#Also that's her character??? she can do what she wants????

[runariya]

Beyond Probability JJK (m.)

summary: Matching with an idol? Unlikely. But with a 99% compatibility? Beyond probability. pairing: idol!Jungkook x f!reader genre: idolvers, S2L, fluff, smut rating: 18+, MDNI! warnings: fluff, fluff, a bit of self doubt, fluff, fluff, explicit sexual content, shower sex, unprotected sex, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 4k

a/n: It’s a rly cute and short oneshot, light and mainly fluff, nothing too deep, no big words etc this time. Just had to get it out of my system since the idea’s been on my mind for months now (unedited bc I fell ill halfway through writing it 🤒)

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

Your biological clock’s ticking—has been for some years now—and even though you’re only now nearing 30, you’re painfully aware that the life you pictured as a kid might never come true.

It’s not like you’re unstable in who you are or what you’re doing. You’re fairly successful at your job, you’ve got your own place, and you’re more social than most people these days. Still, you’re only what most would call average-looking, and even though you’ve got a good career, you’re too soft to keep it up forever. You picture yourself more as a loving wife and mother than a corporate boss bitch climbing the ladder of success.

That’s also why your dating life has been rocky all along. Men see what you put out there, but they don’t like who you really are or what you want from life, which has left you single for most of it.

So, when a new project starts—after the K-pop industry finally acknowledges that idols need partnerships and a life of their own, and fans finally understand that these people are human too, that they deserve to experience love and happiness like everyone else—you decide to take your chances too.

Funnily enough, all the labels have teamed up, hiring not only the best scientists and psychologists from Korea but from around the world to create a program that can find ideal matches for their idols. Sure, science shouldn’t determine who you fall in love with, but… what if it could?

After being pre-selected—just to confirm you’re not some crazed fan—you’ve spent over two weeks going through tests. Recorded interviews, personality assessments, even physical evaluations… now you’re staring at your company’s computer screen, listening to Dr. Song explain the results through the phone. 

“Ninety-nine percent?”

“Yes. The chances of such a high compatibility score are next to impossible. We see it as a perfect match and would like to introduce you to your match.”

“Sure, of course.” Even though your voice is steady, you can feel your nerves flaring up like never before.

“Is tomorrow at 8 p.m. alright for you?”

“Yes, that works for me.”

“Perfect, we’ll see you then.”

Well, joke’s on you, you didn’t expect this outcome. 

Meeting an idol feels surreal, and the closer you get to 8 p.m. the next day, the more you can feel the anxiety and doubts inside you rising. Every last detail in Dr. Song’s calm, clinical rundown replays in your mind, the ninety-nine percent match, the endless rounds of testing, the surreal realisation that, somehow, all those numbers and algorithms miraculously spat out a name next to yours. 

You want to trust that there’s a reason for this, that somehow science isn’t just working with chance, but the tension of actually meeting someone this special is so overwhelming you barely notice yourself entering the lab building until you’re standing outside Dr. Song’s office.

“Right on time,” she chirps, giving you an approving nod. She seems to sense your nerves, and as she leads you down a hallway you’ve never been before, she gives you a reassuring smile. “I know this is all a lot. But he’s likely feeling the same way. The tests told us that he’s, well, quite like you.”

Her words would make you laugh in any other situation, though disbelief and a strange kind of comfort floods through you still. Like you. An idol, standing here in a lab somewhere to meet some random stranger, feeling just as out of place as you. You’re not sure of that but still like to think it must be true. 

You don’t have time to process it fully before you’re led into a quiet room with yellowish walls so plain they almost blur in the corners of your vision, a low, comfortable couch and a couple of chairs standing there and none of the lab equipment that surrounded you in the testing rooms all those weeks ago. 

And then you spot him, sitting on the couch, alone. He stands the second you walk in, hands half in his pockets, a slight, almost unsure smile grazing his lips as he glances down at you. He’s got that casual look about him, the same dark eyes you’ve seen a hundred times on a screen that somehow feel warmer and more human here. 

He looks not quite better than he does on screen, but not worse either. Somehow, he’s realer, if that’s a word—close enough that you can see the little flecks of colour in his irises, the slight tension in his posture, the faintest trace of nerves hiding under his composure.

“Hi.” Jungkook’s voice is lower, softer than you expect from an idol. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jungkook.”

“Nice to meet you too. I’m ___.” There’s a pause, and you can tell he’s just as unsure what to do with the space between you two as you are. The click of the door makes you turn around briefly, only to realise Dr. Song has left you both alone. “This is, um, weird, right?”

He nods, a quick, breathy laugh breaking through. “Very. I mean, this isn’t exactly a ‘normal’ kind of meeting, right?”

His words are awkward but disarming, and suddenly, you’re aware of all the tiny, meticulous details of him that somehow make him feel more relatable than his polished, on-screen persona. The way his hand keeps moving to rub against his thigh or abs, his tongue playing with his lips and piercing ever so slightly—everything about him is familiar but also somehow close enough to feel completely new.

“I don’t think I was ready for this,” you admit. You aren’t really talking to him but more like letting your own thoughts slip out in the safest way possible, like saying it makes it feel less absurd.

“Honestly, same.” He laughs, and you think there’s a light flutter in your chest now. “I kept thinking about this whole ninety-nine percent thing. Like… how does that even work? Isn’t it supposed to feel, I don’t know, obvious? Like you know the moment you see someone?”

You nod, understanding exactly what he means, and somehow you move on autopilot, walking towards him and sitting down on that couch with him beside you. It feels like you should both somehow know, like there’s a sign or an instant connection, something that would make all of this feel simple, easy. But it’s just the two of you in a quiet room, barely knowing each other, held together by nothing but a number on a report.

“Yeah, that’s so wild. I didn’t think I’d have a match, this close to a hundred even less. Might be a glitch if our score is this high.”

Jungkook nods with sparkling eyes, seemingly relieved by your honesty and humour. “Yeah, I get that. I kept thinking about it too. Wondering if maybe the tests were wrong, or maybe I was just…thinking too much.” He lets out a sigh, his gaze meeting yours for a long, meaningful second. “But I think maybe this is about finding out, right? Not having it all make sense right away.”

“Hm, makes sense.” You giggle, because what else can you do in the presence of him.

The two of you sit there in a momentary silence, as if testing each other, feeling out the small boundaries that keep you both distant.

“So, what did the report tell you about me?” You ask the question half-jokingly, trying to break the quiet, but also curious. You want to know what he knows, how much of this supposed ninety-nine percent compatibility is actually something that either of you feel. 

He lets out a silent breath, looking down as if slightly embarrassed. “Honestly, not as much as you’d think. They told me you were kind of… soft-spoken but resilient? And that you have a job that’s, uh, stable and…” He trails off, the tips of his ears slightly pink, like he’s embarrassed to keep going.

“And?” You can’t help but push further—not maliciously, just way too curious and playful for your own good. Jungkook’s expression shifts from embarrassed to surprised, and then to a look that’s just as playful.

“And that we’re, apparently, very much sexually compatible.”

Really, you should be the one feeling embarrassed or shy now, but you can’t help the laugh that slips out. You know exactly what he’s hinting at—your report clearly showed the same.

“Well, it might be not wrong. And they told me…” You pause, realising that you barely remember the details in the face of the reality in front of you but alas. “They said you’d be a good match because, I think, there was something about humour?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Humour? Never heard of it.” And it makes you laugh all over again. “I feel like they just told us things we’d want to hear, to make it seem easier and normal.”

His words hit close to home, but they’re strangely comforting in the way he says them. You reckon, he’s just as bewildered by this as you are, maybe even more so. And somehow, in the middle of all the awkwardness, you find yourself genuinely smiling at him, naturally gravitating towards him, finding that there’s a softness and reassurance in his gaze, a gentleness that cuts through your nerves like a knife through melted butter in the sun. 

You start talking more freely after that, exchanging stories that are too mundane to make sense in any real context but feel right here. You tell him about your last trip to the beach, how you got sunburned and spent the whole evening sitting on your balcony, nursing it with iced water and aloe, wishing for a helping hand that you didn’t have. He laughs, nodding along as if he can picture it exactly and tells you about how he tried to make pasta he ate in Italy for the first time a few months back and ended up burning the whole batch, because no one was by his side, so badly his kitchen smelled like smoke for days.

The more you talk, the more you notice the little things about him that aren’t so polished, aren’t so perfect, and make him feel more human and real than anyone you ever met. He has a way of listening, eyes intent on yours, like he’s trying to pick apart every word to understand it better. When he laughs, it’s with his whole face, even body, not the careful, composed look of an idol but a natural, carefree laugh that makes you feel like maybe he’s as relieved as you are to be here, to have someone he doesn’t have to impress. 

At some point, you both lapse into a comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts but somehow still connected. The tension from earlier has faded away, replaced by a soothing aura you know you don’t want to miss for a day in your life.

Eventually, Jungkook glances over at you, his eyes sucking you in without much resistance. “I kept thinking this would feel forced, you know? Like we’d be sitting here, struggling to find anything in common.” He leans back, drapes his arm around the back of where you’re sitting, glancing up at the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “But… it doesn’t feel that way. You feel… I don’t know, right?”

The slight flutter in your chest has now swelled into a full-blown hurricane, and you’re not sure if it’s that ninety-nine percent compatibility causing it. But you don’t let yourself think too much—not when you’ve both been inching closer with each word, not when you take a chance and lean in, resting your head against his side. Especially not when his arm settles directly over your shoulder, pulling you a little closer, his other hand finding yours, fingers intertwining just to see how it feels.

“Yeah, it feels right. I really like this.”

As you absently play with his fingers, breathing in his scent for the first time and deciding it’s like heaven, you let yourself trust science. Because this feels like exactly where you’re meant to be.

While the first meeting with Jungkook went better than you’d ever hoped, you’re painfully aware of your overthinking nature. Overthinking in a way that makes it painfully clear there are countless women out there who, on the surface, would seem a better visual match for him than you.

Overthinking to the point where you wonder why Jungkook would even need matchmaking when he could so easily choose a partner on his own. It’s also why staying focused at work isn’t exactly easy today, knowing that soon his label will be sending a car to pick you up for your next meeting with him.

You understand the precautions they’ve taken and completely agree it’s better to meet in a private, safe space rather than making headlines this early on. That’s why, as the tinted car arrives, you feel a bit more at ease than you have all day.

Soon enough, you’re driving down the path to the label’s underground garage, and while you fix your makeup real quick, the car comes to a stop. The driver nods and guides you towards the lift, where the lights are dim and everything has this quiet, professional atmosphere you’ve only seen on screen.

You try to take it all in, letting your thoughts settle just a bit more as you follow through to the hallways upstairs, past doors labelled with room numbers and studios, and then finally, you’re outside the door to Jungkook’s studio, right where you’re supposed to meet.

Your heart beats a little faster as you hear Jungkook’s familiar voice call out, “Come in,” and when you open the door, you find him leaning casually against the chair before his equipment with an easy smile that somehow manages to be both happy and slightly flirty. 

Again, Jungkook’s dressed just like uniquely him, with a few silver rings glinting on his fingers. And while you didn’t think he’d even get up to greet you, he steps forward and embraces you in hug so tight, it leaves you drowning in him. 

“Hey,” he greets with that disarming grin, eyes boring into you, taking in your formal work attire, as he gestures to the coffee set up besides his laptop. “Hope you don’t mind the casual vibe.”

You laugh a little, settling onto the free chair beside him, feeling a bit strange but somehow not. “I think it’s perfect. And to be honest, I don’t think I’d cope well with the whole five-star dining treatment and whatnot.”

He laughs, nodding in agreement, taking your purse from your hands and draping it casually over the back of his chair. The fact that he’s still so attentive, even though he’s clearly in his element here but completely relaxed, is rather fascinating and pulls you in even more.

Like the day before, talking with him comes easy, and while there’s nothing groundbreaking in your conversations, every word feels meaningful in the bigger picture.

Eventually, you feel yourself relaxing like you were at home by your own, getting comfortable enough to let out the thoughts that have been swimming in your head since last night. “I’ve thought a lot about how all of this could play out,” you admit, taking a sip of your coffee, trying to find the right words, though knowing there won’t be any wrong words when talking with Jungkook. “And honestly, I’m not really interested in taking things public if they did work out. I know that’s probably strange to say, but I’m not cut out for the spotlight.”

He tilts his head, watching you thoughtfully. “No, it’s not strange at all. I get it.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you go on, “I just want something real. A partner who’s loyal, someone who’s there because we get each other, not because we’re some public ‘it’ couple, parading around every chance we get. Does that sound crazy?”

He shakes his head, while he swings from one side to the other.  “Not at all. That actually sounds perfect to me.” There’s a sincerity in his tone that makes you feel, for the first time, like there’s some truth to your report. “The whole ‘idol’ thing is just a job. It’s not who I am, not at the core. And having someone who sees it that way, is what I want too.”

It elates you to know that you could have something like this, with him,  someone you could genuinely share your life with.

Then, in a thoughtful voice, he asks, “What do you want for the future? I mean, outside all of this.” 

You take a breath, feeling a little nervous but wanting to be honest. It’s not like it’s news to him, seeing that this information’s written in the report he was handed. “I want something traditional. A home, a family, maybe staying home with kids, having that steady, grounded life. It sounds simple, I know, but it’s what I’ve always pictured.” You look up at him, expecting maybe a hint of judgement, but instead, you find him nodding, his eyes lighting up like a candle in the night.

“I don’t think that sounds simple at all, but meaningful.”

A shy smile forms on your lips as you add, “Sometimes I feel like people don’t see that side of things anymore, you know? Like everyone’s so focused on careers and success and everything else… and I get that, I do, but I’ve always just wanted something steady. Something I can hold on to.”

His hand finds yours, his fingers like second nature intertwine with yours, and the gesture is so simple yet so heartwarming that you feel like squealing out of happiness. “That’s exactly what I want too.” It’s nothing new to you too, but him saying that, seeing the honesty in his eyes, is better than any data shown to you. “I want that sense of home.”

You feel yourself falling a little harder, a little faster, and maybe that scares you a bit. You’ve seen the kind of attention he gets, the kind of girls that throw themselves at him, and it’s hard not to let those doubts creep in. Especially now. “I know this probably sounds insecure,” you start awkwardly, glancing away, “I think, I don’t know, maybe I’m not the kind of person someone like you would go for. I mean, you could have anyone, and not just because you’re an idol.”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. And while his mouth opens to say something, the pull against your hand surprises you as much as him settling you in his lab. “Hey, don’t think like that. I’m here because I want to be. And trust me, I’m not looking for ‘anyone’. I’m looking for someone who gets me. And that someone is you, no?”

The look in his eyes is so genuine, so unguarded, that it’s hard to keep your heart from doing all sorts of stunts. He’s not the polished idol right now; he’s just Jungkook, being flirty, being compassionate, being so him, sitting in a cosy studio with his tattoos, his piercings, his moles, his beautiful smile, his whole presence more comfortable and inviting than you could have imagined.

And as he sits there, looking at you like you’re the only person in the world, you realise that you definitely don’t have to doubt this. Maybe it’s okay to let yourself believe that he’s here because he wants to be, that he’s falling for you irrevocably just as you’re falling for him. 

“Sooo… that means?” You know you need to be brave now, because if this isn’t a dream, you’d never forgive yourself for not taking the leap.

“That means, if you want to, I’d love to have you as my girlfriend.”

“Isn’t it a bit rushed?” You don’t actually think so, but you still need to be sure.

“I’m all in if you are. I don’t want to waste any more time, and even though it’s just a report, I can feel there’s real truth behind it.”

Fast forward seven months, and you find yourself pressed against the shower wall like you do every night. But this time, it’s different—just hours ago, you made your first public appearance on a music show with Jungkook, just because you both felt ready, where he was not only nominated for Best Singer of the Year but won as well.

“Koo, right there, right there.”

It still amazes you how his cock seems to find your g-spot as soon as he enters you, though you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Yeah? Right there, hm? Or is it…” he trails off, shifting his hips ever so slightly, making you realise he’s actually hit the centre point of your g-spot now, his hard, unrelenting thrusts pushing you over the edge without warning.

“Oh my goooddd,” your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open against the cool shower wall, as your cunt keeps gripping him even though it’s already creaming around his cock.

“Good girl, keep going, love. Show me how many you can take tonight.”

There’s nothing you can do, not that you’d want to do anything other than let him rearrange your insides. Especially not when his tattooed hand finds its way from the back of your hair to your jaw, tilting your head to the side, giving you the perfect view of his upper body—rivulets of water cascading down his chiselled form, lips parted, eyebrows furrowed. 

He’s the epitome of perfection. Not just a ninety-nine percent but a hundred. 

His eyes, though hooded, bore into your soul as his hips pick up the pace. It’s this connection you share with him make being with him feel so special.

“Koo…”

“I know, love, just a bit more. Can you be a good girl?”

“Yes,” you moan, because hell, you can. “Yes, for you…ah, winning the trophy.”

Even though you shouldn’t feel his cock twitch with the pace he’s set, you do, realising instantly what he needs tonight.

“Best singer, Koo…fuck…best boyfriend, only fucking me when, hmm, the whole world wants a piece of you.”

“Only you. Always you, ___, love.” You think you catch him licking a drop of saliva from his lips as he stares down at where your bodies connect, sending another wave of arousal from your stretched-out hole.

“You’re so big.”

“Just for you, fuck, squeeze a bit more.”

