#what do you even do at that point. if you feel like a failed protector when you are away & and a burden when you return

[ambrosiagourmet]

I think one of the biggest tragedies of Laios & Falin and their relationship is how much his actions impact her life. But like. Specifically how much they WOULDN’T impact her life as much if they weren’t both stuck in such a shitty abusive situation.

This part of the Falin-tries-makeup daydream hour comic is what got me thinking about it again because truly it just... it seems like such a like an offhand comment that I'm sure Laios didn't mean to be cruel or anything. That's just like. A little kid not thinking about what they are saying. ESPECIALLY when the kid in question is Laios.

But man they depended on each other SO much as kids. Too much. It really feels like they didn't have any other source of positive reinforcement, or anyone else to share themselves with. So of course an offhand comment like that has a huge impact on Falin.

Or this little bit from one of the flashbacks:

This tears me apart. Do you think it tears him apart to think about? I think it does. I think Laios holds every small failure to care for Falin against himself.

And then there's the Bigger stuff. The way that him coping with his own trauma ended up impacting her.

Like his interest in monsters. Like him going to find a ghost, and accidentally revealing Falin's magic to the whole village in the process.

Like him needing to leave. And leaving her behind.

He shaped her life so much, and he carries so much guilt for it. And again, there should have been other people there to help. The same things that made Laios need to leave home are the things that made his leaving so hard on Falin. She ate alone after that. She shouldn't have had to eat alone just because Laios wasn't there.

She was 9 when he left for school, and he was 11.

Nine. And Laios feels like he failed her because he didn't stand by her through this better. As an eleven year old.

Both of these kids deserved so much better from the world.

[vrisrezis]

Atsv characters as yanderes :p

Yaaaa here we go . Had to make these hcs eventually

Warnings?: usual yanderish stuff but there’s implied grooming and abuse of power on Jessica’s part (also grooming with Miguel low key)

Gwen is rather protective, thinking you cannot possibly care for yourself. She is constantly at your side as a means to keep you safe. Taking on the role as your personal body guard, rather than as your girlfriend. Of course, she tries to find time to be your girlfriend as well but most of the time it just feels as though she’s more caught up in keeping you safe rather than tending to the other needs you have. As a result, your relationship will fail and you will have to eventually break things off with her. Surprisingly this is something she accepts, but no matter how much you want her out of your life she doesn’t leave. Appointing herself as your protector. As your girlfriend, she found it quite easy to protect you as she was always around you. She was so protective to the point she didn’t trust any of your friends and tried to isolate you from them, even your family and even her own friends and family too. Even small things like cutting bread she doesn’t trust you with, afraid you may cut yourself. She may lie to you about your family and friends, to keep you away from them. In her mind she will do anything to protect you even if that means deceiving you. When you separate, things don’t change. It’s like she never left and no matter what you do, she doesn’t leave. Even if you think she’s left you alone, her alter ego is stalking you, keeping you from harm.

Miles is rather guilt trippy. Or at least that’s how it starts. He would kinda make you feel bad for not possibly retiring his feelings, resulting in you giving him a chance. You give him an inch and he goes a mile. He takes this opportunity, and officially declared you his partner after you give him one date. This relationship being sprung upon you even if it’s something you do not desire. Even if you voice this concern, or how you aren’t ready for a relationship or how you barely know him or … how you’re not sure you like him. Whatever excuse you try to muster does not matter to him, because now you’re as good as his. It’s not like he’s even aware of how manipulative this is, because in his mind he wasn’t even guilt tripping you, simply being honest. In his mind he’s not taking things entirely too fast or breaking boundaries, you’re being embarrassed and playing hard to get. He is in a state of delusion, and nothing you say can ever change his mind. You love him, as much as he loves you. And he knows it too. Miles acts like you’re a happy and super in love couple constantly, and because of how in love and happy miles seems, there’s no reason for anyone to suspect a thing. Especially when miles guilt tripped you again right before your meeting with some of the most important people in Miles’s life. It’s how he’s managed to make things seem normal between you two for so long.

Pavitr is delusional, truly. I believe his delusion would only begin upon you two dating though. While confident in himself, in the past was unsure if you liked him. However now that you’re a couple he feels incredibly secure in your relationship, maybe a little too secure. Because even if you break things off with him, tell him you don’t love him like that, or anymore, he assumes you’re playing hard to get or having a bad day. He doesn’t think you’re being serious, or mean what you say. However, Pavitr is an outstanding boyfriend. A little clingy, sure. Maybe more than a little, maybe it’s even overwhelming but he’s so sweet. So many gifts, even when you tell him it’s okay, he doesn’t have to, he insists. A concerning amount but… nothing to break up with him over!! He’s being kind, this is just what boyfriends do. Even if he’s constantly hovering over you and clinging to your side and never leaving you be, except for when you have to use the bathroom, even still. He’s just a loving boyfriend. It’s unlikely you’ll want to break up with him because despite how overwhelming it is he’s so sweet and seems to genuinely just love you, but if you did it just never happens. He never takes you seriously. Suppose that’s the most difficult about your relationship. He never takes any seriously in your relationship. Your concerns are his, he says. But you don’t think he means it, when he shows absolutely no worry or concern for you. He’s Spider-Man, he can always save you. Perhaps he puts too much faith in himself, perhaps he does this because he’s convinced there’s no love quite like the love you two share. Perhaps he’s simply delusional to think there’s no way you’d get hurt upon being with him.

Hobie is rather blunt about things, it’s who he is in nature. It’s how most spider people are, anyway. He’s not a liar, at least in his eyes. And truly before he met you, he wasn’t. And in a strange way, he still isn’t. He speaks truth, he’s just overly dramatic about it. Your situation might be bad, but he might just make it out to be much worse than it actually is. Perhaps your in danger, perhaps there’s certain people you cannot trust. Hobie makes it seem as though you can’t trust anyone, aside from him of course. And man extra points for him if you already have trust issues, this makes his job even easier. He knows he’s kinda tricking you, deceiving you in a roundabout way. But he also kinda believes it. He believes wholeheartedly there’s nobody to trust, that he’s the only one that can keep you safe. That he’s the only one that truly cares for you and truly loves you and would truly do anything for you. He just needs you to believe it too, he just has to tie a few webs together in order for that to happen. There’s a possessiveness that comes with being with him normally, but as a yandere this is increased tenfold. Combine that with the extreme distrust he has with everyone, and it’s over. It’s in his nature to look out for others, like Gwen, like miles, like pav, but that doesn’t mean they’re gonna look out for you too. He keeps that in mind, always.

Peter B is a little out of his realm here. He hasn’t experienced proper romance since MJ but there’s truly something about you, something that reminds him of his childhood, something that reminds him of home. He clings onto this feeling like a lifeline. But it’s because he’s so obsessed with keeping the feeling you give him, he keeps you around him constantly. Even in spider society, which others may not like as you are not… a spider. (That is, if you aren’t idk who you are brother). He’s obsessed with keeping you around at all times, and his daughter too. This obsession with keeping you around at all times can cause a rift in your relationship. You’d lose your mind being around the same person 24/7, without friends, family? But Peter never indulged in your one sided arguments, he lets you let out your anger and even leaves you alone (which is so hard for him, but even he knows you need a moment to yourself) until you’ve cooled down and you’re ready for him to smother you again with his cuddles and sweet lovin. Because he’s most definitely going to isolate you from your family and friends. Try to make you feel like nobody else makes you as happy as him, so just forget about them for right now. You’ll see them later. But then you never do, you never see them. Why would you? When Peter is right here. All you’ve ever done was get mad at Peter, and for what? Saving the world? Protecting everyone? Protecting you? For loving you? For giving you a daughter? Sure, there’s some questions you have. Like where he even got this kid from, she looks like mj in fact. You know he’d never cheat, but you don’t know if he wouldn’t steal a baby from another dimension.

Jessica is a planner, she sees you and immediately is smitten. She knows, you two are meant for one another. For once, she does not care about the consequences of having you. But she will plan in advance, and make sure there are none. Her attraction towards you is obvious, not that she bothers to hide it. Fleeting touches and constant flirting, but she claims she’s simply being honest with you. Even if you’re uninterested or even uncomfortable she seems insistent. And because of her position, she’s able to get away with it. Who are you to not be interested? She’s far above you, far out of your league. Take a chance, don’t be afraid to love her! She can not only provide love for you but she can provide so much more. Money, food, safety. She provides all the things needed ten fold and she’s not even overly clingy or anything! She asks for nothing in return, you should be more grateful. It should be a blessing, to be with her. She absolutely does not get overly jealous and possessive and no she does not twist your words. She won’t listen to you, she constantly starts arguments due to her jealousy. It’s your fault for making her think you’re cheating on her, you spend so much time away from her. Did you even want this relationship? Why, of course you did! Why wouldn’t you, hun?

Miguel suffered so much, lost so much. You have to understand why he’s so protective. It is genuinely a miracle to him you are still around, that he is able to find happiness with you and it not be taken away from him in an instant. He can’t remember the last time he felt so happy, even with his family. He’s never white felt this, this love, this passion, this absolute devotion and trust. He’s not willing to let it out of his sights. He’s too caught up in how happy you make him for him to even consider how you may feel. How you might feel useless because he’s so hell bent on doing every little task for you and protecting you with every ounce of him. How you feel about him planning this all along, since the day he saw you. That he was going to make you his and only his, no matter what. You are his prized possession, you’re truly special and have finally brought him light in this darkness. He thinks he can excuse his behavior towards you, because he loves you whole heartedly and he truly has your best interest at heart. But the thing is, he kinda doesn’t. Does he truly have your best interest at heart if he won’t even try to listen to you? He won’t let you see your friends or family back home? He reasons that your safe here, in this spider society. You’ll always be safe here. He doesn’t hear you out any further, and you can never get through to him. He doesn’t let you fight anymore, he simply expects you to sit around and wait for him to come back to you.

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Traded Posession

Dark!jacaerys x reader

A/N: I definitely did not do this request justice but I also feel like this would have to be a series if I did and I probs should finish a series before I start a new one😭

Pt 2 here

TW: DUBCON, smut, semi public sex, degration, talks of death, size kink

word count: 1,656 words

They call you a witch, all of them. How else would an unremarkable peasant girl get the attention of Aemond Targaryen? You spend your days at his side, bathed in blood as you lick his dagger clean. You’re his perfect accomplice. You like to think that he cares for you, loves you even but in this moment, you realize just how wrong you are.

The Kinslayer has fled King’s Landing and Prince Jacaerys has claimed it. He leaves you behind like a toy that he has tired of.

The next few days are a blur. Cregan Stark’s

men are the ones to find you after your

failed attempts to escape the city. In hindsight, it was silly to think you’d make it to Harrenhall anyhow, make it to your lover. After you are arrested, they promptly throw you into the dungeon, the dungeon where you have been left to rot for the past few days.

This is when you truly realize that he’s not coming for you. He’s. Not. Saving. You. And you were an idiot to think otherwise.

You’re getting close to having been left alone too long with your thoughts when the door to your cell clangs open. Two guards walk in and lift you under each arm, to your feet.

“Hey! What are you doing?” You ask, happy to be taken out of the dungeon but unsure if it’s out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“His Grace has summoned your presence.” The guard on the left says as they drag you to the throne room.

When you arrive, the doors are thrown open and you stumble in, the guards’ pace much quicker than your own. You come to a halt and someone says, “You stand in the presence of the Dragon Prince, Jacaerys, Heir to the Iron Throne and future Protector of the Realm.”

Jacaerys Velaryon stares down at you from the Iron Throne, a cold gaze in his eyes. “Kneel.” He commands and when you don’t immediately obey, your legs are kicked out at the joint and you fall to your knees. He just looks at you for a moment. “You’re much plainer than I had suspected.” He comments offhandedly.

“Sorry to disappoint.” You say with a grimace.

A hand strikes you across the face. “You will use the proper honourifics when you address the prince, whore.” The guard on the right spits out at you.

“There’s no need for that at the moment, Ser.” Jacaerys says and then smirks. “Actually, i’ll have the room cleared.

“Your Grace.” The guards bow and then exit the room dutifully.

“I was truly pleased when we captured you, girl. I had this whole plan to trade you to my traitor of an uncle just to make him watch as I burned you alive instead…” He trails off. It’s almost like he’s telling you a story rather than describing your fate. “It was all going to be proper vengeance for my brother. Though, you’re not nearly as innocent as he was, are you?” The way he speaks is so casual that it could almost unnerve you, if it wasn’t for your experience with one bloodthirsty Targaryen already. “Imagine my surprise when I send a messenger to him and the boy returns, cockless, with a note that says I can keep you.”

You try not to let the hurt show on your face. After all you’ve done for him, Aemond couldn’t give a shit whether you live or die.

“Ahh disappointed, are you? So am I.” He says simply. “I was actually so terribly disappointed that I found that sweet little village you’re from and burnt it down instead.”

The blood drains from your face. “W-What?”

“You were not useful to me so I burnt your fucking village to the ground.”

You don’t feel like the powerful woman you were at Aemond’s side at this point. You don’t even know how you feel. Your silence reflects your shock.

“Is that all you can show your future king, a blank stare? The more I look at you, the more I can’t believe how the cyclops was so beguiled. You’re nothing.” He says with a cruel disappointment.

You stare him down, angrily now and you spit on the ground in front of you.

“Are you trying to prove something to me, wench? All I can see is that you are perhaps a bit more reckless than an average peasant. Do you care for your life at all?” He asks, like he thinks you’re stupid.

“Yes, your Grace.” You say, thinking it would be unwise to lie. Spitting at his feet was unwise as well but perhaps pride is your fatal flaw… perhaps.

“Come here.” He says, beckoning you with his fingers. You follow his command, stopping at his feet. He points down. “Kneel.” You feel inclined to disobey, Aemond liked that defiance but this man is harder to read, frightening in a different way.

“I plead your mercy, my prince.” Grovelling usually is the safest bet.

“You really cannot decide how to act, can you? I intend to find your purpose.” He grabs you by the chin and tilts your head up. “Let’s start with the most logical.” He unbuckles his belt and you know exactly what he desires.

The prince is well endowed, you know it before he releases himself, but you could not have expected him to be this sizable. He laughs at your reaction. “Judging by the look on your face, Aemond’s cock is small.”

Not small. You think to yourself. But compared to this…

“I don’t doubt that you know what to do. I trust you won’t try anything stupid” He says seriously.

Stupid like biting his cock off.

He’s right though, you do know what to do, taking him in your mouth as much as you can and beginning to suck, you quickly realize Jacaerys is bored. You speed up your movements, just the way Aemond used to like it. The quick pace usually is pleasing to most men… you thought, but the way the prince slumps back in his throne says otherwise. He examines one of the swords next to him in a distant sort of interest and after a few moments, he grips your hair and pulls you off.

“I see now why he didn’t come back for you. You’re like a broken toy.”

You just gaze up at him from under your lashes. “It’s how he liked it.”

Jace scoffs. “What a surprise. You have no technique. I suppose you can learn. I expected you’d be a fully trained pet but oh well.” He brings your head close again. “Go slower this time.” He tells you and you do, taking the head into your mouth and beginning to suckle like a little lamb. “Better.”

You lick up his shaft and then try to take him fully into your mouth again. He never completely fits but you bring your hand up to aide yourself. He guides your movements, pulling on your hair back and forth. You gag almost every time but it would be pretty much impossible not to with how big he is. Though he seems to get off on both, it’s more the motions than your suffering that brings him pleasure.

“Good. Now get up.” He says as he pulls you off again. He stands as well and though he’s not as tall as aemond, he’s still taller than you. “Bend over.”

“Over what, your Grace?”

He sighs and rolls his eyes, like you’re more of a nuisance than anything. He then swiftly grabs you by the waist and manhandles you so you’re bent over the iron throne. Though, you make yourself pliable for him.

“You would think that as a prince, I wouldn’t have to do all this work.” He rucks up your skirts and tugs down your smallclothes. He sees your folds glistening with wetness. “Oh gods, you like all this? What a pretty little cunt you have.” He says as he rubs his hand through it. “Let’s see if it’s enough to truly make a man cunt-struck.” He then slips himself inside of you, so slowly that you think that it makes it hurt more rather than less.

“Ah-ah…” you whimper out once he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

“I almost didn’t think I’d get it all the way in.” He laughs a little before beginning to thrust lazily. “Maybe this was the only reason he kept you around. It wasn’t enough though, was it? He still abandoned his little whore.” He chuckles and begins to thrust a little harder now. “Nothing to say? You were so confident at the cyclops’s side you seemed to have lots to say then.”

“My prince…” you moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you, his thick cock filling you up deliciously.

“Say my name when I fuck you.”

“Mmm, Jacaerys.” You whine out as his hands come to your hips, his thrusts making you unsteady.

“Perhaps I’ll keep you around. Make you my little fuck toy.” His thrusts get quite rough now. He’s angry and taking it out on you. And you could swear that his thrusts are so deep that his cock is in your tummy. You feel his fingertips on your pearl.

“Please, Jacaerys.” You beg him for release.

“Begging now? Gods maybe my stupid fucking uncle just enjoyed how pathetic you are, but you don’t care about him now, do you? You’re my whore now.” His hips keep slamming against yours and his words make you hit your peak, the possession of them enticing you. The way you constrict around him has the young prince hitting his peak as well. He spills his seed deep inside you and then immediately pulls out.

