you always smile at him, and tell him that you care for his comfort the most. he can see the pain behind your smile though— almost a year of dating and he still hasn’t warmed up to you.

xiao still doesn’t fully understand the logic and need behind affection. but what he does know is that humans seek affection. they are social beings after all. knowing that, he worries that you’ll eventually want someone else who can give you the affection that you deserve.

“i’m sorry,” xiao apologizes in a panic. he was so thrown off-guard and so deep in his thought, that when you’d given him a back hug, he had reacted more violently than intended. thus, he had instinctively pushed you off his shoulder. it was hard to miss the flash of hurt in your eyes as you stumbled back, a little baffled, not expecting xiao to react in a such a way. “i... i apologize for that, y/n.”

it’s easy to notice the literal distance between you two and he reaches out for you, to which he stops himself midway. there’s just something that feels so wrong about touching you right now, especially after he’d just shoved you— it doesn’t feel right. even to now, he’s still scared of touching you. he finds himself getting frustrated at the way that he just can’t wrap his head around doing things in a romantic aspect. even he’s running out of patience with himself, so why do you still have so much?

you notice the way his hand stops, and you can see the countless of emotions within his eyes as he stares at his hands. there’s little glimpses of worry, of self-doubt, and you can tell right now that he’s being critical of himself. you don’t blame him for reacting that way, now that you look back on it in hindsight. anyone would’ve reacted like that as a form of self-defense.

“it’s alright, xiao, it really is.” you reassure him. “don’t be too harsh on yourself, okay? i said we’d take it as slow as we have to, and i plan on keeping my word for that. now... may i?” you gesture to his outstretched hand. he gives you a blank look at first, but nods slowly.

you take his hands in yours— you take your time to link your fingers, intertwining them and appreciating the way they mold together perfectly. you let him feel the way you draw soothing circles on the back of his hand. it’s such a simple action, but it flows with intimacy, and it has a weird feeling erupting in his stomach. (butterflies, he recalls you telling him.)

“see this?” you raise your linked hands. “if this is what you’re comfortable with at the moment, then i’m more than willing to hold hands for as long as you want.”

he wonders if you’ll grow impatient with him— but for now, he’s reassured you’ll stick around.

author’s note.

i’ve put this off for so long, and i intended on keeping it short— but then i felt bad and so i decided to indulge just a little

[aliensunflower-fics]

How to Exploit Kindness [A New Kind of Lila Salt Prompt]

[ Ive seen Lila and Class salt that goes a lot of different ways. In some Lilas a sad lonely girl who will do anything for friends and the class fall for her lies through a mixture of manipulation and Lila’s genuine sad lonely but real persona. In others Lila is insane and the class get basically sucked into her cult. And in others still, Lila slowly breaks the class down by preying on there insecurities, hidden jealousies ect. There are the versions where Lila just bribes the class with connections and the versions where Lila frames Marinette until no one believes her. But I wanted to write a new idea for people to use, one that I feel is a bit more realistic. One where Marinette’s classmates are more their more authentic kind selves but still get slowly pulled into Lila’s web and where Lila is just a bit more intelligent. ]

[ As usual with all my prompts feel free to borrow the idea to write for your own thing salt, sugar, cuteness angst ect just be sure to credit me for the idea so I can read it. ]

Lila was furious! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! She was supposed to be everyone's friend! She was supposed to finally get a cute perfect boyfriend who would cherish her like she deserved! She was supposed to be HAPPY! But no, the pathetic beetle Ladybug and that goody two shoes Marinette kept ruining everything!

No… No that wasn’t quite true. As much as she wanted to blame her problems on those two it wasn’t entirely their faults. Honestly Lila wasn’t quite sure what had happened. Her lies had been working at first, they had gotten her praise and compliments and adoration and friendship! But now? Now they were all ignoring her, unimpressed by her celeb lies! She could not understand it! At first she’d been sure it was Marinette or Ladybug maybe even Adrien had turned on her! But when she’d probed for information she’d learned that none of them had blown the whistle. So what was it! Tomorrow… Tomorrow she will find out one way or another. She needed to get them back under her thumb somehow.

 It was Chloe who gave Lila her answers. Chloe was the reason none of her classmates cared about her stories! Chloe was the idiot mayor's brat. And what a brat she was constantly wiggling her way into her mothers fashion shoots or had celebrities over at the hotel. Of course Lila’s classmates didn’t care about Lila’s celebrity connections because Chloe was always name dropping just as many people as herself. The only difference was Lila used fake modesty and shyness that made her ‘friends’ view her lies in less of a gloating light than Chloe’s haughty claims of celebrity meetings.

It was a damn shame, celebrity lies were her bread and butter, they were exciting got people to think you were important and they were hard to prove or disprove allowing Lila to easily get around the messy little detail of ‘proof’ if someone asked for pictures all she could say was that her mom didn't let her take any because she didn't want her precious daughter being targeted by crazy fans. And if someone asked her to use her celebrity connections? Well she could just turn on the water works and cry about them just being her friend for her connections. Thus her prey would be forced to be her ‘friend’ , always listening to her and doing things for her, unable to ask for anything in return. Then when her mother announced their next move Lila would tearfully say goodbye and leave all her suckers behind. But without the sway of her celebrity lies her system broke down. That was the problem with picking the school full of rich talented idiots she supposed.

Well with Chloe ruining her system she’d need a new one. Scrolling through her classmates' social media for a clue she sneered at their overly cheerful and cutesy posts. Always encouraging one another and posting encouraging puff pieces about this or that. Always acting like they were so nice. As Lila scrolled over a charity fundraiser event that Alya had retweeted from Milene a sudden thought crossed her mind. Her classmates were very ‘nice’ and annoyingly so. They were always butting into each other's business, always being SO concerned, always organizing events to help each other and appreciate each other and going to charity events.

In fact now that she thought about it the stories that had intrigued her ‘friends’ always had some sort of charity garbage attached. Saving Jagged’s kitten or raising money for some cause or other that always got her heaps of praise. Sure saying Clara whatshername stole her dance moves got attention but not in the same way saying she raised money for some green project. Was it really that simple? Sure her classmates all loved Marinette for her extreme generosity and kindness but was it REALLY that simple? She needed to check.

 It was actually that easy. One simple little lie about how she pulled a blind old man out of danger when he was nearly run over and suddenly the class was bathing her in praise. And the ‘fact’ that the whole very real thing made her miss first period and sprain her ankle? Well that was just the cherry on top. Suddenly Max was offering her a copy of his notes and everyone was back to caring for her like she was a princess. The fact that Marinette looked like she was seething only for sweet naive Adrien to keep her mouth shut was just so perfect. She’d found her golden ticket. Her classmates were truly ‘good kind people’ and nothing could be exploited quite like kindness.

With this knowledge Lila would easily be able to destroy Marinette, sure she wouldn’t be able to do it quickly but slowly she would replace her, with every good deed she made up with every act of false modesty she would build a reputation greater than Marinette’s she would replace her and become there new ‘everyday ladybug’ and the best part was she wouldn’t have to say ANYTHING against Marinette. Not. A. Thing. No sweet righteous Marinette would eventually snap, sadly for her it would probably be too late with how much control Adrien had over her, so when it happened Marinette would look like the jealous crazy girl going after the girl that was kinder, sweeter, and better than herself. As for Adrien… Well she had a hard time believing it at first but he really was an idiot with a pretty face as long as she was careful as she built her new reputation he would genuinely believe that she was changing for the better and then he'd fall for her.

The best part was, her classmates were genuine. As she built her new good girl heart of gold persona they would genuinely come to love her, all the loyalty Marinette got to enjoy all the perks of being friends with such talented, kind, sweet people would become hers. Slowly no matter how Marinette struggled she would lose, eventually she’d have nothing left. Of course she’d need to be careful with her lies but that was easy. Bring the class to a charity here and there and tell them that she was the one who gave the idea for the charity to the actual organizer but didn't want any credit because she was just that kind and humble. If they tried to make her do actual work then she’d have a sudden accident that would require she sit down.

And then once she’d done more photoshoots with Adrien for Gabriel she’d ‘convince’ the man that a charity would make him look good and boost sales. She’d MAKE her lies true all while winning over her future father in law, and heck maybe she’d even pocket a little of the money, she could use a better wardrobe and the extra would be perfect to buy her ‘friends’ the occasional ice cream or presents. In between that she’d just lie about saving people or volunteering on weekends. Maybe even let it ‘slip’ how she was a temp hero for Ladybug . One of the sweetest parts was that between volunteering with Lila, there own activities and hanging out with Lila so she could ‘thank them for their hard work’ no one would be spending a second hanging out with sweet pink little Marinette, they'd abandon her without even realizing it because they’d be SO busy. Sadly this plan of hers would take a little more work then her others, but it would be worth it to become the queen bee of the class- NO the school! And when Marinette eventually slipped up and looked like the biggest jealous bully in the school. Well she’d have no choice but to leave the school with her tail in between her legs.

Victory was looking sweet and satisfying.

 [ And where it goes from here is up to you. Lila can win, she can slowly convince the class and school that she's a model citizen and an everyday hero. She can sneakily maneuver the class to not spend time with Marinette slowly separating the girl from her friends. In this way Alya and the rest of them don't become evil salty versions of themselves who overnight hate Marinette and love Lila, but rather they are good naive people who got slowly separated and tricked by someone who wants to use their genuine talents and skills to make herself look better. Adrien who is already shown to be naive and wants to believe the best in people, can fall into Lila’s trap and become genuinely convinced that his high road method really worked and ‘reformed’ Lila into a better person. OR Lila can fail, she can claim to be the wrong temporary hero for ladybug, or she can pick the wrong charity to lie about, or get exposed any number of ways and the class can realize with horror that because they are kind but flawed people who are perhaps too trusting and gullible that they got pulled away from Marinette through subtle manipulation and so they can be redeemed because instead of turning into outright bullies they stayed the same kind people they always were but just got genuinely tricked which is something that can actually happen in real life. You can go heavy salt where Marinette does eventually leave the school or class heartbroken that her kind friends have fallen prey to a bad person Marinette cant find a way to expose. Or you can go clever salt where Marinette figures out Lila’s plan and fights her from the inside slowly exposing the cracks in her facade. Or you can go sugar and redemption where maybe just maybe Lila actually LIKES being nice to people and having real friends who dont care about her fake celeb connections, maybe she honestly redeems herself and even makes amends with Marinette. You can do genuinely anything with this idea and I hope to see this generate some new less *and suddenly everyone is evil* content for those that like salt and angst. ]

[readerinsertfanfiction]

The Stages of... - Nobunaga

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku 

Character: Nobunaga Oda 

Prompt: Happy birthday @mineko811​ I hope you have a great day and that you are in overall in a better place! Enjoy some stages of Nobunaga’s relationship progression in a modern AU! 

Warnings: Mentions of fire, smoke, crowds and food. 

Word count: +1K

Masterlist

🖤 (black heart): First Impression

“Who are you?” The question came bleary, eyes blurry from daze as you wondered how anyone could sleep through this ruckus and smoke. The music had stopped, the people were crowding if not in panic, and if it wasn’t for you doing one last glance over the bar no one would have noticed the man in black slumped in a corner.

“No time,” you told him, pulling him up by the arm as you dragged him towards what you hoped was the emergency exit. “Just hold on,” you encouraged the stranger as you stumbled, praying that this one good deed wouldn’t go punished.

Nobunaga thought you were foolishly heroic for pulling him out of the bar like that. With the fire blazing as the business went down. But he wouldn’t be able to tell you so for a little while.

💜 (purple heart): Introduction

“Nobunaga Oda,” he introduced himself with confidence a few months after. Your blank stare told him that you had no idea who he was, or what he wanted from you, earning another side smile.

“You saved me in that bar,” he told you, and the recognition that lit up afterwards relieved him. It had taken some string pulling to track you down from his hospital bed, Hideyoshi refusing to let him go until all of the scans were clear and his injuries had healed. Luckily there was Mitsuhide and his questionable sources, which eventually led him to you. You who had already forgotten his face and had moved on with your life.

“I want you at my side,” Nobunaga claimed, and your face fell as your mouth dropped, taken aback at the man who had taken an interest in you.

💙 (blue heart): Understanding

“Why are you chasing me?” you had asked him one day and Nobunaga had shrugged at the question, acting casually about it. It had been something so integral to his life that the man had nearly forgotten how uncommon it was for anyone else.

“I felt that I can trust you,” was his answer, and your eyes narrow at the man still dressed in black, a little confused and not entirely sure what to make of it. You had met Hideyoshi, you even met Mitsuhide. If he didn’t trust them, who did he trust?

It dawned upon you that, even in the modern world, the proverbial sword in the back was just as common as the fact that war had moved itself from the field to the mind.

💚 (green heart): Friendship

“Tickets?” Nobunaga smiled impishly while leaning over your figure, “is this a date?” he tried to tease.

To this you let go of a sigh, eyes rolling as you pushed him back. “No, I thought it would be nice to go with a friend,” came your response. It earned you another look from the man, the same type of confusion he had felt the first time he met you, back in the bar.

“Friends?” he had repeated after you, as if the word was new to him and the way his expression softened up at the words stilled you for a moment.

How a man of his range and position could be so clueless about the smaller things in life was beyond you. Was this the result of his environment, where it was encouraged to work until the late hours and even to death? Or had he simply never allowed himself the chance to indulge in life?

“You are my friend, Nobunaga,” you had determined, which earned you another impish smile, but this time it was more genuine.

💛 (yellow heart): Crush

He knew what your name was, which didn’t make him automatically a friend. He knew where you lived, but that didn’t make you more than a person to him. Nobunaga had employed his network in various ways to find out who you were, but none of the information delved from there told him who you were, as a friend, as someone he could potentially consider wanting to be more than friends with.

You had your insecurities, the bouts of heroism just being rare examples in which your fears were discarded by your own senses. And though Nobunaga hadn’t experienced much of the world you came from, nor did you know much about his world. But he was willing to learn about it if it meant that it could help you.

“You carry the world too heavily on your shoulders,” Nobunaga told you when your guard slipped and the man realised how much he hated to see you upset, how much he wished to see you smile instead.

“Not all faults need to be sought within yourself,” he continued when he didn’t know what to say anymore and thought how great it must be if he could draw you into his arms and comfort you with a hug.

🧡 (orange heart): Confession

“Look, bubbles!” you exclaimed, and your finger popped the gas filled bubble that floated about in the air, releasing the smoke trapped within. The sweet scent of the soap added to the dry ice made the whole experience of the fair even more surreal as Nobunaga watched you within the crowd, tiptoeing just that bit to reach for another bubble.

“What do you want to get next?” you questioned, still distracted by the boo bubbles surrounding you, but arm already pointing into the direction of yet another food stand up ahead. You had made your choice already, just as you had dictated the beat of this visit in overall, but Nobunaga was of the mind to change that.

Catching your arm with his hand the man felt like the two of you were alone within the massive crowd passing by, the majority not caring for the couple staring deeply into each other's eyes as he sought you out, the stern face blooming into another mischievous laugh.

“Your heart.” Was his quip response and he could feel you warming in his hands as he pressed another hand against your back to keep you upright.

❤️ (red heart): Lover

“I love you.” Nobunaga was the first to take the three words into his mouth, stilling you as you stared at him, still a little unsure and mostly surprised to find what he felt for you.

Hands intertwined the man had taken you out to dinner, picking a trendy restaurant for casual dining rather than the high-end places he tended to go to for his business meetings. Somewhere with food meant to fill the stomach and meant to leave you satisfied, rather than to be conversed over.

Now, in the cool of the evening that August night Nobunaga had led you to the balcony, his usual implike expression was replaced by something warm and filled with adoration and love as he showed you the sight up ahead. But you knew this was just the start of everything as the man counted down the second towards the new dawn, drawing you in for a kiss.

“Happy birthday,” came his wish, and a promise for the day was only just starting.

[goodneighborxfallout]

Reaction: Having sex with the companions

Cait

At first, Cait would be an absolute animal in bed. No shame, no holding back, just raw, animalistic sex, and the more worn out you were after the deed, the more satisfied she was. Almost like she had something to prove. And she realized quite soon that that was indeed the case. Not that you had put expectations on her, but she had a reputation and though she trusted you enough to be open to you and even let you help with her drug problem, there were times when she - subconsciously - would slip back into her old defense mechanisms. Depending on how close you two were the first time you had sex, it might take quite some time or not at all for Cait to open up to you about all of this and tell you that she’d be down to take things slower if you want to do that. Wanting to make her feel loved, you of course take her up on that offer and the first time you two took things slow in bed was for the both of you probably the best sex you ever had. Though she wouldn’t likely want to admit that, and keep these moments of slow love making for special occasions. 

Curie

Curie would be pretty much down for anything as her curiosity almost always got the best of her. That same curiosity would make things awkward sometimes though as she’d ask very non sexy questions during the deed or explain the more biological processes that went on in your bodies while you were just trying to make her feel good… Overall, sex with Curie would include a lot of experimenting and getting to know each other’s bodies from head to toe.

Danse

Danse would be quite new to the concept. Him being a man of protocol, not personal relationships, made the whole thing quite nervewrecking for him. But soon he would lose himself in how good it felt, how good you felt. He’d love to be close to you, holding you or burying his face in your neck, but always making sure to be gentle with you throughout the whole experience. If the events of blind betrayal had already taken place, it would take Danse a lot longer to get to this stage. No matter how much you reassured him that you loved him no matter what, there’d always be this little voice in the back of his head reminding him that you deserved so much better than someone… something like him. He wouldn’t say no to you if you wanted sex, in fact he’s probably do everything you wanted him to, because being as flawed as he was, the least he could do was obey your every wish and command. Sex would revolve completely around you, with Danse almost forgetting to enjoy himself whilst busy making you feel good. If your relationship kept going strong however and you kept reassuring him of how much you loved him he would eventually try to push his insecurity and doubt away and Danse would start behaving like I described in the beginning of this reaction.

Deacon

Deacon isn’t the kind of guy to mindlessly have sex with people ever since Barbara died. The few times he had were always mere days before a facial reconstruction surgery, so he’d never have to actually “face” the people he’d share a bed with. So it can be safe to assume that if you’ve reached the point in your relationship where Deacon is willing to have sex with you, he already trusts you 100%. Deacon will be rather careful the first few times you two have sex. He’d want to make you feel good, as it had been a while since he has cared about the pleasure of the person he shared a bed with, never mind his own pleasure. So the first few times would be all about you. Only after you’d both discover each other’s turn ons, kinks and/or sensitive spots would Deacon try some light teasing. If you’d react positively to it, the teasing would get worse over time, until eventually pushing your boundaries would become almost routine during sex. He didn’t mind you doing the same to him, though if he could choose, he’d definitely prefer to be in control. 

Hancock

With Hancock it’s neither trust nor experience that’s the problem. He has enough experience to last him a lifetime (or two), and if you say you love him, he wholeheartedly believes you. What was holding him back however was his low self esteem. Sure you said you loved him, but you’d never seen him naked before. Did you know what a ghoul’s body looked like? Probably not and whatever you were imagining, it probably wouldn’t be nearly as pretty. He’d ask you a few times whether you were 100% sure you wanted this and if you insisted that you were, he’d end up fulfilling your wish. If he noticed that you weren’t grossed out by his body he’d become more confident and sex would become a much more frequent occurrence. Hancock would be open for trying literally anything you wanted, but he’d never push his own kinks onto you (sure he’d talk dirty to you and tease you occasionally, but he would never ask if he can blindfold or tie you up for example, though he’d never refuse it if you suggested it). 