It’s not that you did it on purpose, but when his hand shoots down to your clit, circling it just right, your body responds as though it’s never felt this good, soaking him even more and gripping him tight as a vice.

“Like that, love, like that.” Jungkook grunts and pants, holding you harder, tighter as his cock seems to swell even more, pumping frantically in sync with your impending second orgasm.

When Jungkook can’t hold back any longer, it’s all you need to let go too, the rush flowing through your veins just as fiercely as the love you feel for this man.

After some time, Jungkook pulls out, helping you straighten up and lean against his chest under the stream. His veiny hands trail down your body, washing away his release dripping out of you, as he plants kisses along the side of your face.

When he’s had enough, he, like always, turns you, brushing the wet strands of hair from your face. And as you do the same to him, captivated by how content and in love he looks, you can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world when, for the first time, Jungkook declares his feelings.

“I love you, till the day I die, ___.”

“I love you too, and beyond.”

Because this, because having Jungkook calling you his, is beyond probability.

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! ��� If you liked what you read, pls consider buying me a ☕️ Ko-fi.com/runariya 💕

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[koobiie]

bestowing my highest honor as an artist to ffxv (drawing the characters in fun outfits)

thoughts under the cut

RREAAAGHHHH SO EXCITED TO BE DONE WITH THIS!!!!! it took me forevarrrr but i soldiered through as an act of love. now excuse me. yap time

OKAY SO the concept behind this was originally specific fashion subcultures for everyone!l ike noct emo ignis dark academia etc. but then decided i didnt want to pigeonhole it all and just freestyled outfits i thought would look nice on everyone

noct - i do think noct would still be emo-ish but also opt for comfy baggy stuff a lot. something you could just fall asleep in on the spot. note the details of bass pro shop shirt (of course) XV necklace, little moon + stars accents, carbuncle + fish keychains. i also wanted his metal band logo shirt to spell LUCIS but i forgor some letters but its not very readable anyways

ignis - ignit ooohghh ignos ignaurs. sorry i made him serve so much cunt it will happen again. i drew him first cause that kind of inspired this whole thing i love him so bad if i didnt draw it id explode. not much detail to note except his collar pins are like his double blade thingies

luna - lunaaa the concept was “clean girl aesthetic” idk if that happened but im actually really happy with how it came out! might be my favorite of the bunch just because she looks so pretty and happy. your honor she should have been able to just be a normal girl and just. chill

prompto - prompotoooo i had trouble picking his vibe!!! my first thought was techwear?? because weeheeeehee he loves tech and well... you know... but then i realized i didnt really like the look of anything i saw + it was so bulky and dark and serious for him! ending up going with some more youthful and baggy. i was considering something more loud and colorful but ended up not going with it. i feel like in canon he'd be too nervous to have such a flashy fit and would want to just look "cool" to fit in with the boys lol. itty bitty details here - chocobo keychain, pompompurin and bi miku buttons, and his lanyard is kings knight themed! i also thought it was funny to write LUCIS on his shirt like you know those shirts that just say BROOKLYN or TOKYO or SAN FRANCISCO and thats it. thats what its like

gladio - okay i know this is going to sound like a lie but im not horny for gladio like at all, hes my least favorite, i think he's just alright. but also i KNOW in my heart of hearts that he would LOVE being a leather daddy and so i had to make it happen. main detail to note here is that his tank top has the motifs of a cup noodle! i didnt know what else to add cause you know.. hes the cup noodle guy.. but also i didnt want it to be so in your face about it with a big as logo so kept it subtle!

(side note the leather daddy gave me an idea for a post where its like noct and prom go to a gay bar all nervous but then they run into gladio and its like "p: GLADIO YOURE GAY?" "n: nevermind that PLEASE dont tell ignis we snuck out" and then ignis walks up and theyre all like WHAT THE FUCK!!!! caption would be "the gang finds out theyre all bisexual." probably wont draw it but i think its very funny lol)

iris - iris my sweetheart.... definitely leaned into the scene vibes here and also that one image of the blonde emo anime girl. details here - of course the moogle big ass backpack and keychain (can you tell i love keychains), but also her buttons are an iris (the flower) and also a crown with hearts (haha symbolism)

anyways oh god i didnt mean to write an essay down here. usually i keep this in the tags but this time i just had Too Much To Say. can you tell i put a lot of thought and love into this . anwyays. *walks off into the sunset and fuckig dies*

[pinkthrone445]

Do you have ao3? Also can you continue my wife? 🥺 I almost cried but i dont know in which part. If it's because of the story or because it's unfinished or i got left hanging. But Great work though 👏

Hiii! I don't have ao3, my girlfriend explained to me what it was because I had no idea honestly, I was even researching a little of it, but I prefer more tumblr because I feel it more personal.

Thank you for the comment, I really love this kind of interaction 🥺✨

-My wife- Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader-Agatha Harkness x Rio

Gender:soft, hurt

Warnings: insults and mention of death. Spoilers from the series.

Summary: after loosing your wife, you beg the witch to take you to the road to find her. But with no hope of finding her, you want to come back home.

You sighed looking at the notebook in your hands, since you had been sent to do a report on the hex when it started expanding and you got trapped inside, that was going to be your great opportunity to do your great report and go famous on the news side, but since Wanda retired from the city and released everyone from her control, you no longer had your main source or your main character and it was more difficult to make the story happen.

Frustrated by not knowing how to follow your report, you put your notebook in your bag and continued with your grocery shopping

-"Hello... Did you find everything you needed?" - a kind lady asked you from the cash register while you put your items on the band. You looked up and she smiled, she had a delicate but mischievous smile and her light eyes sparked with the stores lights. You squinted your eyes to read her name tag since you were not using your glasses. "Agnnes" a sweet name

-"Y-yes" - for some reason your voice trembled-"Thank you... Can you add some gum please?" - You didn't knew why but you made your voice sweeter than how you usually talked and she nodded.

When you finished paying, you went to where you were staying to eat the junk food and the chips you bought and try to keep writing your notes, but not matter how many times you checked your purse or the bags, you couldn't find your notebook with all your important notes.

Before the tears of desesperation could fill your eyes, you started to retake your previous steps hoping to find it somewhere, but when you got to the store, the doors were already closed.

Defeated, you came back home, praying to God that your notebook would be there tomorrow.

The next day you went back to the store before they could open the doors to the people, your heart racing with nerves, yesterday's frustration still lingering on your body. Wanda was gone and if you lost that book all your first handed Intel would be gone too.

Your leg bounced on the concrete looking at the doors and your reflection on it. Agnes, the cashier from the day before stood beside you looking at the close doors

-"What are we looking for?" - she asked leaning closer to you and you turned to look at her

-"Agnes..."-her name sounded so sweet on your lips-"I lost something yesterday and I think is here... I hope is here" - Your voice sounded like a plea to the gods

-"What did you loose?" - she asked with worry on her eyes

-"A black notebook with some silly drawings on the cover... It has my notes for work and I had some important Intel on it and I need it"-You really sounded desperate

-"Intel on what?" - she asked curious

-"On some local news... You know, the kidnapping of the whole town and all... You don't remember if yesterday someone brought you a lost notebook?" - You looked into her eyes and she held her bag tighter

-"I shouldn't let people from the outside come in before we open, but follow me, let's check the lost and found" - she took your hand and pulled you to the side of the store. Her fingers where holding you tight and that made you smile a little, her hands were soft and they had the perfect size to hold yours.

She opened the side door and pulled you inside with her, looking for the office without letting you go.

When you finally got there, she pulled a box from the closet and put it on top of a desk, letting you search for the notebook without any luck.

She stared at your face, looking how your eyes got watery when you searched the box for the second time hoping that it would appear

-"Hey..."-she took your hand again stopping your search-"Let's check the store together..."-she whispered and you nodded. Even at the risk of losing her job if someone looked at the cameras and saw that she had let someone from outside the company in before they even opened, she helped you look for the notebook all over the store.

-"I think I got it!!"-she yelled and you ran towards her, when you saw her holding your notebook proudly on her hands, you let out a loud yelling of happiness and hugged her tightly

-"Oh my god! You are a life saver Agnes!" - You couldn't stop holding her and she laughed

-"How do you know my name? I've never told you... And I don't know yours either now that I think about it..."-she whispered and you let her go laughing a little embarrassed when she handle you the notebook

-"I saw it yesterday on your name tag... I'm (Y/N) by the way... Thank you so much for this..."-you looked at the book in your hand and she smiled

-"Lovely name..." - she whispered looking at your smile and you blushed a little under her intense gaze

-"Do you want want to go for a coffee? It's on me..."-you boldly offered and she smiled sadly

-"I have to work..."-she answered and you felt a little disappointed without knowing why

-"Rigth, of course, I'm sorry" - You tried to quickly excuse yourself

-"But my shift finish at 6... Maybe we can go for dinner?" - she asked and your smile grew

-"I would love that" - You wrote your number on a piece of paper from your notebook and gave it to her-"See you soon, thank you again!" - You smiled and let her go on with her day.

That first dinner was surprisingly good, the conversation seemed to have no end and she picked an excellent spot that you haven't seen before in that small town. She was sarcastic and funny, she knew how to flirt and she was charming and gorgeous and you couldn't get enough of her.

So after that nigth, after a couple days, you came back to her store to buy something only to have an excuse to see her again and talk to her. And then you repeatedly did the same until you started dating.

After a year together you got married and moved to Agnes' house, and a year after that, you started the process to have a baby together.

At some point along the way, you didn't know exactly when, you realized that she was a witch. If you connected the dots that she lived almost next door to where the scarlet witch was but still didn't remember her, or that some of her books at home were in Latin and talked about spells, or that she herself did a "joke" spell before you got pregnant and it worked... It seemed very obvious what she was...But she seemed like a nice witch.

You as a reporter got interested in her and started to study all the books that she had and all the story behind her, you found out that she was Agatha Harkness a powerful old witch, but for you she was your sweet and perfect Aggy.

When she started to get lost in her own mind, you used all the things you had learned to break her spell, and when your Aggy was lost behind the powerful Agatha Harkness, you used the song of the road that she used to sing to your belly, to try to bring her back again.

But now you were stuck on the stupid road with no hopes of bringing her back and no idea how to get back home.

You took your notebook with spells out of your pocket and you saw how it was filled with memories, notes, phrases and information all involving Agatha... All the things you investigated for her and now she couldn't even remember you or cared about you being pregnant or about what you have done for her. Rage and sadness filled your body and you throw the book away, seeing how it fell outside of the road and the dirt consumed it. You signed and sat on the dirt, desperate tears filled your eyes and and you hug your legs

-"I want to get out..."-you whispered between sobs

-On the other side of the road-

-"Hughhh, stop it!" - Agatha yelled grabbing her head, she didn't knew how, but every time you thought about something or remembered anything, she could feel it on her head too and that was really anoying to her, her mind was usually so calm and yours was so loud.

-"Agatha... Let's go bact to her, I think we need her, we've been walking for hours and we have no test ahead, clearly the road wants her with us..."-Lilia said worried about you being alone

-"The road is bullshit..."-she murmured between her teeth-"Let's sleep a little, we can keep going in a few hours" - she said firmly and nobody dared to say anything else about it because they were scared of making her more angry.

While everyone slept, Agatha thouth about you, specially about the baby, she didn't knew if you were telling the truth but she was intrigued about it, if she started a family with you, you must be really important to her, important enough to move on after all this time.

A glimpse of something shiny on the middle of the road cough her eyes, she stood up and grabbed a dusty notebook, your notebook. She recognized it immediately because you had it all the time in your hands. When she open it, the first thing she saw was a lyrics of a song, her original song that she used to sing with Nicky. The only other person that knew that song was her and Rio, but apparently she sang that song to you at some point and you save it on your notes.

She also saw full paragraphs about her, a drawing of her pin, notes about enchantments, a list of songs and baby names... Baby names, she remembered picking baby names with you a few days ago when the pregnancy test came out positive, she remembered you on the bathroom of the house, crying and hugging her.

She kept reading the book, it was like a diary about your and her life together, every important thing was inside it, even a few pictures, including ones of the wedding you had. You seemed so happy with her, nobody has never smiled so much because of her, and in all the pictures she was smiling even bigger looking at you. Her heart started clenching more each time she read a new page, she could feel your love in your notes, until she reached one in particular

"Even if you don't recognize me anymore and you don't remember the love you had for me, the love I have will cover for the both of us..."

She remember when you told her that when she tried to kick you out of the house and that made a clic on her head, Agatha remembered, finally she remembered everything.

How you met, that spark, your first time together, when you got married, when you decided to have the baby and how you took care of her when she started to loose it...

She remember how you stayed by her side always. Even when she no longer recognized you, and unless you followed the silly illusion her head was living in, she wasn't able to see or hear you either, you stayed. Even though she no longer knew who you were, you made a vow with her and wanted to take care of her while she was "sick", so you found a way to help her eat or shower. You pretended to be a waitress and tell her she was on a restaurant so she would eat her food and pretend to be a masseur on a spa so she would shower. Agatha remember that, remembered your care and your worry even when she treated you badly, she remembered your love for her...she remembered all that and fell for you again, she finally remembered her love for you.

-"Fuck!" - she closed the book feeling like an asshole

-"They are coming!" - Lilia woke up scared, telling the others that the Salem seven where close. Agatha grabbed her coat

-"Let's go, we need to find her before they can hurt her" - she ordered and the others followed her.

-On your side of the road-

After a few minutes of crying you also fell asleep and when you woke up, you were no longer on the road, you were on your confy bed, hugged by the covers. You sighed in relief and snuggled more into the comfort of the mattress thinking that all that had hapend was just a bad dream

-"Are you planning on staying on that bed all day?" - a deep voice took you out of your peaceful place and you sat on the bed scared to see Rio sitting at the edge of it. If you were still on a dream, she was a completely nightmare following you everywhere

-"How did I got here? What are you doing here? What do you want? If you want Agatha go ahead, I don't care anymore"-saying those words made your heart hurt, but you were tired of trying to get love from the witch with no results at all

-"She hates me, she doesn't want to be with me or see me... Remember that conversation around the fire? she is my scar... I don't know if you know this but we had a son together many many years ago... But he was sick and it was my fault, I tried to give them more time together and she tried to keep him away from me, but eventually I had to do my job and he had to come with me... Agatha never forgave me for it and I didn't forgave myself either..."-she talked with her serious face as always and you couldn't avoid the feeling that you were in danger with her close

-"If you want me to feel sorry for you, telling me that you had to kill your son, it's not helping..."-you whispered

-"I took you out of the road..."-she confessed and surprised you-"You wanted to get out and the Salem seven where very close to you while you slept so I took you out... Because Agatha wouldn't forget me ever if I had to take another one of her children away... Or her wife..."-the word wife was painful to her, you were having the life that they could never had, but she would do anything to see Agatha happy

-"That's... Thank you..."-you didn't knew what to said, you figured that she was death itself when she told you that she was "THE" green witch, but she was bending the rules of life for Agatha

-"Don't... Just take care of her okay?... And close that fucking door to the "road", like now"-she order and you stood from the bed

-"How do you want me to do that? I have no powers..."-you asked confused

-"You created it, you can close it... Or he can, you just have to let his powers control you again" - she told you pointing to your almost invisible belly. The baby was made from Agatha's spell, it made sense that you had power while he was inside you. When you turned to look at her, she was gone already.

Still confused, you ran to the basement and grabbed a piece of chalk and a few candles, remembering the spells that you had studied, you started to repeat the Latin words over and over until you saw the door desapear. Tired and a little confused of what you were capable of, you sat at the floor trying to catch your breath, hoping that Agatha and the others would find a way out.

Meanwhile inside the road, Agatha and the others were running looking for you and screaming your name when she noticed how the sky of the road started to shrink and how the trees beside them began to desapear, little by little everything started to fade around them

-"Fuck! Off the road! Let's go to the mud people, let it swallow you" - Lilia yelled, she saw this happening before and she knew what they had to do even if she didn't knew why. Although they were not quite sure if Lilia was in her right mind on that moment, they decided to listen as it seemed to be the only possible option. They all waded into the mud and fell under the road right next to an exit, using it to escape safely just in time before the place collapsed behind them

-"Well... That happened..."-the protection witch said breathing heavily

-"Its this another test?" - The potion witch asked

-"I think we are truly out..."-Lilia said.

Apparently they had come out in some underground construction and Agatha didn't waste a second in running out looking for a way out to see if she could find you

-"What about the end of the road?!" - they asked running behind her

-"I don't care about that, I need to find my wife!" - The purple witch screamed and when she finally got outside and saw that they weren't so far away from her house, she breathe out in relief. Immediately she went to the house, and when she was about to open the backyard door, the color left her skin when the door opened alone and she saw death itself leaving the house, Agatha couldn't avoid imagining the worse, that she was there to claim your body because you couldn't get out of the road in time

-"Please no..."-The witch begged her ex lover, but the green witch just walked away without saying anything else. Agatha opened the door with shaky hands and the others followed her closely

-"Aggy! Lilia! You are all okay!" - Your voice pierced their ears as your body crushed against them hugging them all taking them by surprise

-"I thought I lost you" - Agatha's voice was broken, vulnerable as she hugged you alone, closer to her-"I thought I had lost you after being an asshole to you, I... I'm sorry... I remember you, all you did for me, I remember how much we love each other, how much I love you" - she whispered pressing her forehead against yours and letting one of her hands rest against your belly. You smiled feeling safe and happy again. But your happiness ended quickly when you saw how the sky turned gray

-"Oh no... They got out too" - Lilia said watching how the Salem seven where walking down the street

-"Look guys, this is my fight, you don't need to be here... " - Agatha said but got interrupted

-"This is not the time to be good Agatha after being a bitch all this time..."-Jennifer said

-"We will protect you... After all that's what convens are for" - Alice said looking at you and then at Agatha- "I will blast you... Just don't take it all..."-she said and the purple witch nodded...