“I’m going to my chambers. I’ll have you bathed and delivered there in an hour.” He says before descending the steps and leaving you there, slumped over the iron throne.

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy

[cobaltperun]

Lost (6) - Snap out of it

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 6.1k

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-Under a spell you're hypnotized (ooh) Darlin', how could you be so blind?-

Furious didn't even come close to how she was feeling now that she was standing in the empty apartment in Modesto. No one she asked had seen Sam, the apartment she shared with Richie was exactly the way they left it before they came to Woodsboro, the two plates that neither Sam or Richie got the chance to wash, as they came to Woodsboro in a rush, the hastily made bed, all the other tiny signs of Sam being in a rush to get to Tara and only grabbing the bare necessities before leaving. "You let them get out of town?!"

"I let them?! I did?!" Richie snapped with anger Amber had never seen before. "If you didn't say we needed to fight Y/N together I could have stayed by Sam's side and prevented this!" and what good did that do? You still survived, all things considered Amber was almost willing to say you came out on top.

"Don't you dare put that on me! If I didn't shoot her you'd be beaten to a pulp like some pussy. You had a knife and Tara's fucking guard dog still had the upper hand!" everything was going wrong. She didn't get to kill you, you broke two of her teeth and cracked her mask and everything hurt. Her wrist her, every breath she took hurt, her jaw hurt, her pride and ego hurt and now Richie was whining when he should have stopped Samantha from leaving.

Richie threw his arms up in the air and groaned, as if he couldn’t believe what she was saying. "And you fucked up by not killing her. No, instead you had to mindfuck your," he made air quotes, "girlfriend, and now my movie is going to be ruined because all we did is kill Dewey, a couple of characters no one is going to care about, and some sidenote character related to Stu!"

Killing Dewey felt so, so good, it was a much-needed relief after failing to kill you. "Our movie, you hear me? OUR movie!"

He huffed at that. "Well, none of that matters now, does it? We got Sidney and Gale, but Sam got away and as you can see, she is nowhere to be found! They didn't come here!" Richie was waving his hands around the empty apartment.

That got Amber to think. Samantha took Tara with her, but not to Modesto. You were with them. You took them somewhere. You were ruining her plans, her fun, yet again, but none of those realizations mattered. She had no idea where to look. If anyone would be able to find you right now, Amber figured it would be Tara, but Tara was with you. Were there other people that could take a guess? Maybe the couple that employed you? Your parents? Your coach? All of those would take too long and none of those were certain to be true.

"We need to get Sam to come back," Richie sounded desperate. "You'll have to forget about keeping Tara for yourself. Guess you already did, since you tried to shoot her."

Amber scoffed at that. She'd get Tara in the end. By the time all of this was over she'd permanently take Samantha out of Tara's life, and she'd make sure you were dead as well. Pointing the gun at Tara was an impulsive decision born from righteous fury. Tara pleaded for your life despite having an asthma attack. The old envy reawakened at that moment and the good old 'If I can't have her no one can.' kicked in. Since Tara survived Amber could now convince her that Amber was all Tara would ever have and they'd be together. It would be easy to do it, to convince Tara of that. "I'll handle that part. Let's just figure out the way to get Samantha back to Woodsboro."

This would have been so much easier if you were never there in the first place. If you never got close to Tara, if Tara never fell in love with you, if she didn’t love you more than she could ever love anyone else. But Amber would break that, she’d have the upper hand the next time, after all, you were stabbed and shot multiple times, you’d be easy to take out. And then the image Tara had of you, that image of an invincible fighter that could protect her from anything, you being the source of stability and safety in her life would be shattered. After that, Tara would be easy to mold into what she should have been in the first place. Completely devoted and obedient, regardless of Amber did, after all, if Amber could get Tara to get over your death, there truly wouldn’t be any limit.

~X~

If anyone asked you three days ago you'd say you would never be able to go back to Sacramento. You loved the city, you really did, but ever since Zack died you kinda didn't feel like going there. Funny how things turn out sometimes.

Susan lived in a suburban part of the city, in a two-story home that, while not as big as the other houses in the area, still had plenty of space. Memories threatened to consume you as you stepped out of the car and saw the woman. She looked much older than she did ten years ago. You guessed losing her only son like that would have such effects. She looked frailer than ever. The image of a tall, proud woman that just turned forty-three years old was replaced by this decade-older woman with gray hair broken down by time. There was no bounce to her steps, and now that she approached you just as Sam was stepping out of the car you could see that she barely had any spark of life in her eyes.

"You didn't mention you were hurt as well," she touched the bandage on the right side of your face, where Ghostface sliced your jawline.

Somehow you didn't find yourself leaning away from her touch. You accepted it and just nodded. "Yeah, sorry about that. It didn't seem important," you brushed it off, doing your best to ignore the disapproval in Susan's eyes. Instead, you took in the surrounding area and your eyes fell on a cherry tree in the middle of the empty front yard. "The tree's grown," you mumbled awkwardly, finally getting the woman to smile.

"Of course, I'm making sure of that," the spark of life seemed a bit stronger now.

"I'm glad. This is Sam, by the way," you suddenly realized you failed to introduce them to one another. Sam already took the wheelchair, crutches, and bags out.

"Thank you for letting us stay," Sam expressed her gratitude as she and Susan exchanged a handshake.

"Of course, dear. I'm sorry you went through so much," Susan was still the same person you remembered as a kid, that much you could see.

"Sam, I'll get Tara," you said and went to the other side of the car where Tara was already opening the doors. "I got you," you assured the sleepy girl. She was so exhausted she adorably fell asleep in your arms while you were on the road.

"Mhm," she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and stretched a bit. "Maybe I could use the crutches?" she suggested but then realized the tiled path to the house wasn't exactly even and that she'd have to deal with more than a couple of stairs. "On second thought," she sheepishly reached out for you.

You smiled, she really was adorable. "I swear you'll get used to this and demand to be carried even after you recover," you teased lightly as you picked her up.

Tara hummed at that and then just leaned up to give you the lightest kiss on the cheek possible. Payback for earlier or not, you couldn't stop the heat warming your cheeks.

A fake cough from the side interrupted whatever Tara was about to say.

"Right. Tara, this is Susan," you awkwardly introduced them to one another.

"I'm sorry I'm meeting you like this, and thank you," Tara twisted her body as well as she could so she could shake Susan's hand.

"Considering how Y/N is, I doubt we could have met in better circumstances," Susan laughed lightly.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at that. "Awesome introductions ladies, how about we get inside now?" just a suggestion, since you were still injured and as much as you hated to admit it, carrying Tara wasn't the easiest at the moment.

~X~

The entire house felt as if it was stuck in the past. As if Susan was trying to preserve the memories of Zack as much as she possibly could. Everything was the same, to the minute details such as the MMA gloves hanging on the wall. Your eyes landed on the only photo you and Zack had together.

Zack was thirteen years older than you and there were remarkably few similarities between the two of you. The opposite hair color, a somewhat shorter build, and the only trait you physically shared was the color of your eyes. That was probably why Susan was so adamant about looking into your eyes since you sat down in the living room.

Susan and Sam took armchairs and you and Tara were on the large sofa. All of you opted for just a glass of water, not exactly feeling like drinking anything else. The tea cakes were on the table, but they remained forgotten as Sam seemed a bit on edge, which in turn put Tara on edge as well. Not to mention Tara was trying not to sit too close to you, she was just near enough to feel your presence.

You felt how tense Tara was, how much she wanted to lean on you, at least a bit, at least to press her side against you. “Say, do you still have the tea Zack used to drink? Was it nettle tea?”

Susan smiled at that. “Of course, and you know, you could use one right now, I’ll go an make you one,” well she either understood what you were trying to do or she just wanted to make it for you. You didn’t pay much attention back when Zack was telling you about it, maybe it was for muscle ache, or something.

“Cool! Thanks!” you’d take the opportunity though. It was what you were trying to do anyway.

“You want some honey?” she asked as she opened the door to her kitchen.

“Sure,” there was no way you’d drink a tea you never tried before without some honey, just to make sure it wasn’t too bitter.

With Susan in the kitchen, you closed the distance between you and Tara and hugged her from the side. “What’s wrong?”

Tara visibly relaxed, leaning into your touch. “Sorry, I’m just thinking,” she looked away, refusing to meet your eyes.

You followed her line of sight and saw that Tara was looking at the photo of you and Zack. You were nine and leaning your weight on Zack as you held a shovel. The freshly planted cherry tree was to your left. You were sure you hadn't grinned that widely ever since he died. She must have noticed Zack’s gloves, and was now piecing it all together. Your reason for fighting, why you kept choosing MMA no matter how much she disliked it.

Susan came back with the cup of tea, she didn’t make the comment about you hugging Tara, or the way Tara leaned against you. She just smiled, handing you the cup and sitting back down.

“Careful, it’s still hot,” she warned.

You chuckled at that and set the cup down. “Yeah, let’s skip burns.”

Susan nodded and then got serious. "Okay, I know you went through a lot and that this might not be comfortable for you all, but I'd like to know what exactly happened to the three of you," Susan's demand was fair as far as you were concerned. While you were sure no one would be able to find you, you probably were putting her in some danger with this.

So, the three of you went and recounted what happened, you didn't go into detail, but Susan got the gist of it. You thought she might be able to provide the three of you with an outside perspective.

"I don't like the timing," Susan seemed lost in her thoughts as she leaned her chin on her hands. "It had to be the 23rd and not a day later, so someone very close to at least one of you two," Susan motioned toward you and Tara. "had to be involved."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, so far you thought the main target was Sam, and while that was still likely the true neither of you thought of at least one Ghostface’s relationship with you or Tara, aside from, well, knowing you.

Susan motioned toward you. "Think of her lifestyle several weeks before fights and roughly a week after the fight," and then it made sense to you.

"I'm at my weakest the first couple of days after the fight," you groaned, removing your arm from Tara and leaning the back of your head against the sofa. There was no way you could have seen this coming, but it was clear whoever attacked Tara chose 23rd for a reason. "I have to lose between ten and twenty pounds before each fight, training is longer and more intense than usual, I get beaten up, then my body cools down and I can't just go back to eating like I normally do right away. I have no energy and I'm in pain. Why not 22nd though? I'd be even weaker than I was today," it was almost surreal to think that it was still the 25th, even if there were only two hours left.

It looked like Tara had an answer to that. "I think I would have invited you in if you took me to my place," ah, there it was. There was a chance she wouldn't be alone. "I didn't plan to do it, but I hadn't seen you in some time and I missed you, so there's a chance I would have done that," she clarified, blushing slightly at the implications of her inviting you that late at night.

"And if you weren't alone," Sam began and then turned to look at you.

You abruptly got up. "I need a moment," you stepped outside the living room before anyone could say anything to you. It was irrational. There was no way you could know. Even if you acted on that bad feeling, maybe that would just delay the killers until your next match and maybe Tara wouldn't be lucky enough to survive and all the what-ifs and maybes swarmed your head as you got out of the house and just took several deep breaths.

But you did have one thing that could have stopped all of this altogether. You could have taken Tara away from that damn house. The moment she turned eighteen you could have tried to convince her to come live with you. A tiny rational voice in your head told you there would still be times when she would be alone in your apartment, like several days you spent away from Woodsboro before each fight. Then there was the fact that you did, in the end choose fighting over Tara, you knew Tara didn’t like that you were an MMA fighter, that it was a big part of the reason as to why you weren’t together, but as you watched the cherry tree you remembered exactly why you couldn’t choose Tara back then.

Now it was different. Now you nearly lost Tara and, suddenly, that bond with Zack felt less important. Still, even if you weren’t an MMA fighter, you couldn’t be home or with Tara all the time. Maybe with it being a building with apartments, someone else would have been capable of getting between her and her attacker.

Who were you kidding? Like that could have ever happened. The security didn’t come after they heard gunshots and someone must have heard them, yet it took Sam and Dewey coming to the hospital for someone to come and help you. So, if someone whose job it was to keep the hospital secure didn’t budge, a random neighbor definitely wouldn’t. Even if you knew, even if you had some vision of the future, you'd never be able to keep Tara completely safe. There would always be some window of time during which she'd have to protect herself.

You can't control everything.

There's only so much you can do.

There's only so far you can push with overprotectiveness before Tara herself gets sick of it.

~X~

Watching you leave like that, while understandable, still stung. Sam didn't mean to make you feel guilty, Tara was sure of that. Tara was also certain you felt guilty on some level regardless of how ridiculously unreasonable that guilt was.

If someone wanted to hurt her, they would have gotten her sooner or later. Instead of considering how you kept her alive, how you made her feel safe and cared for, and how you wouldn't leave her side unless you were forced to, you laser-focused on one moment you weren't with her.

Coming to this place also indirectly revealed something important to her. Guilt gnawed at her when she caught herself thinking that maybe, now that she nearly got killed, you would consider leaving MMA. She pushed that selfish part of her as far away as she could, but looking at the gloves hanging from the wall she felt that guilt come back tenfold.

"Could I ask a question about Zack?" she tried to phrase it as politely as she could and be as clear as possible that she would take no for an answer.

There was a hint of sorrow in Susan's eyes as she nodded. "You can."

"Was he an MMA fighter?" she figured he was, she just wanted to see how far it went.

Susan looked at the gloves somberly. "He was. He managed to fight three times, lost his first fight, won the second, and lost the third, but then his sickness got worse, and he had to quit."

That was the last piece of the puzzle she needed. Tara always had more influence over you than anyone else she knew, but not even she could get you to stop with MMA. Now she understood why you couldn't let it go. She nodded her thanks to the still-grieving mother.

Would her mother be like this if she died? Somehow, she doubted that. "I should probably go to bed," she looked to the side.

"Of course," Susan was more accepting and understanding than her own mother and that hurt. She couldn't even begin to imagine how you must be feeling. Not only because of your own bad relationship with your parents but also... Well... She noticed how your brother had the same eyes as you, she noticed how Susan looked at your eyes. How did that make you feel? Did you notice? She was sure you did.

At times Tara thought the woman wasn't seeing you, but her dead son, and that hurt Tara. You lost your brother, and you grieved too.

Not wanting to interrupt you or force you to come back to her side pretty much the moment you stepped away she took her crutches and with Sam's help went to the bedroom Susan prepared for the three of you. It was a guest bedroom with two beds, but seeing as she was sleeping with you it worked out just fine.

Sam helped her get ready. She missed that. She missed having Sam in her life. She missed Sam being caring and gentle with her. She missed Sam always being there.

"I didn't think I'd come back to find you this attached to Y/N, or maybe I should have seen it coming," Sam teased as she helped Tara out of her pants. The cast was making everything difficult. "I mean, it's not bad, I just thought, with how physically intimate the two of you are that you'd be together. How come you chose Amber?" Tara figured Sam was trying to catch up on the five years she missed.

"Promise you won't laugh," honestly, Tara regretted that moment, her accepting Amber’s feelings, every time she wanted to kiss you.

"I'd never laugh at you Tara," Sam reassured her softly.

"I wanted to get Y/N jealous," she mumbled.

"Huh?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"I lied and said I was dating Amber almost a month before I actually started dating Amber. I thought she'd get jealous and confess," Tara explained, but she lightly bit her lip, knowing full well that she wasn’t telling the whole story. Although, making you jealous really was a part of the reason why she chose Amber.

Sam sighed. "I’m guessing that’s not the entire reason."

Tara looked away at that and, with Sam’s help, moved to lie down. “Y/N chose fighting, I guess. Back then I thought she didn’t love me back,” she paused, annoyed at the incredulous look on Sam’s face. “Sorry, there wasn’t a life or death situation before this,” she grumbled, blushing and unintentionally guilting Sam into dropping the ‘are you serious?’ expression. “I just… I was immature, I didn’t have the whole picture, I just thought Y/N chose fighting instead of me, despite how often I made it clear I didn’t like seeing her get hurt.”

Sam nodded. “You thought it was just about fighting and didn’t understand why she’d keep doing it if she loved you back,” Sam understood and Tara felt relief at that.

“God, I feel so bad now,” she whispered, angry at herself for making you choose. She had no idea she was making you choose between her and your memory of your brother, but now that she knew… that must have been so painful to you. “I know Y/N wouldn’t say a word, but I still wish I asked more, tried to understand more.”

Sam placed a hand on Tara’s shoulder, and it brought her so much comfort, it eased her worries because Sam was finally back in her life. “You said it yourself, Y/N wouldn’t say a word. Tara, you were a child, you are still just a teenager, you will be immature at times. Trust me, I know all about it,” Sam smiled gently, her eyes were filled with love and understanding and Tara had to reach up and place her hand on top of Sam’s in gratitude.

“Then there was Amber. She… kept saying Y/N would abandon me, that it was only a matter of time, and she just kept repeating that. I don’t know how, but I started believing her when Y/N just let me get together with Amber,” that was her greatest shame, and she was being stupid, she knew that, but Amber was so convincing, so adamant that she was right, that Tara accepted it. So, she told Sam everything.

It was a slow process. Before her and Amber got together Amber would complain about you, and Tara would argue back. So, Amber would keep her mouth shut, but that was when they were kids. After you turned eighteen Amber would complain again, and this time, when Tara argued back, Amber would go for silent treatment.

It hurt Tara, because Amber was her close friend back then, only second to you. Add in that you let your parents back then, and that Tara had no idea why, and her insecurities were almost unbearable. So, afraid she’d lose both of you, Tara began arguing less and less, just to avoid Amber’s silence. It was fine, right? She wanted to be loved, and Tara quickly learned that the price of Amber’s love back then was letting her complain about you.