MacCready

Sex with MacCready would be unpredictable. He’s open to trying a lot of things, he has no preferable position or location, and on top of that, he’s still really young so his need for sex would pop up in the most random of situations. If you’d have a particularly weird or uncommon kink, he’d might take some convincing before he’d be down to try it, and most of the time he’d take most pleasure just doing things vanilla. 

Nick

Doesn’t take you seriously at all. He thinks you’re either joking or completely out of your mind the first few times you tell him you’re down to have sex with him. He doesn’t think your humor is great, but he’ll just brush off whatever you said without going in on that. It’ll go so far that you actually get upset with him about his dismissive demeanor that you just straight up ask him: “What is so wrong with me that you don’t want to have sex with me?” This is the moment Nick actually realizes that you’ve been serious all along and he wouldn’t believe what he just heard you say. “Wait a minute, do you honestly think you’re the problem? Have you seen me? All this skin and metal is just going to make this unpleasant for you.” You’d remind him that if you’d have a problem with any of that you would have never gotten together with him in the first place and for the first time in a quite a long time, Nick felt incredibly stupid for not figuring that out himself. Though still not convinced that you’d actually enjoy it, the sex would be slow and careful and it wouldn’t happen all that often. 

Piper

Piper is not one for one night stands and random flings. If you two were to have sex, you’d already be in a relationship. That’s really the only requirement for her. Once you two are together and she trusts you, the sex could be as slow and soft or wild and crazy as you’d both see fit. She’d be down for it. Weird kinks? “Um, okay, hadn’t seen that one coming, Blue, but hey don’t knock it before you try it I guess.” New position? “Let’s hope I’m flexible enough for this…”. Different location? Okay, here she might draw the line. Public sex would really depend on the location, the more risk of getting caught the less likely Piper would give the ok sign. After all, sex was still a private thing and she didn’t want anyone walking in on you two. 

Preston

Sex with Preston would be pretty vanilla. This boy isn’t into anything weird or extreme, and not much into dom/sub play either. Things would rarely get wild inside the bedroom as he’d see sex more of an act of showing how much he loves and cares for you. (Sorry this one bad, I really don’t like Preston rip.)

X6-88

The concept of relationships is foreign to him and before you openly ask him to have sex with you, he’d never even thought about it. He’d say yes very casually, because he doesn’t understand that sex for couples can be a very special moment. Even if you tell him that it is something couples do when they love each other, he wouldn’t put much mind to it. You love him, he loves you, great, let’s have sex then. Though he’d definitely understand way better why people like having sex so much after actually doing it, he might never grasp the emotional bond that can form when two people who love each other have sex. 

Bonus! Maxson

As elder, Maxson is used to showing dominance, ordering people around and demanding respect. At first, he’d take these things with him into the bedroom, because sex puts you in an vulnerable position and he was not vulnerable. No matter how much he trusted you, there was this irrational little voice in the back of his head that stopped him from letting down his walls. At least, that was what he was like at first. It would take him some time, maybe even a very long time, maybe it would actually take so long that you’d have to be the one suggesting it instead, but he’d finally be down to trying to take things slow. Keep in mind, this would only happen if he trusts you 100% and knows for certain that you haven’t breathed a word to anyone about how Maxson is in your relationship. He’d end up enjoying taking things slow a lot, but one night really changed everything. This one night was the one when you decided to take control. It was the first time in a very long time that Maxson let someone else do the work, where he could just lie back and enjoy being submissive, and enjoy it he did. But boy had you done something now. Maxson would always come to you after having a particularly stressful day and let you take control, to the point where him being dominant in bed would almost be a rare treat.

Oh boy why did I choose to start off with this? Haha

Also I only added Maxson because almost every blog sees him as a dom and I’m just not sure if I agree. But apart from this reaction, he’ll only be included if someone specifically asks for it.

[demonslayedher]

Is their any demon slayer character that you think should of had more screen time in the manga?

I could be diplomatic and say we could have benefitted from a smidge more bonding time with all of the non-Tanjiro cast, but instead I shall go on a selfish rant: we should have gotten more of that magatama-wearing peach-flinger, supposedly rightful heir to the Breath of Thunder himself, freaking Kaigaku.

It's probably no surprise that I say this as a Zenitsu Stan. The two deep-dives we got into Inosuke and Zenitsu's pasts were two-cour, and, these would have worked better with more of a bridge between the first and second cours (Natagumo arc and Infinity Fortress arc). Given Inosuke's personality it works a bit better that he was totally unbothered by an unusual memory or two and then floored by how suddenly important his mother became to him when facing her killer, but some odd recollections of Douma would have really sold that "whoa!! Baby Inosuke resided with an Upper Moon!!" shocker. Still, Inosuke was a baby, it only gets so personal (I would totally accept Douma & Baby Inosuke interactions, though, for absolutely sure, but Douma got a lot of satisfying development in his interactions with Shinobu, Kanao, and the other Upper Moons too). Zenitsu, unlike Inosuke, is someone who ruminates and takes everything personally. Jiichan and Kaigaku both had such an impact on him that it's odd for him to go most of the span of the series only thinking back to them once. It's one thing if Zenitsu chose never to mention Kaigaku to his friends, in fact, such a decision would say a lot about their relationship, but knowing Zenitsu he probably ranted about his mean martial brother at the slightest mention of something that might remind him of Kaigaku. But Zenitsu's feelings toward him were highly complex, and it would have been great to get those thoughts before the betrayal. Besides just being like, "oh no, not Jiichan!" we could have felt that twist of the knife in our backs too; Kaigaku's a character we don't get to appreciate until he's dying and already performed all his bad deeds (but I suppose that's the case for many of the other demons, a la Kimetsu logic).

While seeing more of Kaigaku would had been interesting as a Zenitsu fan, it would had also been an opportunity to bring out more in Himejima's character as well. Kaigaku was very keen on upward mobility in the Corp, he had to have had some familiarity with the current strongest people, and he had to have known who the Rock Pillar was and been like, "oh shit." Getting Kaigaku's perspective on Himejima would have given us a very different "oh dang, we should have been watching out for this crying guy" effect than Inosuke just declaring "dude be strong." (But alas, writing a serialized manga is hard and you fit things in where you can. Hence, Taisho Secrets.)

Mostly, it would had been great to get more Kaigaku for Kaigaku's sake. Channeling his anxieties in the form of emotional self-protection and aggression makes him a striking foil to Zenitsu in more than just their sorely lacking Thunder Breath capabilities. There was an arc there we didn't get to see unfold. He had to have some feelings left over from selfishly allowing that demon massacre to occur at the temple filled with orphans, whom he must have felt at some level he was better than. Having someone he respected see potential in him and treat him as someone special might have given him hope to make a better person out of himself, but if the same care could be given to someone like Zenitsu, then it probably made him feel pretty betrayed too. That drive to make himself be someone special is like a more dangerous look at Shinjuro's drives which drove him to depression, and it would had been so, so, so rich to see Kokushibo see some of himself in Kaigaku too, instead of only being like, "hmm, you're strong, guess I'll spare you."

But to have been in a fight against Upper Moon 1 and held out on his own that long in the first place? Especially someone who was still in training very recently? KAIGAKU WAS A FREAKING BOMBSHELL OF A POWERFUL DEMON SLAYER. He was already on Twelve Moon level when he turned; it must had driven Kaigaku mad to see that Zenitsu was the one running into all the strong demons and Thunderclap-and-Flashing his way up the ranks. Sure, he accepted Kokushibo's proposition because he was terrified. And I love that even someone as assured of his own specialness can succumb to mortal terror (again, interesting Zenitsu foil). But Kaigaku accepted this new role as readily as he accepted demon slaying as his calling; he set right about eating people, lots of people. Which people? We'll never know, but I'd like to think he ate those boys who Zenitsu punched for talking bad about him.

Kaigaku's belief in himself means that whenever he's cornered, he'll discard any previous identity and take on wholeheartedly whatever his new one is. Interesting choice to give him a magatama motif, those are thought to bring out one's innate spiritual power. He's always relied most on himself. Once Kuwajima let him down, he didn't need Kuwajima anymore. Even once he become filled with Muzan's blood (and approval), he wasn't in it for Muzan, he was in it to prove himself superior and talented.

But Kaigaku so, so desperately looks outside of himself for approval anyway. HE'S SUCH A TRAGEDY. And if we had gotten more snippets of him here and there throughout the manga, even just one scene of Zenitsu running into him and getting told off for punching those guys, we would have had the anticipation of him being an inevitable train wreck instead of just "mean guy who was mean to Zenitsu and will probably be mean again in future chapters because he is mean."

No, Kaigaku was mean because he had so many of his own insecurities to wrestle with and he was so bad at that and I wish, I wish, I wish we could have gotten more of Kokushibo being like, "I have the cure for insecurities, just don't be a weak human anymore" (especially because Kokushibo appreciated he could be honest in Muzan's service instead of having to privately wrestle with his jealousy and angst of impending demise, so it would had been great to give Kaigaku a similar outlet). And if Muzan was willing to promote him to Upper Moon 6 so quick off the bat, I wish we could have seen some interaction between them, like Muzan showing up to the site of Kaigaku's first blood bath and praising Kaigaku for his eagerness to get stronger and his potential as a powerful demon. How GOOD that would had sounded to Kaigaku's ears. And dang, oh man, if Himejima could had known, if he could had known ANYTHING about Kaigaku joining the Corp and then showing his true colors, being an untrustworthy little shit because that's all humans usually are, w o w that would had painted more of Himejima's dark side besides just saying a 4-year-old girl was a selfish human (I would totally accept more Himejima cynicism, especially because it's so disconcerting coming from one of the most level-headed characters in this whole manga).

Phew. Anyway. I guess I could go on a rant about a lot of good scenes we could have gotten from many of the characters, but I still stick with Kaigaku as my answer to his because he's the acting agent in a betrayal, and betrayals work best if first see what it is that they're destroying. AAAAUUGHHH I LOVE A GOOD BETRAYAL and this one feels like it was written backwards, I wish it could had been seasoned throughout the text more instead of taking the lid off the shaker and dumping a pile of salt into a few short chapters. KAIGAKU, YOU ARE ONE BIG PILE OF SALT. But also you deserved to have your pain shared, you selfish twit, come back here in some earlier chapters and let us see you try to have a stiff upper lip when people point out your insecurities, you were trying so hard, you big baby, come back here and let us a love you a bit before you zap us with your betrayal.

*angrily throws peaches to conclude the venting Ask reply*

[starshipsofstarlord]

God is With You, Even as You’re Sinning

Pairing | Sam Winchester x reader

Summary | it was your first time not killing a monster, and in its place, taking the life of one of your own. Guilt entraps you, and it is up to Sam to break you out of your pitiful hypnosis.

Warnings | mentions of death, blood, angst, guilt, some smut, oral sex (fem receiving), penetrative unprotected sex, fingering, swearing, mentions of murder

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Fuck God. This was all his fault, everything was to be fair. He had left the world to continue on its own accord, the apocalypse threatening to spill over the planet and destroy it and all beauty that was lingering through the existence of humans.

They killed each other, and the creator of all could care less. It was his smallest problem, he didn’t mind that the murderer was succumbed to guilt, or how many restless nights that he or she endured. God was cruel, even if he held up a facade of being your ally, and trying his hardest as he supposed, to be your friend.

Your hands shook as you remembered the entailment of your mistake. It was a slip up, a vast and surreal experience that people usually learned from. But what were you supposed to do, not kill a human again? Yeah you had gotten that, after all, the initial deed had not at all been intentional.

There was the victim’s blood dried upon the outer layer of your skin, casting you in the perfect image of murderous intent. However, you had no thirst to kill, instead, your hunting of monsters, alike to many others partaking in a similar lifestyle, executed the mythical beasts to protect the human population.

It pained you truly, to know that you had killed a person. You hadn’t even spared the familiar body a second glance, and out of panic, you fled the scene, leaving the body of the city cleaner in the gutter, laying in the remnants of his friends’ and family’s waste, burying him in their crude excrement.

The thought alone, and the sight that was engrained in the peripheral of your mind had you feeling sick. Slowly, you plodded down the steps of the bunker’s entrance, surely leaving footprints trademarked in all kinds of grotesque evidence.

Without much care for what lay heavily inside, you dropped your duffel from your shoulder, allowing it to fall on the ground with a disgruntled clatter. Nothing meant anything anymore, not if you were indeed a real killer. Whilst some monsters had weaselled their way into society, ending their pathetic attempts at normality was different than taking away the life of an innocent and mortal bystander.

Often, with the darker and crueler species, there were reasons as to why they pretended to be of human birth. Mostly, it was so that they could feed from the naive flock, or kill for their own amusement. Either way, none of their reasons were good.

But now, you thought of yourself as no different than them. A creature that needed to be put down for their crimes. Filing, you breathed in, only inhaling the various moulds of putridity that was weaved into your hair, and stuck to your skin like a face mask.

“Should I call you Cassie now?” At the joke, a laugh from the speaker was triggered. He was quite amused with the sight of you, and thus, you sneered at the tall man, hating him a little bit more than usual.

“Your pop culture references aren’t appreciated Winchester, it’s more Dean’s street.” Shoving past him, his high shoulder floundered back at the harsh and ignorant impact, an expression of offence covering his stupid face. Like a fawn, he tumbled after you, watching as you walked sullenly into the kitchen, yanking the door to the fridge open, and extracting one of his brother’s store bought beers.

“I’m going to guess the hunt went bad.” Sam speculated, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, and staring expectedly down at where you popped the cap off the bottle recklessly with your teeth. He almost winced at the sight, but he wished to keep this arrogant demeanour up with you, it was a natural desire to piss you off, and he’d be pissed at himself if he let it slip out of simple pity.

“Guess correct. Well done, you’ve won a trip to Hawaii.” You waved your free hand mockingly in the air, as the other raised the liquor to your mouth, allowing you to wilfully gulp the bitter liquid down. At his presence that remained nursing over you, you cocked a brow, leaning forwards as you expectedly looked back at the moose. “Just leave me alone Sam, I’m not in the mood for putting up with your bullshit.”

He, however, seemed not to be phased by you wanting to be left alone, and instead, quickly snatched the poison out of your hand, leaving you throughly prepared to keep him right in the balls. “What the fuck?” You all but screamed at the not so jolly giant. In turn, he crossed his arms across his chest, placing the bottle down on the island.

“I could ask you the same y/n.” His tone was dominantly serious, causing you to cower back into your shroud of guilty conscience. “Tell me what happened on that hunt, of which i told you that you shouldn’t have went on alone, since you wouldn’t have been able to handle it solo.”

You felt demeaned by his words, they sparked an anger out from the firm pit of your stomach. But you knew deep down, he was getting through to you, which was something that you had not managed to even do by yourself. Air heavily passed through and out of your nostrils, as acidic tears pooled in your eyes; a crack was falling down your walls, and out of all people, it was Sam Winchester whom had caused it.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have gone alone, but you know what, I thought of what a Winchester would do. And then I remembered, I am sure as hell not a Winchester and I don’t have a brother anymore! Not now, he didn’t even know who I was earlier, didn’t even recognise a single genetically identical hair on my head as he watched me parade through the town, the very one that I ran away from when he was a baby and I was seven, wanting to hunt a monster. Yet, i didn’t kill a damn monster Sam, I murdered my brother because you’ve been right all along, I’m not fit for this job. I am a mess, so congratulations, you finally have got me to admit the one thing that you keep reminding me of.”

“Y/n...” Sam wasn’t sure how to respond, he felt the waves of shock ripple through his body. Never so freely had you been vulnerable around him, and here you were now, with very visible tears cascading down your utterly torn face. He understood it was an accident, and the times that he and Dean had tried to kill each other under supernatural circumstances had him wondering what if.

Shaking your grime tethered head at the sound of his cracked voice, you stormed past him, and immediately raced towards the shower room, finding to your luck, which had been non existent during the rest of the day, the halls were barren of life. Walking through the door, you tore your ruined clothes off, chucking them upon the floor without much acknowledgement, before you went under the warm spray of the shower head, trying to calm yourself.

To rid your skin of its evidential accessories, you had to scrub your skin until it was immediately raw. Everything within you ached, as you flicked back to the memory of the clueless expression that had been worn by your blood brother. It was probably a good thing that he didn’t know who you were, or else, he’d have known that his own sister murdered him due to her incompetence to listen to others.

Now, you were not even sure what were your tears, and what droplets of water belonged to the shower itself. For over an hour, you basked int eh warmth that seemed unable to cure your cold blooded system, turning the spritz off, and covering your body in a fluffy towel, that you were sure belonged to someone else, but right now, you could care less about who owned what.

As you reached the door to your bedroom, you found it to be preached slightly open, and as you pushed it the rest of the way, you saw Sam sat on the corner of your bed. You held your arms around yourself, insecure on the fact that beneath the stolen towel, you were nothing more than you. A wolf in sheep’s skin.

“Can I help you?” You bitterly asked, your eyes still burning from your own faulted loss. Sam breathed in, his eyes trailing up to your face, that was naked from any gruesome cosmetics or make up. The bareness to your completion illustrated an aura of innocence, and evidence that you were the same as him - human.

“That’s my towel.” The male hunter laughed, in hopes of changing the previous and well wounded subjected to ensure that you felt better. But what was he kidding, nothing could fill the void that you had dug in your own heart, nothing was closer than the bond between siblings, even if you were considered as strangers.

“Take it back then.” Too exhausted from your gruelling day, you dropped the material, your confident action making his eyes go wide, as he tried to look away from your exposed skin to respect your boundaries. It was impossible though not to allow his hazel hues to slip up the trunks of your thighs, up to- no, that was wrong, very wrong.

You had just lost your brother, not to mention, by your own hand, and he was prone to checking out your freelancing body, taking in every curve and twisted scar that was prominent to his speculating eyes. His eyes dropped to the discarded towel, which he had purposely left on the heating rail for later use, and then, they switched back towards you.

He stood, walking behind you as you looked through comfort clothes within your dresser. A light touch of his hand brushed your hair away from your neck, as he breathed a sweet hoax of hot air upon your scare. Sam was relieved that you didn’t reject the contact, and instead, pressed his lips upon the flesh, finding succession whence you hummed deliriously to yourself.

This interaction had been inevitable for a long time, but now no longer were the suspected intentions for such an exchange to be to release well endorsed frustrations. No, he was going to clear your mind for some sensual moments, and make your pretty little head forget for a moment that you had pained yourself in the worst of ways.

Turning, you laced your hands through his chocolate locks, massaging his scalp as you pulled him closer so that your lips could endure a rougher clasp against his. There was no passion, behind each contribution there was a spur of hunger, he grasped your ass cheeks, pulling you up to be sat upon the top of your heavy dresser.

Obliging his command, you spread your legs so that he could stand between their partition, his hands now running up the windows of your thighs. For a while, the pair of you did nothing more than make out, and cup a feel here and there, but soon after, Sam dropped to his lanky knees, leaving kisses in the wake of his descent.

His thumb and forefinger spread your fluttering folds, watching as your slit squirmed for attention. Sam licked his lips at the sight, running his middle finger up the expanse, until he came to your yearning entrance. Slowly, after making sure you were wet enough, Sam slipped his digit inside, you wiggling your hips to adjust to the thrust of his one finger.

To add to the sensations that were overriding your body, he moved his mouth to closer proximity, smelling the divine aroma that pulsed out of you. It was far too addictive to not get a taste, and thus,he pulled his finger out, sucking off your juices contently.