-9 months later-

-"He is gorgeous..."-Lilia said holding your baby on her arms for the first time. The little baby held her fingers in his little hand watching all the women around hin

-"He is, but now it's time for Aunty Aliceee to hold himmm" - The protection witch said excited in a pitchy voice while you watched them from your hospital bed

-"No! I was the second one to hold David, come on!" - Jennifer started fighting with the other witches making you laugh. You named your baby in honor of your neighbor that you lost on the road.

-"Love come here..."-you whispered to Agatha who was looking outside from the window. She gave a last look and closed the blinds smiling at you-"Are you okay?" - You asked and she nodded, happy to see that death was nowhere to be seen meaning that you and the baby where healthy and safe

-"Never better, I got everything that I need rigth here" - she kissed your forehead and hugged you protectively whispering sweet things on your hear.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

If requests are open can I request the reader being a horny little shit and making her friends Wanda Nat and Bucky orgasm in public. Like making them feels their wildest fantasies happening until their moaning messes.

Wildest Fantasies » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier, Wanda Maximoff/Scarlett Witch, and Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow

Pairings: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Best Friend!Female Reader, Best Friend!Wanda Maximoff x Best Friend!Female Reader, Best Friend!Natasha Romanoff x Best Friend!Female Reader

Summary: You decide to make Bucky, Wanda, and Natasha moaning messes in public.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, male x female x female x female, alcohol, dirty talk, fingering, female receiving, blowjob, hair pulling, Sergeant/Sarge kink, praise kink, sexual acts in public, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵 also, this is my second time writing the reader with female characters so please bare with me and I hope it’s what you’ve imagined🩷

A/N #2: I would like to thank my bestie @buckys-wintersoldier for helping me come up with ideas for this🥰🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creators.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

“What do you think of this one?” Wanda asks, opening the dressing room door.

“It looks cute, but can I adjust it a little?” You asked.

“Sure!” She answers with a smile.

She stepped aside, allowing you inside of the dressing room. You closed and locked the door behind you. You bit your bottom lip like you were thinking, but little did Wanda know that you have something in mind.

“Face the mirror.” You tell her.

Wanda turned around, looking at you in the mirror. You acted like you were adjusting the skirt she was trying on. One of your hands made its way to the front of her body, disappearing under the skirt. A gasp left Wanda’s lips when your fingers grazed her pussy over her panties.

“What- What are you doing?” Wanda asks, stuttering.

“Helping a friend out.” You whispered in her ear.

A shiver went through her body. Wanda didn’t protest. She let it happen. You moved her panties to the side. Your fingers rubbed in between her folds to her clit, feeling how wet she is.

“Oh my god…” She moans softly, trying not to be loud.

You slid two fingers in her pussy, moving them at a decent pace. Your free hand bunched the skirt up above her hips. Wanda watched in the mirror as your fingers fucked her.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” You say in her ear.

“Mhmm.” She hums, nodding her head.

A gasp left her lips when your fingers hit her sweet spot. Wanda quickly put her hand over her mouth to muffle her moans so no one heard her. You smirked to yourself.

“Too bad we aren’t at the Compound so you can moan and scream my name right now.” You almost whispered. “I bet that’s what you want to do, huh?” You say seductively.

Wanda nodded her head yes. You lightly chuckled and quickened your movements with your fingers. Your thumb rubbed her clit a little faster. Wanda’s free hand reached down and grabbed your wrist to keep it there and for something to hold on to. Her nails dug into your skin.

“F-Feels so good.” Wanda moans in her hand, tilting her head back against your shoulder.

“I bet it does.” You mused, biting your bottom lip.

Your fingers continued their movements. Wanda’s eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the feeling of your fingers fucking her pussy. She took her hand off of her mouth to say something, but it was incoherent.

“Hmm? What was that? Can you say that again?” You asked in a soft hum.

“Faster please.” Wanda managed to say coherently.

“Your wish is my command, baby.” You say.

Your fingers sped up their thrusts, along with the rubbing of your thumb on her clit. Wanda quickly covered her mouth with her hand again. Her eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head. Her breathing got heavier. Her pussy clenched around your fingers when your fingers hit her sweet spot.

“F-Fuck…” She moans into her hand.

Wanda lifted her head off of your shoulder to look in the mirror. Her eyes looked down at your fingers fucking her. The sight of it is hot. She felt her orgasm building up. She wasn’t sure hot much she could take.

“I-I’m- mmm!” She moans, unable to form coherent words.

“Gonna cum?” She asked in a cooing voice.

Wanda moans into her hand and nodded her head yes in response.

“Cum for me.” You whispered in her ear.

That was enough to send her over the edge. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she came on your fingers. Her moans were muffled by her hand when she moaned your name. Your fingers fucked her through her orgasm. Your thumb gave her clit one last rub before pulling your fingers out of her pussy and putting her panties back in place. Wanda panted and looked at you in the mirror as you licked her cum off of your fingers, moaning at the taste.

“Oh my god…” Wanda says breathlessly, watching you lick her cum off of your fingers.

———

“Too bad Wanda had to go on a mission and couldn’t see this movie with us. It would’ve been nice to have her here with us.” Natasha says.

“I know right. What a shame.” You say with a playful pout.

You and Natasha decided to go to the movies. You wanted until the theater darkened and the only light that filled the theater was the giant screen in front of you two before you made a move. Yours and Natasha’s seats were towards the back of the theater. There wasn’t many people in yours and her area of the theater so it was perfect for what you had in mind.

You put your hand on her knee. Natasha took it as a friendly gesture and didn’t think much of it. You slowly moved your hand upwards towards her covered pussy, stopping on her thigh first and gave it a squeeze, catching Natasha off guard.

“What are you doing?” She whispers, looking at you.

“I’m not doing anything. I’m just watching the movie.” You answered innocently.

Natasha turned her attention back to the movie screen. Your hand moved upwards to her covered pussy, rubbing it through her jeans. Her breath got caught in her throat, making you smirk to yourself. Your fingers unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. You slid your hand in her panties, feeling how wet she is. Natasha opened her mouth to ask you what you’re doing again, but she didn’t want to question you. She continued to watch the movie, thinking you won’t take it any further. Little did she know what you had in your mind right now.

Your fingers circled her clit. She let out a shaky breath. She leaned forward to take her jacket off and laid it across her lap so no one saw what you were doing to her. Your fingers rubbed against and in between her folds, getting your fingers wet with her slick. Your fingers circled her clit a few more times before moving them to her entrance. You slid two fingers in her pussy. Natasha stifled a moan by biting her bottom lip. You could tell that she was nervous about you fucking her with your fingers in public so you leaned over towards her to whisper in her ear.

“There’s no need to be nervous.” You whispered in her ear. “Just try to relax and watch the movie.” You whispered again.

Natasha nodded. Your fingers began thrusting in and out of her pussy. She covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her moans, even though her moans were also muffled by her biting her bottom lip. Your thumb began rubbing her clit. She clamped her legs shut on your hand. You softly chuckled.

“Keep your legs open.” You tell her very softly.

Natasha opened her legs back up. She spread them as wide as she could. The arms of the chair stopped her from spreading her legs any further. She tried her hardest to focus on the movie, but couldn’t due to you fucking her with your fingers. Her head fell back against the headrest of the chair and her eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the feeling of your fingers rubbing along her walls.

“Watch the movie, babe.” You whispered in her ear.

Natasha whimpered quietly before lifting her head. She tried to focus on the movie again, but couldn’t. She was too focused on what you were doing to her.

“Good girl.” You praised softly.

Natasha moaned into her hand when you praised her. A loud sound in the movie helped cover her moan so no one heard her. Her free hand held onto the arm of the chair, digging her nails into the leather when your fingers sped up their movements. She grinded her pussy against your hand, wanting more and without realizing it. She was basically silently begging you for more. You obeyed her command and gave her more.

Your thumb applied more pressure to her clit as you rubbed it. Your fingers also sped up their thrusts. Natasha’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head when your fingers hit her sweet spot a couple times in a row. You then curled your fingers. Her pussy clenched around your fingers at the feeling. You grinned to yourself when you found her sweet spot with ease.

“I can feel you getting close.” You whispered in her ear, sending a shiver through her body. “I bet you’re so fucking close.” You say in a teasing voice.

“Yes!” Natasha gasps quietly.

“Cum for me.” You whispered seductively, curling your fingers and hitting her sweet spot again.

That’s all it took for Natasha to fall over the edge. She came so hard that she soaked your fingers. Your fingers fucked her through her orgasm. Your thumb gave her clit one last rub before you pulled your fingers out of her pussy. You took your hand out of her panties and jeans. Natasha looked at you, panting softly as you licked her cum off of your fingers. You winked at her before turning your attention back to the movie.

“Holy shit…” Natasha whispers to herself, making you smirk to yourself.

———

“Hey, Sarge.” You greeted Bucky and sat down next to him in the booth. “Sorry I’m late.” You apologized, kissing his cheek.

“No need to apologize, doll. I ordered your favorite drink.” Bucky says.

“You’re the best!” You smiled at the Super Soldier.

You took a sip of your drink and turned towards Bucky.

“Tell me about your day.” You say.

“We work together, doll. You already know about my day.” He says with a light chuckle.

“I know, but I wasn’t with you when you were training the new recruits.” You say, taking another sip of your drink.

“Ok. Well…” Bucky tells you how well the new recruits were today.

As Bucky was talking, you put your hand on his thigh. Bucky took it as a friendly gesture and continued telling you about his day training the new recruits. You slid your hand up his thigh, moving it towards his cock.

“What- What are you doing?” Bucky asks nervously, looking down at your hand.

“I’m not doing anything, Bucky. I’m just listening to you talk.” You say innocently.

The innocent sound of your voice went straight to his cock. Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat when you palmed his hard cock through his jeans. He was finding it difficult to talk with your hand on his covered cock. You took another sip of your drink before sliding off of your seat and went underneath the table. Bucky’s eyes went wide when you unbuckled his belt, but he didn’t stop you. You unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. His hard cock was clear as day just by looking at his boxers. You reached your hand in his boxers and pulled out his hard cock.

Bucky looked around the bar, making sure no one was looking or walking towards where the booth you and Bucky are in. He leaned back in the booth, looking down at you. You looked up at him innocently and bit your bottom lip, stroking his cock in your hand. Your tongue kitten licked his tip. You moan softly to yourself when you tasted his precum.

“You’re so big, Bucky.” You say seductively.

Bucky felt turned on by the innocent and seductive sound of your voice. You sucked on his tip for a short moment before moving your mouth further down on his cock. He sucked in a sharp breath when he felt your tongue against the underside of his cock. You then kitten licked and sucked on his tip before putting his cock in your mouth.

Bucky watched intently as you bobbed your head. He couldnt help but reach a hand down and grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling on it as you sucked his cock. You moaned at the feeling of him pulling your hair. You glanced up at Bucky, making eye contact with him. Bucky could’ve came on the spot with the innocent look in your eyes.

“F-Fuck…” Bucky cursed under his breath.

Bucky made sure not to make any kind of noise as you sucked his cock. He would if you two were alone in the privacy of his bedroom. He wasn’t sure what has gotten into you, but he’s not complaining.

His tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag. Bucky looked around the bar to make sure no one looked over at you guys or heard you when you gagged on his cock, which no one did.

You momentarily took his cock out of your mouth to catch your breath. Your hand moved up and down on his cock as you looked up at him with a seductive look on your face.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Buck?” You say seductively.

Bucky nodded his head. You bit your bottom lip as you continued to stroke his cock in your hand for a few more seconds before putting it back in your mouth. You braced yourself and took his full size in your mouth. You steadied yourself by holding onto his thighs. Bucky’s hand remained on the back of your head. Also making sure you didn’t hit your head on the underside of the table.

Bucky bit back a moan when he felt your tongue against the underside of his cock. His eyes closed and he titled his back, enjoying the feeling of your tongue and mouth on his cock. You took his cock out of your mouth and stroked it in your hand momentarily.

“Eyes on me, Sarge.” You ordered, tapping his thigh.

Bucky opened his eyes and looked down at you.

“Good boy.” You praised.

Bucky watched intently as you licked from the base of his cock to his tip. You did that a couple more times before putting his cock back in your mouth. Bucky quickly put his free hand over his mouth when he felt your fingers rubbing his balls. His eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head. His hips thrusted upwards, making his cock go further in your mouth and hit the back of your throat.

“Do- Do that’s again, doll.” Bucky begs quietly.

Your fingers rubbed his balls more, adding a little more pressure this time. That nearly sent Bucky over the edge. He could feel his orgasm building up.

“I’m so close. Please don’t stop.” He says quietly.

You continued to bob your head on his cock, helping him get closer to coming. Saliva pooled in your mouth. A little bit of it came out of your mouth and rolled down your chin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He whispers.

Bucky came in your mouth. You moaned when he came in your mouth. A little bit of his cum, rolled down your chin. You then took his cock out of your mouth, breathing heavily. Bucky quickly put his cock back in his boxers, buttoning and zipping up his jeans. He was quick to buckle his belt too. You got out from underneath the table and sat down next to Bucky like you just didn’t suck his cock under the table.

Bucky looked at you, watching closely as you wiped his cum off of your chin with your thumb and licked it off of it.

“Fuck me.” Bucky mumbles.

“Oh so now you’re asking for that, Sergeant.” You say seductively in his ear.

Bucky groans softly and tilts his head back. You giggled softly and kissed his bearded cheek.

“Just admit it. You enjoyed me sucking your cock in public.” You whispered seductively in his ear.

“You have no idea how much I enjoyed that, babydoll.” He says, reminiscing what just happened in his mind right now.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[dreamsarebutterflies]

I didn't mean this particular scene or by the end of the manga but BEFORE that obviously. Ranma's character development is never stopping and that's what I love the most about his character: he's willing to learn and I do believe he knows himself too. After all, you need to if you try to be a master of martial arts.

Independently of the curse itself, parental pressure played a role in this idea of what a man is supposed to be. First, Genma and his mother made a freaking pact to make a MAN™ out of him. The alternative is DEATH. That alone would put things into your teenage head.

Despite this, he inherited his mother's kindness and he's genuine. Those parts can be seen as feminine in the most traditional ways. He wasn't raised to expose these qualities to the world, which makes him awkward at times when he wants to be nice to Akane for example. To be fair, he turned out fine as far as traditional boys go. He can be a jerk but he's a good kid who has actual affection for all these crazy people coming at him and Akane. If they get into trouble or ask for his help, he'd probably assist them.

Ranma wishing to be a FULL man isnt something new but the reasons evolve as the story goes on. Not necessarily because he changes or because he meets new people but we, as an audience, learn more and more about him.

You cannot ignore that this kid who didn't see his mother for ten years and lived in his father's fear of disappointing her for the whole while he was cursed, deeply wished to cancel this part of him so he could get home and see his mother again (and get rid of one more threat to his life). This reason surely existed before she was introduced. Because, as you said, Ranma has no idea what a home is. His mother was initially home. Now, the idea of Home is Akane and what brought them to be together. You cannot tell me he didn't put it into his head, one way or another, that for him to deserve to stay there with her, he had to be a Man™.

Isn't an explicit notion but the simple fact that Ranma mentions getting back to Akane as he is here is a hint that he wanted to return to her as a complete man again at some point. So it was an objective as well until now. It's not insane to interpret it that way, because she believes in him and he learned not to disappoint. But it's okay if he fails this time because he knows that's not really what Akane needs or wants, she knows and accepts him as he is, entirely.

Now he even has a reason not to be selfish, unlike his father. If you stretch it, you can assume that Ranma breaking the curse has never been something that he wanted for himself, it was yet again all about what his parents wanted for him. What always shocked me when I started the show years ago was how docile he was in the first episode. Meeting Akane, he learnt to express himself more and was finally allowed to want and need things for himself. He didn't need to live in survival mode anymore, not just because he had a roof and free food but because people around him are not threatening him on a daily basis. Until then, he never had to make real decisions for himself. Akane gave him a safe space to be who he was and think outside of his parents' unrealistic expectations.

Also, that's just an idea but: Ranma seems to believe in breaking the curse to make Akane happy. I wonder if that's also a way to erase the primordial fight: he lied to her and pretended to be a girl on day 1. Before this event, Akane was very welcoming and nice to him. Probably the first person to act that way towards him in years, mind you. Perhaps it would be a way to make things right.

Martial arts are Ranma's life, but the training trips with Genma were more about survival. In a way, he doesn't start living until he finds a home with the Tendos, but even more, Akane is home. When he's at death's door, Akane is the one who brings him back. She is his will to live.

[authorsofghosts]

Birthday Kiss | Nightcrawler x Reader | One Shot

Author's Note: I find out an hour after waking up at almost 3pm it's Kurt's birthday... had to write something for the blue lad... German translations at the bottom !!

Summery: It was known by everyone except you two that there was something... awkward between you and Kurt. The exchanges of glances when the other wasn't looking, the way your laughs trailed off... Nothing but tonight was the end of all that.

Themes: Birthday, First Kiss, Fluff OMG, so much Fluff, Mutual Crush, Open Ending, Alcohol/Drinking Mention, Awkwardness, Flirting, Guest Appearance of lots of characters, Kissing (duh), Kurt Has a Beard and Forked Tongue (because fuck you), His face is also skin (not fur), Shorter!R (<5'9), R is a mutant/x-man (No Powers Written).