Tara felt awful, she felt awful every time she hugged you, she felt so awful she ended up telling you about it. And you, in a way only you could, told her it was fine. You didn’t care what Amber thought, and you knew Tara needed someone other than you in her life, you didn’t want Tara to get hurt, so, you gave Tara permission to stay silent. To let Amber vent. And it became easier after that.

She should have known it would escalate, but by the time she realized that, she was with Amber and she was going along with Amber’s demands. She agreed to distance herself from you, she agreed to pay the price for Amber’s love yet again.

All the while Sam clenched her fists, shaking in barely controlled anger. “Tara, she manipulated you, she took advantage of your trauma, she conditioned you,” Sam seethed, and Tara was surprised she wasn’t yelling at this point. “This is all my fault. If dad never left then I likely wouldn’t either, and you’d never fear being abandoned so much. I’m so sorry Tara, it’s all my fault,” angry, frustrated tears fell from Sam’s eyes.

Tara sat up, though it was a bit difficult to do so, and hugged Sam. “It’s not your fault, you didn’t make Amber act like that,” she tried to comfort her sister.

“No, but I gave her something she could use,” Sam argued back, pulling away slightly to look Tara in the eyes, and then her eyes widened in something Tara could only describe as horror. "Never trust the love interest, that's what Dewey said."

Tara felt panic setting in. Amber's anger and jealousy toward you. Her insistence on keeping Tara away from you. No, there was no way it was Amber. And then it came back to her. The numerous times Ghostface called her baby, just like Amber did. The conversation with Susan came back, with the way Amber insisted on Tara coming to her place the night of your fight suddenly making even more sense.

The realization hurt more than all the physical pain she went through over the past few days. "It's Amber," her voice cracked as she said that. Everything just faded into the background until Sam reached her and pulled her in.

Sam was a frantic cuddler, as Tara liked to describe people's ways to cuddle. Sam's hands were moving up and down her arms, then she moved so that one hand rubbed circles across Tara's back while the other smoothed her hair. It did little to soothe her this time, but it was nice. It felt nice. It felt warm as opposed to the chilling cold gripping her heart.

Amber did this to her. Amber turned her life upside down. Amber made her distance herself from you, so you wouldn’t be there to protect her. Amber made her shoot you.

So, Tara cried, she sobbed and wailed as she clung to Sam as hard as she could. She cried herself to sleep with Sam doing everything she could to comfort her.

For how long did Amber plan to do this? Was she ever jealous in the first place? Tara’s feeling for Amber weren’t as strong as her feelings for you, she’d never love anyone the way she loved you. But Tara still liked Amber, she tried her best to love Amber back, and she was betrayed and forced to hurt you.

~X~

When you came back inside you heard Tara and Sam were upstairs and figured you could stick around for a bit longer. Just to give the sisters a bit of time together until fatigue caught up with you and you'd have no choice but to go upstairs and sleep. So, you sat down, picked up the cup of tea you left behind and took a sip.

It was okay, a bit different than what you were used to, but you could drink it.

"Y/N, how is college going?" Susan's question made you freeze for a moment.

"Uh, I'm not going to college," you looked away, subconsciously glancing upstairs to where Tara and Sam were.

Susan seemed taken aback by that. "How come. You were a smart kid, I doubt that changed."

"I haven't saved up enough money to give it a try yet, and I'm not eager to get into debt unless I absolutely have no other choice," you explained.

Susan frowned and you felt your palms sweat a bit at the way she was studying you. "What about your parents?"

It would make her angry, but you'd still be honest with her. "I cut contact with them when I turned eighteen. It was a mutual agreement, even if it wasn't, it's my life. I'll figure it out on my own."

As you expected there was fury in her eyes. "And Zack's request?"

It was your turn to frown. "Come on. Surely you didn't expect them to honor it," how naive did she have to be to think your parents would listen to Zack, regardless of the nature of his request.

"I'll pay," there was a definitiveness in her tone.

"No, you won't," yet you didn't leave any space for arguments.

"Y/N," there was a warning in her tone, but you were almost conditioned by your parents to never back away from such tones.

"I'm not Zack, Susan," that went too far, it was a low blow, but it sent a clear message. "I get it, you miss him, but giving me what you didn't have a chance to give to him won't happen. I can't let you."

She looked away and you could see she was holding back tears. You could see her shoulders slumping even more. "I know, but it was his final request," she tried.

"He didn't ask you to do it, though. He asked my parents to take good care of me," you argued back as softly as you could. This was why you didn't let Susan know about the extent of your injuries or the heart attack. She'd worry, she'd try to take care of you and, as much as it hurt to admit it, you didn't have it in you to let someone other than Tara get that close to you. It just became a habit you couldn't get rid of, and Tara remained the exception.

~X~

When you went upstairs you found Tara wide awake, even though Sam was sleeping. “Hey, how come this happened?” you teased her a bit, sitting on her left side and poking her shoulder lightly. The look in Tara’s eyes made your smile drop. “Tara?”

“It’s nothing, just lie down,” she pleaded, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Now that your eyes adjusted to the dim light you saw her eyes were red, she was crying.

You slipped beneath the covers, and hugged her. “You’ll get through this,” you felt her closing the distance between your bodies as much as your injuries allowed, you felt the desperate grip she had on the back of your shirt, her right fist clenching around it.

“Call me Love again, please, Y/N,” she whispered as you reached up, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

You hesitated a bit, not sure what that meant for her right now, but if she needed to hear you say it, you would. “I’ll call you however you want me to, Love.”

“Say it again,” the request was timid, and you could see the tips of her ears going red.

“Love,” you repeated, you wanted to ask her why she was crying before you came back, you wanted to be sure she was fine, but it didn’t look like you’d get anything out of her right now, so you just tried to relax her, to make her feel safe.

Eventually, she did fall asleep, her head resting on your chest, the soft, even sound of her breathing lulled you to sleep as well. You were safe here, you could relax.

~X~

Later that night, sometime after midnight, Sam struggled to fall asleep, even if she pretended to be asleep before you came in. Tara needed you to comfort her, and she feared staying awake might make Tara hold back. Still, anger was burning through her veins. Amber hurt Tara. Amber nearly killed her little sister. Amber downright psychologically tortured Tara. Amber forced Tara to shoot you. Amber betrayed Tara's love.

Amber was going to pay.

With that thought in mind Sam jumped sat up, careful not to wake you or Tara up.

"That's it, Sam, let's go make the bitch pay! Cut her throat and carve her up!" she saw him in the mirror, she knew she should fight it, she knew she shouldn't give in. That she shouldn't be bloodthirsty.

This time was different.

The enemy was no longer a masked, faceless killer who tried to kill her sister. It was an actual person. She had one of the targets. She wouldn't let anyone else hurt Tara.

"That's it! That's my daughter," the monster she was trying to get out of her head cheered as she grabbed your car keys.

~X~

The annoying sound of your phone ringing pulled you out of your peaceful slumber. Tara groaned, pulling the blanket above her head in an attempt to get back to sleep. By some miracle, you managed to reach your phone without making Tara move from her spot in your arms and rejected the call.

Almost immediately it began ringing again. "Who dares call at this hour?! What time is it anyway?" you hissed and finally answered your phone. "What?" you couldn't care who it was.

"Why are you coming back to Woodsboro?" that didn't make any sense.

"Huh? What are you talking about? Who even are you?" you were beyond confused.

"Listen, kid, your car is on the way back to Woodsboro, I put a tracker on it when you left, so don't try to fool me," the woman spoke and you were wide awake. You sat up, pulling Tara with you.

"Sam took it," those three words accomplished plenty of things, they woke Tara up, they made the woman talking to you curse loudly, and made you hope Susan's car was good to go. "How much of a head start does Sam have?" it was only at that moment that you truly realized what the tracker meant. What if Ghostface placed a tracker on your car as well?

"Considering where she is, I'd say an hour."

Shit, even if you rushed there was a high possibility she'd still get to wherever she was going way before you. "Thanks for calling. I'm going after her," you'd think about who was on the phone with you later.

You hung up and began getting dressed.

"Sam left?" Tara was sitting up, looking almost catatonic for a moment.

"She’s going back to Woodsboro," you wanted to help her, but the best thing you could do for Tara right now was make sure Sam was safe.

Tara grabbed your wrist and you saw the fear in her eyes. Was she afraid Sam was leaving her again?

"She went after Amber, Amber is one of the Ghostfaces," Tara revealed, her voice filled with anguish, and you saw red at the new information.

'God damn it, Sam, you better not kill Amber before I get there,' you thought.

~X~

Just for a moment Amber thought that maybe there really was something wrong with her. She watched her friends, Chad, Mindy, and Liv, drugged, unconscious, ready to be cut up to lure Sam back to Woodsboro. She’s known them for years, ever since she was a child. She knew Wes as well, she knew Tara. She loved Tara.

But she didn’t feel any regret, just a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction at the power she had. Maybe there really was something wrong with her, but she felt good, she felt like she had a purpose, something bigger than her, something grander than just one person. She was a fan that was turned into a star of her favorite fandom. Stu to Richie’s Billy.

So, what if she was a bit unhinged, if she lost it a bit as she stabbed Liv. Liv wasn’t screaming, so maybe she really did go too far with her. Maybe she hit a vital organ in her excitement. It was so easy, much easier than when she went after Tara, much less painful than trying to kill you. It wasn’t as thrilling though.

She should wait until Chad and Mindy regained consciousness.

[kyleoreillylover]

SamiJey x Fem!Black!Reader Headcannons

Summary: What's it like being in a relationship with Main Event Jey Uso and Sami Zayn?

tagged: @southerngirl41 @venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996 @tbonesteakwithasideofmashngrav @hope4more @selena-tyler-564 @saintaquarius @whatdoeseverybodywant @raya-hunter01 @afterdarkprincess

word count: 3,563

warnings: nsfw!!

a/n: samiijey brainrot and this is the only way I can cope with it. Hope ya'll enjoy this!

gif credits: samijey on tumblr.

Jey is the most protective out of the three of you. He is a hothead and would die for the people he loves—and you and Sami being his partners means double the protection, double the fierceness. But sometimes, that protectiveness can border on possessiveness, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.

If someone looks at you wrong, or if someone so much as breathes a hint of disrespect towards Sami, Jey's fists are ready to fly. It's both endearing and exhausting, his unwavering loyalty sometimes feeling like a heavy weight to bear. But you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

Sami is the calming presence in your relationship, the one who brings a sense of peace and stability amidst the chaos. With his gentle demeanor and soothing words, he has a way of diffusing tense situations and calming the storm within both you and Jey. Sami's strength lies not in his fists, but in his unwavering support and understanding. He's the one who listens intently to your concerns, who offers comfort in times of need, and who never fails to see the good in people, even when it's hard. And you and Jey love that about him.

You are in the middle. If Jey is the fierce protector and Sami is the calming presence, then you are the glue that holds them together. You're the one who keeps the balance, the mediator in their occasional clashes, and the voice of reason when emotions run high. Both men would do anything for you, and you feel the weight of their love and loyalty every day.

Jey and Sami go feral when you wear their merch in the ring. It doesn't even have to be anything revealing, just a simple hoodie with one of their names etched onto it, but the sight of you proudly wearing their merch ignites a fierce sense of pride and possessiveness within them, and trust that they will kiss and be all over you whenever you do, and that you should hope the locker room is empty when you walk in wearing their gear, because they're liable to forget they're in public.

Jey's grills are something you and Sami are obsessed with. Point blank period. Sami will shyly ask him to keep them on during sex or whenever you kiss, but you are more confident about asking him. Most of your conversations about them go like this.

"You better keep those grills on for tonight."

Jey looked at you with a smirk. "Why?"

You smirked back at him. "Because they make you look so damn sexy, that's why."

Jey chuckles, his smirk widening. "Oh, you like that, huh? I can definitely keep them on for you, baby."

Sami blushed furiously at Jey's cocky tone. "Um, yeah, I mean, if you're comfortable with it, I wouldn't mind… I mean, if it's not too much trouble…"

"Don't be shy, baby." Jey smirked at Sami, and you can feel the heat rising in the room as both Jey and Sami's gazes lock onto you, their desire palpable in the air.

"I'm more than comfortable, sweetheart," Jey purrs, his voice low and husky as he steps closer, the glint of his grills catching the light. "Anything to please my two favorite people."

Sami nods, still blushing but unable to hide the spark of excitement in his eyes. "Yeah, I mean… if you want to, Jey. It's… it's really hot."

With a mischievous grin, Jey leans in, his lips hovering dangerously close to Sami's. "What else do you find hot, baby?"

And in that moment, you know tonight is going to be one for the books.

Jey loves to take on the traditional men role in taking care of his partners. Whether it's fixing things around the house, cooking hearty meals, or simply being there to provide a strong shoulder to lean on, Jey embraces his role as the provider with pride. He finds fulfillment in being able to support you and Sami in any way he can, always putting your needs and happiness above his own.

Sami, on the other hand, thrives in the role of the nurturer. He's the one who remembers birthdays and anniversaries, who surprises you with little acts of kindness and affection when you least expect it. Sami's love language is all about showing how much he cares through his actions, whether it's cooking your favorite meal, leaving sweet notes for you to find, or simply holding you and Jey close and whispering words of love and encouragement.

You are the one that ties it all together, balancing the dynamic between Jey's protectiveness and Sami's nurturing nature. While they each have their strengths, you bring your own unique qualities to the relationship. You're the one who plans the adventures, the spontaneous road trips, and the cozy nights in. You're the listener, the problem solver, and the voice of reason when emotions run high. You know just how to calm Jey's fiery temper and reassure Sami's anxious thoughts. You're the one that makes them feel like they don't even have to think when they are with you, because you understand them on a level that no one else does. You take care of the emotional needs of both Jey and Sami, offering them comfort and understanding in times of vulnerability. You're the rock they can always rely on, the constant presence in their lives that brings them stability and reassurance.

Jey is usually on top when you, him and Sami are intimate together. His dominant nature and strength make him naturally gravitate towards that position, and it's not like you or Sami are complaining. If he wants to drive you both crazy, he knows exactly how to do it, his confident demeanor and skilled hands leaving you both craving for more.

But there are times when he's willing to let go of control, to let himself be vulnerable with you and Sami, trusting you both to lead the way and guide him through moments of intimacy with tenderness and care.

Sami, on the other hand, is more fluid in his approach to intimacy. He's not afraid to explore different positions and techniques, always eager to learn and discover new ways to pleasure you and Jey. His sensitivity and empathy make him attuned to your needs and desires, and he takes great pleasure in seeing you both lost in ecstasy under his touch. He loves that you and Jey trust him with your pleasure, trust him to bring you both to new heights of ecstasy and intimacy.

You go on top only when you were in a bratty mood and wanted to tease Jey and Sami a bit. It’s rare, but when it does happen, Jey and Sami find it incredibly arousing and exhilarating. Seeing you take charge and assert your dominance ignites a primal desire within them, and they eagerly surrender to your every whim and command. If you told them to get on their knees and beg, they would do it without hesitation, eager to please you and fulfill your every desire.

"Did I say that you could take your clothes off?" you tease, a playful smirk dancing on your lips as you stand at the foot of the bed, arms crossed over your chest.

Jey and Sami exchange a glance, their eyes dark with desire as they sat on the bed, fully clothed and ready to obey your every command. They're like two eager puppies waiting for their next instruction, and you revel in the power you hold over them in this moment.

"No, you didn't," Jey replies, his voice low and husky, a hint of anticipation laced in his words.

Sami nods eagerly, his cheeks flushed with excitement. "We're sorry, baby. We'll do whatever you say."

You let out a soft chuckle, enjoying the way they hang onto your every word. "Good boys," you purr, stepping closer to them until you're within arm's reach. "Now, strip."

They waste no time in obeying your command, their movements eager and synchronized as they shed their clothes, revealing toned bodies and hungry gazes that send a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

As they stand before you, completely exposed and vulnerable, you feel a surge of power coursing through your veins. It's intoxicating, the way they submit to you so willingly, their desire laid bare for you to see.

With a wicked grin, you circle around them, trailing your fingertips lightly over their skin, reveling in the way they shiver at your touch. They're putty in your hands, ready to be molded and shaped according to your every whim.

"Get on the bed," you command, your voice dripping with authority as you watch them eagerly comply, sinking onto the mattress with a mixture of anticipation and excitement. They lie there, waiting for your next move, their eyes locked onto yours with a hunger that mirrors your own.

You climb onto the bed, straddling Jey's hips while Sami watches with rapt attention, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he waits for his turn. You lean down, capturing Jey's lips in a heated kiss, your hands roaming over his chest as you feel the heat building between you.

Sami shifts beneath you, his arousal evident as he watches the two of you with a mixture of desire and longing. You break the kiss with Jey, turning your attention to Sami as you reach out to stroke his cheek, your touch gentle yet possessive.

"You're next, baby," you whisper, your voice husky with desire as you lean in to claim his lips in a passionate kiss. Sami responds eagerly, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss with a hunger that leaves you gasping for air.

You pulled away when you feel Jey's hands on your hips, his touch grounding you as he pulls you back towards him, his own desire evident as he presses his lips against your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses in his wake.

"You," You turned to Jey, and he automatically lifts his head, his gaze locking onto yours with a mixture of passion and longing. "Yes, baby?" he murmurs, his voice low and husky with desire.