But that small sample just wasn’t enough, which encouraged him to dive face first into your pussy - literally. His long tongue teased your folds, slurping at the lips, and then switching to your clit to heighten the stimulation. He kept up a rhythm, using it as a pattern to push you closer to that edge, and he was surely certain that you were enjoying his oral work as you ground your face against him, moaning at his succulent administrations.

“Sam.” Oh god, was it pleasant to hear his own name fall out your mouth in such an erotic manner. It was far different from the way that you usually used it to snide at him, though, the thought of your regular treatment of him aided only to spur his lustful actions on. He wanted you to cum, for your juices to run down his face in waterfalls, looking as though someone had tried to drown him.

His work would not be complete until you found it difficult to even pronounce his short name. Digging his tongue in the hood of your clit, tracing around the protective area, his fingers returned to their earlier placement, and he quickened their pace until he could hear a satisfying squelch in the air.

Rapid sounds of parted moans raked from your mouth, your chest sticking out as you breasts heaved with your heavy breathing. It was noticeable that you were close, not just from that, but you were squeezing the circulation out of his fingers. “Fuck.” Left you in the form of a squeal, as you pussy wept its juices.

Sam was quick to lap everything that left you up, once more, tasting those that clung to his fingers. He went back in for another taste, but you tightly grouped his hair, pulling him away from your sopping cunt. “Need you to fuck me Sam, now.”

In an instant, the hunter stood, working precariously on undoing the buckle of his belt, and pushing all material that covered his lower half to the bottom of his thighs. He read already hard, and oozing precum. You swept your finger across the tip of his dick, bringing it to your lips to taste his foreshadowing seed.

Sam huffed at the sight,picking his prick up in one hand, and jerking himself a couple of times. And then, he aligned himself with you, rubbing his cock around your wet crevice a couple of times, slapping his tip teasingly against your puffy clit.

“Want my cock baby?” He asked, smirking as he watched you nod your head repeatedly. With that being all the confirmation that he needed, he pushed into you,feeling even more turned on as he heard you mewl, and watched the ecstatic expression cross your face as his dick fit inside of you all the way.

He grasped your hips, pulling out once before pushing in again. He repeated the action, his own eyes rolling to the back of his head at how tight you were. This would make you forget the cruel method of god, his story was not as epic as he though, for his characters were screwing against his will, basking in a distraction rather than the regretful pain that seethed in your trodden heart.

Another thrust had your nails clasping onto Sam’s covered back, biting onto his shoulder through the plaid, as you held back the tears that were trying to creep out of your blissful eyes. A few grunts left Sam, as his pace increased, and with every thrust, which only served to fuel him further, the dresser smashed into the wall behind it, most likely leaving a decent dent within the historical architecture.

“Gonna cum.” You told him, dragging him in for another tongue filled kiss as your cunt pooled around him, coating his cock in the honey from your delicious pot. He soon followed after, and for a moment, he remained against you, allowing you to bask in the comfort of his strange presence.

And then he pulled out, watching as his distraction dripped from your entrance, trailing down your thigh in a white streak. An orgasm smile was pulled onto your face, but it was certain to not last long for when you returned to the reality that laid waiting for you to return.

Sam stepped closer again, moving his fingers towards your cunt, and pushed his seed back inside of you, watching as your puffy pussy lips swallows any part of him that it could get. He would distract you for as long as he could, and then, deal with the inevitable.

[minniepetals]

Rose & Thorns: 01

— summary: a lone rose, a little broken, until Jungkook came along and the two of you saved each other. and in doing so, Jungkook showed you a world where he shared with his six other mates.

— pairing: dragon!jungkook x reader / future!bts x reader

— genre: angst, slight fluff / poly!au / fantasy!au / dragon!au

— word count: 3.4k

— warnings: orphan reader, bits of insecurities kicked in here and there

╰ part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10

"Hi there."

In the dark and deep dungeon where Jungkook laid, his head perked up at the sound of a lady's voice and his brows furrowed. A girl? What was a girl doing in a part of the village where the villagers have deemed to be the most dangerous zone? Surely guards must have surrounded the area with tough security, right? So how did you manage to go past it?

"I'm Y/N," he heard the voice again and a soft scoff left him.

You were probably just there curious to see the dragon those infamous soldiers have managed to catch.

"I am..." you trailed off and he found himself waiting for what you had to say, "I am the keeper of the dragon."

Keeper.

He never imagined a girl to be a keeper.

"Damn, that sounds weird," he heard you mumble to yourself, a light chuckle leaving your lips. "But anyways," you went on, "it'll be just you and me for a while because no one else wanted to take up the role of the keeper except I. Which is fine, I've always wanted to take up a task as big as this. Oh, and you must be hungry so I brought you food. Trust me though, no one has poisoned it so don't be shy and starve yourself, alright?"

Shy, Jungkook scoffed to himself. What would a dragon ever be shy about? He could rip you to pieces if he wanted.

Too bad the chains around him kept him from escaping and doing anything rash.

He sighed, ignoring your ongoing ramblings and thought back on how in the world he managed to get caught in the first place.

His hyungs have always warned him about going hunting around the areas where humans settled but there was more prey there so he decided to take up the challenge. He should have told someone yet his rebellious side allowed him to go off on his own without a word to his own clan.

That was how the humans got to him, dragon hunters, they'd call themselves.

Stabbed on his arm as he was flying about the sky and near the ground. That didn't entirely weaken him but because of the fact that he was caught off guard and they held spears and ropes, Jungkook struggled to get away so, in the end, he woke up after being unconscious, locked up in some sort of dungeon with his neck chained up that extended to the wall to keep him from escaping.

The chain around his neck was hurting him far more than he expected but what could he do?

Maybe his clan would come looking for him. But with the fact that he had told no one where he was heading off to, Jungkook doubted they'd be able to track him down that easily.

"Are you alright?" You asked him the next day but he gave you no words. Still, despite his silence, you went on and on about all sorts of stories probably out of boredom.

He didn't know what you were doing, why you decided to take up the role of a keeper when everyone else in your village was in fear of him. Were you brave or just a fool? He had no idea what to conclude.

But for some reason, as the days passed and he was forced to listen to all of your endless stories, Jungkook was glad for your presence. Maybe it was the fact that he would have gone crazy if he wasn't around anyone for a while. Maybe because you actually sounded like someone who wasn't scared of him, someone who was a little different from those villagers, and someone who was treating him as a normal being.

Whatever it was, he was glad for your presence that replaced the warmth of his hyung's arms.

"You ate!" You rejoiced the second you came back early one morning.

It was funny how excited and happy you were about the fact that he actually ate something. He didn't know what you looked like because he never cared to head into the light, where you were, but your voice alone was sweet, something that told him you were a pure sweet being who enjoyed the little things in life.

You reminded him of Hoseok and Taehyung in that sense, and the feeling of nostalgia came rushing over him.

He missed home.

"Do you have a family?" You asked suddenly, sitting down at the exact same spot you would always sit at. "I had a family but they've gone and now my families are the villagers. But lately, they think I've gone crazy because I still haven't run away from this place and still visit it each and every day. But I'm not crazy, trust me!" He wanted to laugh at how defensive you were despite his silence. You were cute. "It's just that whatever job I am given, I never give up even if it gives me a hard time — not that this job is giving me a hard time, I actually enjoy this believe it or not."

Why is that? Jungkook wanted to ask.

And as if reading his mind, you answered "It's lonely back in the village. You don't talk much but that's alright, it's better to have a silent presence than abandonment and someone who rambles about how stupid and crazy I am."

Had something happened? Your voice was growing somber.

"I'm so sorry." It came out into a breathless whisper, as if you were recalling a lost memory, as if you were on the verge of crying. "I'm so sorry they've kept you locked up in here," you said. "Trust me, if I was the chief villager and had the power to have others nodding at my commands, I'd tell them to set you free."

What?

"I've already done it once but was cast away and told to just continue doing my job. They're so cruel," you mumbled through a pout. "You must have a family that misses you but I can't even do anything to help you except ramble on and on about useless things which aren't helpful at all. I'm so sorry."

Why were you apologizing when none of it had been your fault? Why were you blaming yourself for the villager's actions?

"Would you rather I kept silent instead of rambling? I'm so sorry, you must be annoyed with me, right? I can-"

"Don't."

You froze, head quick to shoot up upon hearing his voice for the first time. Jungkook was surprised too. He never thought he'd ever say a word, but the deeds were done so he convinced himself whatever, he had already spoken so he might as well do some more.

"Don't stop talking," he said again, "I like your voice...Y/N."

A small smile spreads across your face, creating a beaming glow and with just hearing his voice and pretty words, and a drop of tear fell from your eyes.

"R-really?" You asked, standing up from where you sat as you held the silver bars in front of you, trying to look for him. But it was too dark to see.

A long silence passed and then, light footsteps. Footsteps of a human walking and you held your breath.

Bit by bit, little by little, you watched with a piercing gaze, waiting until he finally walked into the light. Your breath hitched at the sight of a man around your age, shirtless with scars all over him from the events of when he had gotten caught and old scars from elsewhere.

He was handsome. So incredibly handsome. With a sharp gaze and jawlines that could cut straight through the silver bars.

When Jungkook saw you, he had to blink for a moment. He wasn't too surprised by your beauty. Your voice was incredibly sweet and pretty, matching your beautiful face. But he frowned at the trail of tears that had left your eyes and his heart ached.

"Why are you crying?" He asked you by the time he got closer and stood just in front of you with the bars being the only thing that kept you apart.

Jungkook wanted to reach out but he held back, knowing that that would have been incredibly rude towards a lady.

"I'm not crying," you quickly lied and went on to wipe away the tears that had been waiting to fall away.

"You're a horrible liar."

You cringed. "Am I?" Jungkook hummed, nodding. "It's just...it's the first time someone has told me they liked my voice."

He frowned. "No one else likes your voice?"

"It kind of gets annoying," you said, a small bitter smile appearing.

His heart ached at the once bubbly voice now gone due to the insecurities those villagers have drilled into you.

"Speak as much as you'd like," he told you. "Your voice calms me down, lets me know that I'm not alone."

"Well you're not alone," you declared, suddenly acting all heroic. He smiled at the energy. "As long as I'm here, you'll never be lonely. But let's hope it isn't for long because I want you to have your freedom soon."

He knew that he'd definitely miss you if he ever got that freedom again.

"Does it hurt?" You asked him the next day and Jungkook looked up from smacking on a mango. You gestured at his neck, where the chain stood and Jungkook gave you an awkward lopsided smile.

"Yeah," he admitted. "It weighs a lot, it's a burden but I'm a tough dragon so I'll be alright."

"Oh please," you scoffed, pouting a little, "even the biggest and strongest dragons get hurt."

That next day, you came back with some ointment and treatments in a basket along with his meals.

"You told me it wouldn't hurt!" Jungkook hissed the moment you applied the ointment on him, stinging his wounds.

"I told you it'd sting just a little!" You argued. "Now stop moving around, it's hard enough treating your wounds with bars in our way, don't make it harder."

"But it hurts," the young dragon whined and you laughed aloud, making him pout.

"I thought you were a big and strong dragon."

"Even the biggest and strongest dragons get hurt."

The two of you smiled at his words, a reminder of the day before.

You came back a few minutes later with a pair of clothes you managed to steal from one of the village boys. They wouldn't notice, they had plenty of clothes to spare and you needed Jungkook to have clothes so that he could at least keep warm for the chilly nights.

"What happened to your shirt?" You asked him as he placed the shirt on top of him. He was masculine, so bulk with abs that could make you full for days. But you looked away before he could notice your stare, lightly slapping yourself in the face for such imaginations.

"I guess they must've stripped it off me when I was unconscious."

Them, as in the village soldiers. You didn't like the soldiers, they were too cocky especially after capturing Jungkook. One was even consistent on trying to steal your heart, deeming himself worthy because he was part of the party that struck upon the dragon.

"Oh, I forgot!" You suddenly recalled and was quick to jump onto your feet. "I'll bring you one of my warmest blankets so that you don't have to-"

"You're leaving?"

You blinked at the disappointed sound of his voice and kept yourself from leaving just yet.

"The night can get really chilly. I'm worried about you," you told him.

But Jungkook shook his head. "I can go on another day without a warm blanket, Dragons have thick skin. But can you stay here?" He asked, eyes a little shy with a small blush painted on his cheeks. "I don't like being lonely."

"Oh."

You smiled. No one had really appreciated or even acknowledge your presence until Jungkook came along. So you stayed, sat down again and nodded.

The days went on and on like that, some bickering and little fights here and there but for the most part, the two of you got along and a friendship was growing.

But because of that, you became the center of attention when you weren't in the dungeon visiting Jungkook. The villagers would stare and talk to and about you about all sorts of things. Some deemed that Jungkook used his "powers" to keep you in there for so long every time you'd visit. There were all sorts of rumors going around and you tried to pay no mind, continuing on your task as the keeper of the dragon.

"One day, I'll free you," you told the man.

"Don't hurt yourself just for me. The villagers will turn on you."

"Why does it matter?" You shrugged. "They don't care about me except for my role of keeping an eye on a dragon. I am your keeper, Jungkook, and as your keeper, I vow to free you one day soon."

"You're a rose, Y/N," Jungkook said, eyes filled with concern for you, "and roses shouldn't try to be a thorn."

"But roses carry thorns," you argued, eyes filled with determination. "I can be brave, trust me."

"I know you can, dear one." He sighed a sad sigh. "But I'm telling you, don't hurt yourself for me."

Jungkook knew that bit by bit, he was falling for you and for a moment, he had almost forgotten about the six dragons back at home. Almost.

But he knew that in the end, it wasn't right. He was given his own mates already, ones he knew he would betray the world for without a split second of hesitation. Yet as he stared at your sad face that became more and more apparent as the days went on, Jungkook had this desiring urge to protect you from your own insecurities and the things the villagers have said about you. He knew they must have said or done something to you for you to walk into the dungeon with a face that darkened of a cloudy sky.

The longer he sat there in the dungeon waiting every night for you to return every morning, the easier it was to pick up on your fake smiles and real laughter, the easier it was for him to fall.

Yet it was forbidden to yearn for you. Not only did he have his own mates waiting for him back at home but he knew that it would be best for you to be with a man that was your own kind. A human. And the bars that separated him from ever reaching towards you reminded him each and every day.

A few nights later, Jungkook woke up at the sound of keys rattling and his head shot up with alarm, afraid it had been some soldier.

"Jungkook!"

At the sound of your harsh whisper, his brows furrowed. "Y/N what the heck are you doing?" He asked, running over towards the bar and holding onto them tightly as he stared at you with fright.

"I told you I'd set you free one day," you simply stated and then, the door opened.

He stood there frozen for the longest time, contemplating on what to do while you rushed over to his side to unlock the chains that kept him locked in. He didn't know whether to pounce onto you with a hug or scream at you to leave. He didn't know what to do. And had the doors truly opened for him to escape out of?

The second you dragged the chain off his neck, Jungkook felt free for the first time in forever, a weight taken off of him after such a long while. Literally.

"Don't cry," you told him, wiping away the tears he hadn't realized were there. Your hands were so soft, the way you cupped his face in such a gentle way. He always imagined your touches would be as gentle and soft as your heart.

Jungkook cried because your hands reminded him of the gentle touches he's once been used to from his mates, the hyungs that have always loved and taken care of him, the hyungs who were probably worried in fear each passing day, wondering whether their maknae was still alive or not. But he didn't cry just for him, he cried for you. A pure soul, a human he never knew would care so much to the point where she was saving him by risking her own life.

"We have to go, Kook, before they find out I've stolen the keys."

You took his hand into his, rough and larger, and the two of you ran into the deepest part of the forest until you finally stopped after deeming that it was finally a safe distance from your village.

"Go home, Kook," you smiled at him but he could see the glistening tears in your eyes under the moonlight.

"What about you?" He asked, holding your face in his large hands as he wiped the tears away. He'd always wanted to do that, to hold you close to him and finally he was given that chance. No bars in between to keep you apart. "They'll know that it was you who freed me, you're the only crazy one who'd free a dragon."

"I know," you chuckled through the tears, trying to make light of things. "I'll be fine."

"No, you won't." A tear slipped from his eyes. "They'll kill you, Y/N, they'll have you executed for losing a prized possession of theirs."

"I..I know." Your voice shook and you both cried a little more. "Transform now, Kook, before they find the both of us here."

He didn't want to but he knew that you were right. So lingering his fingers on you for a moment longer, not wanting to let go, he smiled at you before stepping back and then, you watched as the man in front of you transformed into the creature the villagers have come to fear and deemed the most dangerous creature in all of the lands.

When he looked back at you, eyes of a golden sun, you reached out with your hands to hold the beautiful dark scales on him, something none of the villagers would ever dare to do. But you weren't any of the villagers, you were Y/N, and Jungkook knew that Y/N was far braver and sweeter than any of those villagers.

Those eyes were still the same ones Jungkook always held despite his true dragon form and you smiled at the beautiful sight in front of you.

A loud uproar was quick to having you flinching and Jungkook looked towards the sound.

"They've found us," you gasped, turning your head back at him with alarm. "You have to leave now."

He hesitated but you were so insistent on him leaving. "Go, Jungkook. Don't let my freeing you go to waste or we'll both get executed."

"I won't let them hurt you," he vowed, "I won't let them lay a hand on you."

"Kook-"

"You saved my life, Y/N," he cut you off, "it's my turn to save yours."

You looked at him in confusion, wondering what that meant.

"Climb on my back, Y/N, ride the wind with me."

"What? Jungk-"

"Come to my village with me," he said, voice a little more desperate. "Come to my clan."

"Your clan?"

The shouting was nearing louder and louder.

"Come with me."

He lent you his back, large wings flared out and silently asking you to climb onto it so that you could reach his back.

You took a moment to look back at the loud voices that came closer and closer and then back at the eyes that had been home to you more than the village had ever been. And then, without another moment of hesitation, you climbed onto Jungkook's back and his wings flapped a few times to get themselves ready to take flight.

Yet at that moment, a bow came flying by and you were hit right near the chest, near your heart, making your body fall back and off Jungkook's back, onto the hard ground with a harsh thud.

Freedom so close yet so far away.

Jungkook growled at the soldiers that stood a few yards away, his eyes growing red at the sight of you weak and vulnerable.

His voice raged into the night sky, a cry so loud and booming that it could be heard from far, far away. He flung his tail at them, causing the soldiers to fly a few yards back.

He turned to you, whimpers leaving your lips and held you under his claws safely and securely, and then, Jungkook flew off into the night sky, riding the wind with you in hand.

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Vader and Anakin are the same.

Time to repost my good old meta, cause apparently it’s still necessary and valid as a take.

Vader wants desperately to deny that him and Anakin are the same person, going to any length to separate himself from who he was and what he used to be. But, as the ROTS novelization also tells us and though it is no longer canon, I think it’s a valid way of putting it - Vader knows, somewhere deep down that he is Anakin. He knows he’s still the same man, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it.

Because that would mean he’s still weak, in the eyes of himself and Palpatine. It would mean he destroyed himself, and what he wants to believe is that what he destroyed was someone else’s life. He wants to see Vader as superior, because glorifying the deprived state he’s currently in is the only way he can handle his own remorse, rectify what he’s done to get there.