Word Count: 1.4k

The X-Men knew that Kurt wasn't one to like big celebrations, but that didn't stop them from forcing him out of his comfort zone. They rented out a mutant friendly restaurant for the blue boy's birthday. He had to be quite literally dragged by the hair into Wolverine's jeep to go. It was a site to see, really.

But you were happy to see him warm up to the idea as you crawled into the backseat next to him, his tail stopping it's anxious swishing to wrap around you and bring you closer. This made the both of you blush, his cheeks a faint purple.

"So... you knew about all, uh...this?" He asks, voice barely above a whisper.

"Who do you think brought up having a party?" You laugh, smile beaming as you look up at him. His blush deepens at the thought.

"Was?? Since when?!" He laughs, shaking his head as he tried to hide behind his hands. You reach out and pull his hands away from his face, his yellow eyes widening at the sudden act.

"The first, duh. I knew your birthday was coming up, and I wanted to make sure you knew we cared for you, Blau." You say, quickly watching his reaction, which was much softer than you imagined it would me.

"Well, I should have excepted it from mein Freundchen, huh?" He laughs, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you flush against his side. If it weren't for the slight bumps of the road, your ear would be flat against his chest. He quickly puts his knuckles against your scalp and gives you a noogie.

"Keep it civil back there, kids." The gruff voice of the driver and owner of the jeep said, cigar smoke puffing out his mouth as he spoke.

"Sorry, Logan!" You respond, pushing Kurt off of you, your own cheeks hot with blush. You look over to Rogue, who sat on the other side of Kurt, watching the two of you with a small smirk on her face. "What're you looking at?"

"Oh, nothin', sugar." She says, eyes darting between you and your friend, before turning to look out the window. You weren't sure what she meant, but quickly turned your attention back to Kurt, who shrugs and laughs. You watch as he turns to his sister and gets her attention with his tail.

You watch the two siblings mingle, resulting in both of them laughing about some inside joke. It made your heart flutter to hear him laugh, a big change from the man that didn't even want to celebrate his birthday, having to be dragged out of his room by you and Rogue, forced to get dressed in something slightly fancy, and shoved into the car.

The rest of the trip into town was filled with Wolverine's radio blaring some classic rock, small talk and jokes from the back sit of probably the worst trio to get on Logan's nerves, and the wind blowing through the car from the windows. You all finally arrived at the restaurant, having to wait in the jeep for the others. You get out and stretch your legs, quickly followed by Kurt as he sits back against the jeep, arms stretched high into the air.

You can't help but watch the way his white shirt slightly raises, showing just a bit of the blue fur underneath. You blush once again, quickly looking away before he can see. He finishes stretching, holding the front closure of his leather jacket. "You alright, mein Schatz?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry." You wave him off, seeing two more cars pull into the parking lot. You smile widely, grabbing his wrist, "Come on birthday boy."

Kurt's glowing yellow eyes widen as you pull him along towards the others, a humbled laugh leaving his throat as his tail swishes anxiously behind him. The two of you start a conversation with the others, Scott and Hank both giving Kurt a pat on the back as they greet him. You can't help but notice, even with all the people around, he's staring right at you majority of the time.

The party quickly moves inside, a slight rain picking up in the city. The restaurant was on the top floor of the building, high in the sky with a nice balcony. It wasn't that much a big room, the X-Men filling it up pretty well with the amounts of guests. You were quickly separated from Kurt as he was dragged to the bar by some of the guys. You watched from a distance as they all took a shot. You kind of wished you were there to see what they cheered to, but it was less important than the gossip that Warren was spilling to the small group you found yourself apart of.

The night continued on, food being brought and distributed among everyone. You heard a ring of glass being hit with something metal, getting everyone's attention as Scott stood in the middle of the room.

"Hello, everyone! Thank you all for coming out, truly. We're about to bring out the cake and play happy birthday, so if you'd all like to come over here," He gestured to the table next to him, a spot blank for the cake, "That'd be great, thanks!"

He quickly turned around and started talking with Jean and Logan. You looked around for Kurt, spotting him close to the table with a tail wrapped around his leg. You walked over to him, putting a hand around him in a side hug. "Hey, what's up?"

"Oh! Nothing, just... this is all wunderbar, liebe, I'm just a little... over stimulated?" He laughs out. You understand what he means, grabbing his wrist once more and pulling him towards the balcony.

"Then let's get some air, yeah?" You say, looking back at him and pausing before you step out the door. He nods, walking out with you into the cold air of the New York night. You both sigh, finally away from the loud party. You watch as Kurt walks to the balcony edge, leaning himself against the bars.

"Thank you," He grins, "for everything. I didn't think I'd want to be here, but it's very nice that you arranged this whole thing."

"Oh, it wasn't just me. We all pitched in. I just picked the music and decorations, really." You admit, trying to stay humble as your cheeks burned.

"Ja, but, you know," He turns back to you with a toothy grin, his fangs glinting in the moonlight, "it wouldn't have happened if you didn't ask to have a party."

You nod, understanding what he says but still not wanting to take all the credit. Before you can respond, he teleports behind you, the air around you surrounded with the familiar brimstone and ash smell. He places his hands on your shoulders, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek. The feeling of his goatee lingers on your skin as he pull back. "Danke, mein Fraund."

If your face didn't already feel hot, it now felt like it was on fire, your blush dripping to your neck and ears at the gesture. You look over at him, a genuine smile on your lips. "You're very welcome, Kurt." You say, turning around and wrapping your arms around his middle. You nuzzle against his chest.

You both stay there for a few moments, taking it in. You pull away first, heart pounding as the thought of your next action. Your hands travel up to Kurt's face, holding it in place as you stand on your tiptoes. "And... you're welcome for this." You say softly before pressing your lips flush against his own.

Kurt tenses up for a moment, the glow of his eyes disappearing as he closes his eyes, leaning further into the kiss. This shocked you, making you gasp, taken aback as his forked tongue licks across your bottom lip. He pulls you closer into him, a hand combing through your hair and holding your head in place.

You open your mouth, allowing him access into it. He chuckles softly, tail snaking around your hips. The kiss feels like it lasts forever, the two of you tangling in one another. When he finally pulls away, your eyes open to the sight of his cheeks a deep violet, feeling his breath pant against your lips as he presses your foreheads together.

"Did... that really just happen?" He asks, voice hoarse.

"Yeah, it did... It very much did, Kurt." You respond, pressing your lips against his again, but only for a moment. "Think of it as... a birthday gift, yeah?"

"I think a birthday kiss is the best thing you could have given me, Liebchen." Kurt laughs, capturing your lips once again.

"Was?" = What? "Blau" = Blue. "mein Freundchen" = My friend (in a condescending/playful way). "mein Schatz" = My treasure/My darling/My sweetheart. "Wunderbar" = Wonderful. "Liebe" = Love. "Ja" = Yes. "Danke, mein Fraund" = Thank you, my friend. "Liebchen" = Darling.

[respectthepetty]

To begin episode ten of Jack & Joker with Jack and Joke laying in Jack's bed with his color on them (not a euphemism) and Joke's color disregarded on his bed hurts a bit in retrospect knowing how it all ends in that hospital waiting room.

Because although Jack was much lighter the next day, and Joke was back in his signature red,

The color quickly started draining from the community.

So while Joke wanted Jack to live happily in their little colorful bubble the same way Rose attempted before with Jack, everyone else was losing their color adjusting to their new realities.

Joke has always been quick to abandoned his color in preference for Jack's, so it was nice to see that the sign they made incorporated both of their colors, and their daughter, in pink, was the love between them.

So the boys continued to live in their colorful bubble

But, once again, just as Aran immediately pointed out about Rose's grand entrance,

This little colorful bubble is all fake.

So as much as I was thrilled that Aran made matching buttons for Tattoo to wear with him that incorporated a blue background and red heart for the main couple ,

It wasn't long before Aran willingly gave up his heart to Hoy. And I think that is important. Nobody is really being selfish here. They continue to do everything for others, and they sacrifice for others. Aran gave his button to Hoy so he wouldn't be sad. Tattoo stole the necklace so his mom wouldn't get hurt. Joke stole the ring so Jack could be free.

Jack is lighter, so obviously it worked! But I think this is also why the color is draining from all the others as well. They are community, so their colors align as they have matured, which brown represents.

But brown is also a sign of decay and sadness, so even when Jack and Joke (and Aran) try to escape being part of a community and live selfishly in their own happy bubble, the hurt of the community will still seep through.

They can't just simply walk away from it.

So it's amazing that the kids are the brightest of the bunch.

They are impacted just as much as the adults, but where the adults are resigned to the fact that this life, the kids still have color and the willingness to fight, together.

Joke with a little of his red had to convince to group of adults to fight together because as Hoy said, it's easier to fight as hundreds against an army of ten, and when Toi Ting came up with a plan, the other kids quickly followed their leader.

Which is why I think Aran is so important to this plot. His father is gaining power like Thanos, and his aunt has directly and indirectly helped him attain it, but even though Aran wants to run away from the fight, he continues to stay and help the community when he doesn't have to. He started off selfish, yet he gives Hoy his heart when he doesn't have to. He makes Jack a hat. He helps Joke steal the ring. He is part of this community. But he is also the outcome of his family.

Boss and Nang are two extremes. The reveal that they are siblings who parents died due to the Four Horsemen's actions makes their dynamic more interesting because they have dealt with this trauma in completely different ways. Nang, in her white, tells her followers to abandon the power money has over them by ridding themselves of their possessions, while Boss, in his black, decided inheriting power through oppressing others was the only way to achieve success.

Yet Nang helped her brother. Several times. So regardless of what she wanted, she still helped the person she loves just like all these other characters have done.

And just like everyone else, the consequences are dire.

Aran has proven that a person can't be selfish like his father but a person shouldn't sacrifice their entire life for others like Nang. There must be a balance. He couldn't sacrifice himself and marry Rose for his dad, and he is still true to himself while helping others in the ways he can.

He knows that sometimes, the best way to support others is by simply being there for them, which is something he never got without paying people.

So in the end, Joke, who is at his lowest in that hospital waiting room, has the hands of his friends on him to comfort him in his time of need.

And Jack, even though alone in his grief, is still wearing Joke's red.

No man is an island.

And nobody can change the world on his own.

Because people need people. People need to know they are supported and loved. People need to know they aren't being judged and that their burdens can be shared.

And Aran has shown that.

Because Tattoo helped him understand it.

[wisteria-lodge]

Why do female protagonists complain about their looks? I was reading a novel a friend recommended and within the first few pages the narrator is complaining that her eyes are the color of mud, her hair is boring and brown, she has freckles, etc. Is this supposed to make them relatable? I don't particularly like my freckles but it's not something I think about more than once or twice a year. It's just annoying and a downer when the character does this.

It's because girls in books (... and girls in real life...) are supposed to walk this tightrope where of course they are beautiful (because beauty = value.) But they can't seem like they're trying to look beautiful (because trying to be beautiful = vanity, shallowness, a kind of girly femininity that's either childish, pathetic, or sinister.) The Stepsisters are trying to be beautiful. Cinderella just is beautiful. Dress her in a potato sack and roll her around in mud, she'd still be more beautiful.

This is where the "protagonist who doesn't think they're beautiful" thing comes from. Obviously if they don't think they're beautiful, then they're not trying to be beautiful, with all the negative junk surrounding that. So you get these annoying descriptions where a regular or even cute-sounding person will say "ugh, I have eyes the color of mud and hate my freckles," not "I have brown eyes and freckles." (Bet you five dollars the love interest thinks her freckles are adorable, and gets lost in her deep, dark doe eyes.) Also - "mud colored eyes" is such a strange thing to think about yourself? If the author wanted to commit to writing about someone who actually had body image issues - then the internal narrative would be my skin sucks and I'm too fat. But that's a little too real: the reader can't actually think the protagonist is unattractive.

Which is too bad, when you have a female protagonist who is just isn't very attractive, that can be fantastic. In Jane Eyre, it's important that Jane is sort of unfortunate looking - it effects how people treat her, the sort of jobs she can get, but it also lets her fly under the radar and be invisible in way that would be impossible if she were more beautiful.

I tend to prefer descriptions that stress - how people move, or what they're wearing, because that reveals character in a way that "brown hair" just doesn't. I want to hear about a character's attractiveness if they are so remarkably attractive (or unattractive) that it affects how other people treat/perceive them. Same way someone might treat a character differently if they had a dramatic scar, or looked a lot younger than they actually were, or were a different ethnicity from the rest of the cast. Just give me a handful of their most distinguishing characteristics, and you don't have to do it on the first page.

[catemangelsdorf]

Our key players:

Phillipa Soo, of Hamilton fame, who plays a wry, competent nurse. She's practical, ambitious, and done with the boys shit. Which doesn't mean she won't instigate a threesome if the boys are slacking.

Joshua Jackson, aka Fringe for the geeks and Dawson's Creek for the normal people. He has aged like fine wine. His character is an overqualified doctor who had a near death experience and has decided to deal with that by becoming the doctor on a cruise ship.

Rounding out our trio is the gorgeous, funny, wildly entertaining to watch Sean Teal, aka the hot guy from that Shakespeare movie Rosaline that came out a few years ago. He plays nurse #2, and basically does whatever the plot demands of him. Which means sometimes he's a hero who saves the day, sometimes he's a wounded guy with a rough childhood, and sometimes he's a total idiot who is overly obsessed with winning a costume competition. He plays every version of his character with total commitment.

Now this is a medical drama, so naturally it asks the important questions like:

how soon is too soon to sleep with your boss?

what obscure disease can cruise ship passengers get from eating too much shrimp, lying out in the sun too long, and fucking too much?

how many times can people go overboard in six episodes?

what is the most ridiculous outfit a rich person can wear on a cruise?

For all of it's silliness, it's also a weirdly compassionate show? This show loves the tacky older couple with the thick southern accents who eat too much shrimp. It wants you to respect the reality star who gets way too much plastic surgery, or the rich blonde bridezilla desperately trying to ignore everything that is tragic about her life.

The only true villain so far has been a wellness influencer who puts other people at risk by ignoring medical professionals and a plastic surgery clinic owner who pressures people into plastic surgery.

Also, it's just GORGEOUS. Do I want to go on a cruise? No. Do I want to go on this fictional cruise? HELL YES. It's just beautiful pools, and beautiful golden rooms, and beautiful beaches, and beautiful ocean, and a pristine, futuristic medical bay worthy of star trek.

It's like if the head writer said "What should the show be about?" and then all the other writers just kept saying "Yes, and also what about..." until you have a show that is tonally all over the place, but also looks like a Vogue magazine spread.

Everyone is beautiful, everyone is horny, and everyone has an unusual medical disease that can be cured in the next 40 minutes.

10/10, highly recommend.

Doctor Odyssey is a show where everyone is beautiful and everyone is horny but NO ONE is fucking because it's a weeknight abc show

[skania]

Final Akane + AquaKane Thoughts

There are so many things to say that I don't even know how to start organizing my thoughts lol I'll also be including my final thoughts about the "love triangle" while I'm at it, so this is probably going to get long!

I've written quite a bit about Aqua/Akane this past year, so I won't be going into detail into any of the things I've already discussed up to now. Instead, I'll just focus on my thoughts on this final set of chapters, as well as my overall thoughts now that the manga is over.

I'll start with the (few) things I liked:

The Good

I mentioned before that I'm a sucker for parallels, and that Aqua/Akane having so many is one of the reasons why I couldn't help but ship them. We somehow got some very good ones in these last few chapters. We even got a scene at the Aqua/Akane bridge, the one where Akane's relationship with Aqua began and ended.

Aqua saved her life at that bridge, without any ulterior motives. And it's that very bridge that is pictured as Akane says that she has decided to live on. The imagery is poignant and pays its respects to not only Akane's arc as a character, but also to the Aqua/Akane relationship.

More than that, the parallels we got confirm things that Akane and Aqua/Akane fans like me have been saying all along:

Through it all, Akane saw him as he is and embraced the broken him. Each time, she willingly chose to get closer to him. When Aqua tells Akane that he has been saved ever since he met her, I get it. I have no doubt that for Aqua, who has been desperately fighting alone for so long, being seen and understood and loved despite all his self-perceived flaws and the darkness in him must have felt like salvation.

Akane is the one who knows Aqua the best, the one who knows him the most, the one who sees him exactly as he is and who loves all of him. Akane doesn't romanticize Aqua's flaws and his self-sacrificial nature, and neither does she idealize his virtues. She just accepts him and does her best to support and understand him through it all.

Akane being the only one who can see through Aqua's plan is enough to prove this, but it's actually not the most meaningful way in which Aka confirmed it. The most meaningful way was actually this:

Usually, whenever Akane thinks about Aqua, she calls him Aqua-kun. However, throughout her entire monologue in the last three chapters, Akane never addresses him by name. She just calls him "You". The same "You" (君) that Aka emphasized in Chapter 63.

The "You" that encapsulates everything Aqua Hoshino was: both the Goro and the Aqua.

This was a very, very deliberate narrative choice that tells you that throughout the manga, Akane was the one who loved Aqua Hoshino exactly as he was.

Aka also uses another parallel to confirm that Akane was indeed lying to Kana when she claimed that she was over Aqua.

When she finally breaks down, Aka allows Akane to be honest about her feelings, and the parallel to the Aqua/Akane break-up tells us everything we need to know.