"You're going to watch and kiss me," you continue, your tone firm but playful as you shift your position, straddling Sami's hips instead. "And you're going to enjoy every moment of it."

Jey's eyes widen with anticipation, a spark of excitement igniting in their depths as he watches you with eager anticipation. He knows exactly what you have in mind, and the thought alone sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine.

Sami looks up at you with a mixture of surprise and arousal, his hands trembling as they come to rest on your hips. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper as he searches your face for any sign of hesitation.

You meet his gaze with a playful smirk, your eyes alight with mischief as you lean in to press a teasing kiss to his lips. "I'm sure," you purr, your voice dripping with confidence as you reach down to guide him inside you."Now, get ready for the ride of your life."

The cheat code to making any one of you succumb to your whims was either biting or teasing. Jey couldn't resist a playful nibble on his earlobe, his neck, or his lower lip. It sent shivers down his spine and awakened a primal need to possess and protect you, to show you just how much you belonged to him.

Sami, on the other hand, melted under the gentle touch of your fingers tracing patterns along his skin, teasing him with feather-light caresses and whispered promises of pleasure. His breath hitched, his heart raced, and he surrendered himself completely to the intoxicating sensation of your touch.

You couldn’t resist when Jey would kiss at your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your skin, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. His hands would roam your body, exploring every curve and dip with a possessive hunger that sent shivers down your spine. You would arch into his touch, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he marked you as his own, leaving love bites and bruises in his wake.

And when Sami whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his voice a soothing melody that wrapped around you like a warm embrace, you couldn't help but melt into him. His hands would caress you with a gentleness that belied the fire burning beneath the surface, his lips trailing soft kisses along your skin as he worshipped you with every touch. His touch was like fire and ice, alternating between scorching passion and soothing tenderness, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

Jey loved teasing Sami the most. He would playfully taunt him, knowing exactly how to push his buttons in the best way possible. Whether it was poking fun at his blushing cheeks when he would kiss you in public, or teasing him about his affectionate nature, Jey delighted in seeing Sami's reactions, his laughter ringing out like music to his ears. But it was all in good fun, and Jey made sure to shower Sami with love and affection afterwards, his teasing always followed by tender kisses and whispered words of adoration.

When Sami speaks French or Arabic, you and Jey are fucking gone. It's almost comical the way you both practically turn into puddles of goo whenever Sami switches to his native languages. When he makes love to you both, if he speaks French or Arabic, his words take on a whole new level of intensity and passion, igniting a fire within you both that burns hotter than anything you've ever known.

There's something about the way Sami's voice rolls off his tongue in those languages, the way every word drips with emotion and desire, that leaves you both weak-kneed and breathless. It's like he's weaving a spell with his words, drawing you both closer with every syllable until you're lost in a haze of pleasure and ecstasy. It doesn't matter if you understand French or Arabic or not; the sheer power and emotion behind Sami's words transcend language barriers, leaving you and Jey utterly captivated and completely at his mercy.

On the rare occasion that Jey speaks Samoan when he's kissing you and Sami, both of you are equally enthralled, your hearts pounding with a mixture of excitement and desire as Jey's deep, rumbling voice washes over you like a tidal wave. There's something primal and intoxicating about hearing Jey speak in his native tongue, the words flowing effortlessly from his lips as he whispers sweet nothings and declarations of love in Samoan.

If someone flirts with your men, you become a jealous girlfriend, and it's comical the way your usual kind and composed demeanor completely evaporates in the face of jealousy. It's like a switch flips inside you, and suddenly, you're fiercely protective of Jey and Sami, unwilling to let anyone encroach on what's yours. Your jaw clenches, your fists tighten, and a fire ignites in your eyes as you glare daggers at anyone who dares to flirt with your men.

Jey and Sami find it both amusing and endearing, the way you puff up like an angry cat ready to defend its territory. They also get very turned on, and you can expect that you won't be able to walk the next day without feeling the repercussions of their arousal.

You have a tendency to take on too much that it leaves you feeling overwhelmed at times. You're the type who wants to make sure everything is perfect for Jey and Sami, often putting their needs above your own. Whether it's planning elaborate date nights, coordinating their schedules, or just being there for them whenever they need you, you always go above and beyond to ensure their happiness and well-being.

But in doing so, you sometimes neglect your own needs and forget to take care of yourself. You push yourself to the limit, trying to juggle too many responsibilities at once and refusing to ask for help when you need it. You're so used to being the one who holds everything together that you forget it's okay to lean on Jey and Sami for support sometimes, to let them take care of you the way you take care of them. It's something they've noticed and talked to you about, gently reminding you that they're here for you too, that you don't have to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders alone. They want to be there for you, to support you and lift you up when you're feeling down. They want you to know that they love you just as much as you love them, and that they'll always be there for you, no matter what. They'll do small things like bringing you breakfast in bed, running you a hot bath after a long day, or simply holding you close and whispering words of love and encouragement in your ear. They want you to know that you're not alone, that you have them by your side every step of the way.

At your best, you are a thoughtful partner that does everything before anyone can even think of it. You anticipate their needs, their desires, and their wishes, and you go above and beyond to fulfill them. At your worst, you can be stubborn and overly self-sacrificing, refusing to let anyone else bear the burden of your problems or share in your struggles. When you're in struggle mode, you shut off your brain and let Sami and Jey take the lead and make all the decisions.

You feel airy and disconnected, as if you're floating through life without any direction or purpose as Jey and Sami take care of you, make sure you're fed and rested, and gently guide you back to yourself. It's like a puppy that's lost its way, and your partners are the ones patiently leading you back home.

You constantly have to cake your neck with makeup because Sami and Jey always leave marks on it when they get too carried away. You always complain about having to cover up the love bites, but deep down, you secretly love them. They're like little reminders of the passionate moments you share with Jey and Sami, tangible evidence of the love and desire that burns between you. They may leave marks that you have to hide from the rest of the world, but they also leave marks on your heart that no amount of makeup could ever conceal.

Jey is very physically affectionate. His love language is physical touch, and he expresses his affection through hugs, kisses, and cuddles. He's the type of partner who isn't afraid to show his love openly, whether it's holding your hand in public or wrapping you up in a tight embrace when you're feeling down. His touch is warm and comforting, grounding you in the present moment and reminding you of his unwavering devotion. Jey's hugs are like a safety net, a place where you can always find solace and reassurance no matter what life throws your way. And when he kisses you, it's like fireworks exploding in the sky, igniting a spark of passion and desire that burns brighter with each passing moment.

Sami, on the other hand, expresses his affection through acts of service and quality time. He's the type of partner who shows his love through his actions, whether it's cooking your favorite meal, running errands for you when you're busy, or simply spending quality time together doing things you both enjoy. Sami's presence is like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night, enveloping you in a sense of comfort and security that makes you feel loved and cherished. And when he looks at you with those soulful eyes, you can't help but melt under his gaze, knowing that you're the center of his world.

As for you, your love language is a combination of words of affirmation and physical touch. You thrive on verbal expressions of love and appreciation, craving the reassurance that comes from hearing those three little words: "I love you." But you also find solace in physical affection, whether it's a gentle caress or a passionate kiss. You also love gift-giving, and watching your boys' eyes light up when you buy them their favorite limited edition sneakers or surprise them with tickets to their favorite band's concert brings you immense joy.

When it's those long days on the road where all you want to do is curl up into the familiar warmth of your partners' arms, you find solace in the small moments shared between the three of you. Whether it's cuddling together in bed after a long day of traveling, sharing inside jokes and laughter over dinner, driving to the next city with their hands, resting on your thigh, the windows fogged up by some adulterous activities, or simply holding hands as you walk through the bustling streets of a new city, you wouldn't trade your boys for anything for the world. And that was a fact.

And if anyone else had anything else to say about that, they should be prepared for Jey to knock some sense into them. Cause he don't play about the people he loves.

[razcina]

i’ll be there // Ch. 1(?)

sam carpenter x fem!reader - masterlist

Samantha Carpenter struggles with her new life in NYC, not having much of a purpose other than to be the protector of her friends and family, and to attend therapy for feeling like an absolute psychopath and having the whole word view her as such. With all of her vices, will Sam be able to open her heart and let someone in?

wordcount: 2300

!! not proof-read, will edit. english isnt my first language haha

Sam had hoped moving to New York in an attempt to escape the trauma Woodsburo had brought, and so Tara and her friends could pursue their education would have lessened the constant paranoia and hateful looks she received, but if anything it only worsened.

News of the Woodsburo murders, and of Samantha Carpenter’s relations to the infamous Billy Loomis had spread all throughout the country, including stories of how the proclaimed “final girl” was the reason for the murders in the first place, and how she must carry the evil spirit of her father. Despite the constant speculation and sick rumors, Sam didn’t let any of it affect her.. atleast not publicly.

Afterall, the older Carpenter was preoccupied with keeping her younger sister, Tara safe, Something Tara personally hated. She understood Sams intentions, especially given the horrors they went through together back home, but all she wanted was freedom from all of this mess, and stubborn as ever, Tara would pull away from her sisters grasps whenever she could.

This once again led to Sam standing against the wall of some fraternity party swigging a bottle. Her eyes scanning the crowds of drunk college kids making sure Tara, aswell as her friends, Mindy, Chad, and Anika, weren’t making any stupid decisions. She’s incredibly focused, and any normal person would see her scowl and defensive stance and make the smart decision to back away. It’s what Sam expects, not opposed in the slightest as shes never been much of a social person. Thus, when she catches glimpse of a figure slip around her out of the corner of her eye, she startles, nearly dropping her drink.

Sam stands tall at around 5’9, so she barely notices when a shorter figure appears right beside her, looking up at her with a piercing gaze.

She looks down at the petite woman next to her. Normally, she wouldnt pay this person any mind, especially one this short and unthreatening looking, But she still stares, wondering how she even got there. she crosses her arms over her chest and takes a drink from her own bottle

“Watch where youre going”

Sam mutters, looking back up

The woman’s eyes narrow, but she masks a sly playful expression, contrasting sams gruff scowl.

“Why assume i didnt mean to come over here?”

Sam assumes this is just another person who had seen her on the news, eyeing her up and down, trying not to roll her eyes. This girl couldnt be the killer, but considering her size she seems too small to do any real damage. Sam grumbles.

“Why are you lookin at me?”

The other girl shrugs, leaning against the wall next to Sam and sipping on her own drink.

“Didn’t know it was illegal to stare at people scowling in a corner at a frat party”

Sam rolls her eyes

“Its not, i just don’t understand what you want from me”

The other girl shrugs again, speaking in a nonchalant tone

“To get to know you, you seem interesting”

Frowning little and tilting her head, Sams curiosity is getting the better of her, but not to the point shes gonna go and trust this girl and spill her darkest secrets. Shes always on edge, so even a slight tone change makes her suspicious. so she tries to keep her rough tone, but its not working.

“What about me?”

“i dont know.. why dont you tell me?”

The woman whispers, leaning against the wall next to sam, who is desperately trying to keep watching her friends and tara, but failing and getting distracted.

Sam eyes the short girl and swishes the alcohol in her bottle, suspicion spiking now and though she is trying not to, she is failing at trying to continue her grumpy attitude. Shes got her hand wrapped around the pepper spray on her keychain, just incase this girl tries anything, but she just stares, wondering why she even cares.

“I dont know? im.. just me”

The woman smiles shyly, shrugging

“thats oka-“

Before she finishes her sentence, some drunk guys rush past, pushing sam and her possible new friend aside roughly, Sam nearly drops her drink, and y/n is pushed right against sam. The taller woman groans in annoyance at the sudden impact, when she gets herself back together, she realizes the other stands fitting right under sams arm against her, seeming startled.

Sam hisses and looks down, noticing the woman stands right underneath her arm. if anything, shes startled as well. She cant help it though and her arms and hands instinctively wrap around y/n’s waist as she keeps her in place as well as protecting her from the crowd. Shes never protected someone before, other than her younger sister, but it was her instinct to grab this stranger by her waist. Sam doesnt know how she let this happen, but now this girl is pressed right up against her, and shes surprised that she didnt push her away yet. Normally she wouldnt be okay with someone touching her and would distance herself, but even though she seems annoyed and disgruntled, she doesnt move away. Instead Sam just keeps her arm around this girl, the pepper spray key chain hanging down as her hand rests on the shorter womans back. Shes a lot closer to her than she had anticipated.

The girls eyes widen slightly and she lets out a soft “oh-“ when sam grabs her to keep her standing. y/n sees the pepperspray out of the corner of her eye but seems not to react, instead getting distracted by sams toned biceps and overall upper body, a faint blush creeping onto her face. Sam is immediately confused with herself and gets the instinct to back away. sam didnt come here to make friends, shes here to watch and protect Tara and her existing friends.

She seems to snap out of her instincts and realized she held the girl a bit longer than she should have. She tries not to stare too hard at the smaller woman, though her curiosity and intrigue continues to grow. she doesnt push the girl away and looks away as she puts one hand on her drink and looks off to the side, clearing her throat

“you alright?”

Sam asks with a gentle voice she didnt expect to come out of her. shes usually loud, and rude, shes surprised by the softness to her tone.

“y-yeah..”

y/n mumbles, still blushing as she watches sams hand slowly leave her waist.

“thank you..”

Sam raises an eyebrow at y/n. She didnt know if she was actually okay, but shes not gonna ask again, Keeping one hand on her drink as she crosses her arms over her chest again. Shes still watching y/n, though in the corner of her eye, as shes back to keeping a close watch on her Tara, among other friends she’s looking out for.

“hm. youre welcome.”

“whats your name?”

y/n blurts out suddenly, unsure of a better time to ask

Sam looks back at the girl and narrows her eyes into slight suspicion again. She never really liked giving out her info, especially during this era. But.. for some reason she caves, shrugging and then leaning back against the wall.

“Sam. Your name?”

“y/n”

She responds, leaning against the wall next to sam, having to look up to talk to her

“Hi Sam..”

Sam just lets out a short hum as a response. Its unusual for sam to feel this way around someone, not so on edge as she usually is.

She just keeps a close eye on everything around her, mainly Tara and co, but y/n was slightly distracting.

y/n tilts her head, the playful glint returning to her hazel eyes

“What, am I not interesting enough for you to look at?”

Sam looks at y/n, raiseing an eyebrow with a flat look.

“I was watching everything, and youre included. So yes. youre interesting enough”

She just takes a sip from her drink, trying to keep her tone even.

“You seem distracted”

Sam mumbles something in response but y/n doesnt catch it, squinting at the tall girl instead.

“Okay.. so what are you doing here if you dont like parties? No ones forcing you to be here you know.. you dont seem like a party person.”

“..yeah. I have to watch my friends and sister.”

she takes another sip of her drink, not taking her eyes off the crowd as she does so.

y/n tilts her head

“You have to babysit your adult friends and sister?”

Sam just scoffs and rolls her eyes, her tone going back to being harsh. She never liked the “babysitter” word that some people like to use when talking about her. She crosses her arms over her chest again.

“If youre calling this babysitting, then yes i have to babysit my “adult friends” and sister.”

“Why?”

Sam scoffs again, her tone becoming harsher when y/n doesn’t even know the answer and has probably never been in her situation.

“Because they need me. Because someone in this world is always out to kill them.”

Sam eyes the shorter woman again, then glances back to the crowd. She doesn’t even know why she’s explaining this to a stranger.

“Oh.”

It clicks in y/n’s head that the taller woman is refferring to the recent ghostface killings. She had heard of them all over, and how they were starting to pop up around NYC.

Sam is surprised when it clicks for her. Usually people ask, “what do you mean someone’s out to kill them?” or “why do they need you?” or “you can’t be serious” but y/n didnt. She just put the pieces together. and sam didn’t know what to say further. She takes another sip from her drink as she glances around the party, now a bit more anxious

y/n looks somber when the killings are mentioned, an expression Sam barely notices

“What about your own enjoyment?”

The paranoid woman’s stomach drops at the mention of her own enjoyment. She actually hasn’t had any.. in a while. For a long time. Shes always on duty. Always keeping an eye on things and everyone else. she didn’t even think she deserved any own enjoyment. Sam was doing this for everyone else, not herself. She shakes her head and takes another sip from her drink, her tone a bit harsh

“im more concerned about their lives than my enioyment”

“mm..”

y/n’s change of voice is hard to hide as she says something that catches sam off guard entirely.

“You’re a really good person.. the kind people should appreciate more”

Samantha is taken back when she hears the compliment, and she stays silent for a moment. She didnt think she was a good person. She didnt think she was anything. Sam just shook her head, not knowing what to say. She was Billy Loomis’ daughter..

“no im not-“

She quickly argues. it wasnt true. she just did what she had to do, she had to protect. there was nothing else to it. Sam took another sip from her drink, hoping y/n would just move on, because she didnt want to talk about it

“hush”

The other woman cuts her off, glancing up at her and takes a sip of her own drink. Sam can see that her eyes seem to be slightly moist*

“youre perfect”

y/n whispers, barely able to be heard under the loud party music.

Sams eyes widen again. Her heart rate speeds up just from y/n calling her perfect. this isnt right. Sam wasnt perfect. she killed someone. Sam feels all her walls just break down at this point, which is incredibly out of character for her.

“im- im not perfect-“

Sam whispers, almost like a whimper. her harshness fades away and her gentle look comes in place as she stares down at y/n.