If he admits he’s still Anakin, he admits that what he’s done wasn’t making anything better for him. That he himself hurt and scarred the people he loved. He wants to believe Anakin’s persona is separate from his own, that Anakin’s love is somebody else’s love. Even when he draws on his own - Anakin’s - emotions to plunge into the Dark Side, he denies that they’re his.

Still, when he thinks of Padmé or Obi Wan or Ahsoka or Shmi - he always thinks in first person before rectifying it. Because they were his - and even when, as Vader, it’s almost a compulsive thought to add on that “no, they were Anakin’s beloved, not mine,” he deep down knows that’s not true.

Vader hates himself, more than he could ever hate the part of himself he calls Anakin. Because he is Anakin, and the part of himself he refers to as Anakin is the young slave boy from Tatooine. The naive kid, who fell in love with Padmé Amidala and loved her enough to marry her in spite of the Jedi Code. Who shared the most intimate of Force bonds with his Jedi master Obi Wan Kenobi. Who taught Ahsoka Tano in Jedi arts with the care of an older sibling. Who loved his mother Shmi Skywalker so deeply, all he wanted was to free her from slavery.

To Vader, Anakin is the kid who has yet to commit genocide; who has yet to be at the beck and call of the most evil man in the Galaxy. Who has yet to sacrifice a perfectly good state of being - where he’s loved and secure - for a life of misery and agony. He won’t even admit that he’s literally put himself in the place of a slave by obeying Palpatine’s every word.

Because Anakin lost everyone he ever loved. Everyone who ever loved him. Vader wants to tell himself he doesn’t need them, he doesn’t care. But if Vader and Anakin weren’t one and the same, he wouldn’t be pained by Anakin’s memories. He wouldn’t be affected by the thoughts of Padmé, Shmi, Obi Wan or Ahsoka. He would feel nothing when faced with reality; when Ahsoka or Obi Wan are standing in front of him, ready to duel to the death. When the thought of resurrecting Padmé - as a shell of the person she was in life - becomes a possiblity. If Vader weren’t still Anakin, he’d brush it all off. He’d go about his day, with no attachments.

But he does feel. He feels pain, and sorrow, and rage. And if those were not his emotions, because of his connection to the people involved, he’d be empty and unfeeling and void of suffering. And he’s not. When Ahsoka addresses she’ll "won’t leave you, not this time”, he falters. Briefly, and not enough to return fully to the light or to admit to himself who he is and what he has done. But, he does falter and he does hesitate, if just for a moment.

When he strikes Obi Wan down, having told himself for decades he’d be delighted and thrilled to finally rid himself of Obi Wan’s memory - instead, he crumbles. The cry for help, of agony goes out into the Force; so strong that even Yoda can sense it on Dagobah at the other end of the Galaxy.

Even the first instance of this grief, when he’s informed of - and subsequently lied to about - Padmé’s death by Palpatine, he is crushed. If Vader did not care, he would have been unfazed by Padmé’s death. His first step as the man behind the mask is to grieve Anakin Skywalker’s dead wife. Of course, she was the reason he used to justify the heinous acts he committed, but it was never really about that in the end. It became an excuse to glorify his own new state of being.

Vader tells himself he is not Anakin Skywalker, but yet all of the things he feels, all of the things that ground him in his pain and thus in the Dark Side, are Anakin’s grievances; are Anakin’s misgivings. Are Anakin’s losses.

The same thing happens when he’s confronted by the truth that Anakin’s son lived, that Luke Skywalker exists. That there’s a possible future for him, as a father, and he immediately thinks of Luke as his son - despite always pressing the fact that he is Darth Vader, and that Anakin Skywalker is no more.

Subconsciously - and perhaps on some distant and faraway conscious level - despite all the things Vader wants to convince himself; he’s still Anakin. He knows he’s still Anakin. Anakin Skywalker, who’s done despicable, deplorable things. Anakin Skywalker, who has taken uncountable lives - murdered children - all in the name of a misguided sense of justice. A way to cheat himself out of guilt, because having a conscience is for the weak and Anakin does have one.

And to admit that he’s still the same man, would be to admit that Anakin was never a wholly good and pure person to begin with. That Anakin was always damaged, that Anakin was always flawed. To admit the insecurities that Anakin felt - that the thoughts of how he never deserved love, that he was never good enough, that he always wanted more than he had - are all his. That Anakin was never betrayed by anyone but himself.

That’s why it’s not until Luke redeems him, that Anakin can admit who he is.

That every vile thing he’s ever done was all on him, not somebody else named Vader. It is then that he accepts that he is Vader, and that Vader is Anakin, and there never was any real difference. And despite the horrible things Anakin has done, he saved his son and finally did the right thing. Finally did something good, and pure, and utterly selfless. Finally loved someone else enough to sacrifice himself, rather than toss them along the wayside to justify himself.

And that’s how he’s finally coming to terms with the fact that in spite of everything he’s done wrong, of all the mistakes he’s made, he could still do good. He may not be a good person, but he is capable of doing good deeds.

When Anakin stops separating himself into two different personas - who are ultimately one and the same - is when he finally finds peace. Because that’s where he finally admits that Anakin Skywalker ruined his own life by putting himself before everyone he ever cared for. It’s only by accepting that he is Anakin Skywalker and always has been, that he can forgive himself.

[seancekitsch]

Ebb & Flow

part 2 for Heat. diego x reader

warnings: angst, hints of diego’s self loathing, low key set in the prize buck universe but obvs not the same reader character, drinking, oblivious idiot love birds, unprotected pre-marital missionary, edgar allen poe reference, corny ass shit

Four days pass, and every day he debates trying to reach out to you. He wakes up in a cold bed that feels empty without you. But he doesn’t; because you made it very clear you did not want to sleep with Diego Hargreeves specifically. He decides to try to go back to what his life was like before you fell into it. Before he fell for you. He tries to pretend that hair pin (which he’s now tucked away into a drawer) isn’t literally haunting and taunting him every second he’s in his boiler room bedroom. It’s hard for him to sleep or function with it in the room with him, like it screams it’s presence as a trace of you. The hair pin is a tell-tale heart of all of Diego’s misguided feelings and how he so severely misread the situation between the two of you. The hair pin is the constant thrumming of his mind telling him over and over that of course you’d never feel the same way as he does. You were a therapist, he was a gym janitor. Of course you’d tire of slumming it with a man that regularly plays crime fighter at night. Diego is constantly reminded of you even without seeing the hair pin because he just knows where he put it. And that address. That damn address carefully written in blue pen on the back of one of your business cards. Would it be wrong of him to still look into the warehouse? You had to have left it for him on purpose, you had to have taken it out of your bag and left it there purposely on the bed; there was no way it could have fallen out of the bag that was on his table and onto the middle of his bed as you were leaving. Diego tries to bury his thoughts of you in vigilante work, tries to stay out late. He succeeds and returns just before the gym opens in the morning. When he finally gets back to his boiler room, Al offhandedly mentions that a woman had inquired about his whereabouts. Part of Diego desperately hopes and wishes it’s you, but he doesn’t do anything about it. You probably don’t actually want to see him. Or it's one of his sisters. Probably just Allison or Vanya. Family stuff. Maybe they had another dad die or something. 

Twelve days later, he finally works up the courage to call the owner of the warehouse to ask about pricing and zoning if he wanted to start his own gym there. He had enough in savings that he could have moved out of his current situation and into a studio like Klaus had, but he wanted to put as much money together for his own gym before he thought of himself. He could sleep peacefully alone on a cot in a gym that he happened to own. The current owner remarks that he had heard Diego would be calling, and says he likes the idea of a gym going into the space there. He thanks the man, and they strike a deal, talk about a title and deed change to be drafted and signed for the beginning of the next month. Diego unofficially owns his own gym now. Normally he would be calling you to celebrate, but instead he dials and hopes the landline at Klaus’ apartment is still connected. Klaus’ partner answers and congratulates Diego, and invites him out to the bar with them this weekend. Diego’s voice declines before his mind can stop himself. Maybe because he didn't want to celebrate with anyone but you. 

It’s fifteen days later, Friday, when Diego regrets not going to the bar with Klaus and his partner. It's Diego, a six pack, and that damn hair pin having what looked more like a pity party than a celebration of a major life event. But maybe that's not the worst thing, now he can focus himself for the job ahead, get a good night's sleep. Well, he would have gotten a good night's sleep, if there weren't suddenly shouting coming from the hallway outside his door. 

“Klaus, I don't want to be here!”

That was clearly, unmistakably your voice. You were outside his door and vehemently expressing that you wanted nothing to do with this place. What were you doing with his brother? Oh, right. Friday night at the bar. He was supposed to have been there too, but he bailed. 

“Well it was either this or you officially become part of my harem for the night”

“I have a home, thank you very much! I could go to it”

“But you left your car at the club, and you live across the city. You’re safe here, even if you are afraid of my brother now.”

Afraid. Afraid. Your opinion of him had gone from disgust to fear. He presses his ear now to the door and can only hear one set of retreating footsteps. Someone is leaving, and if hes right, its Klaus. 

Then he hears,

“FUCK,” a frustrated half-groan, half-scream. He has to admit to himself, even hearing how unhappy you seemed, he missed hearing your voice. He missed you. And you were outside his door right now in the middle of the night. Fuck it, he thought, I’m not missing my chance. 

When Diego opens the door, he sees you sitting on the ground, tight jean clad legs spread and chunky high heeled boot toes pointed outwards. He always loved those shoes on you. When his eyes meet your face, there’s an indignant pout on your lips, but your eyes are apologetic. 

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough. C’mon, I’m not leaving you in the hallway.” He opens the door a little wider, enough that he could usher you in, but you don't budge.

“Y’know, i’m not even drunk it's just my-”

“-your rule, yeah, I remember,” You had this rule that no matter what, you wouldn't get behind the wheel if you'd had more than one beer or even one drink stronger than a beer. Always best to err on the side of caution, you’d said. Better to not get pulled over at the very least or kill anyone else at the very worst, and you could handle being inconvenienced if it meant safety. But the fact of the matter is that it's the dead of winter and you live across town. You actually live in pretty close proximity to his new gym. 

“Come in, you can take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch in Al’s office. It’s two am and you are not walking home looking like that. I’ll stay away from you,” He's trying his best to sound comforting and respectful, but it hurts. It hurts to be inviting you in and knowing you want nothing to do with him. 

“You don't have to-” you pause, as if trying to find the right words, “I’m not gonna put you out like that”

Diego nods, and turns back inside the boiler room, holding the door open, and you catch it, following him. It's just like old times, except it isn't. 

“Here, I've got a shirt and some pants you can sleep in,” Diego’s rifling through his drawers as he talks, worried he’ll look at you too long and seem as desperate as he is. He manages to throw a clean tee and a pair of jogger sweatpants on the bed, two of the only clean items he has currently because tomorrow is laundry day. Diego turns completely around to avoid looking at you while he can hear you changing, something he never would have done before, but there are boundaries now. He can imagine exactly what you look like right now, beautiful as ever and tired, changing into his clothes, just as it had happened dozens of times before. Only before he would have watched in awe and then grabbed you all to himself. 

“You can turn around now, nothing you haven't seen before,” your voice is soft, you don't sound annoyed anymore and he can’t help but feel a twinge of hope at that. 

When he turns around, he sees you've neglected the pants all together. Your bare legs end where the hem of his shirt meets the tops of your thighs and - why the fuck would you tell him to turn around with you dressed like this?

You gesture to his bed, and he sits on it, but you don't. You stay standing, looking more apprehensive and nervous by the second. 

“K-klaus said you're afraid of me now?” Stupid thing to say. Diego’s tired. His insecurities are showing. You're the last person he would want to be afraid of him.

Your face crumbles into something unreadable, but what he would guess is pity or guilt. Which are maybe worse than fear and disgust by his standards. He lets his head drop, suddenly finding his draped hands between his legs to be extremely interesting. 

You shift from one foot to another, unsure of how to answer, but then it comes to you. 

You place yourself in his line of vision, not allowing him to look away as you kneel down on your knees between his own. The sight alone is more than Diego can bear.

“No, no I'm not. I'm sorry you heard that and he said that. Look, I wanted to talk to you, not like this, not right now. I came by last week but you weren't here.” So it was you that had come around. Not his sisters like he had convinced himself. You wanted to talk to him. 

“I wanted to apologize. I-I shouldn't have left like that. I need to explain to you why I left.” He nods, and lets you continue. “I crossed a line. I was wrong. Our arrangement, I know it was like a no strings attached thing, but I started to have strings! I have so many strings. I broke our agreement, it wasn't casual for me. I broke your trust. I had to leave. I couldn't do that to you.”

Strings. You had strings, attached. To him of all people. You broke the rules. So did he. He searches your face, as if there's something to read on your features, and feels your hands slide into his own. 

“I-I-I’m sh-shitty at t-tying knots.” Diego what the fuck was that? He was more nervous than he thought. But you break into a watery grin, understanding the meaning in his words. You nod, and reply,

“I can teach you, if you've got strings to spare.” That was extremely sappy, and he loved it. He had so many strings to spare. He loved you. And he could show it now.

He tugs on your hands to pull them up to his shoulders, and you lean up into it, lips coming together as his hands wrap around your back to hold you tight. He easily lifts you up until he can gather you in his lap and keeps kissing you, over and over and over until you're dizzy. He holds you tightly, not unlike the last time you were in his bed, but this time his hands roam and grasp and touch, exploring you like it's the first time you're doing this. In a way, it is. It's the first time you're doing this so vulnerable and open with one another. You don't have to hide the smile that forms against his lips, you don't have to feel shame in the way that your lips chase after his own when he tries to pull away. You are taking from each other as much as you are giving, and for once you are giving everything.

His hands slide from your back, to the hem of his shirt, to your ass under the shirt. Diego is, at heart, an ass man you remember. He squeezes one cheek, then slaps it. Not hard, just enough to feel the slight jiggle at the contact. He chuckles against your mouth and then continues south, still kneading his hands into the flesh of your ass as his kisses meet the hem of his shirt at the other side, at your neck. You kiss his cheek, his nose, the scar that connects from behind his ear to his eye. Diego takes the time to lick the base of your neck, making you shudder and moan into it before he flips the both of you, surprising you when your back hits the blankets below. Looking up at him, his eyes are full of lust and admiration. 

“You look beautiful in my shirt, baby,” he whispers.

“And you are wearing entirely too much, dear” you reply.

He groans, and it turns into a chuckle as he whips his shirt off his torso, revealing his broad, scarred chest to you, which your hands immediately reach for to pull him back down onto you. He makes no move to remove the shirt covering you, but you think this might be doing something for him. Instead, his hands roam under the shirt again, and tease at the hem of your underwear. They aren't a particularly sexy pair, because the last thing you expected to happen tonight is this. It doesn't matter to Diego, who just pulls them down as far as his arm can reach, letting you kick them the rest of the way off as he fumbles with pulling his sweatpants down. There isn't the usual teasing game tonight, no. You'd spent too much time apart, you are full to the brim with love that even a little teasing would have the two of you spilling and in pain. This is fuck-or-die with no real consequences but your own impatience and need for each other. 

Diego wastes no time gently spreading your legs with a smooth slowness you didn't know he possessed before easing inside of you. You gasp, close your eyes, and breathe, taking a moment to remember this. This is what it felt like to make love. Another first for both of you. His pace, when he finally begins moving, is slow and steady, he's in no rush now that he has you. He’s quieter than usual, opting to just kiss you until he's sure you can read his mind and just understand what he's thinking. You rock peacefully, like a boat on the ocean, cresting waves within you mounting, exhaling with low moans he's never heard from you before. You never thought slow and careful would bring you to climax, but here you are feeling it steadily build and build. Waves now beginning to crash instead of ebb and flow, Diego’s only warning being your moans beginning to rise an octave. The release hits you in an all encompassing mighty tidal wave, leaving you shaking in his arms, holding onto him tightly like a lighthouse to the shore. This was not a white hot explosion, this was the tides coming home. As you subside, you almost feel ashamed at how quickly you came for him, but Diego is close behind you, your body pulling him to shore after you. He comes with a tight, close-lipped hum of a moan pressed against the side of your neck, and stills above you. His body cages yours to the bed, a willing prisoner of whatever Diego Hargreeves had in store for you. Whatever happened next for him, you were along for the voyage.

[libsterslobsters]

Friends

Summary: Even after the battle with Thanos, The Winter Soldier's reputation still proceeds him (much to the chagrin of Bucky Barnes), which has a habit of making things more complicated than they need to be. That, on to of the fact that there’s certain question he and the Reader still haven't brought up (most importantly, why did she wait those five years he was gone), equals trouble, and poor Sam doesn't know what hit him.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! Super-soldier Reader (Reader can see bits of the future in visions as well as understand every language)

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, insecure Bucky, Sam doesn't deserve any of this, IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN, DON'T INTERACT!!!

‐------------------------------------------

 The day starts off normally enough. He and Sam are in the training room sparring while she practices her skills with the throwing knives on the opposite side. Bucky’s so involved with his task (Sam may not be enhanced per se, but dammit, he can move fast) that he doesn’t notice that he’s being watched until the sound of someone clearing their throat reaches his ears. On instinct, his head turns towards the noise and that’s when he sees the intruder. A man with an eye patch who looks vaguely familiar.

 “Wilson, Barnes, New Girl-” Sam’s head snaps up and as her final knife sticks in the wall, she studies the man in the eye patch as well. “-get your asses up to the situation room. Meeting in five.” With no further explanation for his presence, the man slips out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

 “Who the hell was that?” He says it more to himself than to the others, but Sam still shoots him a questioning look as they start in the direction of the elevator.

 “You mean you don’t know?” He almost shoots back that he wouldn’t be asking if he did, now would he, but before he can, she falls into step next to him, taking his hand.

 “That’s Nick Fury, Buck. Director of SHIELD back before it went up in flames.”

 “Oh, shit.” Well that certainly explains the vague recollection. Now that he knows who the man is, the whole picture is coming into focus. He remembers him. “I tried to kill him once.”

 Sam doesn’t bother to hide his snicker as they climb into the elevator and it begins to ascend.

 “It was a long time ago. I’m sure he’s gotten over it.” Despite her attempt at reassuring him, Bucky’s fairly certain Nick Fury is the type to hold a grudge.

 That theory is confirmed as soon as they step foot in the situation room and he’s instructed to take a seat against the back wall while the others are offered chairs in front of Fury’s desk. It’s also not lost on him that, no matter how far the former director paces, he always keeps Bucky in his eyeline. So much for bygones being bygones.

 “The president is going on a diplomatic mission and his head of security has requested that we lend him a protection detail.”

 “What’s the location?” Sam’s question is met with a frown.

 “That’s on a need-to-know basis. Everyone who’s involved will find out once you’re in the air.”

 “Still-” Sam tries again. “-we’re not bodyguards for hire. No world leader, no matter what country he’s from, warrants a protection unit consisting of three Avengers.”

 That lone good eye settles on Bucky once more, and he can guess what’s coming next.

 “Not three Avengers. Just two. Falcon and Soothsayer. The Winter Soldier is not required on this particular mission.”

 “Why?” This time, she’s the one speaking up.

 “Why what?”

 “Why Sam and me, not Bucky? Usually Falcon and Winter Soldier are the go-to task force.” He really wishes she hadn’t asked that. There’s no way the answer will make any of them happy.

 “Apart from the fact that you can see the future and speak every language flawlessly upon hearing it as well as having super soldier capabilities-” Here it comes. “-the president’s head of security felt that Sergeant Barnes is too volatile to act as an asset in this instance.”