Akane never stopped loving Aqua. She has been in love with him all along.

Ever since they broke up, Akane has been sacrificing her feelings for Aqua in order to do what she thinks is best for him. Akane's priority has always been to see Aqua happy. She is willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish that. Back when she thought that Aqua needed to kill Kamiki, Akane was willing to shoulder that sin with him just so he wouldn't have to carry it on his own. When she realized that what Aqua truly wanted was to be free from his revenge, Akane was ready to deal with Kamiki on her own just so that Aqua wouldn't get his hands dirty. Then, when Aqua pushes Akane away, Akane becomes determined to stop him from killing Kamiki because she knows revenge is not what Aqua truly wants or needs.

But that's not all there is to it. Akane wants to be with Aqua, because she loves him. And it's precisely because she loves him, and because she thinks her love failed to save him, that she keeps her feelings to herself and is even willing to help another girl get close to him in her place.

So this chapter confirmed that the one who has been making the sacrificial play, the one who truly loved Aqua, was Akane. It is, essentially, the counterpart to Chapters 148 and 149.

It's no wonder, then, that Akane's feelings and her grief are the ones we follow immediately after Aqua's death. She goes to mourn him in the place he actually died, and when she's around his family, she keeps her pain to herself in order to not worsen their burden. We see her piece together what happened, we see her break, and then we see Akane put herself together and find some solace in knowing that Aqua kept her away to protect her.

Aqua is gone, and Akane is the only one to know Aqua's truth.

A lot of people spent the entire manga trying to downplay Aqua's relationship with Akane; claiming that it was a lie, a manipulation, or what-have-you. Now that the manga is over, we can say those claims were never proven.

At the contrary, until the very end, Aqua's thoughts & actions in regard to Akane were shown to back-up everything he said about her during their relationship.

Aqua could've lived if he had asked Akane for help in killing Kamiki, but he didn't want Akane to get her hands dirty for him. He broke up with her to not bring her down to hell with him, and when the options were to either die alone or make Akane bear the weight of a sin with him, the choice was quickly made.

At the end, he's even shown wanting the same thing Akane wanted: an equal relationship with her.

Unlike his thoughts about Kana (more on that later), which are just a 'might', this is something Aqua is purposeful about. It's something he is sure he wants. It's even the last thing he thinks of before wanting to see Ruby at the dome, which we all know was his dearest wish.

This also fits the panels chosen to be shown in the "romance" part of Aqua's montage: the moment he doesn't catch Kana's ball (symbolizing that their feelings don't connect) vs the moment where he chooses to kiss and date Akane for real.

Which brings us back to the moment they broke up. That chapter was titled "Going Astray" and we now saw where that wrong turn led Aqua: to his death.

So chapter 98, the Aqua/Akane break-up, is pretty much officially the chapter that leads us to the ending we got.

Which means that what I said back in this post still applies. If Aqua and Akane had been honest with each other during that phone-call in Chapter 97, things could've been different. But truth is, it's nearly pointless to think about it, because what this all comes down to is that Aka wanted this ending and he wanted it at all costs.

So nothing could have happened any other way, because Aka didn't want Aqua to be saved. He wanted Aqua to die so he could have his forced "bittersweet" ending.

This is why Aqua and Akane had to break up, it's why Akane is practically not allowed to interact with Aqua again after their break-up, and it's also why Akane never found out about Aqua being Goro's reincarnation.

Aqua was never meant to be saved, and Akane more than anyone could have saved him. So, of course, Aka couldn't allow her to do so. It's forced writing at its finest.

This is also why Akane isn't involved in Aqua's fatidic confrontation with Kamiki. While there is Aka's typical contrived writing involved in Akane leaving Aqua to his own devices at the most crucial moment, I do think it makes sense.

I've mentioned before that from the very beginning, Aqua and Akane's relationship has been based on trust and on choices.

Aqua once gave Akane a choice, trusting that she'd be able to choose what was best for herself. After Akane made her choice, Aqua did everything in his power to help her accomplish her goal.

Ever since, Akane has been trying to do the same for Aqua.

Akane wants Aqua to choose what's right for himself. She will always respect whatever it is that he chooses, as long as it is a true reflection of what he wants and needs. This is why Akane was eager to stop his plan to kill Kamiki, she could tell that Aqua was ready to sacrifice his own future to accomplish it.

That's why, once Aqua chooses to let Kamiki live, Akane is reassured.

Something has changed in Aqua. Akane notices this and believes that Aqua has, finally, chosen to not throw his life away just to deal with Kamiki. She trusts that he has.

Personally, I'd like to believe that Akane was right. Problem was that once Aqua knew for sure that Kamiki couldn't be saved, he switched back to his original plan. Something Akane couldn't have foreseen without knowing that Aqua was the reincarnation of a dude whose issues made him suicidal... which is yet another reason why Aka could have never let Akane find out about the whole reincarnation business.

So all in all, Aqua/Akane-wise, this is all well and good. On paper.

When it comes to the execution however, it leaves a lot to be desired, because Aqua/Akane is sadly majorly brought down by the spectacular way in which Aqua's character was (mis)handled during the second half of the manga.

The Bad

Goro has always been someone who thinks his life has no worth, and this belief is deeply ingrained into Aqua. That's why I could tell that his revenge plan likely involved killing himself and making it look like Kamiki did it.

I just didn't think that he would actually succeed, because it kind of goes without saying that the suicidal character getting to kill himself is far from being a satisfying ending. Even less so when said character has shown time and time again that he actually wants to live, he is just too broken by his guilt complex to believe he has that right.

For a while there, it even looks like Aqua will make it. That he has once again started to embrace that this is a life that he wants to live.

Sadly, once Aqua realizes that Kamiki can't be saved and that he poses a danger to Ruby, all of that flies off the window and "Goro" takes over. And by "Goro" I don't mean Goro the character, I mean all the bad habits that Aqua has due to his guilt-complex and survivor's guilt.

So Aqua goes and executes his original plan, killing himself instead of looking for a better solution. Which means he started off like this:

Only to end the manga pretty much the same way, except you can switch "If Ai's gone, this world isn't-" for "As long as Ruby can live on in this world."

Though, actually, it's even worse than that, because Aqua realizes that he was wrong — dying would bother him — only when it's too late.

It leaves a bad taste in my mouth because it's like Aqua had no development through the entire manga. Cut everything after his break-up with Akane and nearly nothing changes, except the motive behind Aqua throwing his life away: protecting Ruby (Sarina) instead of revenge.

It all feels even more pointless because Aqua's death rings hollow due to how badly his character was mishandled in the second half of the manga. After the break-up, Aqua becomes a "..." bot. His character isn't allowed to grow and neither is he allowed to explore his feelings in any meaningful way, to the point that he dies confused and not knowing who he was.

Pardon my bluntness, but how pathetic is this? 160+ chapters and literally none of this guy's issues were ever solved. His character goes nowhere, only so he can be sacrificed to make the ending bittersweet for Ruby. Though for me it wasn't even bittersweet; the ending fell flat on its face precisely because Aqua's character never goes anywhere, so it's hard to feel anything other than vague frustration and disbelief at how forced the writing is.

Even the Kami/Ai - Aqua/Akane parallels were wasted because both ships ended up in the exact same way: Akane and Ai both unable to save Aqua and Kamiki. I wouldn't even be surprised if those parallels are something Aka came up with on the spot while writing the Ai DVD.

I'm sure some Aqua/Akane truthers will say "all Aqua and Kamiki needed to be saved was to be with Akane and Ai, and Akane and Ai didn't realize that" and leaving aside my issues with that kind of co-dependency, once again, that's all well and good — on paper.

Sure, those of us who ship Aqua and Akane could see it that way if we wanted to, but... did Aka make a point of clearly stating this? No, he left it to the reader's imagination, which means it's just another blank to be filled with headcanon.

Personally, I'm pretty tired of doing that, because everything there is to like about the manga may as well just be the headcanons we have filled all those blanks with.

I always say that I prefer showing and not telling, but there's a limit to everything. Truth of the matter is, if this was supposed to be the case — and especially if it was supposed to be important — then showing isn't enough. Because the majority of readers aren't going to spend hours breaking down every single Aqua/Akane interaction to draw those parallels and reach that conclusion.

Aqua dying soothed by a song by his favorite idol (Ruby/Sarina) doesn't really do it any favors either, because fact of the matter is that people who were never invested in the Aqua/Akane relationship will just assume Aqua never loved Akane back. They'll be more distracted by Kana's tropey, shallow shoujo romance, and this is something Aka allowed in his manga right up to the very end.

Aqua and Akane were the only relationship in the entire manga that got mutual, gradual, organic, continuous development. But this all came to a halt when they broke up, so at the end of the day, they're mostly left up to interpretation.

It's underwhelming.

Most of all, if you ask me, it was a terrible move, because Aqua and Akane could've been the heart of this manga. If their feelings had been properly explored after their break up, if Aqua had been allowed to think of Akane in his last moments, if all this blank-filling had been actual text, they'd have been a tragic love-story for the ages.

But Aka didn't want it to be the heart of the manga, because he had already decided from the beginning that role should go to Aqua and Ruby. Alas, he completely failed at developing that, too, because to the very end there's only Goro and Sarina. That is the entire basis of the Aqua/Ruby relationship and dynamic, and it gets one single chapter where it's explored beyond that, only to immediately focus back on Goro and Sarina as Aqua lies dying.

Goro couldn't save Sarina in his first life, so he wastes his second to do it. He jumped at the chance to free himself of the burden of that guilt without even bothering to think of how much his death would hurt the very person he wanted to protect.

Which takes me to...

The Ugly

Turns out Kana was pretty much just a mixture between Fujiwara and Maki, after all. Except that unlike Maki, she never grows (Aqua literally has to die for her to do so) and unlike Fujiwara, she's overused instead of underused.

Aqua and Kana are portrayed as shallow to the end, and I'd even go as far as saying that the narrative pokes fun at Kana for it. Even during the funeral, she puts on a hat that's reserved for family members and it literally falls off her head when Miyako slaps her lmao

Since this is a manga and not real life, the way Kana's outburst was handled in that chapter is likely meant to be contrasted with the way Akane's own grief was handled, because it pretty much embodies all the differences between both of their relationships with Aqua through the manga.

Kana is focused on herself and on her pain. She thinks Aqua was murdered, but she still irrationally blames him for it, too blinded by her own pain. Aqua was murdered, but not being able to confess to him properly is still at the top of her list of grievances. She is also shown overplaying that one conversation she had with Aqua about Aqua having a death-wish, as if Aqua somehow agreeing to not say that he wants to die was some vital promise that he broke.

Meanwhile, Akane focuses on Aqua. On what Aqua felt, on why he did what he did, and on what he would have wanted. Even her wish to be by Aqua's side is expressed through Akane saying that she'd have been willing to shoulder his burdens with him, no matter where that led them. It is also Akane's understanding of Aqua that helps her to find some solace and to overcome his death.

Kana always looked at Aqua from the outside-in, idealizing and romanticizing him, while Akane was Aqua's partner in every sense of the word. That's why Akane gets all the insightful narration about Aqua while Kana just gets to make a fool of herself at his funeral.

So to the very end, the dichotomy between "Ai" and "Koi" does perfectly illustrates the contrast between the two sides of the Aqua love triangle.

Kana was infatuated with the Aqua that she built up in her head, and focused on what she wanted Aqua to do for her (support her unconditionally), and what she wanted to be for him (his only idol), rather than on Aqua himself as a person.

As for Aqua, during his last moments, most Aqua can say about Kana is that it might be good to respond to her feelings. Might. He spends the entire story knowing Kana is at his beck and call, he even makes fun of her for it (you're so easy to manipulate, yadda yadda), yet when the opportunity to date her presents itself, most he can say is essentially "it could be cool I guess." He even pictures her pulling on his arm to get his attention, while with Akane, he pictures himself facing her and looking straight at her.

So to Aqua, Kana was at most a teenage crush. His feelings for her weren't deep or relevant enough to have any sort of impact on his character, while he outright called the year he spent dating Akane his happy days. An entire year that he spent without Kana even being in his life, mind you. Meanwhile Kana was out there living an entire shoujo where she's the heroine and Aqua is the male lead 😂

That said, I still think Aqua, who I'm sure must've broken a record at being bad at understanding his own feelings, was likely mistaking admiration for romantic attraction, and that he would've realized this pretty early into dating Kana.

The anime is even clearer about this because Aqua's reactions to Kana are paralleled to Akane's who is, quite literally, a fan of Kana.

But even if he wasn't, it doesn't really matter, because it's shown very clearly that Aqua deeply values being understood (to him, it feels like salvation) and that Kana doesn't really understand him. So had they dated, Aqua would've had fun at first, sure, but his emotional needs wouldn't have been met; instead his job would've been to meet Kana's. It just would've never worked in the long term.

Now that the dust has settled, I can say for certain that if Aqua had been allowed to have a happy ending, it'd have been with Akane.

So once more, this is all fine on paper. The problem is that Aka takes it too far. The whole Kana business takes too much panel time for no discernible reason other than to... bait readers? I've even seen some say that Aka intended to mock them.

But even if that were the case, considering that those same readers are likely going to walk out of the story thinking Aqua and Kana are a tragic ship that loved each other because of all the bait, who's really the butt of the joke? Them or Aka himself?

Conclusion

I've always been pretty clear about being an Akane fan first and foremost. Despite all my Aqua/Akane meta, I had no emotional investment in whether she ended up with Aqua or not, as long as she got a satisfying ending. That said, by principle, I most definitely didn't want Aqua to end up with Kana, because that'd be like rewarding Kana for all her crying and whining when she never even tried to understand who Aqua was as a person and I've already gone through that in Naruto, thank you very much.

So the two silver-linings about this ending are that Akane stayed amazing to the end, and that Kana didn't have Aqua handed to her on a silver platter. But considering just how much panel time Kana's meaningless crush takes up in the narrative and how side-lined Akane got after the break-up, it feels like a pyrrhic victory lol

Akane is still the best thing about the manga, and I'd say that she got by far the best ending of the bunch. I'm not sure if I'd call it satisfying, because Akane's one goal was always to save Aqua and she didn't get to accomplish that. But at the very least, she got a good ending, all things considered. She got to protect what Aqua entrusted to her, and she got to show just how emotionally strong she is.

As for Aqua and Akane, AquaKane could've been incredible if only Aka had done them justice, but he didn't. I joked before that the Aqua/Akane development was so good that it's like it wrote itself, and I actually think that's exactly what happened. Aka made things up as he went along, and he allowed Aqua and Akane to develop together in ways he didn't necessarily plan nor foresee. But as soon as he started heading towards the ending he envisioned, he dropped the ship, likely because he had already established everything that would be relevant about them by then, and then proceed to leave a lot of it to the discretion of the readers.

While I'm sure that'll be enough for some, I'm afraid it's not really enough for me. If you were to ask me if I'm satisfied with the way they were handled, my answer would be: not really, but it certainly could've been worse lol

In my opinion, they're the biggest wasted potential in the manga (which is saying something, because the entire manga is wasted potential), and their potential was wasted simply because they're the ones who could've actually led us to a happy ending.

Aka didn't want that ending, though. He cared for his vision more than about his characters, and his vision was literally just an ending where poor Ruby would be a star that shines brighter "the darkest things get". Nothing else mattered. LMAO. As if Ruby hadn't already gone through enough!

Oh well, at least we're finally free!

[angellwingss]

Wasn’t going to go on a big rant but you know what since that other post is gaining traction yeah I think I will. So big long rant under the cut. Lolll

I feel like. A lot of people might tell me ‘it’s not that deep’ but to me it is that deep.

I don’t have a problem with JayVik or it’s shippers like. At all. I just think some of them are à really good demonstration of like. Every bad thing when it comes to fandom ever LMAO.

Once again I am (supposed to be) writing a whole big long essay about this already so I will try and keep this kind of short and sweet and it might be a bit lacking but wtvr.

I think a lot of JayVik fans tend to be white queer people. Someone left a tag on my OG post that said basically ‘my take is I’m a faggot and I don’t have to care about a character if I don’t want to’ and no hate to that person cuz you’re right, but this is exactly the kind of stuff that made me make that first post.

I feel like a lot of white queer people have an issue with seeing outside their own identity? If that makes sense? This is seen time and time again with the way some of them behave when big movements happen online, some have a tendency to centre themselves and whatnot so i think it’s kind of the same thing.

It makes total sense that a queer person would prefer queer ships and would prefer JayVik over MelJay, that is not a crime. But I do think part of that is because they can’t relate/identify with Mel or see themselves in her like they can with Jayce or Viktor.

I hate to also make it about feminism but i think a lot of you guys are super like. Male centred, like just in your attraction which once again, not the issue not a crime. But i think it’s also why CaitVi, which is a canon queer ship, although popular is still not quite as popular as JayVik despite being canon. Women fetishizing gay men in fandom is not something new, which I think might play a small part in it- I’ve seen a lot of people especially back in s1 infantilizing Viktor and acting like he had no agency or independence and that he NEEDS Jayce to take care of him (that’s another thing. Ableism(looks at you with my eyes)) and they also do the same thing with Jayce where they act like he had 0 agency with any decisions he makes and that he’s like a big dumb baby who doesn’t know anything politics. Hey, guys. That’s a grown man.