Sam blinks in complete shock. Was this girl about to cry? and why was she telling Sam she was perfect? therapy tall woman doesnt know what to do with this comment, and her cheeks had heated up a bit. Sam was about to speak when she notices those little tears in y/n’s eyes and stops herself. She cant say what she was about to say. she just watches her.

y/n smiles faintly, clearing her thoat

“i-i should go.. and leave you to your babysitting.”

Sam watches her, eyes soft as she sees her smile. She was hoping she didnt hear that right, but she couldnt get herself to stop her. Sam was about to speak again, but the harshness in her voice was completely gone. there was no more scowl, and she was just being soft like y/n was. As the short woman begins to walk away though, Sam stops her and grabs her hand. Startled, her head darts around and she looks up at Sam, a tear already threatening to fall.

..!

Sam freezes for a second, then realizes that she just grabbed y/n’s hand and is still holding onto her hand. In this moment, her mind is racing. She wants to say something but cant. She wants to ask something but feels this is just wrong. Sam watches as the tear runs down her cheek. She sees it and freezes. She cant help but feel guilty for making this girl almost cry. Normally, Sam would have let her go, and let the girl cry without even a care, but.. this was different. There was an urge to comfort her. So sam just takes a little step closer and gently grabs the girls chin, tilting her head up to look at her, all care about Tara and ghostface vanished.

“dont..”

[raisedbythetv89]

Ok ooooook OK SO.

Spike was literally made for Buffy because he was made for and by Drusilla, and Buffy and Dru are the same person:

Innocent, kind-hearted young girls, with special gifts that cause them to carry more guilt/burden than others and they are used/abused/traumatized by angelus/angel, then neglected and abandoned, with Spike being there to pick up the pieces and nurture, care for, and love them the best he can to help them move past their angel trauma (which is actually an impossible task with Drusilla because of the sire aspect but isn’t with Buffy)

WHICH is why I believe William’s first act as a vampire was to try and save his mother. He was literally created to be Dru’s knight. Not only her protector but her healer. Which is why his first instinct when it should be all about blood lust is instead, to heal his mother who he still loves even as a vampire. I mean even Dru, a certified nutcase, is like you wanna do WHAT?!?! When Spike tells her his plan to save his mom😹

This is also why I believe angel trying to mold Spike into his image never really took or rather Spike was able to break free from it. Angel was created by darla for the intent of death, torment and destruction.

Spike was created to care for and love Dru. Which required an OBSCENE amount of patience, determination, humility, and love of a challenge. Which is why he was so intrigued by slayers, another seemingly impossible task - but the joy/fun was in the TRYING, the thrill of the unknown and the unpredictability of it all. Which are all the traits he needed to be there for both Dru and Buffy while also ensuring he never gives up on them as long as they want him there, and then some lol.

IM FREAKING OUT ABOUT THIS

Because also this is soooooo not where I planned on going with this but “I was made to love you” episode title is now drawing in the connection of, is this why Spike didn’t initially see the problem with the Buffy-Bot until he saw the reaction of Buffy herself who often acts as his moral compass as he relearns what is “good” after 100+ years living by vamp code because him AS A HUMAN, in his vulnerable, dejected and devastated state was killed and made into a vampire for the sole purpose of loving and caring for Drusilla selflessly, without regard for himself, much like the bots were!! So why would he see the harm in creating something like that for himself when no one was going to die in the process and it meant he could stop fixating in the real buffy? Both of which to a vamp who’s only been trying to live by human morals again for like 14 episodes vs 120 years with NO help just trial and erroring his way through becoming a white hat which his starting point is “I would like credit for not taking advantage of bleeding disaster victims” and “what do you mean building a shrine to show how deep my devotion is and chaining you up, offering to kill my ex, and forcing you to talk to me and admit your feelings aren’t the way to do this??” 😹😹😹 like he gets it so wrong, it’s comical in season 5 because he truly is so earnest about all of it because while yes it is all for a chance with Buffy, he genuinely wants to be better for her so he can earn that chance. As he says to Riley “a fellas gotta try” after saying he doesn’t think he has a chance with her.

He was an Eleanore who desperately needed his Chidi. Which Buffy is his moral compass but she ends up being a “let them fail/push them into the deep end” kind of guide. So he makes A LOT of mistakes along the way as many of us often do in general but especially those of us who were raised by abusive parents; who in our adulthood, have to learn to discern what is healthy vs abusive to be a good person to both yourself and others and be in actual healthy relationships with boundaries and respect with zero practical experience or good instincts to go on.

NONE of this excuses any harm that Spike causes at all. That is not the point of this to say “oh he didn’t really do bad”, no he did. Spike caused a lot of harm but this perspective that I’ve finally been able to put into words is why none of the harm ends up being a deal breaker for me and many spuffys because it puts his choices in the right perspective which is not that of a human even though he looks like one a lot of the time.

Spike pre-soul, making the mistakes he makes isn’t the same as a human or a vamp with a human soul making the mistakes because he doesn’t have his human soul motivating and informing the decisions he makes. It really mimics different cultures in a lot of ways as anya really demonstrates during her wedding with all her talk of demon culture and tradition (and her own struggles to assimilate into the human world again and she HAS a human soul and xander to help her) and the initiative being VERY n*zi coded and Riley being called a bigot because he is ignorant to much of demonology. So un-souled spike has a more potential for forgiveness of his mistakes than human soul havers because he is always genuinely TRYING to do right by Buffy even when he gets it horribly wrong. And the characters in the show always hold him accountable and make him feel TERRIBLE for the mistakes he makes.

Why does he have such potential for forgiveness you ask? The best example is to think of the concept of someone trying to assimilate themselves into a new culture. We can’t expect them to blend right in perfectly and get all the culture norms right, right away (again -anya-but also a real life example - when I travel in Italy and catch up with friends there I STILL always stumble and forget they’re always gonna go in for a double cheek kiss greeting - pre covid anyway - and I KNOW it’s a thing but if I’m out of practice it takes me a while to start greeting people that way again and it makes for some AWKWARD ENCOUNTERS until I get it down😹). It takes time, and normally guidance and patience from others that spike honestly doesn’t often have except in the form of being yelled at or beat up until he gets his soul. But his willingness to TRY anyways despite failure, rejection, ridicule and cruelty. How can I not love him?? He is me, I am him!! I was also met with so much unhelpful criticism and cruelty when I was just trying to learn and do a good job.

Both as someone who is autistic and didn’t know it for a lot of life; I too felt like I was blundering through without a guide or a rule book and I was sure I was making mistakes because people would get upset but I had NO help identifying what exactly I did wrong or what to do instead. So I knew I was messing up but had to keep guessing and trying anyway and getting it wrong again and again!

And as someone raised by an emotionally distant/abusive narcissist, navigating healthy relationships became even MORE difficult and I made a lot of bad choices along the way that landed me in some awful relationships much like what spike and Buffy devolve into towards the end of season 6 because both of them are up stream without a paddle when it comes to healthy relationships, healthy coping mechanisms, and communication. They know pain, avoidance, fighting, torment, and ecstasy from always living in extremes and life or death situations (notice Buffy struggles the most in the season with no threat of the apocalypse until the last two episodes - season 6 - which is SO common for people with trauma, you really fall apart when things are low stakes)

It’s why the tenderness and gentleness of season 7 means SO MUCH. Both of them experiencing these tiny pockets of true peace with each other after everything they’ve been through individually and together. Experiencing true peace like we see from them is one of the hardest things to accomplish if you have severe trauma.

I’m always really happy when I can digest these complex themes enough to communicate why I love them so much and why they’re so important to me. The fact that this show had so much in-fighting amongst the writers and misogynists trying to make spike pathetic and accidentally making him one of the most complex characters, plus episodes based specifically on neurodivergent/queer peoples’ traumatic coming of age experiences because the parallels are SO strong there no way they’re not lol. This all means I can probably spend the rest of my life dissecting the layers of this show and learning about myself in the process and always find something new 🙃🙃🙃 and clearly I love all aspects of spuffy so god damn much as they each embody a big part of my life experiences in so many beautiful yet tragic ways.

[katalyist]

Something I haven't stop thinking about is Grian (and for extension Scar because they live rent free on my brain) it's the fact that Grian has repeat two episodes in a row that "For some reason the only time I'm not his ally he has show that he is quiet of dangerous" (not exactly his words but you got the point) which is... True? But also not true at all?

Because it has to do with their dynamic and the fact that Grian never really let Scar be a full menace when they were allies because he would have die (and in that series the deads matter even more, one false step and Scar would have been out) but more importantly: Grian has never truly trust Scar habilites to do traps and kill.

In third life Grian took the rol of the one making traps (that tend to fail and work later) because Scar was red life almost all the serie, if he didn't put the tnt minecarts right, serie over. But you can see there how much Scar would rather enter the camp of battle without a further plan that traps, we see him trying to convince Grian to go for Ren or Cleo and Bdubs because he just wants.

In last life they weren't 'allies' but they did see eachother in a regular time and Scar was never a threat to Grian or the Southlanders (probably because he didn't wanted to be a threat, he wanted friends and saw every time that Grian went to magical mountain to get him has a friend) so why Grian would consider him dangerous? Meanwhile B.E.S.T. gave him a life because they were terrified of what he could do if he was red for more time.

We all know how double life went. Scar show that he could be dangerous and persistent but Grian just didn't pay attention and didn't care because he was bussy trying to keep both of them alive (ironic seeing that their three deads were his fault) and because part of how dangerous Scar could be was dedicated to annoy him, to look for his attention. And here in double life we can see again their dynamic how proper allies (and the parallels with third life) and how Grian tried to keep Scar under control "You are ban of the Deep Dark" "Scar, don't burn their boat" "Scar don't take the enchanter" because be didn't want both of them get enemies or killed. Again, Scar having ideas of destruction and Grian going "No" most of the time.

And before passing on our current season I want to add the rol that I think Scar plays in this because it just makes their dynamic more interesting. So, if Grian is the trap person, the 'brain' and protector to keep them alive, what is Scar? The scammer, the fighter, the protector and the supportive one. Because Scar is so good at scamming people, intentional or not, in 3rd life he almost got all his armor for scamming people for making they believe they were getting something in return and using his position as a yellow/red life to scare them. He is also a fighter, not in the literal sense but more in the one that he isn't gonna stop until he gets what he wants (If he dies in the process, well, bad luck) he makes them keep fighting. He is also a protector! Intentional or not, because he cares about his allies too much, even when it seems that they aren't a 100% with him (like Grian with his secret soulmate or Bdubs in this season) he would never turn his back to them unless they are the last ones.

And the most important one for me: he is very supportive. Scar leaves Grian be as crazy as he wants, he supports his plans, his traps, his murder attempts, and at difference of Grian he doesn't get that frustrated if a plan doesn't work as they thought. Scar leaves Grian be Grian. Maybe because both of them are chaos or because he feels safe with the decision Grian makes in name of both of them. But that is why they work so well, because even when Scar likes to joke around and cause tension with other teams he is always ready to follow Grian's plan to take them out of that situation.

And now we are in the present, dear Limited Life, and thinks just really change for this one. Because deads are less important now (at least at the beggining) and you can start killing since you are yellow. AND officially both of them started being enemies: The Clockers vs The Bad Boys.

Scar has a family as crazy as him (just look at Cleo burning down the mansion or Bdubs doing the boogey kill the first five seconds of being boogey) and no one is gonna stop him.

And here we see the part of why Grian thinks that Scar just suddenly become dangerous: he was one of the targets. For the first time (i think) Grian saw what it was being the person that Scar wants dead and Scar succeeded, he killed Grian! And also for the first time he didn't had anyone who would stop him so he get more kills.

The second reason that I could find is that Grian hasn't truly seen Scar traps fail as in the past, he just has seen when he gets a kill, even if was an accident, so Grian can just think two things: or Scar become an expert in traps or he is dropping tnt minecarts randomly and seeing who dies. And honestly both of that options are terrifying.

But now that they are formal allies again when they are together you can still see that they are the same silly and goofy couple of always! You can see Scar consulting and looking at Grian when something seems dangerous and Grian inmediatly being like 'back off back off' and raising his shield so Scar does the same (the birthday party) or Scar making a raid just because he can and almost inmediatly regretting it because "Grian! Grian they are too strong! Help!" and "Scar!" with that tone that means 'Im not letting you die but god if you shouldn't have done that in the first place'.

And how at the end of the chapter Grian says "Timmy... It's at three hours and Scar sigh Scar it's at five hours so let's see what happens" like, yeah, we get it, you are stressed because you need to find kills for two of your allies that are probably gonna die because they can't have an episode without dying.

In conclusion: Desert duo and their toxic dependent relationship ruined my life I can't not think about them enough.

Thank you for coming to my talk, i didn't do a extent research and i have probably half of the things wrong but yeah i hope my point is clear.

[ludinusdaleth]

i feel like the mere idea of bringing up orym & ludinus and their entwined threads of fate is taboo, but i cant stop thinking about it.

orym is a rare, nearly impossible kind of protector - a guard, somehow not attached to a corrupt, brutal system. he just wishes to protect his home, his leader. but ludinus, via otohan, attacks this peaceful place. he turns the ashari cautious & agrieved. he turns the society of air into the eye of a hurricane. orym is turned into a widow. his title as guard is marred; he failed. maybe zephrah is forever marked as a battleground & graveyard, now.

orym walks across tal'dorei & marquet, slowly healing beside his friends, protecting them as best he can. but then he learns who killed his family, and she kills his friends, too - and him, for a moment, giving him visions of his dead husband, reopening the wound. he is in the eye of a sandstorm, tinged red by the moon. he is a pilgrim no longer. his attempt to be a guard has once again been thwarted. maybe you cant have peace if you're a protector.

orym is at the center of the goddamn planet, the leylines aligning as he witnesses his leader fall at the hands of otohan, again at the center of his home's wound, and ludinus, again pulling the strings. a protector far stronger, more capable, than him, adorned in feathers, alight with divinity, falls worse. his friends are flung to the far sides of the world. he once again fails as a guard. maybe a guard is too small in the scale of this world's forces to impact the tide at all.

and so, orym nods to laudna as she rips bor'dor's life from him. he shears his hair ever more, adorns tougher armor. he makes a deal with a hag, desperate for any chance someone he cares for could maybe fucking make it out okay - even if his vastly increased sternness to keep them safe pushes all of them farther into fear of their own. he sneers with unfathomable anguish as he sees ludinus at the volcano and wastes every one of his action points to rip his soldiers apart. he uses ludinus's harness. he takes the willmaster's power. he keeps pushing into the bloodred storm. he could never be a guard right. so it is time to be a soldier. to truly protect must mean to run to the source of all of it and end it once and for all.

all of the bells have been forged by ludinus, a horseman of war, but orym takes it most viscerally. he does everything in his power to stop ludinus, but in a way the elf has already won - or perhaps, in his need for exandria to be "saved" (as he percieves his actions will do), he's failed, but the bells have still lost. because this new generation isnt at peace. they arent even heroes. they are soldiers. orym more than anyone else has accepted that is his life, his death, his fate. there is no goal of his that doesnt end at ludinus. ludinus, who just like him, lost everything in a war involving gods. who has felt the way the world keeps turning, unbothered by what destroyed his society. who uses that accursed harness to take power for a cause. who doesnt want to force someones mind to get what he needs, or kill, but does, because it is necessary. who has pushed himself to the point he is a means to an end more than a person, willing to rip himself apart because he doesnt matter, his goal does. who cant see anything but war on the horizon anymore.

when the two are mentioned together it causes folk to bristle. the idea orym could be in ludinus's shadow is seen as a suggestion that orym is evil as him. but, thats not what i intend. it is a terrible thing, watching someone's gaze harden after tragedy. once a long time ago, as the gods fought across exandria, ludinus saw his world destroyed. and so he enacted a plan to ensure that would never happen again. that they would suffer, and mortals would thrive. but his plan was a god's foot, trampling mortal society upon society. and so orym saw his world destroyed. and he knows killing ludinus is how to let it mend. as the two march forward, in a second calamity, i can think of nothing but the first scene of exu: calamity, when pelor & asmodeus fought as avalir fell below them. despite ludinus's raging, incredible hatred of the gods, the biggest tragedy of all is that mortals really are crafted in the gods' image: and he, & orym, are most representative of that endless cycle of war, of this war, a failure of the past generations, of ludinus, to ensure a "true" freedom of mortals. of peace.

willmaster edmunda was a terrible person, but i fear she was on the right track when she spat at orym "some would like to live in harmony [with Exandrians]. some... know the nature of violence, that others like you carry."

he would never have carried it if ludinus had not dropped it at his feet.

[l0rdgeosupport3rr]

18+!!!

Tags: Zhongli x reader, non-con, dubious con, vaginal sex, anal sex

( 7/12/23 UPDATE: PART 2 )

Planet Befall

in the midst of all the carnage, there’s only one thing in your mind.

you failed. you failed to protect your country, your home. the fading screams from your fellow countrymen, the iron stench of blood—they’re not quite getting to you yet. all that’s running in your mind is that you failed, you failed, you failed.

you don’t know where your captain is, but with all the dead bodies surrounding you, none of them have a head of hair quite as light as dainsleif, which could mean he’s still out there. there’s a modicum of relief in your chest, but it’s not enough to drown everything else out.

your mind doesn’t quite clear, but finally, finally the smell of blood and rotting bodies is getting to you. if the guilt of your failure to protect khaenri’ah wasn’t enough to sicken you, surely the smell would finish the job.