 “Bullshit. Barnes is a seasoned combat veteran who’s received special training that allows him to operate seamlessly under any set of circumstances. I’m more likely to lose my shit than he is.” If only he were sitting closer, he could take her hand, try to silently communicate that he’s okay, this is just part of having his particular past, she doesn’t have to go to war for him.

 Fury crosses his arms, glaring at her. “I don’t know how much plainer I can make it. Your boyfriend’s services are not required. End of story.”

 “And if I choose not to accept this mission?” Sam shoots him a look that clearly says, “Is she really arguing with Nick Fury?” Bucky’s torn between being astounded himself and trying not to laugh at how shocked Fury looks.

 “If you chose to disobey direct orders, then you are no longer an Avenger.” He can sense where this is going to go, so before she has a chance to straight up quit, he stands.

 “Will that be all, Director Fury?” That definitely just put him on the shit list, or at least further down it.

 “That will be all. You’re dismissed.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

 She’s seething the whole drive home, and it shows. While usually Barnes is the one to drive (her guess is it’s a throwback to his youth when the gentlemanly thing to do was for the man to drive, one that he hasn’t even realized he’s doing), it’s rush hour, and he’s still getting used to modern New York traffic, so this time she’s behind the wheel. Normal highway offenses that wouldn’t ruffle her feathers are met with gritted teeth, and situations that would make her frustrated on a good day result in curses and the middle finger. And why not? Since the world at large is showing it’s ass, she’ll join in and show hers too.

 By the time they arrived home, her stormy mood has turned into a varitable hurricane, and she slams the apartment door instead of closing it.

 “Alright, that’s enough.” Bucky’s voice is measured, but she still bristles. “Doll, what’s gotten into you?”

 Her gut instinct is to reply with something seething, but a look at his face puts that to rest. He’s wearing a slight frown, those eyes wide with concern. At the same time, her anger fizzles and is replaced by a deep sadness.

 “I hate how Fury treated you.” Her voice is brittle, breaking off at the end. As much as she’s sick of  how the world views her Winter Soldier, she knows it affects him tenfold. When the world at large looks at the man standing in her kitchen, gazing at her with so much love and sympathy, they see a monster. Maybe it’s ignorance. Maybe it’s because they don’t want to see past the deeds HYDRA forced him to carry out. But it breaks her heart to know that this gentle, loyal to a fault, brilliant, hilarious hero is still regarded by those in power as some sort of heartless psychopath.

 Bucky doesn’t say anything, instead just collecting her into his arms and holding her close in response. Despite her best efforts to keep the tears at bay, a few leak out, and she knows he can feel them through his worn shirt. It’s ridiculous. He’s the one being scorned and she’s crying. Well, there’s something she can still do about this.

 “I’m not going to accept the mission.” She feels more than hears him sigh.

 “Doll, you know you can’t do that. They’ll kick you out of the Avengers.”

 “I don’t care.” Her words are reckless, she realizes that, but in the moment, she means them. “I won’t be part of a team where you’re not treated like a valuable player. Fuck the Avengers. I don’t want it if-”

 “It’s not about what you want though, is it?” She leans back to see his face, trying to read his meaning. Bucky chuckles wearily. “Sweetheart, you didn’t join the Avengers because you wanted something out of it. You did it because the world is a dangerous place, and we can make it safer. Together.” He gives her side a gentle squeeze. “This team is bigger than one person, and what we do is more important than a few jerks holding grudges.”

 She knows he’s right, but still…

 “It should be you on that protection detail. Not me.” She doesn’t doubt her capabilities, and in some ways she understands why her skllset would be deemed valuable for this mission. However, when it comes down to it, Barnes is the better option. He’s stronger than her, has years of experience, and was trained as a soldier. Protecting a target while remaining unseen is his bread and butter. By comparison, she’s a clumsy second.

 “Maybe.” He nods. “But to be honest, I don’t mind sitting this one out. A mission in close quarters with Sam for days on end, sitting through endless boring meetings?” Bucky feigns a shudder, which makes her snicker. “No thanks. You can have that.”

 “So you’re not disappointed?” She decides to pepper in some humor to lighten the mood. “Not missing out on every boy scout’s dream of meeting the president?”

 He narrows his eyes at her, but the twitch of his lips gives it away. “Did you just call me a boy scout?”

 Holding his gaze, she nods solumnly. “If the shoe fits.”

 They stay like that for a few moments, eyes locked, waiting to see which one will crack first. Finally, with a shrug, he tells her, “I don’t even know who the president is nowadays-” and she gives into the giggles.

 “Yeah, yeah. You’d better go pack your bags, solnyshka. Wheels are up in two hours.”

 Still chuckling softly, she squeezes his hand. “Love you, Buck.”

 “Love you too, Doll.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

 On the first full day he’s alone, Bucky keeps to his usual schedule. His alarm goes off at five thirty, and after realizing that the other side of the bed is cold (which jogs his memory), he gets up and bleerily makes his way to the kitchen. Normally the time spent waiting for the coffee to perk would be spent making jokes about the inevitable knots and tangles both of them would be sporting after a night of deep sleep, but instead, it’d dead silent, and he reads the news instead of joking around with his girl.

 Their apartment isn’t large by any stretch of the imagination, but without her there to make the familiar noises of getting ready for the day ahead, it feels huge and empty. Eerily so. Shaking his head, Bucky finishes dressing and grabs his keys. There’s no real point in going to the Avengers complex since Sam won’t be there, but it feels wrong somehow to hang around his home without her here.

 Rhodey doesn’t bother to hide his surprise when he catches sight of him, but doesn’t say anything other than to tell him to check his inbox for a requisition form which should cover the cost of new ammo. As it turns out, when you have absolutely nothing else to concentrate on other than the task at hand, doing paperwork goes much faster. By twelve o’clock, Bucky’s finished all three field reports that are due and filled out a good month’s worth of backlogged forms. So, after lunch (a peanut butter and jelly sandwich because she’s not around to meet up with at a diner for a quick bite before they both have to return to work), he heads to the training room.

 It takes all of two hours for him to thoroughly exhaust every workout option, and no one is available to spar with him. Unfortunately, he’s still left with two more hours to fill before he can justify leaving, so he does something he’s never done before: cleans his desk. Technically, it’s only been two months since he started the “day job” part of being an Avenger, but my god. You’d think it had been two years since this desk saw the business end of a duster. He draws out the task until the clock reads five in the afternoon and then, a trash bag full of odd papers and food wrappers in hand, heads out to the parking lot.

 Dinner is a silent affair. If she were here, he’d put his phone on silent while they worked together, preparing the evening meal, but tonight he watches Youtube video after Youtube video in an attempt to keep himself occupied. Finally, at nine o’clock, he crawls into bed. He’s  nowhere near asleep when, an hour and a half later, his phone dings with a text. It’s her.

 “Hey, you. Hope you didn’t miss me too much today.” A smile spreads over his face as he reads the teasing message, and he rapidly types back.

 “Nope. Barely realized you were gone.”

 “Good, ‘cause I definitely don’t miss you stealing the covers.” He snickers.

 “Yeah, and I had so much hot water for my shower this morning I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

 There’s a short pause, then-

 “Sorry. Got distracted picturing you in the shower.” She’s perfect. She really is.

 “Don’t worry about it. I was busy thinking about you in bed next to me.”

 “Dammit, Barnes. Here I was trying to be sexy, and you said something sweet.”

 They text back and forth for a few more minutes, during which she tells him that she can’t call because the hotel room is possibly bugged, and then finally, after exchanging “I love you’s” say goodnight.

 The second day is a little different. For the first time since his time in the Army, Bucky ignores his alarm. His body wakes him up at seven a.m., and instead of making his own coffee, he stops at the gas station around the corner to pick up a cup. He’s already made up his mind that he’s not going into work today (he’s caught up for the next two weeks at least), so instead, he just drives. Explores the open roads with no map and nowhere to be. Going where the highway takes him. That is, until he gets lost.

 He has a GPS on his phone (wonders of modern technology), but on a whim, he decides to check the map in his glove compartment. If he started in Brooklyn, and the last town was… yeah, he’s in New Jersey. Well, that was a fun road trip. Time to head back home.

 It’s a grand total of five hours later when he arrives back at his apartment, which means he still has nineish hours to kill before he can go to sleep. Alright, he needs another task, fast. As he makes himself a sandwich for lunch, he catches sight of the broom and dustpan. Cleaning. He can clean the apartment.

 Dusting, vaccuuming, mopping, doing dishes, and washing all of the clothes that, between him and his fiancee, they own, takes five hours. It would’ve been less, but he went over things three times to kill more time. There’s no real reason to cook, it’s just him, but because he’s trying to keep himself occupied, he attempts to make a quiche. Three dozen eggs later, he thinks he’s figured it out.

 The goodnight text comes at nine o’clock, but it’s short. “Hey. Can’t talk. Target is still active.” (he assumes she means the president). “Just wanted to check in. Love you.”

 He types a quick reply, then rolls over and starts to count ceiling tiles in an attempt to wear himself out.

 On the third day, Bucky doesn’t get out of bed until ten a.m. Not because he’s sleeping. Oh, no. Because there’s nothing else to do except scroll through news articles and watch videos of dogs getting scared by their own hiccups. He finally convinces himself to get up, but after much consideration, decides against putting on pants. It’s just him. There’s no one else around. Come to think of it, he might as well drink his coffee straight out of the pot. Again, no one else around. He draws the line at eating cereal straight out of the box, but that’s mostly because it requires milk.

 After eating, he settles in on the sofa and decides to take advantage of the seemingly endless supply of movies and television shows readily available at the click of a button. Leave It To Beaver attracts his attention because it’s in black and white. Made in the late 1950s. Okay, he’ll give it a go.

 Three seasons later, his phone dings and he realizes that it’s seven p.m. So that’s what people mean by “binge watching.” It’s a text (big shocker), but this time, he almost drops his phone as he reads. “The mission’s over. We’re heading out tonight. We should touch down tomorrow morning at seven a.m.”  Yes!

 “Alright. I’ll be there.” That’s not enough. “Looking forward to having you back, Doll.”

 It’s quiet for a few minutes, then-

 “So you’re not missing the bachelor life?”

 He snorts. Hell no. “I think 100 years of bachelorhood is enough.”

 That night, for the first time since she left, he sleeps well.

 When his alarm goes off, Bucky’s already been up for half an hour, changing the sheets on the bed, checking to makes sure he put all of the laundry away in the right drawers, and making a note of any foodstuffs they’re out of.  He takes more time showering and shaving than usual along with paying far more attention to which shirt he puts on. Part of him feels a little ridiculous, but it’s quickly overwhelmed by excitement. His girl’s coming home today! Before he climbs in his car, he brews a pot of her favorite tea and pours it into a thermos, adding sugar and milk to her specifications. Goodness knows she’s probably had  enough of doing without over the past four mornings.

 He’s expecting the quinjet to arrive a little later than predicted. He’s even expecting the other agents to disembark first. What he’s not expecting is, when he finally sees her, for her to be laughing at something Sam has said. If anything, he was expecting his partner to have gotten on her nerves. This is good. The three of them have had to work together a few times in the past months since the blip was undone. It’s good that they’re getting along. Bucky nods to himself. It’s healthy really, especially since they work in high-stress situations.

 As soon as he steps out of his car, he can make out their conversation.  

 “I can’t believe you made me listen to Elton John!” Sam’s shaking his head, but he’s smiling.

 She elbows him. “Hey, you ended up singing along, didn’t you? And you have to admit, the song’s catchy.”

 “Not when you sing it, it’s not. You have to be the most tone-deaf person on the face of this planet.”

 Whoa! Where the hell does Sam get off saying that to her? It’s true, but still. He’s about to intervene, tell him to go to hell, but she just shrugs.

 “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

 Sam whistles. “Remind me to make sure you’re on the opposite team next karaoke night.”

 Wait, there’s karaoke nights? He’s never been invited. Not that he’d want to go, but-

 “Yeah, because you know the only way you’d ever have a chance at winning is to go against me.”

 Something about that playful smile, the one he’s only ever seen before directed at him (usually when she’s teasing him about being an old man… god, she’s so young, what’s she doing with him anyway) irks him, and ultimately that’s what makes him step forward and interrupt the banter.

 “Good mission?” Okay, his mind’s definitely playing tricks on him. Her eyes light up and, completely abandoning Sam, she takes off at a run towards him. Bucky’s prepared for it and immediately pulls her into a tight embrace as soon as she’s near enough.

 “God, I missed you.” Yeah, it was all his imagination. Her lips press against his in punctuation to her statement, and by the time they break apart, he’s out of breath.

 “I missed you too, Doll, but the question still stands.”

 “Yes, it was good. Pretty boring for the most part, but…” He really should be paying attention, but his gaze shifts towards Sam. Is he crazy, or is Sam… watching her? That’s to be expected. They did just spend seventy-two odd hours in close quarters. It’s probably a remnant from the mission. Right?

 “...and between you and me-” She leans closer, body pressing against his side, and that redirects his attention. “-the president is kind of a dick.”

 She says it quietly, but Sam must’ve heard, because he nods.

 “Welcome to protecting world leaders.” Their eyes lock for a moment, and Bucky nods.

 “Wilson.”

 “Barnes.” And, Sam’s back to looking at her. “Gotta say, your girl’s more fun on stakeouts than you. Knows how to keep things interesting.” What the hell does that mean? He needs to calm down. He trusts her implicitly. It’s an innocent comment.

 “I could’ve told you that.” Of course she’s more interesting. When Bucky’s on a mission, he’s only interested in getting in and out as quickly and effectively as possible. That’s what he did as The Winter Soldier, and the years of sticking to a strict protocal haven’t made him more chatty. She and Sam are from the same generation. They have things to talk about. Things in common. Shared life experiences. Oh god, he’s so very much older than she is. Old and boring. 

 “Yeah.” Sam chuckles. “I think next time, I’m gonna ask if I can have her instead of you.”

 If he was paying closer attention to the woman by his side, Bucky would’ve caught the slight frown on her face at Sam’s words, but it’s lost on him thanks to her reply.

 “No thanks. If  I never have to share a hotel room with you again, it’ll be too soon.” Wait… they shared a hotel room? That’s common, but… one hotel room. Shared. That means one bathroom. One shower. One bed. Jesus, he needs to get ahold of himself. It’s fine. Everything is-

 “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow at the debrief?”

 She nods, smiling brightly. “Sure thing.”

 Sam approaches and… oh boy… they share a quick hug.

 Bucky’s not sure how long he’s just standing there, ordering the voices in his head to shut up, but it must be longer than necessary, because next thing he’s aware of is her calling his name.

 “Yeah.”

 “You okay there, Buck?” She peers up at him, frowning. “You seem a little… off.”

 “Fine.” Clearing his throat, he interlocks his fingers with hers. “Let’s go home.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

 It’s been bubbling underneath the surface for a while now. Ever since she returned home from the mission a week ago, really. Something about Barnes is… off. She’s not sure what, but he seems quieter somehow. More solemn.

 At first she thought he was hanging back, giving her a chance to readjust to life at home. That’s why she didn’t pay much attention when, on the first day, he stayed mostly silent, letting her carry the conversation. She took that time to fill him in on the highs and lows of the mission, the funny moments, the frightening ones, and everything in between. His response was pretty muted, but she brushed it off.

 The next day was the debrief. Despite not being involved in the mission, Bucky was called in. She chalked up the stiffness in his posture during the meeting to discomfort at being in the same room with Fury again. That is, until it was just him, her, and Sam, and if anything, Bucky seemed more sullen.

 She returned to teaching on the third day, so her mind was occupied with other things besides the man she loves for the majority of the day. He seemed more his normal self when she arrived home, and the evening was going pretty well until they settled in to watch television and she made an off-handed comment about how he really must’ve enjoyed Leave it to Beaver. His response was a sigh and the words, “It’s more in my age bracket, I guess.” After that, he was completely shut down, and she was torn between apologizing and asking him what the hell is going on.

 On day four, she wakes up with new determination. She’s going to fix this, whatever it is. Maybe he’s feeling left out since she went on a mission with his partner. Well, she has a simple solution to that. She’ll invite Sam over for dinner so that they can have some time to catch up. After all, with Steve all but out of the picture, Sam’s the closest thing to a friend Bucky’s got. And, since tomorrow is a Friday, it’ll work out perfectly. She expects an at least mildly positive response when she mentions the idea to Bucky, but instead, his lips quirk down slightly before he hides any and all emotions away and tells her,

 “Okay. If that’s what you want to do.”

 At least Sam’s a little more enthusiastic.

 “Sure. I’ll do anything to avoid cooking.”

 The day of the dinner, she makes a point to leave work as soon as her last class is dismissed. No student meetings. No talking to colleagues. She’s a woman on a mission. That mission takes her to three separate grocery stores, a bakery, and a liquor store. By the time she arrives home, she has all the ingredients for a traditional Sunday roast, a Boston cream pie, and a bottle of wine she was told would pair well with the meal.

 As per usual on her days to cook, when Bucky arrives home, he asks if he can help with any of the preparations. She cheerfully informs him that she’s got it covered, and from his expression, you’d think she’d told him to go jump off a bridge. She thinks about calling him back, but that’s when a pot decides to boil over, so she’s momentarily distracted.

 At six o’clock, there’s a knock on the door. Right on time.

 “Can you get that?” She calls from the kitchen to where he’s sitting in the living room. It’s unnervingly quiet for a moment, then-

 “Sure.” It’s said with all the excitement of someone agreeing to a root canal.

 Her gut tells her to leave the kitchen, go and oversee the hospitality in the other room, but she forces herself to stay in place, give them some time to get reacquainted.

 “Nice play you’ve got here.” Sam.

 “Thanks.”

 “Didn’t realize it was in the same building as Steve’s.” Oh no. She doesn’t have to be able to see  Bucky’s expression to know he’s taken a hit.

 “Yeah.”

 “Is that his old couch? I remember crashing on it a few times.”  

 “Same one.” 

 Well, this is thrilling. Shaking her head, she removes the cork from the wine, allowing it to breathe and makes her way towards the living room.

 “You okay, man? Seems like something’s eating you.”

 “Fine.” So it’s not just her imagination.

 “Hey, guys-” Two sets of eyes lock on her. Sam looks relieved. Bucky looks… sad? No, she’s reading this wrong. “-soup’s on.”

 Dinner is… awkward. Sam cracks jokes and tells old battle stories. She laughs at the appropriate times and asks polite questions, but the whole time, her attention is on Bucky. He’s not one to participate in idle chatter (at least not when it involves anyone outside of the two of them), but tonight he’s dead silent. At one point, Sam asks him a question, and the only reply is a glare and a sharp, “No.” She resists the urge to kick him under the table, instead focusing her frustrations into being cheery enough for both of them.

 The clock strikes eight, and although she wasn’t expecting Sam to leave this soon, she can’t blame him for making an excuse about having an early morning meeting at the V.A. to get out of there.

"That is, unless you could use some help with the cleanup?”

 She’s already prepared to brush it off, he’s a guest, they can handle it, but before she can speak-

 “No. I’ve got it covered.” It would be a less threatening sentiment if Barnes wasn’t standing directly in the kitchen door frame, blocking the room from view, arms crossed over his chest, frowning menacingly.

 “Right.” Sam nods and, muttering something about seeing them at work, sees himself out.