My main issue isn’t that people prefer JayVik over MelJay it’s just that some shippers demonize Mel to an insane degree, blame her for getting in the way of their ship (this is also happening right now with Maddie- there’s a leak going around saying that she gets with Caitlyn and people are so upset that this character is getting some INSANE hate and I feel like that’s the same thing going on.)

they blame her for ‘stealing’ Jayce etc etc like. Idk. You don’t have to ship MelJay but I wish more people would appreciate Mel just as a character- imo she is super interesting and has a great story but she’s only ever seen and ‘the other woman’. I’ve seen people say she isn’t like, well characterized and that her story entirely revolves around Jayce which. Yeah she’s definitely heavily involved with him in s1 but she’s clearly got a lot more going on than just that and you would know that if you GAF 🗣️🗣️

for just being. Who she is. I think Mel deserves more attention just in the fandom and it’s just frustrating. People making memes about Jayce going insane over Viktor leaving but like. Mel also just got fucking kidnapped guys. His lover has just vanished without a trace why is nobody also talking about that !!!! Why can’t he care about both these people at the same time !!!!!!!

Anyway I’m not nearly well equipped enough to talk more in-depth about like. Any of this but I do think the demonization of Mel and refusal to see her relationship with Jayce as it is can often times be boiled down to racism like straight up. And also things like the fetishization of gay men in fandom and just things like that are sometimes what can lead to female characters- even the well written ones to be shelved and pushed aside in favour of their male counterparts.

Obligatory ‘not all JayVik fans’ obviously a lot of you are awesome, shouldn’t have to say this. If I’m not aiming for you, you shouldn’t be getting shot.

[balkanradfem]

So I've been looking to read some books about living in nature, written by women, to get an idea of how it goes in practice, and the first book I found was 'The Great Alone' by Hannah Kirstin. It was about a family who decided to move to Alaska and live self-sufficiently, and it was written from the point of view of the daughter, Leni. I did not realize right away that this was a piece of fiction! However I do want to tell you about this book because something very specific happened in it that made me have.. ideas.

Right on the first page, it was spelled out to me clearly that this is a story about domestic violence. The father was drinking, had ptsd from war, sometimes 'blew up', and I was like, oh, I know what that is. Okay, let's see what happens then.

The father decided to move them all to Alaska because a buddy who died in the war left him a cabin there, and he wasn't earning money to pay rent, so Alaska it is. He talked his wife into it, promising that he will 'be better over there', and I'm like yeah sure you will.

I have to say, at the beginning this book was just heavily enabling me. They went over to Alaska and everyone was saying 'you need to prepare for winter immediately', even though it was spring, and they were bewildered. People were coming to help them to build a garden and homesteading infrastructure. And I'm looking at that like hell yeah I'm already 100% introduced to this, I am prepairing my garden from January, as soon as spring hits I am looking for food to can, dry, cure, I'm filling my stash from the moment cherries arrive. I'm certified to live in nature. (I'm not, I'm just entertaining myself with this fiction).

Alaskan winter is long and dangerous, and somehow these folks were already at the end of their food stash by the end of January, which is so early. They were in trouble, had no money, it was cold, Alaskan winter also brings 18 hours of darkness a day, so everyone was bummed and anxious. As you can imagine, the father found himself some alt-right conspiracy theorists to hang out there and drink with, every day they were talking about the government or minorities 'coming for their land' and prepairing to shoot people at the moment's notice, so it's no wonder he became more violent, aggressive and dangerous to his wife and child. He would end up beating his wife, and she would forgive him, and the daughter watching all this felt insane and desperate to save her mother. But there was no help, no police, nobody could even reach them in the deep winter, they had no food, they relied on him to catch something in the forest.

This is where the story got interesting. 

He breaks her nose, and the daughter decides that's enough, takes her mother into the car, and they escape. They crash. Daughter seeks help. They end up in a hospital. Father finds them and cries and promises to never do it again. Mother forgives him, seemingly out of fear that he's going to start killing people if she leaves him. Alaskan folk now know that she is being abused, because of her bruises and broken nose. And something unexpected happens.

One of the first Alaskan characters introduced in the story is Large Marge, a big woman owning a shop where she trades food and other survival goods. She is strong, resourceful, down to earth, incredible, helpful in every possible way. She is our star. Because once the word is out about the abuse, and the domestic violence family is back in the cabin, she comes over. She tells them all to sit the hell down, like she's a parent sorting out her unruly children. She then tells this story:

'I used to be a lawyer. Big city prosecutor. High heels and designer suits. I loved it. And I loved my sister, who married the man of her dreams. Only he turned out to have a few problems. A few quirks. Turned out he drank too much and liked to use my baby sis as a punching bag. I tried everything to get her to leave him, but she refused. Maybe she was scared, maybe she loved him, maybe she was as sick and broken as he was. I know that when I called the police it was worse for her and she begged me not to do it again. I backed off. Biggest mistake of my life. He went after her with a hammer. We had to have a closet-casket funeral. He claimed he'd taken the hammer from her to protect himself. The law isn't kind to battered women. He's still out there. Free. I came up here to get away from all that.“ She looked at the abuser. ''And here you are.''

The tension was insane. Everyone tried to get a word in, but she shut then down, and then she looked at the abuser again. ''We've talked about your situation here, we have a few solutions, but really, our favourite one is where we take you out and kill you.''

And I am reading this like oh my god. That's the freaking solution. It doesn't need to be that complicated. We just need someone who is 100% done with this shit who takes him out and shoots him. Problem solved. You hit your wife? Out and shot. Bye loser. Nobody losing sleep over you anymore.

I would love to tell you that she did take him out and shoot him, of how would I love to tell you that. I prayed it would happen as soon as the option was presented to me. However she told him he is either being taken out and shot, or he is leaving, getting a job and then providing money for his wife and daughter, and not returning until the spring comes again, which, he agreed to, since the alternative was to be taken out and shot. But I was still saying we should shoot him. She then decided to stay with the mother and daughter to keep them safe and fed during the winter. Like the hero she fucking is.

So, I haven't read this entire book yet, this is the middle of it, I have to go back and read the other half in order to know what happened next, but, I love this, I love the author, I love the representation of domestic violence and cycle of abuse, and how it is to be a female child in this situation, I love Large Marge, I love the resolution she provides, we need her, someone please, put her in reality. I want to be her, I want to barge into people's home and make death threats to abusers. To randomly stumble on a book like this is incredible to me. Thank you women for writing books. I love you all.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Girl, it's not just an emotional rollercoaster it's a full on emotional CARNIVAL 🤣

I love this observation. That's exactly what I felt inherently when I was writing that line. It felt more powerful to me than "I told you so" or the like. It has the feeling of that, but with more of an edge, even though you know he cares about her.

The line is devastating. It ''bites." It's more than just telling someone that they messed up, it's also kinda catty lol.

LMAO I remember someone saw the preview of Part 2 and commented, "the quiet, but devastating anger he'd be reckoned with if he said that to me." And I was like, YEP, that's exactly it. Mans playing with his life. 😅😅😅

He really bet it all. And I'm in love with the person who said "the quiet, but devastating anger he'd be reckoned with if he said that to me." 😂

That's precisely how I intended it! Now looking back, I feel like I should have had her leave him by himself in his room to sleep in another room. But at the time I was writing, I was thinking that for her in particular, despite this being the biggest fight they've had so far in their relationship, he's still the one that makes her feel safe after a bad hunt. 💙

I think it would have been a bigger gut punch to Dean if she didn't stay in the room with him, but I still think that the her turning her back on him and not letting him touch her kinda hit the nail on the head pretty well too.

Aww thank you! 😭😭 Weirdly enough, that was one of my favorite parts to write? Maybe I just like the heartfelt hurt/comfort breaking into fluff moments. The "better off alone" thing I thought was implied throughout the later seasons of the show after Dean lets go of Lisa and Ben, so I wanted to explore that deeper here, even though it hurt my heart to write it. 💙

It's not weird, I think that it's really fitting! And I also really like writing the heartfelt hurt/comfort breaking into fluff too lol. But you're absolutely right, Dean really does adopt that mentality after Lisa and Ben and it is really heartbreaking to see him like that.

Everyone's crying!! 😭 YES ABSOLUTELY SHE DOES -- and she's a verified crier. I see a lot of fics where the reader is tough as nails, "doesn't cry very often," but I wanted to create a reader character who is a badass, but still has a soft heart. (Latinas also can be very emotional, but not to say we're adhering to stereotypes around here LOL. 🤣🤣)

As much as I do love the readers who are "tough as nails" and "doesn't cry very often" I love the readers who are strong but are allowed to break. It makes them seem more real. Because as much as I believe that there are people who are completely just insane badasses, they've gotta have some kind of emotion or compassion or else they don't seem human. Also "Latinas also can be very emotional, but not to say we're adhering to stereotypes around here LOL" I'm DEAD 😂

Sorry for jerking the angsty chain again there! 🤣 Poor guy, he went through an ordeal just as much as she did.

Please never apologize for the angst. I LOVE IT! And I really did also love how emotional this fic made me. It was wonderful lol.

Fun fact on her confession! When she says I love you twice, she's actually saying it in two different ways:

I love you, you’d said. I love you ("te amo," you're my love) and I love you ("te quiero," you're my family), more than you can believe and understand.

GIRL WHAT?! OH MY WORD THAT IS JUST SO MUCH BETTER! Thank you for explaining that to me!

Thank you SO very much!! Honestly you don't know how happy it makes me that you're enjoying this series so far -- and spoiling me with such lovely and thoughtful feedback. 🥰💕💕

No, THANK YOU for writing this wonderful fic/series! 😊

Devour Me - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader 

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)

AN: Here's Part 2! **Read Devour Me: Part 1

Song Inspo: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique. But really it’s “Ven Devórame Otra Ves” by Lalo Rodriguez. (You’ll see why.) 🤭

Word Count: 5,400

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood, character death and violence, smutty smut, angst, Dominican slang, and tons of sexy fluff.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: "Telenovela Style"

Your resulting scream of agony is as unforgiving as the ground when your knees buckle, hitting the hard cement.

Andy grips you with the strength of a monster. 

Then he holds you down as he drinks your blood. 

No matter how you struggle and whimper, you can’t push him off, and you’re getting weaker by the second.

Until Andy is ripped away from your neck, and is taken care of the way all vampires must be. He doesn’t even feel the blade coming. 

When you’re able to look up, Dean stands above you with thinly veiled fury. He doesn’t have time to consider what he’s just done. 

He bends to gather you up into his arms, all the while trying to stamp down the panic clenching his heart. He calls your name, but you can only make weak sounds as your bleary eyes meet his. 

“Dean,” you manage. The ragged wound in your neck is bleeding profusely down your chest and shoulder, seeping into your shirt. He takes your hand and clamps it hard against your neck, even though it makes you whimper.

“Gotta stop the bleeding,” he says, apologetic but firm. “Keep pressing.”

In your stupor of pain, you don’t realize that your screech woke the entire nest. Dean has to lock up his worry; he looks up and finds his brother and Cas already fighting a hoard of angry vampires. 

Dean carries you over to them and lays you down against the wall with the other humans. He keeps a protective line in front of you, but he decapitates a vampire before she can sink her fangs into Sam next.

The two of them work together, and with Castiel’s smiting power behind them, the angel and the two men are able to clear the rest of the nest. 

By the end, only you and two of the women being held captive are still alive. The third girl’s heart just finally gave out. Sam takes the survivors to the nearest hospital. 

Meanwhile, Castiel approaches where you sit up against the inside of the barn, barely awake, while Dean kneels with you, holding you to his chest. He meet’s Cas’s blue-eyed request with a nod. So Cas stretches out a hand and touches two fingers to your forehead. 

You’re healed in an instant. Dean marvels, like he always does when Cas displays his power. Dean is able to breathe a little easier, the vice grip on his heart easing as he touches your neck.

The tan skin is once again smooth, if still stained with blood. You blink back into wakeful consciousness. 

He shifts so he can see your face. “You okay?” 

You meet his eyes but can only nod. His jaw is still tight and tense, and you can’t blame him. 

You know you’ve messed up. Big time. You nearly got everyone killed, including yourself…and now, you have to tell a mother that her son is dead. 

Dean helps you up, holding you by your arms and waist until you’re steady on your feet. You have a hard time meeting his eyes, but when open your mouth to apologize, he beats you to it. 

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says. 

Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?”

Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you. 

“Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls. 

You tilt your head at him as your irritation begins to spark. Meanwhile, Castiel is the one who backs up as he glances between you and Dean uncertainly.

“I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do,” you shoot back. “I was a hunter long before I met you.” 

“Yeah, well, color me surprised that you’ve made it this long,” he snaps. 

Your temper flares hotter. “You know, you’re not so goddamn perfect either.” 

“Never said I was,” Dean says. “But when my gut tells me something ain’t right, I need you to fucking listen. Otherwise, we get a day like today.”

His words are edged with grit by the end of his little rant, and you don’t appreciate it. Your lips purse in anger.

“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”

Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms. 

“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely. 

You truly become incensed at that. 

“Oh, you want to take it there?” you ask, as your eyes narrow. “Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Dean won’t admit it, but in that moment, he’s a bit intimidated by the quiet threat in your voice. Still, his fuse is lit, and he’s way beyond curbing his internal filter.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?” he snarks. 

You let out an incredulous breath. Your eyes begin to sting.

“You’re such an asshole!” you shout back. There, understand that?

You turn away from him before your frustrated tears can fall, but you stop short once you notice Castiel dragging out the bodies of the dead…including Andy. Your throat constricts, and you begin to stalk out of the barn. 

Dean calls your name in frustration. 

“What?” you hiss. 

The only thing that makes him hesitate is seeing the state of you when you turn back around. His anger crumbles, and maybe something in him breaks when he sees your tears. They’ve welled up in your eyes, and a few of them carve a path down your cheeks. 

You’re still covered in your own blood, and he hates it. He hates it more than anything. 

Later, you see the state of yourself when Sam returns with the Impala. In the reflection on the backseat window, you see the blood dried down your neck, staining nearly half of your shirt.

You see the black rings of your mascara and eyeliner around your eyes. You look a mess, and you try to wipe underneath your eyes. It’s a fruitless effort.

After you all finish burning the bodies, Dean starts the long drive home. You insist on stopping to tell Rachel Campbell about her son, but Sam says he already took care of it when he drove into town. 

You frown, but you no longer have the energy to be angry. You further withdraw into yourself, and your lower lip trembles as you look out the window. Through the rearview mirror, Dean sees more tears slipping down your face.

What Sam told him (but he won’t tell you), is what one of the survivors said. One of the mated pairs had taken Andy…to “adopt” a son of their own. 

That night is quiet and tense in Dean’s room. You have to wash your hair all over again, and scrub the blood and grime from your body until only your skin remains. But you don’t have the energy to do more than braid your wet hair afterwards and pull on your lucky Journey shirt, which is still full of holes. 

Dean knows that it’s bad when you need the “dreamcatcher,” as he’s called it in his head. You’ve never had a nightmare while wearing that shirt, or so you claimed a while back. 

You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence. 

He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room.

So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space. 

He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

In the morning, Dean’s woken by the familiar smell of coffee…and the less familiar sound of loud salsa music. 

What the fuck?

After he brushes his teeth, he puts on his robe and slippers and heads down to the kitchen, where he finds you in a seemingly better mood. You’re mopping the floor, of all things. You’re out of your pajamas, instead wearing a loose shirt that falls off your shoulder and some spandex shorts. 

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo,” you sing softly along with the music as you dance from the kitchen to the living room. Your phone is connected to a Bluetooth speaker on the coffee table. 

Dean starts to smile, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway to watch you.

At an instrumental break with a run of conga drums and trumpets, you pause in your mopping to do a little twirl as you dance, with a soulful roll of hips and a flair of salsa steps. It makes Dean’s smile kick up into a smirk.

He walks in on purposefully light feet until he’s sidled up behind you in the living room.

“Nice moves, Shakira,” he quips. 

It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard. 

Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself. 

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” you ask with a hand on your heart. 

Dean forces himself to smile a little. “Sorry. But might I remind you, not everyone here’s an early bird.”

You give him a wry look.

“You’re the only one around here who sleeps past 10 a.m. Cas dipped out a while ago, and Sam’s on a run.” 

But you graciously grab your phone to lower the music to a more bearable level. Dean doesn’t yet know this about you, but this—listening to music, dancing, cleaning—it’s all your way of coping…and releasing as much of your pain, terror, and regret from yesterday as possible. 

You then look up at him more guarded. The two of you exchanged a lot of unsavory words last night. In fact, it may just be the worst fight you two have ever had in almost three years of knowing one another.  

Dean senses the shift in you, and his amusement fades. He just can't let things stay like this. He won't.

He hazards drawing closer and touching your arm.

“Look…I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I know I was being a dick,” he says. “You’ve just gotta understand something.”

You wait for him to continue with furrowed brows, sensing that whatever he’s about to say is hard for him. 

“There’s a reason I don’t do this. The uh, relationship thing,” Dean continues, clearing his throat. His thumb swipes along your arm. “It’s not just this job. It’s my fucked up life. I tried to warn you before—” 

“Dean,” you say with a sigh, but he raises his hand. 

“Please, just…let me say it,” he says. “You know the spiel. But things can change on a dime. Even on a damn milk run, like a dusty nest of vamps.”

You know that. You know you could’ve died yesterday, and he doesn’t need to remind you of that fact. Before you can start to get petulant again though, Dean continues. His jaw is working, like this next part is more difficult for him to admit.

“Trust me when I say, us being together is dangerous, for both of us,” he says. “For a while I, uh…I started to think Sam and I were better off alone.”