‘i’m sorry to you guys…i failed as your second in command and the protector of khaenri’ah.” you faintly whisper, you notice that you’re kneeling on the ground. you look at your sword and wonder, ‘would it be worth it to keep going? do i still have a purpose if my country is no more?’

your grip tightens around your sword as you attempt to ground yourself—if you can’t at least do the job you and the rest of the knights were assigned to do, you can at least use whatever remaining strength you have to fight to the bitter end.

you don’t know what happened to the rest of your squad. worst comes to worst, they were annihilated like the rest. you and dainsleif, whose exact whereabouts are currently unknown, are the only ones remaining, and as much as you want to cry, you can’t.

you snap out of your thoughts and feelings, and you slowly get up from the ground. ‘why does my sword feel heavier than usual? am i having second thoughts?’ you notice you’re trembling. from fear? despair? it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t deter you from picking up your sword and pointing it at the figure in front of you.

morax. he was massive compared to you, clad in white with accents of gold and black. his exposed arms are the color of obsidian and fade into gold, geometric lines embellishing down the skin.

this… this is an archon. an archon—one of those who destroyed khaen’riah like it was nothing. you start to shake again, but this time it’s out of rage.

he lets out a dark chuckle as he looks down at you, and it only serves to fuel your anger. “this is getting interesting...” he muses, and his amber eyes glow with curiosity.

without thinking, you lunge at morax and ready your sword to strike, but he doesn’t even flinch when it hits him square in the chest. instead, the sword shatters, and your eyes go wide in shock. before you can even react, he reaches his arm out, grabbing your neck and lifting you up. you cough, kicking your feet as you struggle to get out of his grasp, that in return only made him grip harder.

“insolent brat. you dare disrespect the almighty geo archon?” he asks while squeezing your neck. your coughing grows erratic and when you see your hands are around his wrist, you notice the size difference. your smaller hands try to pry his larger hand off your neck, but he replies by squeezing even harder. he stares at you with a scowl.

he relinquishes his hand from your neck, leaving you to fall. you land on the floor with a loud thud, followed by your gasps for air, and you feel sweat bead at your forehead.

morax stares at your heaving form, laughing maniacally. “ah, you mortals are so interesting and so weak and so… inferior,” he states with an amused tone. you slowly get up from the ground, still heaving.

despite knowing your efforts will be futile, you take out your dagger and throw it at morax. the damn bastard dodges, but you consider it a minor victory when the dagger grazes his cheek. morax takes his hand to touch the fresh wound, then retracts it from the wound to bring it into his sight. his eyes go wide with anger as soon as he sees the golden blood on his fingers, and amber irises dart over to you.

“a mere mortal dares to do this to an archon?!” he extends his arm and backhands you, hard. his slap causes you to fly a few meters back, and to fall unceremoniously to the ground. a familiar copper taste floods your taste buds and you lightly rub your cheek before spitting out the blood.

“seems you’re not so mighty now, archon. it seems that you’re the inferior one,” you sneer. enraged, morax picks up the dagger next to him and stalks toward you, clutching it tightly in his fist. You frantically try to scope back when you notice the figure enclosing the distance. unfortunately, morax teleports next to you, causing you to scream. he stops your attempt to escape with a foot on your chest, pinning you harshly to the ground. you coughed again as a response, and morax only presses down on you harder. you closed your eyes and turned your head to the side, suppressing your screams so you don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing you’re in pain.

“that’s no fun,” he presses his foot harder into your chest again.

you gave in and you screamed.

“music to my ears,” he laughs while twisting his foot into your chest with a big maniacal grin. finally, he stops twisting his foot around and takes it off your chest, and drops down on his knees.

but then, he gets on top of you, and your blood runs cold, immediately fearing the worst. “get off me!” you yell in desperation.

morax ignores you, dragging the dagger down your shirt, from collar to hem. his large hand grabs your ruined shirt and rips it from your body, and tosses it aside. out of reflex, your arm moves to cover your chest, but morax is faster—he pins your arms with one huge hand above your head. you squirm around in his hold, and he brings the dagger towards your chest and cuts your bra, discarding it as quickly as he did your shirt.

he withdraws the dagger from your chest and places it on your cheek before leaving a cut, causing you to wince. his tongue peeks from his lips, and morax leans down to your face, his breath hot against your skin. you can feel him lick the blood slowly oozing from the wound, and your face contorts from disgust.

you spit at morax, “archon scum, you’ll never break me.”

“you little shit,” he snarls, “you need to be taught a lesson on respect.” morax moves away and tosses the dagger aside. with that same hand, he grips your scalp, nails digging into your skin. he forcefully lifts your head up as he rises to his feet so that you’re on your knees while he stands above you. you fight against morax’s strength, despite the futility.

“the more you fight against me, the more i’ll want to snap you in two,” he grins as he peers down at your struggling form. “your thrashing is useless, yet it’s amazingly entertaining.” morax pushes down his pants and pulls out his flaccid cock.

you desperately claw at morax’s wrist, trying to free yourself. this only serves to enrage him more as he forces your head up to face his cock. you grimace at the appendage and instinctively you move away from his cock, but he stops this by pushing you closer to it.

“you have one job, knight of khaenri’ah. suck my cock and make me hard so i can defile you.” he orders you, his grin from earlier replaced by an apathetic gaze.

“fuck you, i’ll never let that happen! i’ll kill you and all the other archons!” you spit.

“my, my, what a dirty mouth you have on you,” he sneers.

he takes his cock in his hand and drags it across your face, chuckling darkly all the while. you hold back your tears of frustration while being humiliated, keeping all the words you still want to hurl at him all to yourself—you know there’s no point in wasting your breath.

morax’s amber eyes fill with a mixture of lust and hatred while staring at your half-naked, smaller form. as he drags his cock against your face, you can feel it start to harden. you feel a wet sensation smeared across your lips, and you cringe at the newfound feeling on your face.

‘is that precum?! this depraved archon is getting off at this cruel behavior?!’ you internally scream. morax smacks his cock across your face, snapping you out of your thoughts. this… foreign feeling of his hardening dick plopping across your cheek makes you want to cry but you can’t give in. you can’t.

no matter how used you feel right now, no matter how filthy he’ll make you feel once he’s done with you, you can’t—you won’t give him that satisfaction.

‘i must do this for khaenri’ah. i must be strong for my country and my fellow knights. i can’t let this dishonor me,’ you think to yourself, and the thought alone brings you a sliver of comfort.

another slap pulls you to the present moment—this time, however, it’s harsher and you notice his cock is fully hard. morax lets go of your hair to push you to the ground, and he presses his large hand onto your chest. he materalizes a dagger out of thin air with pure geo energy.

“these have to go now,” he places the dagger tip on top of your pants, and slowly drags it down, just as he did with your shirt and bra. without thinking, you kick the dagger out of his hand in an attempt to preserve your dignity in the names of the royal knights and khaenri’ah.

in response, he angrily rips at your pants, then your panties. “the knights didn’t teach you manners, did they?” he asks rhetorically.

you try to close your legs, the last barrier between him and your virginity and dignity, but he pries them open with ease. he gives his cock a few pumps while lining up at the entrance of your slit. a stream of desperate, “no, no, no!” and pleas of begging falls from your mouth as you dig your nails deep into the ground to move yourself back. your fingertips are bleeding from the harsh friction.

morax steadies your hips with a grip harsh enough to leave bruises. “ah-ah-ah, no running away, little knight,” he taunts you with a sing-song voice. he moves you to the tip of his cock, before forcing himself into your entrance.

with a pained cry, you thrash underneath him and swat at his hands, but it does nothing to deter him as he continues to push into you.

you scream and thrash for your captain, hoping and wishing to see him magically appear to save you from morax. ‘captain… help me… please!’

“so tight,” he grunts through gritted teeth. you scream and yell as tears swell in your eyes, and you continue to scream until your voice becomes hoarse. you can feel it as blood trickles down your legs, and through your blurred vision, you can see the gold, white and black colors of the archon hovering above you.

you hate him. you hate him. you hate him.

morax groans with satisfaction as he finally bottoms out, and you feel so full.

so full, so wrong. so dirty. this can’t be happening.

without giving you time to adjust, he begins to move, and the cruel bastard starts slowly, like he’s stretching this out for as long as he can. you groan from the pain of the stretch.

“this is the tightest pussy i’ve ever had in all the women of this godforsaken nation.” he mutters against your neck before biting, eliciting another pained noise from you, and you note that his teeth are sharper than any normal man’s. he sucks and licks onto the area until he can see a hickey form; once he’s satisfied, he moves around your skin, leaving a trail of hickeys and bite marks in his wake.

‘did he do this to other women too…?! how despic- ‘ before you can even finish that thought, he delivers a hard thrust. you can’t stop yourself from squirming, trying to keep your mouth shut.

“oh? nothing to say, little knight?” he taunts. “when did you get so shy all of a sudden, darling?” his large hand captures your breast and gives it a firm squeeze, causing you to squeak. he continues to fondle with your breasts and plays with your nipple until it hardens, in which he hums in satisfaction. at some point, he leans down towards the nipple and sucks on it. another mewl escapes you, and he harshly bites the pebbling skin.

your cunt tightens around him, and morax groans, “such a little whore for khaenri’ah, despite being a virgin.” he lets out a haughty laugh as he places his hand on your neck and aggressively thrusts. you notice his pace is getting erratic.

“i’m so close, already, i’m gonna cum in you and dispose of you like the trash you are.” a pang of fear hits you square in the chest, but before you can cry out, his grip around your neck tightens. you start to cough, your lungs squeezing for air.

morax’s breathing starts to get heavy and you notice him heaving and slowing down. “take my seed you filth,” he snarls, loosening his grip on your neck, and you try to thrash, but to no avail. no, no, no, if he cums inside, you’ll—!

“not inside! stop!” you cry, shaking your head, but it’s too late; morax stills and you feel his cock twitch inside of you, flooding you with an unfamiliar warmth. you feel your tears swelling up before falling down your cheeks as he cums inside you.

no, no… you feel so full…morax lazily thrusts a few times to empty himself out into you. he pulls out, his cock still hard and covered in your blood and fluids and his semen. a mixture of blood and cum trickles out of you, pouring on the ground beneath you.

“i’m not confident that you learned your lesson in respect just yet” he spreads your pussy open to see his results, and you can hear him click his tongue, unsatisfied.

“brats like you must be taught respect,” he takes his cock and positions it against your asshole.

‘no! he’s not going to do what i think he’s going to do, right?! do archons just have a lot of energy…?!’

“morax, please have mercy—” you’re cut off by the feeling of his tip pushing into your ass. you sharply inhale and try to close your legs.

morax lets out an annoyed sigh. “did you not learn anything whatsoever from the last round?” irritated, he pries your legs apart and puts you in a mating press, your thighs flush against your chest.

“put me down!” but he cuts you off again, forcing himself inside your ass. you let out a scream and tears stream down your face. you sob as morax forcefully pushes inside to bottom out. morax bottoms out and groans. he starts moving immediately and you beg him to stop, but as always, your pleas fall on deaf ears.

he covers your mouth as he continues to thrust into your ass. “that’s better,” he muses, and his pace continues to speed up.

‘is he about to cum again?! that quickly?!

suddenly, he slows down to angle at a certain spot inside of your anal walls. your groans of discomfort are muffled by his hand.

“i think you’re getting better at showing me the respect i deserve, brat.” he says, and you profusely nod your head, not out of genuine respect but from wanting this to be over quickly. your eyes are red from crying, stains of dried tears and snot all over your face.

“say you like getting fucked in the ass by morax. say it! say it little khaenri’ahian,” he grits. out of defiance, you remain quiet underneath him, giving him a glare.

irritated, morax pushes your thighs against your chest even closer so he can go deeper inside of you, angling his cock in a way that makes you moan lowly, the glare disappearing. a small low chuckle reverberates from his throat.

“so it seems you do enjoy being used huh? you’ve served your purpose well.” you lay beneath him, looking fucked out because of him.

morax peers down at you, triumphant at his success at breaking you. “this is the result of godless arrogant nations who think they’re better than us.” he snarls in between thrusts. “the heavens will fall upon you and wreck havoc.” he continues to thrust at that particular angle, causing a string of mewls and moans to fall from your lips.

your voice is hoarse from moaning, screaming and yelling, and you don't have anything to lose at this point. you’ve accepted your fate, whatever that is, and you accepted khaenri’ah and its people, history, culture, and even you will be forgotten. that you failed your duty and your people and friends, and most importantly your captain.

‘dainsleif…’

these thoughts make your tired, irritated eyes produce more tears. you’re brought back to the painful reality by a familiar twitching feeling inside of you, followed by the feeling of fullness and warmth. morax, once again, lazily pumps himself a few times make sure to empty himself. he remains inside your ass, and you can feel his cock soften within your walls.

he pulls out, his cum spilling out of your holes. your pussy and ass twitch from the emptiness and the stretch of the geo archon’s cock. morax collects himself as you lay there, putting his flaccid cock inside of his pants without much ceremony. you close your eyes and mentally say your last goodbyes and apologies and you embrace death with one final sigh.

i’m sorry. live on, captain.

you feel him put his larger hand over your neck. he states “ mortals never fail to amuse me with how easily they can break. even the strongest ones like yourself.” he gives your neck a squeeze, and just like that, he snaps it like it’s nothing. that is the very last thing you feel.

humming satisfactorily, morax leaves a gold geo symbol on your mangled neck before getting back up and walking away from your corpse.

…

dainsleif is the one who finds your lifeless body. eyes wide in horror, he rushes over to your corpse and notices the dry snot and tears stained onto your face, your misshapen neck, the marks left on your soft delicate body, your torn and scattered clothes around the area. the smell of iron and copper, along with the smell of lingering sex, hits his nose, and he realizes.

you had faced off against an archon, and paid the price for it. dainsleif bites back his tears as he looks down and sees the mixture of drying blood and cum between and on your thighs. he was too late—if he had been minutes earlier, he could have saved you.

dainsleif starts to shake, feeling the tears rolling down his face. he bends down and leans in to whisper to your body, “i’m so sorry that i failed to protect you.” he places his forehead on yours and closes his eyes, and as caresses your cold hand, he notices the ring he gave you as a gift for your promotion into second-in-command was gone. you were so careful with your belongings, so that would mean…

‘which archon would do such a despicable thing to you?’ he ponders.

a short while later~

dainsleif’s face was pale, eyes red from crying, voice hoarse from screaming and yelling in anger from his failures. he hears footsteps approaching, but doesn’t react even when they increase in volume. the steps stop behind him.

“who’s there?” he asks in a hoarse quiet tone, and a short blonde boy walks over.

“is that…?!” he asked in shock, materializing a khaenri’ahian royal guard flag in his hand. he clutches his hand with the cloth in it and he bends down to dainsleif, clapping his hand on his shoulder. “i’ll take care of her. i’ll be gentle.” he says in a gentle manner. he gives his shoulder an empathetic rub. the boy seems apologetic for his loss.

“i’m sorry that this happened…” the boy starts, “but you have to be strong for yourself and khaenri’ah. [name] wouldn’t want to see you like this. we both know she didn’t deserve this, and i promise we’ll get revenge against the monster who did this to her.”

dain nods. “thank you, aether.” he reluctantly lets you go and aether gently guides him away from you. he materializes a flower out of thin air, using his abyssal power—an inteyvat.

dain places the flower down next to your cold body, and both bend to cover you with the cloth. while covering you up aether noticed a faint small glowing geo symbol on your mangled neck and his eyes widen with realization, then rage.

‘did the geo archon do this?!’ after an eternity of internal battle of debate, aether decides not to tell dain to save his feelings, and his and [name]’s dignity. to save whatever pride of khaenri’ah was left.

they both get back up after dainsleif places the flower on top of your covered body. “here, [name],” he says softly, “my one last gift to you, it’s your favorite flower.” he gives your covered face one last caress and gets back up.

aether bows his head as a sign of respect, and both remain silent for a moment, staring at your covered body with the flower on top. “we’re sorry for failing you and khaenri’ah. i swear i will one day bring this nation back to the glory it once was.”

both men walk away from you, letting you rest peacefully.

—

“…and that was apart of the reason why your sibling wanted to join the abyss order.”

“wow… we’re really sorry to hear that, dainsleif, we didn’t know that happened to you.”

the floating girl solemnly says, and the blonde female traveler next to her had a sympathetic look on her face after hearing the story.

“...it’s all in the past now,” dainsleif quietly says with a thin lined lipped expression, then falls silent and looks down at the sumeran soil. the blond traveler, lumine, realizes that dainsleif needs to be left alone right now.

“let’s give him some space, paimon. i’ll go buy you some snacks.” lumine says softly, beckoning to paimon with a hand before turning back to dainsleif.

“we’ll be back later! thanks for everything, dainsleif.” paimon waves at him. “[name] was so lucky to know a reliable guy like you, ad may she rest in peace. we’re here for you if you need anything.” she and lumine notice a small smile across dainsleif’s face.

while walking around for the snacks she’d promised her companion, lumine stops at a flower shop and looks at a particular bouquet of flowers. the flowers are white and have five petals, but in each flower, one of the petals is a pale blue.

‘those are the ones dainsleif described,’ she thinks, and she decides to purchase them. then, after some more walking, lumine pipes up.

“hey, paimon, you know the ring dainsleif described that he gave [name]?”

“yeah! wasn’t that the ring mr. zhongli was wearing? how did he even get that, and should we even tell dainsleif? doesn’t he deserve the closure of finding out who did that to her?”