 As soon as the door closes, she collects their plates and, not bothering with a warning, pushes past her fiance into the kitchen. She’s hoping that the literal cold shoulder will serve as a warning for him to stay back, don’t fuck with her right now, but of course, her luck couldn’t work out just this one time because not thirty seconds later, he’s beside her, scraping plates in preparation for washing. Fine. If he insists on ignoring all the signs that point to “Do not disturb”, she’ll go ahead and get into it.

 “You didn’t have to be so rude to Sam tonight.” He freezes, hands gripping the ceramic bowl he’s emptying into the trashcan so tightly that she’s afraid it’ll shatter.

 “I wasn’t rude. I was quiet.” The bowl slams down on the counter top next to her, and if she weren’t so pissed off, she’d jump, startled. “There’s a difference.”

 “Not speaking when spoken to, answering with one-word statements?” Shaking her head, she turns on the tap. “That’s rude. Not quiet.”

 Another slam, this time of a wine glass. “Didn’t seem like the conversation suffered.”

 She opens her mouth, fully intent on calmly pointing out that friends talk to each other, that’s what they do, but instead what comes out is,

 “What the hell is wrong with you?” His jaw tenses, and she considers apologizing, but decides to stand her ground. He’s had this coming to him all damn week.

 “Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with me. Except that I’m not Sam.”

 She turns to face him, confused. “What does that even mean?”

 Not so much as pausing as he scrapes the remnants of dinner off of a plate, he nearly growls, “You go away on a mission, and when you come back-” The fork clatters as it’s tossed into the sink. “-he’s your new best friend.”

 “What’s wrong with that?” She refuses to let his gruffness ruffle her, instead allowing her own voice to turn hard. “Am I not supposed to have friends?”

 “That’s not what I’m saying-”

 “Then what is it?” She’s rapidly losing patience with the entire situation.

 “Nothing.” He shakes his head, returning to the sink. “Forget I said anything. Clearly my opinion isn’t needed since now you can talk to your good pal Sam.”

 Her mouth falls open, forming a perfect “o”, but she immediately snaps it shut. Fine. If he wants to go down that road…

 “You know what? You’re right.” She nods. “I do like talking to Sam.” His shoulders tense, but she continues. “It turns out we have a lot in common. You should try it sometime instead of shutting down anything that might lead to you actually liking the man!”

 “Well if you like him so much, then why are you even with me?” The words are practically hurled at her and she blinks in surprise. She’s never heard this much anger in his voice, not directed at her. So much anger and… dejection?

 “Is that what all of this is about?” She says it more to herself than him, but Bucky gives her a tight nod.

 “You said so yourself; you two have a lot in common-”

 “So do we-”

 “-And he’s closer to your age.”

 She rolls her eyes. “If I wanted someone closer to my age, do you think I would’ve spent the five years you were gone on my own?”

 “Why did you?” The trashcan lid slams shut and another fork is thrown into the sink. “For all you knew, I wasn’t coming back.” His eyes rake over her, and she has the urge to cross her arms, covering herself. “You’re a beautiful woman. Smart too. Even with half the population gone, you can’t tell me there wasn’t anyone interested. Why didn’t you start over?”

 “I couldn’t.” She expects her voice to shake, but it comes out deceptively strong.

 “Sure you could. Why didn’t you-”

 “Because I love you, okay?” Tears prick at her eyes even as she shouts the words, and she has to stare into the sink to keep him from seeing. “I love you. In  case you hadn’t realized it, I’m a one-and-done type. For me, it’s you. There’s only ever going to be you. I’m yours.”

 “Doll-”

 “What do you want from me, Bucky? Do I have to get on my knees to prove it to you? Because I’ll do it.” The tears are truly flowing now. She doesn’t have much time. So, with the last bit of bitterness she has in reserves, she mutters, “I can’t keep having this conversation for the rest of my life.”

 “And you shouldn’t have to.” The words take her by surprise, and she looks up. He’s peering at her, brow knitted, but this time, it’s not in anger. “Doll, you haven’t done anything wrong. I know that, just-” He groans, forcing his fingers through his hair. “-I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, ‘cause that’s how it’s always been. You don’t deserve that.”

 “I don’t.” She shakes her head, eyes still locked with his. “But you don’t deserve to live like that either. So what can we do to fix it?”

 For a few seconds it’s silent, the kind of silent you can feel pressing against you, strangling you, forcing the breath from your lungs. Then-

 “I don’t know, just-” Bucky sighs, and she pretends not to see the shine of tears in his eyes as well. “-can you keep reminding me? I know it’s a lot to ask, but just until I can get it through my thick skull-”

 It’s involuntary. Her mind has no control over her body as, without any warning, she grabs hold of his collar and, yanking hard, pulls him down for a kiss. As his arms envelope her, pulling her flush against his body, close enough that she can feel his heartbeat hammering against her chest, everything’s right for the first time in days.

 “I can do that.” She murmurs it against his ear, breath catching in her throat as his lips leave a trail of kisses across her jaw, leading down to her neck. “For as long as you need me to.”

__________________________________________________________________________________ 

 “I’m sorry.” It’s never an easy sentence to utter, to admit you were wrong, that you’re the one at fault. “I’m sorry.” In Bucky’s experience, most times he utters those words, it feels like he’s slapping a band-aid on a bullet wound. Most of the things he’s done are so bad, it doesn’t matter if he regrets them. There’s no absolution available. Especially this time. Especially now that he’s hurt her. But what else can he say? He truly is.

 “I’m sorry.”

 “You keep saying that.” They’re in bed now, lying side by side, his head buried in the cushion of her chest. Her hands are trailing up and down his uncovered back, tracing lazy patterns between gently kneading the tension of the past few days out of his muscles. For his part, all he can do is breath her in, her scent, her presence. That and repeat the same damn words over and over like a prayer.

 “And I’m going to keep telling you the same thing. It’s alright. It’s over. I love you.” He’d be happy just to drown in those reassurances, let them wash over him until it’s all he can remember. But that’s not realistic. Eventually he’ll have to get up, and when that happens, the next step will be making amends. He may not be a man who believes in the power of an apology, not after all he’s seen, but he’s wise enough to know that words need to be backed up with actions, and the sooner the better.

 He hates himself for moving, for interrupting such a peaceful moment, but he needs to get a start on repairing any damage that’s been done. Leaning back just enough to see her, he peers into her eyes, partially hidden between lowered lids.

 “Let me show you, then.” It takes a minute, but he can tell when she registers what he’s asking.

 “There’s nothing to prove, but I’ll never say no.”

 It’s nothing they haven’t done a thousand times before. He lifts the shirt from her body and eases her back against the mattress, those trusting eyes not straying from his face, and he can’t help but think to himself that he’s the only one who gets to see her like this. Exposed. Vulnerable. Whether he deserves it or not (he’s unsure if he’ll ever believe he does), he’s the one who gets to kiss her lips, feel them move against his, until, both of them breathless, he pulls away, leaving them a debauched red.

 From their years together, he knows that just below her earlobe is a hot spot; if he so much as brushes it with his tongue or allows his breath to tease over it, she’ll gasp, body growing more pliant beneath him. That, as he works his way lower, she likes the feeling of his hand over her throat, not applying pressure, just resting there, reminding her that she’s held. He’s caught her studying her reflection in the mirror, fingers lightly tracing over the marks he’s left in the hollow between her breasts, a small, secretive smile on her lips. Tomorrow, she’ll do it again.

 He knows, after removing the thin cotton panties from her lower half and settling between her legs, how to take her apart, piece by piece. Her hands grasp his hair, much shorter now than the first time they did this, as he teases her nub with his tongue, just enough to hear her soft moan before starting in earnest. He’s the only one to know exactly how much she can take, how rough he can be, or how teasing, before she’s absolutely desperate, but tonight, he doesn’t put that knowledge to good use, instead focusing on what will tip her over the edge most effectively.

 They’ve both got a hell of a lot of endurance, so this could go on for hours, but he knows after the first orgasm, she prefers for him to get on with it, get inside of her, and usually by that point, he’s beyond jokes or teasing her about being an eager little thing. Tonight’s no exception, although he takes special care to prepare her, working one, then two, then three fingers into her, immediately finding the spot inside of her that makes her breath catch in her throat. It’s only after he’s satisfied that she’s ready, that there will be no pain, that he tears open the packet from the nightstand drawer and, now covered, presses against her entrance.

 He’s the only one who knows that, as soon as her legs are locked around his waist, heels digging into his ass, she’s ready for him to pick up the pace, use the leverage of his resting on either side of her head, boxing her head, to rock against her faster. If he presses his face against her shoulder, he can hear each intake of breath, feel her pulse thundering away. If he lowers his forehead to hers, he can look into her eyes. Tonight, he chooses to take advantage of their position to place kisses on her nose, forehead, cheeks, really any part of her face he feels like pecking.

 It’s as often her on top, and god, that’s probably his favorite view in the world, but this time, he wants to be the one in control, taking care of her. Reaching between them, he urges her over the edge a second time, her nails digging into his shoulders providing just a tinge of pain that’s almost enough for him to lose it, but no, not yet. He wants her to cum one more time before he finishes.

 It doesn’t take long. She’s so sensitive at this point that, only minutes later, he feels her contract around him with a tale-tell moan, and that’s what sends him over, muffling his own moan against her sweaty neck.

 Before, he would resist the urge to just colapse on top of her, or at the very least, roll off quickly in fear that he’d crush her under his weight. Now that her status as a super soldier matches his own, he can relax, enjoy the feeling of her chest rising and falling against his, and moments later, her arms encircling his back.

 “I love you, Doll.” So much. Before it all, before the war and HYDRA and everything that followed, he was good with words, quick with sweet talk, but now, they seem to stick in his throat. Still, that’s what it all boils down to. He loves her, and as much as she claims that she’s his, he belongs just as much to her.

 “I love you, Bucky. Always.”

[mydriases]

Silent cry

Jamil Viper x Reader Warnings: Spoilers for episode 4, Hurt/Comfort Word Count: 3 600 Summary: In the aftermath, you wonder if his love for you was nothing more than another lie.

Winter break was a bit too long for you. You loved holidays but being away from your love for so long weighed on you. You remembered how warm his lips were when he kissed you goodbye before you went through the mirror. You wished you could have went along with him in the Country of Hot Sands but your family wanted deservedly to have you home. It didn’t ease your longing for him though. The desire to be reunited with him increasing the more you thought about him and the last smile he had given you.

You had finished your homework in a short time, putting in practice every study tips Jamil had gave you. Passing the time while getting lost in the colorful world of Magicam, the notification that rang in your ears easily caught your attention to inform you that Azul Ashengrotto had started a live stream on his account. With nothing better to do and wanting to avoid continuing to drown yourself in the gloom of this endless day, you pressed the screen without thinking.

You were surprised when the face of your love appeared in your field of vision. As far as you knew, Azul and Jamil were only classmates, so to see the latter on Azul's account was odd to say the least. The focus of the camera became a little blurred, highlighting the scenery instead of  your beloved. You recognized the walls as those from the Scarabia Dorm. What were they doing there? Jamil didn't tell you anything about staying at Night Raven for the holidays. Had he received orders from his parents telling him to stay with Kalim in Scarabia?

The camera stabilized again and you were able to see Jamil more clearly. You expected to see his usually serene look, but what left you speechless was that Jamil’s expression showed a confusing wickedness. A sneer deformed his mouth while his arms made grand gestures as he spoke to someone in front of him. You found a look of resemblance with the face he did after winning against you at your favorite game. Nonetheless, you never had witnessed Jamil having on his face such a frightening contempt. Did they decided to organize a friendly competition in Scarabia’s dorm ? No, Jamil would have invited you if so, he always did.

The person who was filming zoomed out and you saw Azul, blank stare and dangling arms, direct opposite of Jamil's threatening aura. You immediately figured out the situation and prayed that you were mistaken. He wouldn't dare, would he? There was no more friendliness in the air, everything indicated a confrontation that took a turn for the worst. That was the only logical reason Jamil would have used his unique magic on someone, especially Azul with who he had a polite relation. But none of them had a hot temper so it didn’t make any sense in your eyes.

And then Jamil spoke.

What scared you, even more than the hatred that seemed to consume your beloved on every side were the words Jamil articulated without trembling. Revealing his desire to bring Kalim down from his position of dorm leader, he seemed drowned in joy as it was clear that his plan was working.

He had spoken without shame, his voice betraying that he believed in every word he said. You didn't understand, you didn't want to understand. In the hope of finding a logical explanation, your gaze slipped on the title of the live: "The dark side of a certain famous magic school". There was no information on the nature of the current events. So was it not a joke? Jamil was not the type to participate in this kind of thing. But maybe if Kalim had asked him he would have accepted ? But you were certain he used his unique magic and he had always been so secretive about it, there’s no way he would have used it in front of thousands of people. You didn’t know what to think anymore.

Jamil kept talking, spitting his venom on Kalim and on his position as vice dorm leader which he seemed to hate with all his heart. As hard as his words were, you couldn't help but feel your heart clench at the sight of the triumph that lit up his face. He had suffered so much that he felt liberated by the simple thought that Kalim would soon no longer be a part of his life. All this sick euphoria was the result of a pain you never knew anything about.

He used the word ‘free’, as if he'd been imprisoned in his role and his sentence was about to be served. He believed that the downfall of Kalim would be his ascension. Suffocating under the most negative emotions he saw only his own hatred, reason disappearing little by little.

Before you knew it, tears had begun to wet the corners of your eyes. Comments from other users were all expressing their shock at this student's behaviour. They were talking about how unacceptable his attitude was and that he was the one who should expelled from this school. Horrible. Everything you saw was horrible: Jamil's expression and words as well as the comments from people who didn't even know him, who didn't know anything about how he felt. Then, you wondered.

Did you know him as well as you wanted to believe?

One of Octavinelle's twins entered the camera field, accompanied by Kalim and Ramshackle Dorm's student. Jamil's face decomposed as he realized he had been tricked, in front of more than five thousand spectators.

You listened carefully to their conversation, their voices muffled by the rapid beat of your pulse. You saw Azul break out of his false hypnosis and Kalim ask, on the verge of a breakdown, if Jamil was really betraying him.

Jamil laughed. He laughed and it seemed to be liberating for him. He had lost, but there was no more pretending anymore. His laughter became a cry of hatred towards Kalim and, as it was apparently still possible, his face sank deeper into this malevolent expression as he conjured up his unique magic: Snake Whisper.

His unique magic was a secret for everyone in school, except for you and Kalim. When you took your relationship to the next level, he had accepted to entrust you with the real nature of his magic. Because you were equals, because you loved each other. And now, while witnessing his actions, you wondered what was left of this mutual trust.

A flash flooded your screen and you heard a voice uttering the beginning of the word "overblot". Then the broadcast was over and you were left shaken in the solitude of your bedroom.

Your brain filled with thoughts, each one more heartbreaking than the last. Your boyfriend was a manipulator (was he ? or it’s because you didn’t manage to see through him ?), he has just overblotted (thanks to someone who failed to alleviate his suffering) and was going to hurt loads of people (and to think that you could have avoided all of this). Did you fall in love with this person? Did you have any responsibility for his actions? (yes and yes).

Your conscience was being torn apart. Split between guilt and fear and incomprehension. You needed to do something, anything. You needed to go there so as to reason with him, so as to get explanations. Time suddenly seemed to accelerate as you hurried to put on your shoes and get your coat on.

You left a note on the kitchen table, summarizing the situation in a handwriting that betrayed a nervous tremor of the hand. You came out of your house -gasping for breath before you even started to run- and headed towards the nearest public transport.

Everything was long over by the time you got here.

You’ve asked everyone you encountered, pleading for someone who knew where Jamil was. The student from the Rhamshackle Dorm was your savior. Explaining along with their weird cat what happened in details and telling you that he was now resting in his room. You thanked the two of them and started to run to where you knew he was.

You stopped to hurry halfway through.

Loads of the damage he’s made was because of the fact he overblotted but that didn’t explain his disturbing scheme. If during all this time he had only been forging a perfect image of himself, hiding all his bad attentions, what was left of the sincerity you had sworn to each other? Jamil has just been unsmasked but you don’t change in the twinkling of an eye. It took time for Jamil to put up with his plan and it will take time to make a fresh start. Was everything before that a lie?

As far as you can remember, your relationship with Jamil was one-sided in therm of confidence. You told him your insecurities, your traumas and most of your philosophy on life. He told you loved you. Being evasive at the slightest question because when I’m with you I don’t want to think about bad things, you make me happy and I want this relationship to be about the love between you and me. Not my problems. I can be your confident of course, but don’t expect to me to share everything. It’s just how I am, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you, because I really do.

That was the first time he confessed to you. You didn’t answer, because you were too busy embracing him and nuzzling the crook of his neck. It was also because you were feeling a bit disappointed. You didn’t want to be clingy if that’s not what he wanted, it was fine, really. But it made you feel like you were not as close to him as you wished. His arguments were justified : when you’re with your loved ones it’s normal to want to have fun and not think about all the depressing stuff that happened in your life. But now that Jamil has overblotted nothing is the same.

You sincerely wanted to believe him, to leave behind his bad deeds and start all over again. But a part of you pointed its finger at him while murmuring in you ear that he was a liar, a hypocrite that used you to appear less suspicious. Kalim choose to forgive him, obviously, despite all the suffering he endured. He has always been very lenient after all. You still haven’t seen him, nevertheless the chances are high that he would tell you that Jamil has always been at his side. Helping him through the hardest times, having been raised with him. That’s wasn’t your case.

If you wanted to leave him you’re sure he would understand. You could find another person to love and build a relationship not based on lies. But first and foremost, Jamil deserved the right to explain himself.

In front of his bedroom, as feeble as the first time you knocked on his door, except that this time it was because your relationship with Jamil was about to take a turn, not because you were excited to see him ; you waited for an answer that never came. You couldn’t be patient anymore. You pushed one of the handles and were surprised to discover that the door latch was unlocked.

Jamil was sitting on his bed, his gaze not lingering on you as he fastly looked away. It destroyed you. You thought you were ready to face him. To accept that he despised you, rejected you or begged you to forgive him, but not that he ignored you. Your voice came out hoarse, as wounded as you were :

" I came as soon as I could "

You wanted to cry at his feet and plead him to forgive you for not understanding him, you wanted him to cry for hurting you and Kalim, you wanted to leave him, you wanted him to tell you he loved you.

With his head down, one hand firmly clutching the sheet underneath him, he gave no answer. For the time being you were still lovers, but within the four walls of this room you were strangers. Because of him, perhaps because of you. You took a breath and knew what to say.

" I’m sorry "

For not being there when you needed me, for letting myself get attached to an illusion, for what you’re about to say, for everything that will be left untold.

" For what ? You did nothing wrong. "

He sighed and let himself fall backwards on the bed. He gazed at the ceiling, eyelids fluttering soflty as his hand was still grabbing the sheet under him. You walked towards him, he looked up to you and you found mixed emotions in his eyes. He seemed glad you were here but also like he would prefer for you to be anywhere else. You sat on the bed in a way that Jamil could not see your face, you didn’t need your voice to become tearful and trembling. The silence invaded the room as you were pondering over what to say. You tightened and loosened your grip on your coat, which you had been forced to remove due to the heat, and decided to cut to the chase.

" Jamil, I know I’ve never told you before but I love you. "

In spite of everything that happened, it was true. You knew that your endearment for him really had evolved in something stronger a long time ago. It's a shame it's only now that you're telling him.

You had to question him about his actions, make him spill whether or not he used you. But you didn't have the strength. Your spirits had never been so low, your self-confidence so damaged. Every answer to your questions would turn out to be a knife stuck a little deeper into your wounds and you couldn't take it. He knew either way, didn't he? He was observant, you were an open book to him so there was no need to ask questions he already knew.