That casts you into dismay. Because you know Dean isn’t lying. He’s really contemplated spending the rest of his life devoid of love, so he won’t have to lose it. 

Dangerous, for both of us.

You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes. 

And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms. 

“You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing. 

“Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.” 

Your fist clenches in his shirt when you remember Andy, latched onto your neck, and how Dean had to save you. You know he’s remembering it too when his brows furrow, and his gaze falls away. You reach a hand for his cheek.

“I know I fucked up,” you admit. “I was working with my heart, not my head. I just…”

You wanted so badly to help that kid and his mother. You also know that Dean understands; you see it in his eyes. He holds your hand to his cheek and brushes his thumb across the back of your hand.

“I know,” he says. “I really am sorry, baby.” 

The problem is, you didn’t just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadn’t been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday. 

It’s just…days like yesterday remind you why that could be a very bad idea. 

More of your tears bubble over, and you head willingly into Dean’s arms. “Me too…”

He holds you tighter than ever. His hands rub down your back, tangle in your hair, and he drops his lips onto your hair. You sniffle, wiping your face dry in his shirt. And for a while, the two of you have peace in the relative quiet. 

Music still plays from the speaker though. And when another salsa song starts to play on your playlist, you start swaying. A smile works its way onto Dean’s face. 

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he teases.

You smile into his chest. “We should go dancing sometime.”

Dean just laughs. “Oooh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” you reply, batting your lashes up at him. You slip a hand on his shoulder and into one of his hands. He’s forced to hold you as if the two of you were about to start Fred Astair-ing across the living room. 

“Have you ever danced before?” you ask. “Like real dancing.” 

“Not salsa, I’ll tell you that,” he quips. 

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you,” you reply with a coquettish smile. “It’s just a few simple moves.”

Dean gives you a wan look. “You made it look anything but simple.”

You blush at that, but you meet him with a pout of disappointment. You don’t let up, even when Dean frowns. He huffs at you in resistance.

“No,” he insists. You just brush a gentle thumb along his neck, biting your lip in askance.  

But the longer he stares at your beautiful, hopeful eyes, the more cracks form in his resolve. 

Eventually, Dean breaks with a sigh, and a shake of his head. 

“You’re too much, you know that?” he mutters.

It’s then that you know you’ve won.

So with a happy squeal of excitement, you clap your hands and move to stand next to him so you can show him the basic steps of salsa dancing. 

You make him take off his robe and slippers, leaving in his shirt and plaid pajama pants. Then you instruct him for a few minutes, correcting his footing and getting him to move on a beat. You’re pleasantly surprised that he has some rhythm.  

Dean sighs once again. How the hell did we get here? Heat crawls up the back of his neck as embarrassment starts to set in. 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“You’re doing good,” you encourage, with a growing smile. “Now come on, feel the beat in threes. One, two, three. One, two, three…”

Once he sort of has the basic steps and turns down, you move to stand in front of him. There you show him how to hold you, how he’ll move forward, and you’ll move back. It takes a little while, but you slowly move through the combinations, then do a little twirl underneath his hand. 

When he pulls you back in without faltering, you give him a beaming smile. “Very good!”

A subtle grin raises his lips at your enthusiasm. He also feels his face heating up at the praise.

But you pause when a certain song filters through the speakers. It’s an old one (and it never fails to make you blush), but you love it.  

“Ooh, yes,” you exclaim with delight, and you turn up the volume.

“What’s this one?” Dean asks.

“Ven Devórame Otra Ves,” you inform him. Not that he knows what that means. You sing along a bit with the first couple of verses while you encourage Dean to lead you in the dance. 

This song is just slow enough for him to attempt it, and the funny thing is, he doesn’t feel all that uncomfortable with the steps now. He’s starting to get a feel for how to move, both with his feet, and with his hands as he guides you by your waist, holding your hand close to his chest. Still, Dean’s also curious about the lyrics you’re singing. 

“What does it mean?” he asks.

You huff in amusement. “You sure you want to know?”

Dean raises a brow. “Well, now I gotta know.” 

You giggle at that, though you correct his steps when he leads with the wrong foot. 

“Okay. It’s about a guy who’s pretty much a player,” you say with a smirk. “His bed has been a revolving door of hot ass, but he keeps thinking about this one woman who used to have him turned inside out…”

Dean’s lips curve at the familiar image you’re conjuring. He manages to turn you under his hand, then pull you back to him in one smooth motion. He looks down at you with a deeper gleam in his eyes. You bite your lip, soothing your hand from his shoulder and down his arm.

As the song’s verses come, you translate for him. And for Dean, your voice in itself is a spell.

“Even in my dreams, he says, I thought I had you devouring me. And I dampened my white sheets remembering you,” you begin. Your words are smooth like black velvet. “In my bed, no one is like you, who draws my body on every corner, without a piece of skin left over.”

Dean is getting hot under the collar as you push away, dragging your fingertips along his back as you turn around him. When you come back into his line of vision, his attention is attracted to the sway of your hips, clad just in those little spandex shorts. He has to clear his throat a bit. 

You eventually return to him with a warm hand against his chest. 

“Ven, devórame otra ves. It means, come devour me again,” you continue, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Come punish me more with your desire. Because I kept my love for you…because my mouth has the taste of your body.” 

You smile at the laser focus of his green-eyed gaze. “Come devour me again.”

You push off with another little spin. When you reach for his hand, Dean yanks you back into him, eliciting a gasp. The move disorients you for a moment, but you giggle and hold onto his arms. Your hands glide up to rest on his shoulders. 

He’s holding you flush against him, and as you shift a thigh between his legs, you unintentionally graze against his hardening length. You look up at him with a smirk.

“You’re a little…stiff,” you say, both flirtatious and teasing. “Let’s loosen you up.”

You shake his shoulders out and try to get him to relax. Dean raises a wry brow, because you know damn well whose fault it is that his body is coiled tight. But you place his hands on your hips as you move back into the dance. 

“Feel what I’m doing there?” you ask. He looks down on you with growing heat.

“If I could do that, we wouldn’t be together,” he rumbles. 

You try to stifle a laugh as he pulls you in close again, just swaying for a bit. Soon enough, you grin knowingly when his hands start to slide lower on your ass. His head bows to yours, ready to meet you with a kiss. 

You stop him with your finger on his lips.

“Question: do you consider yourself more of a tits or ass man?” you ask him. You’re half teasing, but still curious. Dean snorts at the question. 

“More of a connoisseur,” he replies, smirking. 

“Ah.” You nod sagely, and you point between him and yourself. “So this is like a ‘sample the menu’ situation.”

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Sweetheart, you’re a goddamn buffet.”

You splutter laughing…and that’s when he finally pounces. He claims your lips with greedy passion. His hand winds into your hair, gripping tight and ruining what’s left of your loose ponytail. The strands coil around his hand in messy curls while he also gets a healthy grip of your ass through your thin shorts. 

You smile into his lips, even as you acquiesce to him guiding your head to the side, so he can slip his tongue against yours. You grip his arms more for stability while he manhandles you, kneading soft flesh and making pleasant tingles run up your spine. 

After a little while, his mouth burns a hot path away from yours. He noses down your neck, skimming his lips across your skin. It sets your nerve endings on fire and gets you breathing more shallowly in his ear. You cling to the back of his shirt, holding him close. 

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss.

He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds.  

A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck. 

“I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

So you slide your hands down, slow between the dips and planes of muscle in his back, and rest at his hips. Your thumbs delve under the hem of his shirt and tease the skin there. 

And you start slow, pressing wet, nipping kisses of your own to his neck while you inch his shirt up. You feel his smile on your neck. His grip on your hip flares to life. Still, he lets you tug his shirt up and over his head. Your loose shirt comes next, revealing the same black satin and lace bra you wore the first time he ever got you topless in his arms. 

A fan favorite. Dean grins. He reaches around to go for the clasp, but your firm push on his chest takes him by surprise.

He falls back onto the couch with a grunt, looking up at you then with raised brows. You’ve got a mischievous little smirk on your face that heats his blood and makes his cock twitch.

You take out the rest of your falling ponytail, shaking your hair out wild. Then you let your hands drift down your neck, over your clothed breasts, and finally to your little shorts.

Dean rubs his palms down his thighs and watches. A smirk forms across his lips as you slide the fabric down the curve of your hips. It leaves you in a red thong, familiar to him by the little tear it has on the front. (Again, his fault.)

You climb aboard his strong thighs to straddle his lap, using his shoulders as leverage as you sink down. You make sure to rub yourself teasingly against his clothed erection. He groans in appreciation. His hands fly to your soft, thick thighs and squeeze. 

“Aw, I like this,” Dean says, half on another moan as you grind down a bit harder on him. 

“Yeah?” you tease. You take his face in your hands and capture his lips with your own. Your tongue invades his mouth, and he welcomes you with a deep hum. It’s slow and hot at first, but Dean feels the loss of you when you break from his lips.

Instead, you treat him with the same trail of kisses he gave you, along the curve of his jaw and down his neck. But you don’t stop there.

Your hands move over his chest with purpose, tweaking over each hard nipple while your mouth burns a wet line down and down his sternum. Dean groans at your ministrations, but lets you leave his lap to slide down to the ground, between his thighs. 

“What’re you up to, baby?” he asks, despite having a very good idea of it. He catches the playful, yet determined gleam in your eye. 

You pause, briefly leaning back up to give him a heated kiss. You part from him with a grin. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” you ask. “I’m gonna devour you.”

Dean stares hard at you as goosebumps break out across his forearms. 

Oh, fuck yeah. 

A giggle bubbles in your throat at the expression on his face. But you continue, taking his pants down his legs first, before his boxer briefs. 

Dean’s body tenses in anticipation. You’ve gone down on him before, but somehow it’s different this time. He feels like every single one of his nerve endings stands at attention along with his dick. And you’re taking your sweet time working him up. 

Even when his cock is finally free, you sooth your hands down his legs first, maybe teasing him a bit as you drag your nails down his inner thighs. Dean makes a strained sound, though he tries to hide it by clearing his throat.

Your gaze flicks up to his with a little smile. He’s holding the back of the couch; his fingers are digging into the old cushion in effort to keep still for you. But his eyes stare into yours like a man starving. You know what you’re in for after you have your way with him, but for now, he’s quite literally under your control. 

So you take him in your hands first. Dean groans as you tease him with light touches, soft movements, your thumb slowly circling over the sensitive, weeping head of his cock. It's torturous enough to make him drop his head back against the couch, closing his eyes tight.

And suddenly, he blinks them open again.

“Shit,” he utters, when you finally take him into your mouth. Your tongue is soft and wet, your lips move over him steadily, and your hands caress whatever your mouth can’t take, even teasing his balls. 

You work him over relentlessly, until he can’t help but spill everything he has to give into your waiting mouth. When you suck off and swallow whatever remains, Dean’s heart stutters like syncopated conga drums. 

He shudders and struggles for breath afterwards, watching your every movement—from wiping your mouth to shooting him that satisfied little smirk. 

You press one last kiss to the inside of his thigh before you raise from where you’ve been kneeling on the hard ground. 

Dean manages to lean forward and helps you up by your elbows. But then he pulls you back into his lap and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t let up until you’re panting with him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he manages to say. His voice is deep and laced with grit. 

He’s still panting heavily. You giggle and press your warming face into his neck. 

“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”

He brings your face back to him with a hand on your cheek. For a second, he just looks at you. His thumb strokes across your full, thoroughly kissed bottom lip.  

“Say it,” you encourage softly. “Whatever you’re thinking. Right now.”

A smile tugs at his lips. He can’t help but oblige you. 

“You’re too damn much,” he says again, both gruff and fond. Despite how you drive him up the fucking wall sometimes, he doesn't think it'll ever be enough for him, what he has with you.

Because this is something he'd almost given up on. Didn't think he'd get to have it. And it almost scares him, how much he wants you. How much he...

“I love you,” he says. His thumb traces along the familiar curve of your cheek.

It hasn’t been all that long, but he knows. You weaseled your way in without even trying. The least he can do for you is be honest.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding his hand in place. You tilt your head at him.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask. 

Dean hesitates, but he nods. “Yeah.”

A smile grows across your face. “Eh, I’m still on the fence.”

At his flat look, you laugh and lean in for a kiss. He allows it, a little petulantly. But you make up for it with sweet affection. Your gentle hands stroke down the column of his neck, down his chest. You then lean back so he can see your face.

“Yo te amo,” you whisper. “Te amo y te quiero, más que tú puedes creer y entender.”

Dean smiles. He doesn’t understand all of it, but he gets the important bits. He hears it in the tone of your voice. He sees it in your eyes. They shine with emotion, but mainly with love. 

Dean kisses your hand. He lets go, just so he can slip his hands around you to finally unhook your bra. He tosses it across the room without bothering to see where it lands.

You do though, and you meet him with a slightly narrowed gaze. 

“Are you making a mess of my clean bunker?” you tease. 

His lips curve as he kisses you again, while his hands each get a generous handful of your breasts. 

“Ah, hello, ladies." He grins. "Miss me?”

You can’t help but laugh. He’s such a dork sometimes.

But you hum when his thumbs brush over hardened nipples, then drag deliberate circles over them, and pinch just hard enough to make you whimper in pleasure. The sensation zips through you, enhancing the flood between your legs. 

“I fucking love that sound,” Dean mutters, and licks a hot path in the valley between your breasts. His lips move against your dewy skin when he says, “Do that for me again.”

When he takes a nipple in his mouth and nips a bit hard, you have to oblige him. Your voice rising high is music to his ears.  

So he goes for your panties next. You help him get them off and return to his lap. With a breathy moan, you revel at the feeling of his fingers probing into your wet heat.  

However, you and Dean have been too engrossed in one another to notice the door of the bunker unlocking, and heavy steps down the spiral staircase. 

It’s Sam who’s back from his run. Unfortunately, he soon has to shield his eyes upon reaching the living room. 

“Damn it, Dean!”

You yelp in surprise, but Dean laughs and holds you close to shield you from view. As a bonus, it presses your breasts against his chest. 

“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”

Sam scoffs. “You’re having a moment on the goddamn couch!”

“Sorry,” you say, though it’s muffled in Dean’s neck. Your face is red hot with embarrassment. 

Sam rolls his eyes heavenward and tries not to see anything else on his way to his room. 

But Dean’s chuckle reverberates through your chest as his hand goes to your cheek. He encourages you to pull back, so he can see your face again. 

When he does, he smirks at the scarlet blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bite your lower lip, but despite your embarrassment, you’re happy.

Your own words replay in your mind when you lean in for another kiss.

I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand. 

AN: Yay! I hope you enjoyed Part 2 of the “Midnight Espresso”-verse! I loved writing this one so much. I know we're just doing fanfic here, but I genuinely put my heart and soul into this one. ❤️

Also, here are a couple of Spanish translations:

(Note: other Spanish-speaking countries may interpret certain words differently.)

[During their fight]: 

“Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Translation:

“You’re shameless. Keep messing with me, damn it. Then you’re going to see who I am (<- This is Dominican slang. It essentially means fuck around and find out what I'm made of.).”

[Song lyrics: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique]: 

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo.”

Translation:

“I don’t know tomorrow. I don’t know tomorrow. If we’ll be together, if the world will end.”

Keep Reading:

Next in this series is "Chico Malo" ("Bad Boy"):

Summary: You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.

▶️ Next Story: Bad Boy (Chico Malo)

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[wings-of-fire-confessions]

I know that some people in the Wings of Fire fandom complain about how Tui based the IceWings on tiger moms (a stereotype commonly applied to East Asian mothers) and I know that that and the model minority stereotype for Asian-Americans that is common in American media is terribly containing and reduces an entire community to this monolith of mean parents and unhappy, but high-performing children, but I personally like how IceWings are based on my group, even as much as the stereotypes hurt me. You may write this off as dumb, but it's possible to feel proud of something similar to your culture being depicted while disliking how your culture is seen in the media.

When I read about the IceWing experience in canon and fanon, I feel seen. It's probably due to the fact that I've only found one or two books starring East Asian protagonists that I personally feel show the experience I've grown up in and am used to, and even overall AAPI month tends to get overlooked on the social media I use (tumblr). Now I'm just wofbrained enough to project on fictional dragons because they've been based on a stereotype that gets applied to my community. You'd think that I need to touch grass and search for more books, but I'm happy that IceWings and I have something in common.

Nowhere else do you see the portrayal of feeling both locked and contained in the identity that everyone else has imposed upon you, and so has your community, and so has your parents, and so have you imposed on yourself, but also proud of it when the concrete results come in, all the As, all the comments that you're high-performing. There's the portrayal of feeling that some aspects of that identity are something to be proud of, but there are also the darker parts that you know are bad: the bigotry (where parents say the racist things out loud, straight to your face), the constant competition, the empty feeling from complying with your parents wishes and the fact that you've been doing it for so long that you don't even know your own. There's the feeling of always being inadequate in comparison to your peers. There's the feeling of occasionally wondering what it would be like to not be part of your group, and just be happy with Bs and be able to have a social life and actually hang out with friends outside of school.