“of course he does, but we have no proof besides knowing about the ring. if we do that we could be endangering him and ourselves. he needs to find that out on his own.”

“oh…” paimon frowns, crossing her arms.

“one thing that bothers paimon is that how could an archon do that stuff to a mortal? even though khaenri’ah was a godless nation… poor [name]... she didn’t deserve that.”

both lumine and paimon are sick to their stomachs just thinking about it. silence befalls them and leaves a lingering thought in their minds: ’what else has been erased or altered from history? and what else do we not know about teyvat?

paimon waves her tiny arm in the air. “dain, we’re back!”

dainsleif turns to them and nods, acknowledging their presence.

“we got you something,” lumine holds the flowers to him, and shock flashes across his face.

“are these…” he takes the flowers from her gratefully. “thank you traveler and paimon. would both of you like to come to the ruins of khaenri’ah with me and place these on [name]?”

“aww, of course, dain! we would love to!”

the three arrive and walk to the spot dainsleif described having found your body. the makeshift shroud is tinged from age and fairly dirty with some holes, but otherwise it seems to be in semi-good condition. lumine and paimon pay their respects from afar while dain puts the flowers on top of you.

“paimon wonders how your brother dealt with the fall of khaenri’ah…” paimon says sadly.

lumine is silent, looking over at dainsleif’s crouched form over you before glancing over at paimon, then back at the khaenri’ahn ruins. she recalls her time in sumeru, inazuma, liyue and mondstadt, then ponders over her future adventures. throughout this train of thought, one singular thing stands out in all the jumbled feelings and thoughts, echoing loudly.

‘who is the true enemy in tevyat? and the journey aether mentioned that he partook in… is this the journey he talked about? and am i on the right side of history? what is the truth of teyvat? and most importantly, will i ever see aether again?’

[acozysoulwrites]

The soldier and the poet | D.D

Description: Daryl listens to the reader as she tells him a story about a soldier, poet, and king.

Warnings: none

Once upon a time, there was a soldier. Upon his back, he carry a bow that had arrows enchanted with the most potent magic. The soldier was accompanied by a poet and a king. Together they could conquer the world. The poet was a witty creature, slaying their enemies with their tongue. No one could outsmart them. And the king... The king was a brave soul. His wisdom is what kept their people alive for so many years... Daryl adjusts himself. His head lays in her lap as she tells him the story. He can't remember the last time someone told him a story. Actually, he doesn't remember if anyone had ever told him a story before.

"Well?" He pushes, eager eyes squinting up at her. "What happens to em?" He feels a bit embarrassed for being so intrigued.

She chuckles, and a warm, familiar smile draws onto her face, a smile that feels like home to Daryl. "You know, in a way, this story really fits ours," She says, looking down at him. Her hand lifts up, and she begins running her fingers through his brown hair.

"Oh yeah? How so" Daryl asks, feeling his heart slow to a calm rhythm as she traces her fingers around his face and down to his chest.

"Well, I'd be the poet. I like to think I'm witty; before all this, I was a writer," She says simply.

Daryl watches her face twist into a pondering expression.

"Ah! Rick is the king. He's always stepped up. We could call him the ruler at this point, right?" She stops and looks down, realizing she has created a mess of his hair.

"What about the soldier?" He asks softly, and she cannot help but smile. It was sweet how interested he had gotten.

"Well, that's easy. It's you of course! You have never failed to keep us all safe" She pauses to fix his tangled hair. "Even if it nearly cost you your life," She scolds, frowning down at him.

It was true. Daryl was willing to lay his life down for everyone he cared about. It was his love language. It explained why he felt so strongly about jumping in front of a bullet for this girl. He'd do it without thought. He loved her.

After a moment of thought, Daryl sits up with a huff. His hair sticking in all different directions. Grass and a few small twigs stuck to his arm and back.

"You look hilarious," She laughs, reaching over to brush his back off.

"That's yer fault," He mumbles, fixing his hair how he likes it, covering his face.

He watches as she reaches toward the dandelion next to them. With a gentle pull, she plucks the thing from the earth and reaches toward him. He stays put, eyes following her hand as it grows nearer. She tucks the flower underneath a few strands of hair and pulls back as if admiring him.

"My beautiful protector," She says with a cheesy grin.

This makes Daryl crack a shy smile. He isn't sure if its due to how much he's blushing right now or if it's that he's embarrassed. He never thought he would ever let someone get this personal with him or that he would let someone put flowers in his hair and call him soft things like 'beautiful.'

Suddenly, Daryl frowns. “You never told me what happened to them…” he says, his voice carrying a more serious tone.

She eyes him for a moment, and then a soft smile tugs at the corners of her lips. Her hand slips around his. “They make it” she says, eyes locked onto his.

He shyly ducks his head, remaining eye contact. “yeah?”

She nods. “yeah… and they’re happy”

--

THIS HAS TO BE ONE OF THE CUTEST THINGS I HAVE EVER WRITTEN!!

If you'd like to be added to my new tag list, please lmk!

[lonely-cereal]

Isabella and Ray and farm system small analysis

Isabella always acts like the outside is worse. That it will be the most woeful place. If her kids escape they will feel nothing but misery. She guilt trips, acting like she's the protector and that she's helping. She gave each child an amazing life. What else could she do? They were gonna die and she made sure they had a happy life beforehand. Besides Ray. Poor ray. But she can't change anything, can she? He has his reasons to live, he won't see them get shipped off. Ray didn't deserve her treatment (he deserves the world) and she KNOWS it. Yet she doesn't bother.

I think her treatment towards ray had something to do with HER illusion being shattered as well as his.

Imagine, you're a new mother. You're not near any demons anymore. You slowly build up this fake dollhouse family. Everyone loves you, the food is good, and you're in control. Even though there are shipments, you know you're the reason they had a happy life until the end.

But what if you find out, the child you literally birthed out of the womb and carried for 9 months is also in line for YOU to kill and they Know it. They feel so betrayed. You can't pamper them normally. They'll never look at you as a human again. You're not a mother in his eyes, you're a monster. You can't even save him, because he's a boy. Boys don't get to join the farm system. If he escapes, he'll find happiness, but you'll be killed. That illusion you just made for yourself is gone. You chose this job and it's real. You try to not get attached to your child, but you can't so you push them away to the point it kills you both.

Ray has every right to hate this woman. She's vile, she's cruel, she hurt him, she abused him, she made his life miserable. They could have had it all, they could've shared that burden together, she could've been nicer. But ray believes he's selfish for wishing this. Is he better himself? (Yes) he doesn't wanna be like her at all, but he is in some ways. Isabella fails because she had no companions, Ray didn't fall alone. He had someone to lean on. He had true (platonic) love right there living with him. Ray eventually was not sharing his burden alone. He learned to love and learned to live.

Isabella did not. She didn't have any real meaningful reason to live besides to live. Pushing everyone down to rise to the top is her ONLY way. Even her own son, who deserves nothing but love. She knows how to get to the top and she will. At least, that's what she'd like to think.

Because in the end, she cared. Ray cared. They all cared. Death was her atonement. However, if she had lived longer, would making everything up to ray and the others had been a better way of atonement?

[minihotdog]

A Diamond in the Rough

Summary: The surviving recruits move on to graduation. While the other grads get to see their families for the first time in months, y/n stands alone.

a/n: *shrugs*

c/w: little to no proofreading

w/c: 5k

***

“What about him?” Laswell points to the photo of a blond young man. His face is stern, his buzzcut making him appear juvenile as his dark uniform contrasts with the blue, white, and red of the UK flag draped behind him.

Cpt. Price hums softly, examining the photo.

“He’s got grit. Talks too much for his own good.”

“Oh?” Laswell looks at the captain, waiting for him to clarify.

“Almost failed the interrogation. Can’t have that liability on the force, can we?”

“Absolutely not.” She nods in agreement.

Price crosses his arms, looking over Laswell’s shoulder as her fingers ghost over the various photos. All young and determined faces. When the occasion that he could look for new members came around he’d sometimes wonder what was said of him when his photo sat on the desks of the men who had forged him into the SAS. The young man he was before a new reality aged him, adding a new wrinkle with every deployment and mission. He’d had a fire burning inside him. It still burned even now, maybe brighter or hotter, but wielded skillfully with experience. 

“I don’t believe I’ve seen her before.” Laswell pulls him from his thoughts to a photo of a young woman, her hair pulled into a tight, neat bun, her lips pulled into almost a straight line and her eyes appearing dazed as if she wasn’t fully present. Laswell’s eyebrows furrow as she looks at her companion.

“Ah, Y/N Y/L/N. The little shadow.” He laughs silently. “Didn’t like attention very much.”

“No one should like attention from the instructors,” Laswell states matter-of-factly.

“She’s smart, quick, passed physically and mentally.”

“Interrogation?”

“Passed.”

“So what’s her catch?” She stands up straight, now crossing her arms.

“Didn’t build rapport with other recruits. In a team, she disappears.”

“And alone?” 

“Brilliant.”

“I think with a good mentor she could learn to play well with others, don’t you think?”

She slides the photo to the side, looking back with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m inclined to agree, but it won’t be easy. Can’t break something already broken down.”

“But you can teach.”

***

“... So once again, congratulations to all of you young men and women who stand before me today. Your strength and resilience sought you through til the end. You are the future and now protectors. Protectors of freedom and countless lives who, even unknowingly, look to you for your sacrifice and strength.” An applause erupts from the crowd watching over the dozen or so graduates standing stiff at attention.

“I hope you all celebrate with your families, who have waited eagerly these difficult six months to see what has become of their sons and daughters. Families may now approach their graduates.”

The open space was filled with footsteps, murmurs, and cries of happiness. Each graduate reuniting with their loved ones. Everyone had now begun scrambling off to celebrate.

Y/N now stood alone, still facing the podium. Quiet whispers came from the few that were still on the outskirts of the tarmac about the last standing graduate. “You can’t tap her out. It has to be family.” She hears a boy scold his parents.

The clouds that lingered overhead now turned a dark grey and a mist began to fall. At this point, if she walked off, no one would have tried to stop her in the name of tradition. Any passerby would feel too much pity to do so. But she continued to stand. Feeling the raindrops run down her face, masking her silent tears dropping just the same.

A figure appeared in her peripheral vision. His eyes continue facing forward, the point of focus lost in a blur. She made out an umbrella and camo fatigues. He continued on his path to her, stopping only a few feet away.

She’d seen the man before. He’d attended the training, watching over as the recruits were battered, covered in dirt, or even bloody. He was the bearded man, always donning a boonie hat, who she’d once caught looking at her as she clutched her bleeding nose after being placed against a recruit twice her size in what was supposed to be a friendly sparing match.

He plucked his cigar from his lips as he eyed her in such a pathetic state, still standing proudly, on the outside, at least. 

“Y/L/N, your family couldn’t make it?” His low growly voice nearly gets drowned out as the rain falls harder.

“Don’t have one, sir.” Her voice almost croaks.

“S’that right?” He murmurs to himself, bringing his cigar to his lips. He glances away for a moment as he blows the smoke out of his lungs.

“Corporal, I’m Captain Price. I’ve been watching you for the last six months. Before you submitted your application, you earned a medal for identifying what could’ve been a crippling data leak. Which, inadvertently, protected me and my team.” He points at her with his now stubby cigar, “You’ve got potential. And I'm willing to bet on it. Join my task force.” His words came out more like an order rather than a proposal. 

“Or what?”

“Or stand out here in the rain… You’ll have a family of your own in us. Your choice.”

Her eyes scan his face suspiciously. He senses her reluctance and his head tilts, a soft smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

“Alright, I’ll join you.”

His smile grows and his bushy mustache hides his upper lip. He steps closer, the umbrella now shielding you from the freezing rain.

“I hope you’re ready to do some real work.”

[howlingday]

swashbuckler au: weiss and jaune end up having a duel, and while weiss can't say he's the best swordsman she's ever faced she can say that he's the most adaptable fighting she's ever seen tldr: jaune pulls some jackie chan improvisation using the environment in unorthodox ways to win fights. slapstick action comedy ensues

Part 1

---------------------------------------------------

You know those awkward family dinners? The ones where the room is tense and feels like it's filled with gunpowder, and all it takes is just one word to set it all off? Yeah, those ones.

Well, Jaune usually felt that every dinner since taking up his father's mantle as the Hero of Aquadia. Tonight, however, was especially tense since the four people hired to hunt him down were also here, eating his mother's special occasion chicken and spice. Now there was heat to help the spark.

"Hah... Hah..." The girl in red huffed as she reached for her glass of milk.

"Is it too hot?" Mom asked. "I usually cut back when we entertain guests."

"My sister never really liked spicy food." Joked the older girl. "Dad used to joke they're the reason she drinks so much milk."

"You sure he wasn't just milking you for a laugh?" Jaune's dad pointed at her with his fork, receiving a fork-point back.

"Please, don't give her any material." The girl in white said with a sigh. Jaune couldn't explain what it was, but there was something about her that seemed... familiar. "Anyway, what exactly is our task in Aquafia? Beyond the scope of capturing this "folk hero" running around in the city?"

"He's not a folk hero."

...

The room was quiet at that. Everyone was staring at me. Why was everyone staring at me? Don't tell me I-

"Care to elaborate on that, Mr..?"

"A-Arc." Jaune gulped chicken. "Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, and rolls off the tongue. The ladies love it."

"Do they, though?" Ruby asked.

"Yes, do they, Jaune?" His father sneered with a sinister grin. Sometimes, Jaune hated his father.

"Please excuse my son's outburst." His mom stated, dabbing her lips with her napkin. "He's a fan of La Lama Lunga de la Aquadia."

"The who the what?" Ruby asked.

"The Longblade of Aquadia." Blake answered. "The hero we met in the street earlier."

"And failed to capture." Mother said over folded fingers. She wasn't happy. Trust me, I'm an expert at making Mom not happy.

"He's crafty." Yang replied. "Really gave us the slip in the harbor after that Grimm attack."

"Haha! Oh, I wish I could have seen that!" Jaune's heart swelled at his father's words, even if these girls were giving him too much credit.

"And the city thanks you for protecting her citizens from the Grimm." His mother tried to get the discussion back to the mission. "But in regard to your real task, you can discuss the details in full with my son and my husband. I try not to involve myself in these childish escapades of heroism."

Jaune sank a little at that. "Sit up straight!" Okay, he sank a lot at it, but could you blame him? His mom just called him, as fancy as possible, out as a child playing hero! Still, his dad was stillin his usual high spirits. Kinda made him wonder how she never caught Dad when he was La Lama Lunga.

"It seems weird, though," The young girl said, "that the mayor of Aquadia would want to capture the hero of her city."

"He's a relic of the past, Ms. Rose." Mother dabbed her lips as she stopd up. "And though we are grateful for his protection in ages past, we must look to the future. If we wish to establish good relations beyond Aquadia, we must prove that we do not rely on fairy tales for our protection, and certainly not on vigilantes, either."

"So to make Aquadia a viable trading partner and member of the kingdom, you want us to hunt down the city's only protector?" Blake asked with a raised brow.

"We have guardsmen and a militia of retired soldiers acting as our reserve defense." Circling the table like a shark, the mayor made her case. "If Aquadia can prove we are just as capable as the northern cities in Vale, then we can prove that we are not merely a tourist trap of a bygone age."

"Oof, politics." Dad said. "Think it's time I called it a night. This talk of fairy tales and whatnot is giving me indigestion."

"We should also head back." Ruby said. "Thank you for the meal, but now it's time for Team RWBY to get to work! Starting tonight!"

Jaune swallowed his chicken a little hard, and started coughing up spices. Everyone stared at him again.

"S-Sorry." He said. "Uh, wrong hole."

---------------------------------------------------

You know what the best part about being a hero in your city? The nighttime patrols. Just you, the chirping creatures of the night, and the pale moon shining into the caldera city at midnight. It's almost therapeutic.

Jaune understood what his mom was getting at, bringing the other cities closer to them by getting rid of the one aspect that separates Aquadia from everywhere else on Remnant. Kinda like how Mistral has that famous sport lady. Pyra, or something.

Still, he doubted she would be getting hunted down just so her city can build economic ties to the rest of the kingdom.

Coming from the docks where an old woman was saying her prayers in a window beneath him, Jaune kept being reminded of why he loves this city. The teenage kids sneaking around after curfew, the young lovers holding hands in gondola rides, the white glyph shining right in front of hi-

Wait a minute.

"Hold it right there, llama loonga!" The girl in white from before swiped her blade at him. Jaune barely had time to catch it as he brought his own blade to his defense.

"It's actually La Lama Lunga, princess." Jaune shoved her away.

"It's heiress, actually." The girl held a fencing position, and judging by her stance, she meant it.

This was bad for so many reasons.

First, this would be completely different from Grimm or rowdy thieving hooligans. He was fighting a genuine huntress, an actual fighter. What little he learned about them ws in one ear and out the other. What? Huntsmen just aren't as fascinating as La Lama Lunga.

Second, his opponent was not only a trained warrior, but she was actually trained in the same weapon as he was! And making this particular dilemma even worse was Jaune didn't know how to actually fence. Sure, he's got the basics from what his dad taught him, but this was a huntress with a semblance.

And that semblance was-

"Are you going to just stand there and stare at me while I arrest you?" She asked, getting closer. "If so, then by all means, continue."