You remember when you kissed for the first time and that the two of you became a couple. Everything was so easy, so simple. Never you would have thought that one day things would change, that you would want to run away from him. In the span of a few minutes, your whole life had changed. Anyone could be a traitor, from the most reserved friend to the one that couldn’t stop talking. Somewhere among these people was a liar. You had hoped it would not be Jamil, that it was just a misunderstanding and a bad joke from Octavinelle’s trio, but the facts were there.

You heard the rustle of the sheets, hitting that Jamil sat up again, and felt the warm contact of skin against your shoulder. Hesitantly, you turned your head towards him and he clutch to you a bit more as a sign of encouragement. His gaze was now overwhelmed by sorrow, mirroring your own expression. He sighed once again and reached into his pocket in order to pull out a bracelet decorated with a small red stone, similar to the one that adorned the ribbon in his hair.

" Here " he said, his voice trailing off as he was finishing his sentence " I wanted to give this to you to celebrate my rise as Dorm Leader but it won’t happen. I don't think I could give you things like this again after our talk, so take it. "

He handed you the bracelet, his fingertips brushing against the palm of your hand while doing so, you started observing the red gem so as to benefit from a pause in the conversation. He seemed sincere which illuminated a beacon of hope in you : Jamil meant to give you this after his accomplishment which signified that you were not a mere piece in his plan. That was one less thing to worry about, remained his disturbing attitude.

You played with piece of jewelry, observing the delicacy of the gemstone and the golden color of the bracelet. Giving you such an expensive item as a present was symbolic, surely it wasn’t just a piece of the richness of the Asim family. Jamil would have prefered to offer you something more personal, not showy but simple. He was like that.

Your heart sank.

" I’m sorry, because I didn’t see how you felt and also, maybe, because I feel uspset to habe been deceive by the person I trusted the most. I’m sorry for myself. "

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Jamil straightening his posture.

" In a way, you’re both similar and different to Kalim " confied Jamil, " How could have you changed anything when I was the one keeping everything to myself ? " He crossed his arms, one of his thumbs circling on his skin. " That’s why I’m the who needs to apologize. Not because I regret my actions, but because I’ve abused your trust. If I had told you, there are chances that you would have tried to stop me. Now that I overblotted I guess that it wouldn’t have been a bad thing. " His hand almost went to hold yours, but he suddenly changed his mind. " Forgive me. You were the one person I didn't want to hurt no matter what. "

Although it was what you came for, his apology didn't lighten the load on your heart. You wipped away a tear you didn’t feel coming, silently hoping that Jamil saw nothing.

The light of the room was getting dimmer as the sun began to disappear into the horizon. In the silence and darkness of the place, the gravity of the situation was crushing you. Here we are, the time to choose to forgive or not. You would be a liar if you said that you didn’t still want to be with him. To hug him and run your hand through his hair like before, to work beside him -paying more attention to him than to your homework- to talk to him about whatever interests you at the moment. But it would also be a lie to say something hadn't been broken in you. If he’s lied to you once, there was no proof he wouldn’t do it twice.

" I wished there was a way I could make it up to you " Jamil mumbled and you authorized yourself to turn to him. His eyes were glistening lightly, half hidden under his locks. That was a odd thing to see him moved, as well as a huge step forward.

" It will take long before I can trust you again, Jamil " you sobbed unable to restrain yourself any longer. The back of Jamil’s hand came to wipe away the tears that escaped you. Your gazes met. His expression was worried, his movements were uncertain and his voice wavered when he whispered your name.

" Do you want anything ? Maybe a handkerchief? "

The tears multiplied, but it didn't matter when the man in front of you wore the same expression.

" Hug me. "

More of an order than a request, but Jamil complied without hesitation. His arms wrapped around your form, you leaned into his touch and the two of you sank into the bed. One of his hand caressed you head as you nuzzled his neck, still sobbing, maybe a bit less loudly. From the start, his warmth was what you were looking for, finding his embrace again and spending your time by his side. Little did you know that the moment of your reunion was going to have the bitter aftertaste of tears.

" Can I stay with you for the night ? "

" Yes, you can. Of course. " he whispered, "Does your family know you’re here ?"

" I left a note, they’ll understand. "

There was still several thing you needed to discuss but for now you let yourself fall asleep in the soothing embrace of your love. You had been deceived and hurt, Jamil had been belittled and probably just as hurt. Maybe it was necessary to pass through all of this in order to better your relationship. Regardless, that was all in the past now. You weren’t sure wether or not you forgave him, the scars being still opened and far from being healed, but you were ready to try again. And hopefully, your couple wasn’t going to be as one-sided as before.

Underneath you, Jamil reflected on the consequences of his actions. In spite of all his bad deeds, Kalim, you and so many others have decided to forgive him. He felt good, he felt awful. Mainly he felt grateful for all the kindness he received and that he didn't deserve. Things will be different from now on, he’ll be Kalim’s servant no more, at least not as much as before. All his plans had been revealed, there was nothing left to hide.

He synchronized his breathing with yours and realized you had fallen asleep. There was still a long way to go before the damage he's done can be repaired but he’ll try. Because you, and even Kalim, deserved to be happy. His arm wrapped a bit more around you as he waited for sleep to take him.

It was strange but the darkness of his room didn’t feel lonely anymore.

Hey, it’s been a while. I’m still a silent lurker who doesn’t want to bother at heart that’s why I don’t post updates, hope you didn’t forget about me. I’m still working on requests but I struggle a bit to convey what I want sometimes and end up deleting what I’ve done because I don’t think it’s good enough :’) I hope all of you are safe, my inbox is open to anon again if you want to talk.

[blisspads]

How does Pornography affect us- Is Porn Harmful?

Whether you deny it or not, Pornography belongs to the world from the beginning of mankind. There are many paintings and sculptures which depict the existence of pornography in ancient Indian culture. People across the world speak different languages, eat different foods, follow different cultures, but when it comes to porn, people from all the countries watch it, Period!

Despite being seen by millions of people, porn is considered a malignant threat to society’s well-being. To reduce the number of sexual crimes that are rapidly increasing, in 2018, the Indian government posed its second ban on pornography sites especially those that involve children in the sexual act.

But, why do people resort to porn in the first place?

A lot of modern couples choose to watch sexually explicit videos to spice up their boring sex encounters and master new ways to pleasure their partner.

Because people are unwilling to engage in sexually related conversations, young adults search for their answers in pornography.

Due to the fear of being judged, many take refuge in porn instead of coming out explicitly about their sexual preferences.

With pornography, one no longer needs a partner to make them feel good. People watch porn to provide sexual relief through self-love.

People see porn to discover different ways of making love, but have you ever wondered whether the content shown in pornography is a fact or fantasy. When people try to apply this porn fantasy to real life, they hit a bump instead of pleasure.

Watching porn changes the way of our usual thinking and will eventually become a habitual practice that leads to trouble in facing the reality, boredom, desensitization, objectification of women, and an increase in sex crimes.

Sexual Violence

In 2018, four schoolboys’ gang-raped a 16-year-old girl after luring her to a storeroom in the name of Independence Day preparations for their school. When investigated, one of the boys exposed that the idea of rape came to him after watching similar porn on his mobile phone. This triggered the High Court to suggest curbs on pornographic sites to avoid bad influence on the minds of children, followed by the porn ban implemented by the Indian government.

Not all the people watching porn are involved in sex crimes, but we also cannot deny the fact porn can be a catalyst for the violent sexual behaviours that are rising in the current scenarios.

Sexual Satisfaction

Reports say that couples watching porn together are more dedicated and sexually satisfied in their relationship, compared to those who watch it alone. If your partner is not open to the idea of fantasy sex, then compelling them to do so would trigger their insecurities as they might think that you fall more to the perfect porn star’s body. This would cause a drift in your lovely relationship and to always feel less satisfied in the act of love.

Addiction

Among all the negative effects of watching porn, sex addiction stands at the top of the list. Some people get too stuck in that made-up world leading to an obsession with sexual thoughts, urges, or behaviours that cause troubles or distress, negatively affecting their job, relationships, and other aspects of life. People who are addicts seek to watch sexually explicit videos because they want it, rather than because they enjoy it. Porn acts as a component in sex addiction, but whether porn itself causes addiction is not yet proven.

Attitude Towards Women

In most porn videos women are portrayed as some sex objects which fuel sexist attitudes and set unrealistic sexual expectations. Increased porn consumption can lead to negative attitudes toward women including stereotypes, hostility, and abuses.

How does COVID-19 Influence Pornography Use?

Despite the ban on pornography by the Indian government, the Covid-19 curfew saw the highest spike in porn watching. India is the third biggest porn watching nation after the US and UK. Reports state that of the total traffic porn sites from India, 30 percent of them were women.

The quarantine posed previously unseen levels of financial challenges, separation from loved ones. Whether it was because of the lack of physical company or just the need to blow off some steam, many people accessed the porn sites. People sought sexually explicit videos to reduce the stress of loneliness and to deal with the anxiety and depression caused by COVID-19.

Also, researchers say that they found no evidence that porn led to any problematic deeds, such as addictive, compulsive, risky, or unhealthy behaviours in this pandemic period.

Message from Bliss Natural

The likelihood of porn having a negative effect on life very much depends on the individual consuming it. If you find no control over your porn use, or your sexual expectations become unrealistic, seek help from a qualified sex therapist to manage the porn consumption in your life, before it starts affecting your work or relationships.

[theredhairedmonkey]

Viren and Callum—Defining Heroism

Callum is a foil for each of the three antagonists, and each season focuses on a different pairing.

During Season 2, Callum’s arc was a foil to Claudia’s. I break down some of the similarities between them here. Callum and Claudia both exhibit a curiosity to learn more about magic (particularly at the Moon Nexus), and both are fiercely protective of those closest to them. To the extent they will use Dark Magic to protect them.

But whereas Callum tries it once and decides to reject it for good, Claudia continues to succumb to this temptation, time and time again.

During Season 3, Callum’s development is contrasted with Aaravos. At this point, Callum is, like Aaravos, a magical prodigy; each had mastered at least one Primal Source they weren’t born connected to.

Additionally, both demonstrate great influence over the lives of those around them. But they are diametrically opposed in terms of their goals. Whereas Aaravos cares primarily about advancing his own interests, Callum wants to genuinely help people, and empower them to make their own choices (as opposed to manipulating them like Aaravos).

This foil can be summed up simply—Callum is motivated by the Narrative of Love. Aaravos is motivated by the Narrative of Fear.

Harrow: “I ask you and your brother to reject history as a narrative of strength and instead have faith that it can be a narrative of love.”

Aaravos: “You tried to win over the other humans with loyalty and friendship, but they ignored you. Those who fail tests of love are simple animals. They deserve to be motivated by fear.”

But the focus here is on Viren and Callum, and starting in Season 1 and throughout the first three seasons, Viren and Callum have very deep, narratively important parallels with one another.

Both are the mages who advise their respective Kings.

Callum: “When you grow up, sometimes you have to face things you’re not ready for.”

Viren: “He insisted I stand next to him in the painting, because he knew I would stand by him through anything.”

Both are curious and want to explore the depths of magic to the greatest extent possible.

Viren and Callum are also both insecure in their place in the world, relying (at least initially) on magic to help give them a sense of belonging

But their differences not only define their dynamic, they also define many elements and themes to the Saga, in particular as to what it means to be a hero.

To begin, Viren is great, though not necessarily good. That is to say, even though he may be capable of great deeds that save countless lives (such as in saving the people of Duren with the heart of a Titan), these deeds don’t actually make him a heroic person.

This is because every great deed he did stemmed not from altruism or compassion (no matter how well he convinced himself that it did), but from his tragic flaws: his arrogance, his vanity, and importantly, his hubris—his belief that he can subvert the natural order in his favor without consequence.

From what we can gather, Viren is a force to be reckoned with. His skills with magic have made him so powerful, he can cast a spell that would save two kingdoms from starvation.

They are also such that he’s considered by Amaya, a talented warrior herself, perhaps “the most dangerous human in the world.”

His martial prowess is quite exceptional as well, as he’s able to go toe to toe with two Dragonguards for a time. Even though they’re elite fighters and they’re flanking him, he’s able to hold his own for a while before having to resort to magic.

However, Viren is a tragic character. I don’t mean this in the sense that we should feel sorry for the power-hungry man who attempted to murder two boys and steal the throne. Rather, his “greatness” is undermined by his personal flaws, which he can’t quite shake and prevent him from being good.

Part of Viren sincerely wants to improve life for his people. When talking to Aaravos, to whom he has no motivation to lie, he states his aim is to help mankind flourish “without a knife to its throat”

He’s even willing to consider sacrificing himself, either for King Harrow or, in Lux Aurea, for his army.

Aaravos: “We’ll risk as few lives as possible. One.”

Viren: “Ah. Mine.”

But as per his hubris, he exhibits great pride in how his abilities can help mankind flourish or save his people. While he wants mankind to prosper, he wants this to be his achievement and wants people to know that he is the one who saved them.

In his story to Queen Aanya, he places a bit of undue emphasis on the fact that he was the one who up with a solution that saved Katolis and Duren. Whether or not this is what happened, it’s clear that he wants Aanya to know that he personally saved her kingdom.

A little less unclear is how necessary he ultimately was. Sarai goes back to save Viren because “without him to perform the spell, the heart is worthless, and this was all for nothing.”

I’m...skeptical as to whether this is what Sarai says, or if it’s Viren intentionally or unintentionally reading in what he wants her to say. Truth be told, Viren has no idea if this is what Sarai said because he wasn’t there when she said it. And why is the heart worthless? Viren wasn’t the only Dark Mage in the world, and probably not the only one between Duren and Katolis. There’s no reason why another mage couldn’t perform the spell.

But for Viren, the heart of the Titan might as well have been worthless because, in his mind, he’s the only capable of accomplishing these great feats.

Even when he was potentially willing to sacrifice his life for Harrow, he botched it with his  speech to Harrow.

Viren: “Right now I do not come to you as my King. I think of you as my brother.”

Truth is, none of this throat-clearing is necessary. But, Viren’s not quite so humble, even when he’s attempting to do the right thing. He still wants to be seen as someone special, even when laying his life down for another.

Turns out, this was entirely the wrong thing to say to Harrow, who is put off by Viren’s self-righteousness.

Harrow: “I see the problem now. It’s that you believe you are special. Better than everyone else, above the laws of this kingdom.”

When he’s forced to kneel and Harrow calls him a servant, this infuriates Viren and he sets aside any plans he had to sacrifice himself for his King.

Harrow: “You are a servant of Katolis. You are a servant.”

Because if Viren is going to sacrifice himself, he needs people to know what a great thing it is that he’s doing. He’s not a mere servant, he’s their savior.

It’s interesting that Viren’s pride is so hurt of being called a servant of Katolis, since that’s exactly how Harrow sees himself, according to Viren.

Viren: “King Harrow worked tirelessly. He told me he thought of himself as a servant of all the people of Katolis. A servant King.”

But Viren doesn’t see himself in this way. When his potential sacrifice is treated with the same level of significance as though he were anybody else, it offends him that he has to share that importance with others.

And thus, his pride leads to his downfall, casting aside his desire to protect his King, and replaces it with a desire to be the King himself.

Viren: “Today, we must mourn sevenfold. For tonight, there will be a coronation.”

Callum, on the other hand, begins his journey on the opposite side of the spectrum from Viren. Whereas Viren can accomplish great feats without being good, Callum is a good person, though not great.

At least, not yet.

According to the main site, “Callum has a big heart, and always tries to do the right thing.”

He can be super proud of himself and his accomplishments, but he usually has enough perspective to avoid letting this get in the way of what he knows is important. For instance, he connects to the Sky Primal, something thought of as impossible for humans, he immediately shifts his attention to Ezran, never once bragging or reminding people of his accomplishments.

Corvus: That’s incredible, Prince Callum.

Callum: Thanks…uh, who are you?

And, when it comes time to laying his life on the line for others, he never hesitates. Notably, around the same time as Viren was thinking about sacrificing his life for Harrow, Callum was preparing to sacrifice himself for his actual brother, but with none of the bravado or self-righteous congratulating of himself.

Just a solemn, quiet attempt to save his brother, even at the cost of his own life, and even without anyone finding out about his sacrifice.

For Rayla, he performs Dark Magic, knowing how much she could possibly hate him for it, but deciding that her life is worth more than how she sees him.

Callum may start out with a big heart, but when it comes to his skills, well…

But if Viren begins as both powerful and amoral, it makes perfect sense to have Callum’s arc to begin as his opposite--someone without any special abilities but with a strong moral compass.

Because of this, we get to see him go from good to great. And his story walks this fine line, where he develops these magical abilities to perform heroic feats walking hand in hand with the realization that he doesn’t need magic to be heroic.

Callum: “It’s up to us now. We have to return this egg. We have to keep it safe and carry it to Xadia.”

Callum has the same temptation as Viren—this need to be someone important, which is a big part of his arc in S1 and S2.

In S1, he initially places a high premium on his sense of self-worth, willing to put their mission in jeopardy just so he can obtain an object that might help him become a better mage.

He assigns great importance to objects (such as the Primal Stone and the Key of Aaravos) rather than focusing on people or lives. Much in line with the way a Dark Mage would attach significance to magical components that are needed for spells.

Callum: “The truth is, its not me. It’s this. All the magic, all the power, all the confidence. It's just because of this amazing thing. A Primal Stone.”

Ellis: “That Primal Stone needs you to do all that amazing stuff. Without you, it's just a neat, glowy ball.”

Callum: “I guess so. But without this, I'm nothing. Just a guy who can draw and make wry comments from time to time. And they're not even that wry.”

Much like how Viren assigns great value to the mirror or the Dragon Egg, even above his own children’s lives.

Viren: “The egg. If you have to choose [between Soren and the egg], choose the egg.”

But by the end of S1, he realizes just how much more important the lives of his friends and the Dragon Prince are over his own sense of pride or self-worth. Unlike Viren, who places a great degree of importance to his sacrifice (honestly, Harrow should be honored that Viren would consider throwing himself on the sword for a mere king), Callum simply makes the realization of what he needs to do…and then does it.

S2 follows the aftermath of his decision, and Callum has to deal with no longer having his mage abilities. Again, he latches his entire sense of self-worth to be able to do magic.

As @raayllum​ points out here, he also aligns his ability to do magic to agency. Without magic, he’s paralyzed by indecision and an inability to do the right thing. He believes himself imprisoned by his inadequacy.

Callum: “If we're really going to change things, we can't just watch while humans and Xadia keep hurting each other. But how do I take a stand? Believe me, I want to go down there with you, and be the heroes who stop all the fighting and save the day, but I can't do that. I can't do anything!”

And he follows this line of reasoning to its logical conclusion:

Dark Magic

Dark Magic gives him all the power he needs. If Callum wants to be special (like Viren), if he wants to have agency and freedom for himself, this is the path he can take.

Dark!Callum: “You can have unlimited power, and you can choose what to do with that power.

And in that moment, he’s tempted. Truly, he’s tempted, to commit to this path, set himself free from his past limitations and feelings of worthlessness.

He can become like Viren, and make himself great…but in a moment of clarity, he sees Dark Magic for what it truly is.

This isn’t freedom. It’s not the power he wants.

It’s just another prison.

And unlike Viren, who succumbs to this temptation, Callum sees through it.