Taking his own stance, he gulped. Come on... Remember what Dad taught you. 'If you ever find yourself outmatched, there's no shame in running.' Jaune took a step back. 'Unless your opponent is smaller than you, then you definitely should feel ashamed.' Jaune kept his feet planted.

She got closer. Oh crap, this really happening to him, isn't it? Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap-

"CRAP!" Jaune leapt out of the way of her thrust. He stepped on his back feet over and over until he caught himself on the edge of the rooftop.

Suddenly, nothing came to his mind. All of his father's lessons fell away as he realized this would be how he died. How the legend ended. He wanted to cry. He wanted to curl into a ball. But neither option was available. So instead...

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" La Lama Lunga ran forward, swinging his blade wildly at the foreign girl. Fear filled her eyes as she backed away, unsure of how to respond! His movements were too sporadic, too unorthodox! She'd never seen a fighting style like this before!

Suddenly, he tripped and fell over, dropping his weapon. He rolled forward, almost falling over the edge. Reaching down, he grabbed a potted flower and tossed it at her. She ducked, narrowly missing a bruise, only to be forced on the backfoot by the vigilante once more when he grabbed his blade again. Then...

"AGH!" She fell off! Jaune ran over to the side and looked down, finding the girl landed safe and sound... into a compost heap.

---------------------------------------------------

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Yang couldn't stop laughing at breakfast, smashing her fist on the table.

"IT'S NOT FUNNY!" Weiss screeched from inside the shower, on her third attempt to clean herself of the stench. "WHY WOULD THIS CITY EVEN NEED COMPOST?!"

"Apparently, the compost helps improve the soil development for the farms outside the caldera." Blake answered, reading the info pamphlet on compost provided. "The humid air compounded by the naturally occurring chemicals produced in the water make for an improved-"

"IT WAS RHETORICAL, BLAKE!"

"Jeez, this guy really is no joke." Ruby sighed. "Not only to escape all of us, but he managed to beat Weiss, too!"

"N... Not really that hard, Rubes." Yang breathed.

"SHUT UP, XIAO LONG!"

"But don't you worry." Yang pumped a thumb to herself. "With me and Blakey on the case, ain't no way sword boy is gonna last another night."

[minastras]

prev • masterlist • next

07: to kiss or to stop an electrical fire, that is the question

words: 2.4k

warnings: swearing

——————————

Life was an electric hand mixer and you were cake batter, because you were getting beaten.

You were supposed to be out partying with your friends, but you were home alone at 1am on a Friday night failing to change a light bulb. Somehow all the bulbs in the apartment had blown at once (you figured maybe the ancient surge protector had malfunctioned) and plunged you into total darkness.

You stood on the kitchen counter to reach the two light bulbs in the kitchen ceiling, fumbling around with your phone clasped between your teeth and the flashlight switched on. That would’ve been a weird enough sight for Taehyun to come home to, not counting the fact that you’d already told him you were going to be out late that night.

“What are you doing?” he asked, flipping the switch by the front door. The lights didn’t turn on. He flipped it back off.

“Power surge. All the bulbs blew out,” you explained, your words muffled from your phone in your mouth.

He took off his shoes and watched you struggle for a bit with his arms crossed, until you caught your finger on a sharp bit of metal.

“Ow!”

It was one of those days.

“Get down from there. I’ll do it,” Taehyun ordered, his voice authoritative.

You clumsily crawled off the kitchen counter with his assistance, hoping he hadn’t heard your breath hitch in your throat when he grabbed your forearm and put his hand on your lower back to help you down. As your friends were always too eager to point out, you’d never been good at hiding your interest in people.

Although to be fair, you were almost certain you knew more about Taehyun than he was aware of. There’d been too many coincidences, and he texted exactly like TH did. Also, TH? He couldn’t pick different letters?

Passing him the new light bulb and your phone, you rinsed your bleeding finger under the tap until the water ran clear. By then he was done, giving you a nod and a thumbs up. You walked over to the front door to try again, but when you turned on the light switch, the new bulb still didn’t work.

He hummed. “That’s weird. Okay, turn it back off and let me-”

The darkness helped to conceal your expression, but it couldn’t hide the quiet sob of frustration that despite your best efforts broke out of you. You covered your mouth and turned away, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Woah, woah, woah, are you crying?” Taehyun asked, dropping everything to jump down from the counter and rush over to you. He placed a tentative hand on your shoulder to get you to turn around.

“I’m fine, Taehyun. Let’s just fix the lights,” you mumbled, raising your hands to hide your face even though he could barely see you in the pitch black.

“Fuck the lights,” he said, gently pushing your hands aside and taking them in between his own for a brief moment. He could probably feel you shaking. “Do we have any candles?”

You couldn’t remember when he’d stopped asking if ‘you’ had something and started asking if ‘we’ had something. Or when he’d stopped saying ‘your’ apartment and started saying ‘our’ apartment. But you remembered being inordinately happy the first time he did.

“On the bottom shelf of the second cabinet,” you answered. He procured a red pillar candle, set it on a saucer, and lit it. 

The flame reflected in his warm eyes, shining with concern and worry and only making you feel worse. He guided you over to the sofa with one hand on your back and the other holding the candle, and you both sat down cross-legged, facing each other.

“Talk to me,” he said, carefully setting the candle down on the coffee table (or the old wooden trunk you used as a coffee table that was almost certainly haunted). Fire hazard, your brain unhelpfully pointed out.

“I-” the second you looked at him, you stopped, tripping over your words again.

The flame of the candle illuminated his face with a soft, diffused, orange luminescence, making it look like his skin was glowing. But again, what caught your attention was how the light made his eyes sparkle, so large and warm and disarming.

He had to be TH; there was no other way. And yet, here you were, acting like a fool with your head buried so deep in the sand you’d befriended three crabs and a starfish. How were you supposed to tell him without scaring him away?

“I don’t want to burden you,” you said haltingly, prodding at your finger.

“Well, you can’t only burden yourself,” he countered, before opening the drawer of the end table next to him and pulling out a box of bandages. “Give me your hand.”

You obliged, and he gently taped up the small but deep cut left by the loose prong of the kitchen light. His hands were cold, but you didn’t mind.

“I missed the dean’s list by half a percentage point,” you told him after a while. “It’s just a vanity thing so maybe I’m shallow for caring, but-”

“You don’t have to justify being upset,” he told you. While you stared at the candle flame, he stared at you. The fresh tear tracks on your face glistened in the candlelight. He was done dressing your cut, but he didn’t let go of your hand.

You shrugged. “I have it so easy, though.”

“It’s not a competition,” he said calmly.

That made you burst into tears. You didn’t know what was wrong with you or why you were crying at pretty much nothing, your face burning with embarrassment as you babbled incoherently about being homesick and missing your parents.

“I can’t even go home over the summer because they told me they don’t want me there,” you sobbed. “And two of Yeonjun’s crewmates overheard me talking to Soobin about it and lied to the entire crew that my parents disowned me because I didn’t make the dean’s list.”

Taehyun’s soft eyes turned cold in an instant. “Who was it?” he asked. When you didn’t reply, though, his voice lost its edge. “Did you tell Yeonjun?”

You answered that you had, which wasn’t technically a lie. He had a competition coming up soon and you didn’t want to ruin his relationship with his two best dancers, nor did you want him or Soobin to worry about you. You ended up recounting the incident as vaguely as possible and said you couldn’t join them clubbing because you had a headache.

You hadn’t even told either of them that you were the love whisperer, much less that 1) your roommate/crush was one of your clients and 2) you were almost certain his crush was you. Because what if you did tell them and then everything fell apart? Speaking good things into existence never ended well.

Taehyun hummed, telling you as kindly as he could that he didn’t believe you, and finally let go of your hand. You missed the warmth immediately.

“Why do some of Yeonjun’s members hate you so much?”

“How do you know about that?” you asked, distracted by your confusion enough to stop crying for a moment.

“I hear them talk,” he replied, shrugging. “You’d be surprised how loose-lipped people get when they’re around a nobody.”

You frowned. “You’re not a nobody.” He dismissed this sentiment with a flick of his wrist and gestured for you to continue. You did: “They think I’m stuck up for refusing Yeonjun’s advances since half the campus is in love with him.”

“So? Half the campus is in love with you, too,” Taehyun retorted.

Your tears had dried by now, and you laughed and shook your head. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” He leant forward and tapped the back of your hand to get you to look up. “Listen, fuck them. They’re just jealous you’re friends with their captain.”

You knew that, but knowing something in your head was very different from knowing it in your heart. Just like how logically you knew he was TH, but your mind refused to let you believe it. Believing was a dangerous game — the what ifs, the rationalisations, the fear of the unknown.

You held his gaze for a few seconds before looking away again.

“I wish I would’ve said something,” you sighed. He didn’t need to ask you why you didn’t; you knew that would be the next question out of his mouth. “I don’t like picking fights.”

He bit his lip in thought. “You don’t have to censor yourself to get people to like you. The right people will like you for who you are. Yeonjun and Soobin are proof of that.”

You had stopped crying a long time ago. The candle was still burning away on the coffee table.

“Thank you, Taehyun.” Your voice came out as almost a whisper as you forced yourself to meet his gaze. The second your eyes locked on his, your heart rate started to pick up and you had to look away.

“Yeah. I mean it,” he said, and you could tell he really did. He tapped your hand again, which was weird, but you raised your head obediently. He hardly ever touched you like that. “For what it’s worth, I’m not going home over the summer either. So you won’t be alone.”

You smiled, but it didn’t stop your eyes from watering again at the mention of home. Why did you cry so much?

“Sorry,” you mumbled, tilting your head back to blink your tears away.

Instead of scoffing at or chastising you for apologising for nothing, which was what you had come to expect from him, he just scooted over on the sofa and pulled you against his chest. You let out a quiet chirp of surprise as he manoeuvred your head onto his shoulder and held you in his arms, but still you hugged him back.

For someone with as much nervous energy as you, his composed nonchalance had always been reassuring, but actually feeling his chest rise and fall with each of his slow breaths calmed you down more than you could have ever imagined. He smelt like freshly washed bed sheets and your shampoo, because he had run out of his and hadn’t had the time to go to the shops yet.

You pulled back first, worried he could hear how fast your heart was beating. In the light of the single pillar candle, the living room was starting to feel like a romantic restaurant. Even taking a calculus test would feel intimate here.

But he didn’t remove his hands from your shoulders. His round eyes stayed pinned to yours, simultaneously soft and piercing in a way that forever bewildered you. You could only make out his features because of how close his face was to yours, barely illuminated by the glow of the candle.

His gaze flickered down to your lips, and then right back up after a fraction of a second. But he wasn’t fast enough to stop you from seeing it, from noticing him break eye contact. You leaned forward experimentally, trying to figure out if you were imagining things.

Like he’d been waiting for a signal from you all this while, one of his hands slid down to your forearm and the other up to the nape of your neck, frigid fingers ghosting over your skin and making you shudder. He leaned in too, his ever-expressive eyes now silently asking you for permission.

“Taehyun…” you whispered, feeling like your heart was going to break its way out of your ribcage if this went on for a second longer.

But then he smirked.

“Did I give you goosebumps?” he teased, running his fingertips over your bare inner wrist and under your collar, feeling the raised bumps on your skin.

“Your hands are cold!” you protested.

He laughed quietly, the first time you’d ever heard him laugh — a full laugh, not a chuckle or a snort. You knew that for certain because you could never have forgotten such a sweet sound.

He leaned in even closer, the tip of his nose now brushing your own, and tilted his head. His lips were almost on yours, and his hand on your arm shifted to the curve of your waist. Emboldened, you curled your fingers into the loose fabric of his button-up and pulled him towards you.

Until his eyes went from half-lidded to wide, staring at something behind you. What was it now? You turned around to see the kitchen light bulb he had replaced earlier now fizzing and crackling and flashing uncontrollably. Dozens of sparks were flying out of it every second. You hadn’t turned the light switch back off earlier, you were now realising.

More annoyed than concerned, you looked back at him with a childish impatience.

“Can we just deal with it later?” you said, never wanting to kiss someone more in your life. The one goddamn time you weren’t denying yourself something you wanted because you were scared of how it could end, and Zeus chose to fuck with your light bulbs.

He rolled his eyes. “To kiss or to stop an electrical fire, that is the question,” he said, his tone dripping in sarcasm.

“Okay, Hamlet,” you groaned, getting up to switch off the mains. Your feet had gone numb from sitting on them for so long and you immediately fell to the floor, immobilised by the pins and needles in your toes.

He caught you easily with one strong arm wrapped around your waist — all those disgusting protein shakes he drank must have been doing something, you figured — and just barely saved you from hitting your head on the corner of the coffee table.

“You’re so clumsy,” he observed, not for the first time, but for once he sounded more amused than unimpressed. Before he let you go he squeezed your hip, so nonchalant as he flipped the light switch and climbed effortlessly up onto the kitchen counter.

You were a goner.

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thanks for reading!

-minastras <3

[transsunwukong]

randomly thought about something that hasn't really occurred to me before: the difference in how yang expresses her confidence depending on who she's with. we all know and love her attitude when she's dealing with some stupid asshole, but that's more of an intimidation tactic than anything else - it's just her style. what i wanna talk about here is more about who yang really is when she's not putting up a front. not consciously, at least.

it's apparent in a lot of moments, but i wanna highlight this by comparing 4 specific scenes, all about the concept of (her) strength:

in v4c9, she has her talk with tai after their sparring match. it's pretty clear that yang and her father have a lot of mutual respect for each other in spite of their complicated history. i feel like tai is the only person who can really get away with criticizing yang on something so personal and essential to her identity as her fighting skills, especially with how much of an inspiration he's been to her on that front.

and she listens, because she knows he's right (even if she's sad and a bit sarcastic about it) - but also because, at this point in the story, she's still recovering from the lowest low of her life and her dad is currently the only one she can seek solace in. that's what this scene is all about! you can tell she's not happy with letting her guard down and being lectured/psychoanalyzed like this, but this is the one place where she can do so guilt-free.

her time back in patch is as much of an opportunity to reconnect with her family and sort out everything she's been dealing with alone in her head, as it is a literal recovery and training period. it's sad to see yang like this, but she's not really self-deprecating here - she just finally has a breathing room, and someone there to listen, who already knows and understands her better than she does herself sometimes, which i think is a really important part of it.

in v5c14 and probably one of my FAVORITE scenes in the entire show, it's the other way around, as yang is the one confronting her other parent. this scene beautifully mirrors her previous conversation with tai and shows how much she took it to heart.

the whole back-and-forth between yang and raven is so good. there's just something so satisfying about yang finally tracking down her mom, being the one to ruin everything she's planned up until now, standing her ground and calling out raven on her hypocrisy and cowardice in such a tense moment without letting her feelings get the better of her - and ACTUALLY getting through to raven. "yeah, i'm scared, but i'm still standing here. i'm not like you, i won't run." what else can i say?

and of course it's not until raven has left and yang retrieves the relic herself that she falls to her knees and cries. this isn't yang putting up a front to scare someone away, this is yang taking matters into her own hands because she knew she was the only one who possibly could. this is yang choosing to be the bigger, braver person, knocking some sense into someone who failed at that responsibility her whole life, because there was no other option.

even though she WAS terrified and heartbroken, raven didn't -deserve- to see her cry.

in v6c7 after That Whole Ordeal, everyone's still a bit on edge. this is such a small blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, but i think it's still relevant to point out.

"especially since some of you are clearly stronger already." it's no coincidence that the focus is on yang here, when maria talks about her guilt as a failed hero/role model for the next generation, but it's even more important how yang reacts to it.

for one, yang can relate to maria's guilt (even if she really shouldn't have to). we know how important it is for her to be viewed as someone strong and reliable - as a protector of the people, as a friend, as a teammate, and ESPECIALLY as an older sister (this just in: self-destructive hero complexes aren't just limited to the team leaders!!). despite how much ruby looks up to her, there's still a part of yang that won't forgive herself for not always being the person ruby needed her to be, and the same can easily be said for her other loved ones. especially here in v6, when she's still not really There Yet when it comes to the old team rwby dynamic. it's a complicated time.

she says nothing, but you can tell she's interpreting this like it's pointed directly at her. when yang feels exposed like this, she tends to either dodge it with humor or lash out, so in a way it's refreshing to see her just kinda....sit on this, silently and out of view, even if it's not necessarily a good thing to sulk about.

and of course there's this little bit in v8c9, courtesy of ren and his WONDERFUL AND HILARIOUS VIBE CHECK ABILITY!!!!

yang, jaune and ren are all -friends-. not necessarily teammates or family, but very close friends who understand each other. and they may be in some deep, awful, super scary shit at the moment, but that's nothing they're not used to. it kinda does feel like Just Another Situation With The Bros.

of course yang tries to lighten the mood! that's what she DOES with her friends, and they know this! i don't think it even OCCURS to her that the others might take it the wrong way, or pick up on why she's doing it. i don't think that she, in the moment, really thinks about why she's doing it, either. this is yang after all! confident, cool, funny, bright and happy yang. right?

so when ren of all people is the one to call her out on it, it catches her off guard so badly that it takes her a few seconds to even process it, and then she can't help but sigh and smile. it might have been a little embarrassing for her, but above all i think it's actually a relief for yang to be seen like this, especially from someone so unexpected. a less outspoken friend who she might not be as close with as some of the others, but who can therefore genuinely relate and sympathize with her anxiety in this moment without making her feel too self-conscious about it.

it's nice. it's just really cute and nice.