What’s noteworthy is that Callum doesn’t press on the point that it’s possible for him to learn an Arcanum and do magic some other. He doesn’t insist he can make this choice easy on himself; he chooses that, Arcanum or no Arcanum, this is not the kind of magic he will choose to do.

Callum: “Destiny is a book you write yourself!”

Instead of attaching his sense of self-worth and agency to magic, he breaks free of this toxic cycle and seizes the ability to direct his own fate.

This is a lesson that he then passes on to others.

Rayla: “What does this mean? What should I do?

Callum:  “I don’t know. But it’s your choice. No one else’s.”

He finds his agency and self-worth independent of his ability to do magic, and realizes that his potential is actually in his complete control. Fittingly, it’s this realization that completes his journey to finally understand the Sky Arcanum.

In the end, Viren and Callum are quite similar, but the former lets his flaws get the better of him, his pride sinking him until he becomes malicious, grasping, and power-hungry. Eyes set on stealing the power to make him important.

The latter ascends past his prior limitations, refusing to yield to his own worst impulses.

Moreover, Callum holds on to his ideals in the face of adversity, even at his own expense, while Viren constantly tries to find “pragmatic” and expedient solutions to problems that always happen to end up with him on top of everyone else. Viren continues his dramatic decline, eagerly crossing one moral horizon after another, until by the end, he admits to Aaravos what he is really after is conquest; he’s willing to steal Zym’s life force just to become more powerful, sacrificing the entirety of his army to do it.

Callum, on the other hand, begins to truly understand what can make a good-natured person into a hero.

He expresses it in a speech about Rayla…

Callum: “It's because Rayla is a hero…Rayla saves people. She's brave. She does what's right, even if it puts her own life in danger, and even when the odds seem impossible. Even when it means her own people might misunderstand and turn against her. Rayla is selfless, strong and caring. That's what makes her a hero. That's what makes her Rayla.”

…and then proceeds to do each and every one of those things on the pinnacle. He bravely leaps after Rayla--even though it put his own life in danger--because it’s the right thing to do. Even though the odds of quickly mastering a complex spell on the way down seemed impossible.

Viren thinks his great feats are a substitute for a good character. Callum’s journey, on the other hand, is learning those character traits that make one heroic. He realizes, not only that Rayla is “selfless, strong, and caring,” but also why and more importantly, why he can be those things too.

And this dynamic between Viren and Callum culminates in the finale, where one falls…

…and the other rises.

[satonthelotuspier]

Jiang Cheng

The Boy Who Couldn’t Please Everyone - or - The Boy Who Was Failed by Everyone.

So, the absolute core of Jiang Cheng’s existence is his family; there’s not much arguing that he and Jiang Yanli are the same in that respect.

And the theme of his life is being pulled in myriad directions by myriad people for their own ends. No one ever just let Jiang Cheng be Jiang Cheng, until maturity made him his own man, and by that point he was a bitter, twisted version of himself who had gone through too much.

From the moment Wei Wuxian came into their lives Lotus Pier was shaped to accommodate him. We all know Jiang Cheng loved his dogs, but Wei Wuxian was scared of them, so they had to go, I don’t need to explain to pet owners/animal people how heartbreaking this would have been, especially to a small child, he had to share his bedroom, his private safe space, and his father showered Wei Wuxian with the affection and attention and regard that he never ever seemed to give to Jiang Cheng, his own son.

I’m not for even a second saying that Jiang Fengmian shouldn’t show affection for Wei Wuxian, it’s entirely possible to love someone not of your own blood as you do your own child, but if you don’t give the same attention and regard to your own child just because of the woman whose womb bore him, (if we believe what Yu Ziyuan accuses him of), then you’re a pretty shitty parent. Perhaps we should take what an estranged wife says with a pinch of salt, but in the end Jiang Cheng still felt like his own father didn’t love him as much as Wei Wuxian, which means he was a failure as a parent. 

Jiang Cheng is unarguably emotionally insecure, probably as a direct result of his parent’s marriage and their attutides to him.

Basically Wei Wuxian’s arrival was the start of a lifetime cycle of loss, always linked back to Wei Wuxian, starting with his pets and his own father.

And despite this Jiang Cheng undoubtedly loved this usurper like a brother. They grew up together and to all intents and purposes Wei Wuxian was his brother, just not by blood, and therefore under his protection. “If there are any dogs, I’ll chase them away for you” - even though he had to give his own dogs away because of this cuckoo in the nest he was still willing to protect him with everything he had.

He grew up in a tight knit sibling trio, but he also grew up being the bone of contention between his parents; YZY would accuse JFM of being more of a father to the child of his friends than his own son, to the point that people questioned whether WWX was JFM’s, and she said this time and time again in front of her own son. Way to screw him up, parents.

He was basically a weapon she used against her husband, who, instead of dealing with her and protecting his son from being so used, virtually ignored her and let her continue, only ever coming to WWX’s defence and never questioning what damage was being caused to JC. 

So YZY constantly filled Jiang Cheng’s mind with poison and tried to turn him against Wei Wuxian, a boy he loved like his own brother; he was a trouble causer, he would hurt the sect, he would hurt JC’s future and he had to listen to his mother tear WWX to pieces, watch her bully WWX, and whenever he tried to defend him JC was shouted down and hey, you have to listen to your mother, be a filial son and shut up.

Is there any wonder this kid didn’t know which way his head was screwed on when he was piggy in the middle of this hate triangle? He was literally pulled three ways in his own family before he even got out into the wider world.

Lets go to Cloud Recesses. JC was boring, being the voice of reason, trying to spoil WWX’s fun with his constant talk of the rules and not upsetting the Lans.

Well of course, as the Jiang heir he had to be. He understood he was under a weight of expectation and had to be seen to behave in a certain way; he was representing his sect and any shenanigans reflect badly on Yunmeng Jiang. WWX had much more freedom to cause hijinks as the head disciple, not a Jiang by blood, and lets face it JFM would only ever apologise, not scold, no matter what he got up to. If we examine what WWX said, something along the lines of “You’ve already buried my corpse so many times, whats once more?” we see while JC might have occasionally gotten dragged into WWX’s schemes he was also the one to have to apologise for him, to mop up after him. He’s the younger brother and he always had to be the adult on behalf of them both because thats just WWX, what a little scamp eh? WWX just does what WWX wants. If only JC had that freedom.

He loves WWX like a brother, but there’s no wonder he’s so jealous of the other, being better without trying, automatically handed all the things JC should have gotten too, it would be fair to think there would be a small part of JC that hated WWX’s guts, even in their teens.

We all know how the story progresses, and the loss the trio suffers, the culling of the Jiang sect, JYL’s tragic death, but lets discuss one of the hidden things WWX could be considered to have stolen from him.

His sacrifice.

Lets be under no illusions, Jiang Cheng was fully aware what he did when he drew the Wen guards away from WWX in Yiling; he was sacrificing his own life to protect his brother, a brother who had already taken so much from him; but he still loved to the point of being willing to die for him. He expected nothing but death but Wei Wuxian ruined it all and even one-upped him by rescuing him half-dead and sacrificing his golden core. He hadn’t even been allowed to outshine his brother in his greatest moment of self-sacrifice.

If WWX had told the truth at that point, shared what had happened with his golden core JC would have been hurt, but likely he would have gotten over it; and you have to wonder would the other sects have been able to drive a wedge between them if he’d had the full facts of how indebted he was to WWX, and WQ.

Instead he didn’t understand, JC was still being pulled all ways by all people for their own purposes, the sect leaders were whispering in his ear about WWX and the Wens, playing on his grief and his hatred. 

Lets not forget he wasn’t much more than a child at this point who’d never had to stand on his own, used to trying to keep the peace between his parents, surrounded by men manipulating him for their own ends. He was the young  sect leader of a regenerating sect, and big shots like Jin Guangshan were tutting and theorising what foul deeds the Yiling Patriarch was up to at the Burial Mounds, backed up by the baying mob, and no one saw JGS’s secret agenda for what it was, and they put this young man, who had no support whatsoever, under so much pressure to ditch his shixiong was there any surprise he caved in in the end? He was a grieving, lonely kid who had always been part of a trio or a duo, and he was on his own.

He absolutely should have stood by WWX, we all agree with that, but  conversely WWX never stood by JC, his account was settled with the golden core; he didn’t need to stay and help him rebuild Yunmeng Jiang like he promised because, pat on the back, he’d already given JC so much, job done, account settled. WWX is about the big gestures, gotta save the world, the little things don’t matter, like promises and family. It was even WWX’s selfishness, not wanting to have to deal with JC knowing, that kept the information of his golden core from him.

So yes, JC spent most of his life trying to please everyone, meet everyones expectations of him, from his parents and his brother, to the other sect leaders, basically to be used by most every one of them.

And he was equally failed by everyone. His parents, instead of nuturing him, used him to hurt each other, WWX took and took from him until there was nothing left, lied to him and kept him in the dark about something so hugely important because he couldn’t be bothered to deal with JC knowing, even his sister deserted him; and the sect leaders who should have supported him and been the voices of reason, who could have mentored him, like Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue, seem to have disconnected their righteous brains for this entire period of the story.

Thank goodness for Jin Ling, or else JC would have ended up with nothing.

[minniepetals]

strawberries & cigarettes

— summary: you were forbidden to love any man outside the partner your father had chosen for you, but you knew you could never give them up despite how bad they were for you.

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, slight fluff / poly!au / gang!au / rich!au

— word count: 2.2k

— warnings: none

"Why are you crying, love? You know it hurts our hearts when tears spill from these precious eyes of yours." 

Yoongi held your head up when you refused to meet his gaze, leaning in to place a sweet kiss on your cheek and the smell of strong cigarette met your nose from the last moment he had his smoke. When that didn't help reduce your tears, he frowned, pressing his lips into a thin line. 

"What's wrong, baby?" Jungkook asked as he wrapped his strong arms around you from behind, leaving a trail of kisses along your neck and down your shoulders. 

Yoongi watched you silently, studying you. "This isn't right," you said in a low whisper and Jungkook froze against you. He kept silent, bit the inner part of his cheek and stepped away from you, letting go. You hated making him upset, hating saying such a cruel thing. But it wasn't right. "I can't keep coming here," you went on, "everything we're doing is wrong." 

"Haven't you ever went against the rules for your own happiness?" Jungkook asked, tone of voice low and deep. Dangerous like the man they all were. 

Your brows furrowed with pain. "This is the first time I've ever gone against my father's will and it's killing me inside."

"So what you're saying is," Yoongi scoffed, "you're regretting it?"

"No, that's not what I-"

"Why won't you fight for it, Y/N?" Jungkook cut in, anger boiling in him as he turned around to face you again, arms resting at each hip. "Why won't you fight for us?"

"It isn't as easy as you say it," you replied shamefully. 

"No one said it was going to be easy." He let out a harsh curse. "You can't leave now, you can't just give this all up and act like it never happened. What the heck are we supposed to tell the others?"

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't spit out empty apologies thinking it'll make everything alright again, because guess what?" Yoongi kicked at a chair that came crashing down with a harsh thud and you flinched, "nothing is alright and nothing is going to be alright ever again." 

"Do you think it's easy for us to love?" Jungkook asked.

"I-"

"Do you think it's easy for us to give up the one we gave that love to?!" His fist met the wall and you screamed at the harsh impact. Blood dripped down from his bruised knuckles but Jungkook couldn't care any less for it. "How many times do I have to tell you that six isn't enough?" He voiced in a soft whisper that made your heart clench. "That we need you by our side because you're our angel amongst the dark shadow world we live in? That you're our saving light?" 

"Do you think it wasn't easy for us either?" Yoongi deadpanned. "To yearn for the light and care for someone pure and free from these invisible chains that keeps us in this cruel world?"

"We're not asking for much," the youngest one breathed. He took a painful step forward, keeping his hands at bay though a part of him wanted to reach for you so badly. 

"Just your love," Yoongi begged, his voice breaking. "That's all we need."

Your heart clenched again and the tears dripped.

But you took a step back and saw the way their brows furrowed in pain, eyes pleading for you to step forward and walk into their arms. But you lowered your gaze, shaking your head. "It's wrong," you whispered almost inaudibly. "It's wrong," you repeated over and over and each time it pain the three of you even more. 

"I'm so sorry. I love you."

And then, you ran, leaving them to stand there frozen in spot, watching your back becoming smaller and smaller until they could no longer see you. 

For the last time. 

It was never meant to be. The gangster life filled with guns and cigarettes, dark and wild life of nights chasing and being chased by enemies on motorcycles, while you walked under the shining light, camera flashes at every corner and glimmering dresses, the only daughter of a prestigious businessman. 

Two worlds apart met one fateful night at a party where you helped Park Jimin and Jung Hoseok escape from the eyes of their enemies. 

From then on, fate kept playing games with you and had your paths crossing each other at almost every corner until eventually, you fell in love and fate began to remind that you were only meant to meet each other once in a moment, not for the rest of your lives. 

They saw you again a week later. Not in person, but on the news.

News about your potential wedding and their hands balled into fists that turned knuckle white. 

A few days later, they watched you from afar where you walked in a red dress and red heels, the moonlight illuminating your beauty and their lips curled into a bittersweet smile. You always looked good in red. 

But tears welled up in your eyes, waiting and holding on from falling away and their brows furrowed at the sight of you playing with the diamond on your left finger. You stood in the middle of the garden of a party you were attending. Typical rich people. But they cared no less about the event. 

"Take it off."

You gasped at the sudden harsh grip on your left wrist and Namjoon stood in front of you, standing tall and hovering above you, scary and intimidating. The sight of your frightful eyes made him loosen his grip but he still held on, not wanting to let go. Not wanting to ever let go. 

"Take it off, baby, I know you don't want it." 

Your heart stung at his words and for a moment, you were conflicted on what to do. The sight of the others walking up from behind Namjoon had you taking a step back, hoping to push the man away with your other hand but he grabbed that too and suddenly, you were trapped as the rest of them surrounded you. 

"I-I'm not.." your voice broke and a tear fell, "I'm not your baby." 

"You say that yet you're crying," the boss stated but you knew you still couldn't give in. It wasn't right.

"Why are you fighting this, love?" The eldest asked, his handsome features lit from the moon above. You refused to meet his eyes, any of their eyes, because you knew that if you were to look into them, you'd go crawling back and that was something you could not do. 

"You have to leave before they find you-"

"Let them find us," Jimin shot back, "let them see that you already belong to us and that no one else should have your hand in marriage." 

"You were ours to begin with, not his." 

At Jimin and Taehyung's declaration, you realized that they heard the news. Of course they did. 

But then again, they weren't yours any longer. 

"No, I'm not yours," you stated, forcing your hands away from Namjoon, "I'm his."

Yet you hadn't realized that saying those words would hurt you even further. But the deeds were done and more tears fell from your eyes as you met theirs, pained from what you had just said and Hoseok was quick to grab your shoulders, bringing you close to him. 

"Say that again," he demanded, "say it again, I dare you."

But you couldn't. How could you? 

He shook you a bit, scoffing at your silence. "What's wrong, Y/N? Cat got your tongue?"

You pushed him away harshly, hating how things were. "Stop it!"

"You stop this act!" Hoseok remarked angrily. "I know you don't love that man, Y/N, you love us."

"Don't you?" Yoongi asked, a little softer, a bit more insecure and vulnerable. "You love us...right?"

"Right?" Jungkook repeated, eyes pleading into yours as water glistened at the waterline. They were quick to fall and your heart fell at the sight. "Tell me you love me," he begged, "tell me you love us, that you don't love that man, that you want us to save you from his hands. Just tell us the magic word and we'll get it done. I promise you, Y/N, we'll do anything for you."

"Jungkook..-"

"I love you." His voice cracked and for the first time, it felt as if his world had shattered for one last time. 

Your arm was grabbed by another man and bit by bit, they watched as you stumbled backwards towards the two men that held power over you; your father and fiancé. 

"Get away from my daughter."

They ignored the old man, watching in pain as the other man beside you held a hand from your waist, asking whether you were okay or not. He was touching what was theirs and you were letting him. You didn't answer him but instead looked up again at the men that were once yours. 

And then, to their surprise, the woman that had always been obedient to her father, the woman that always hid her relationship from everyone's eyes, was the same woman that pushed away her supposed fiancé to run over towards them and grabbed onto Namjoon's hands. 

Your father never knew about your secret affairs, never had knowledge to the fact that you always snuck out to love seven male that lived in a world so unimaginable and far from his. 

"Take me away," you told Namjoon. "Take me away from here."

And that was the last time your father had ever seen you again.

.

.

"Ever wonder about how a lady tastes?" The women in front of Jimin asked with slow, sultry eyes. But Jimin just scoffed as he puffed out smoke from his nose and mouth. Once, he had been a man who had all the ladies fall at his feet, begging for his attention. Now, he made it clear that he was into the six other members that were in the same gang as him. 

"I already know how a lady tastes," Jimin said bluntly, standing up from his seat and ignored the way the lady's eyes grew in confusion and disappointment. "And I'd rather only taste her from now on," he smirked, walking away casually with hands snuck in his jean pockets. 

Once, Jimin never cared much about hurting a lady's feelings, never knew to be one who grew attached. 

But as he hopped off his motorcycle, taking his helmet off and walked into the house greeted by the sweet aroma of strawberries with you and Jin in the middle of baking some sweets, a smile curled at his lips at the sight of your sweet smile, head thrown back as you burst into giggles at a joke his hyung had made. He was reminded again of why he changed. 

"Had a fun night?" Yoongi asked the younger male as he walked down the stairs, greeting him with a short kiss.

Jimin shrugged. "Not really." He sighed. "The ladies still can't take a hint." 

The older one frowned and rolled his eyes. "Don't tell that to Y/N," he warned while walking away and into the living room where Jungkook and Taehyung sat in front of the screen, consoles in hand. 

Namjoon and Hoseok were possibly in their rooms discussing some gang related things. 

"Right," Jimin uttered softly. 

The second you caught sight of the male, your eyes were quick to light up as you escaped from Jin's grasp to run up to Jimin and grab his hand. 

"Jimin! You have to tell Jin that my cupcakes are better than his because he's telling me that blueberries are better than strawberries but-"

He held your hand back, forcing your body to come crashing back against his and his lips met you in a sweet, searing kiss that left you breathless and the scent of strawberries and cigarettes melted against one another. 

Once Jimin pulled away, he licked his lips at the lingering sweet taste of strawberries against his lips. "You taste sweet," he said, smirking at the way your cheeks flushed bright red due to being caught off guard. "I want some more." 

His head leaned in again but you held your finger up against his lips, causing him to pout. 

"You smell like cigarette," you stated and he looked in confusion at the little pout formed upon your lips, "combined with perfume."

That insecurity of yours was something that wouldn't go away so easily and Yoongi warned him about it but he hadn't realized you'd actually pick up on that scent. "If it makes you happier, baby, I promise I won't go to that bar again."

But your pout didn't disappear. "You're just too pretty, everyone wants a piece of you,” you whined, “the bar isn't the only problem." 

"Want to lock me up in here, then?" He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. "You're into that yandere crap?"

You grimaced. "Gosh, I'm not that possessive."

"Aww, I have a little possessive baby."

You rolled your eyes with he gave you little pats on the head. "You say that as if none of you are possessive."

"Yeah, you're right," Jimin laughed. "But that's only because we love you."

Another kiss shared, a short peck, and another, before they fell upon each other more slowly and tender, soft and sweet. Of strawberries and cigarettes that always tasted of them.