While people say that Tui made the IceWings stereotypical as hell, I like what she did with her IceWing protagonists and other characters. We see Winter, who lost his family, but can do what he wants as a scavenger researcher, which is something that feels like a realistic possibility in my community- pursuing your dreams, but losing familial support. But, he can follow his dreams. We see Crystal, who ran away to be with Gharial, a MudWing, and it's reminds me of how falling in love with someone that you community says you shouldn't have but being happy with them is possible. There's Lynx, who reminds me of the classmates that I should have competed against, but became friends with instead. There are all the Caribous, who show the more fun parts of IceWing culture outside the palace, where IceWing dragonets sing and read and listen to stories and eat together, which shows that the IceWings aren't a monolith. There's Glacier, who genuinely loved her daughters, even though she was likely distant from them as a queen, which shows how beneath the strictness, the love is there, even if it's not apparent at first. There's Snowfall, who's from the younger generation and wants to change things for the IceWings. While Tui initially wrote the IceWings based on stereotypes associated with East Asian-Americans, her IceWing characters show how they're much more than that. To me, that reminds me in a way that we student, second-gen children of East Asian immigrants are more vibrant and faceted than how media paints us (emotionless, uncreative, studious, deferent to authority, etc etc).

Now, I'm going to say that not everything that IceWings do is what Asian-Americans do. I haven't heard of anyone making their son kill the other one to regain their status. Given how people like to reblog these confessions and openly address the anons with their disagreements and this ask will probably get a bunch of accusations directed at it that weren't part of my original intention, I would like to reiterate that this ask is my personal opinion as one Asian-American out of the 19.9 million+ of them here. If you personally disagree, please direct me to all the way better forms of representation that I know are out there but can't find so I can stop projecting on fictional dragons. Someone wrote on tumblr how what's empowering to one person comes off as demeaning to the next when it comes to representation. Thank you for receiving my confession that wouldn't do well at all off anon. That is why this blog is here.

.

[tkomptgoedluv]

icantbelieveiletyougetaway.

joost klein x f! reader

tags: dead dove do not eat, f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, they’re so in love with each other it hurts but can’t admit it, joost just wants to be her everything, angst, hurt, comfort, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 4,156.

warnings: very brief allusion to drugging, heavy and frequent references to SA, violence, vague mentions of non-specific mental illness, rpf.

notes: in my head this takes place in 2021-2022 when joost had that really short, almost buzzcut like hair? like the wachtmuziek era. also, very sorry this is late!! it’s still only been half-proofread and i’m not even sure i like how i wrote the ending but here she is anyway. i love her and i hope you do too 💋.

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ── ── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ── ── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

with shaking hands, you fumbled around the bathroom floor to find your phone. your chest was heaving, the cries that you struggled to keep quiet were getting all caught up in your throat as you fought meekly through the nausea. you wiped at your face again, desperate to clear your vision and leaving behind a mixture of tears, snot, and smeared mascara on the back of your hand.

the room itself was dark, barely lit up by a singular dim, yellow light, though despite the shadows you could still see how everything was spinning. you couldn’t remember how many drinks you’d had — it hadn’t felt like a lot, you weren’t a lightweight by any means but you didn’t know how else to explain the state you were in. you couldn’t stand up even if you wanted to, your legs strangely numb to the touch and the pounding in your head made staying on the floor all the more appealing anyway.

face down on the grimey, tiled floor you found your phone laying just underneath the sink. you ignored the low battery warning as you swiped through your contacts, squinting through your tears at the screen as if it would actually help you see any better. you were only looking out for one name; the third out of the four that were listed under the letter ‘J’, and the only name to have an emoji next to it.

over the sound of the heavy, techno bass that seemed to shake the walls and the buzz of a hundred different people all talking amongst each other, you heard the line start to dial. it didn’t make sense to call him out of everyone else that could possibly help you; he was infamously known for never picking up the phone. it was ironic for someone so notoriously attached to their screens, his face typically glued to either his phone or his ipad.

but still, you hadn’t so much as thought twice about it as you clicked on his contact and then the call button. With your head tilted back against the wall and your knees curled up tightly against your chest, you prayed to any god listening that by some miracle, he wouldn’t be busy.

“hallo?”

you let out a whimper at the mere sound of his voice, a small, pathetic noise that quickly turned into a cry that you didn’t bother to stifle. he called out your name for a second time, though now in a tone that was much softer than the one before it.

“i’m sorry, i know it’s late.” you paused to take a breath, your voice having cracked like glass as you spoke. “but i need your help. i don’t…joost, i don’t know what to do.”

“it’s okay, just take a big breath for me.” for just a moment you heard shuffling around on the other end of the line. with each of his footsteps the background noise grew quieter until it disappeared completely, following the sound of a door being shut. “where are you?”

“i’m at…i’m at this house but i uh, i really don’t wanna be here anymore. do you think you could…can you just come get me, please? i’m sorry.”

over the sound of a drum and bass beat that played so obnoxiously loud, you struggled to catch all the whispers from joost’s side of the phone call. there was another voice there, that much you could hear, and you struggled to place it despite how familiar it sounded. you tried to concentrate on the faint muttering, straining your ears to hear it over the song that blared just below you.

but then you jumped when the banging started. a sudden flurry of fists pounding against the wood and making the bathroom door rattle within its hinges. from the deep laughs that followed, chances were it was just a group of guys trying to be funny, probably thinking it was one of their friends getting lucky on the other side. and yet still, you found yourself gasping for breath as you choked back fresh tears, all the blood that ran through your veins turning cold.

“schatje? did you hear me?”

you could only hum back in response.

“i said i need you to send me your location, okay? and then i’ll come get you, i promise.”

it was the moment you figured out how to do so that your phone finally gave up on you. after hitting send, the little map displaying your whereabouts popping up in yours and joost’s text chain, your screen began to freeze. in a moment of panic you managed to choke out that you were locked away in a bathroom before it all went black, leaving you to stare at the taunting dead battery symbol.

you weren’t oblivious to the irony of it all. in a house crammed full of people, perhaps even a few too many than it was built to hold, you felt alone. just a few minutes ago that was all you wanted, to be by yourself, but now it left you with a ringing in your ears. the absence of joost’s voice was enough to throw you inside what felt like a black hole, where time seemed to slow the longer you waited for him.

you found a brief comfort in watching the time pass on the old, analog clock that hung high on the wall opposite you; you figured it was a better thing to focus on besides the sharp ache between your legs. it helped keep you distracted from the way everything just hurt now, whatever it was that was in your system already starting to wear off. without it numbing you to the pain of it all, you could feel the headache brewing behind your eyes and the sting of your split lip.

with each minute that dragged by, the slow, high-pitched tick of the clock echoing inside your ears, your mind began to slip further and further away. every time that you closed your eyes you could see it happening all over again; you could feel his hands back on you, ripping at your clothes and bruising your skin.

all the tears that you had only just managed to blink away came rushing back, continuing to decorate your face with more long, dark streaks of black. surely, this was going to be the thing to finally break you. there would never be any redemption or recovery for you — he’d get to live the rest of his life without burden whilst this was bound to be the death of you.

the more you unravelled, the more erratic your cries grew with hiccups racking your body and a deep burning in your eyes. for once you found yourself grateful for the music’s mind-numbing volume, though somehow it still wasn’t enough to mask the sound of a soft tapping against the bathroom door. like a coward you froze, failing to answer back before you heard your own name being yelled out to you, followed by a harsher knock.

“hey it’s me, it’s joost. can you open the door please?”

as you steadily climbed to your feet, using the edge of the sink to help push you up, your knees began to shake. they threatened to buckle out from under you with every step that you took, each limp towards the door sending a short stabbing pain up to your abdomen. the sensation made you wince, your jaw clenched and a grip on the door handle so strong that it turned your knuckles white.

it was almost sardonic how despite being in a house so loud, everything went quiet as soon as that door swung open. the music never stopped nor did anyone dare to change its volume, but all joost could hear was his own heartbeat thumping in his ears as his eyes met yours. all he could do was swallow, pushing down the bile that was quickly rising up his throat.

even in the low, warm light of the bathroom, he could see the streaked mascara that painted your face and the bloodied lip that was still trickling down your chin. your favourite shirt, the one that he himself had bought you, was torn and just about hanging off your shoulders. it exposed a trail of black and blue spots that started along your shoulder and went all the way down your arms, a couple even dotted down your legs.

joost uttered your name, his voice barely audible over the music downstairs. the corners of your frown twitched, your bottom lip quivering as you shook your head, already answering the question he hadn’t even asked yet. from where you stood he could see you shaking, your knees weak and barely holding you up right. he didn’t hesitate to pull you into him, an arm locking around your waist as his hand found the back of your head, keeping you hidden in his chest.

“jesus christ, what happened to you?”

you couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the right words to even try and explain what it was you had gone through. you could only weep into the fabric of joost’s jacket, so exhausted and overwhelmed that you didn’t have the strength to hold yourself together in front of him. but it was more than enough of an answer for joost who just held you tighter the harder you cried, fighting back tears of his own.

pulling away as gently as he could, joost still kept you in his grasp. his hands cupped either side of your jaw, calloused thumbs wiping away stray-fallen tears as his eyes danced over your face. with a gaze so intense, you could see his eyes growing sadder the longer he looked you over in the dull light of the bathroom.

“i left stunts outside — he’s still in the car. we could…we should go to the hospital.”

“no!” your own dramatic change in tone caught even you off guard. you couldn’t help it, you were panicking now, pulling joost back by his sleeve as he tried to guide you out of the bathroom. the action made you wobble and almost trip over your own feet, flinching at the sudden cramp you felt deep in your stomach. joost’s grip on you hardened, not nearly enough to hurt but enough to keep you from falling back and hitting your head on the sink. “not tonight. please, i just wanna go home. i’ll be fine.”

“you can barely fucking stand, schatje. you need help.”

“then i promise i’ll go in the morning! but right now i just really need you to take me home, okay? i’m begging you.”

perhaps if joost had a little bit more of a backbone and wasn’t so hopelessly head over fucking heels for you, he would’ve had the courage to say no. he would have been able to look you in the eye and still say that he was going to get you to a doctor, whether you wanted to go or not. but no matter how much he wanted to, how much he hated what you were asking of him, he couldn’t. feeling you trembling in his hands and hearing the fear that shook your voice meant there was longer a single thing that joost wouldn’t do for you.

you were his best friend just as much as he was yours, regardless of all the very non-platonic things the two of you had done together over the years. as far as you were concerned it was just something that you’d do sometimes, only ever as friends. there were never any conversations about it the next morning, never any acknowledgment for what it was you had done the night before; it was almost like it never happened until it would undoubtedly happen again. you always liked it like that though — as long as it meant that you never had to think about how you really felt.

joost, on the other hand, was painfully aware of what he felt about your situation, about you. it was never just sex for him, not even once, and he wanted to talk about it. and he tried to, a couple of times, spending the first few mornings after trying to coax you back into bed just so he could hold you skin-to-skin for a little while longer. but you never wanted to stay and you never wanted to talk about it, either, so joost stopped. he let it become another pain he had to live with and spent each day telling himself that he was okay with that.

it was with only a slight hesitation that he nodded before standing back up straight, slipping his big black jacket off his arms and draping the material gently over your shoulders.

you let joost take on most of your weight as you leaned into his side, letting him guide you back through the house as you focused on just trying to make it down the stairs without tripping. to say that the place was packed was an understatement. people were crammed into every room like sardines, dancing and grinding against each other with stiff, swinging jaws. you hadn’t even heard what it was that had been said over the music, its volume still just as loud and disorienting as it had been when you first arrived.

but joost had heard every word, somehow, despite the sound of his own song polluting the room. it made him freeze on the spot, pulling you to a stop right along with him as he slowly turned to face the group of guys that were standing just in front of the front door. you felt your throat start to close at the sight of him amongst them, standing front and centre with a sick grin plastered across his face, his eyes darting between you and joost.

“what did you just say?”

it might have been the gruff, nauseating voice that you recognised, or maybe it was those ring-heavy hands of his that you could still feel pressed into your skin. you didn’t know, and it didn’t matter, because you knew it was him.

“i said good luck with that one, dude. she doesn’t go down easy; kept trying to fight me the whole time.” his stare then fell from joost onto you, his tongue gliding over his bottom lip as he looked you up and down. “but we still had our fun though, didn’t we schat?”

the crack of joost’s knuckles colliding with his jaw was something you heard before you saw it; the thud of him hitting the ground following soon after. a chorus of screams and cheers rang painfully in your ears as you watched a small circle quickly form around you. anyone that could still see straight had either ran from the fight or pushed forward to get a better view of it, their phones held high and already recording.

“bet that made you feel like a man, huh? forcing yourself on a girl half your size. you piece of fucking shit, i should fucking kill you!”

in all the years you’d known him, you had never seen joost like that before; his voice low and angry as his shouts drowned out the music. he hadn’t waited for him to get back up before throwing another punch, the sharp crunch of his noise breaking making you wince and your eyes water.

you went to step forward, your hands already reaching out to grab joost’s arm when one of his friends pounced. a shriek was ripped out from you when a fist struck joost right across the cheek, knocking him into you hard enough to almost send you both tumbling to the floor. any chance for you to try and intervene again vanished when you were pushed back before you could get close enough, joost quickly shoving you behind him as he swung for the other guy.

a strong pair of arms wrapped your middle and pulled you further back as you cried for them all to stop, keeping you locked against their chest no matter how hard you thrashed. distance was put between you and the fight when you were picked up and half-dragged out the door, joost’s blond hair disappearing from sight amongst the growing crowd around him.

the bitter air of the early morning stole your breath, your chest tight and aching as the cold consumed you. small flakes of snow drifted down from the paleing sky, dusting each rooftop and the old, cracked pavements in a thin layer of white. still, there were a handful of people gathered on the house’s front stairs, clad in various leather and latex, that only stood and watched as you were hauled away from the party.

“get the fuck off me! we’ve gotta go back, we can’t just leave him! stuntje, please!”

your feet only met the floor again once you were next to stunt’s car, safely across the street. even from there, you could hear the childish chanting of ‘fight! fight! fight!’ and the occasional glass break from inside.

“martijn -”

“- stay here; i’m gonna go get him.”

you weren’t allowed to argue, so you just did what you were told. for four minutes you sat waiting in the back of the car with the heaters on full blast and still shivering as you nestled yourself deeper into joost’s jacket. after another minute you saw them heading back your way, their pace fast as they slipped past the last few people that loitered on the steps. in the glow of the streetlights you could just about make out the soft shade of purple that was joost’s eye, and the deep scowl that contorted stuntje’s face.

neither of them spoke as they joined you in the car but for joost, you never really gave him the chance to. his seatbelt hadn’t even clicked into place yet before you were turning away from him, desperate to pretend that he wasn’t there burning holes into the side of your head. if joost knew that you could see him staring from the corner of your eye, he didn’t care. if anything, he probably would’ve hoped that it might have made you look back at him, because then that at least would’ve been something.

but seeing joost storm out of that house with a violet eye and raw knuckles, having just risked everything for you without a second thought, it scared you more than you wanted to admit. he was only supposed to come find you, and bring you back home. you never wanted a fight, never wanted joost to wind up with a black eye over you. so no, you couldn’t look at him — couldn’t even talk to him, either.

except your silent treatment didn't last very long, did it? it couldn’t, because joost wasn’t going to let you get away with it this time. for as long as he had known you, you always had this habit of internalising what you felt and shutting down. it never mattered what it was you were going through, you just wouldn’t talk about it.

this time though, he wasn’t going to let you disappear in on yourself again, and he wasn’t going to let you shut him out, either.

as soon as the car came to a stop, joost was up and already outside your car door. with a sweet smile, gentle hands were pulling you up and slowly helping you onto your feet before you had the chance to protest. there was a part of you that wanted to, now too proud to admit that you still needed his help. already, he had done more than enough, even too much, for you.

still, you didn’t dare to fight it — or him, rather. besides a small goodbye to stuntje, no words were spoken as he slipped an arm under your knees and pulled you up to his chest. it was like that, that he carried you up the three flights of stairs of your building, glancing down at you every so often with soft, worried eyes. it was miraculous how he managed to open your front door with you still in his arms, his very own key to your home dangling from the clip on his jeans.

it wasn’t long before the soft leather of your sofa was dipping underneath your weight, its cushion beneath you feeling cold against the bruised flesh of your thigh. joost left you for only a second, just to switch on a couple of the lamps you had dotted around and to dig out your old first aid kit from the bathroom.

you still weren’t really looking at him, not even as he perched on the edge of your coffee table and carefully took your jaw in his hold. the brush of the alcohol wipes along the small cuts that marked your face stung and made you wince, your nose scrunching up at the pain. a string of quiet apologies followed as joost concentrated on cleaning you up, wiping away each and every smear of blood and smudged makeup.

the longer that you sat there whilst joost devoted all of his time and energy to you, the more teary-eyed you felt yourself becoming again. it felt almost…foreign to feel so loved after everything, like you were still somehow worth saving. there was no way that you could possibly deserve it — nothing you could’ve done to deserve having someone adore you so unconditionally without earning it.

and yet here he was, your joost, doing anything and everything to try and help, and you couldn’t even fucking look at him.

the only thing you could do was cry. the way you clutched your mouth did little to muffle the sounds of your distress and it drew back his attention after he turned away only to throw out all of the dirty, used wipes. it was the guilt that was doing this to you, the guilt of knowing that you were the reason why joost now had a black eye. that joost had risked his whole career by starting that fight, and you had been the one to punish him for it.

a warm hand squeezed your knee as another tucked fallen strands of hair behind your ear. it took a few tries of quietly calling out your name to finally get you to meet his eyes, but eventually you got there. nothing could have prepared you for just how sick he looked, the bags under his eyes seeming considerably darker than before and a deep frown tugging at the corners of his lips.

“i’m sorry i did this. i never should’ve gone with him, i know i shouldn’t have because i know that i know better but i still went and i should’ve done something more, i could’ve hit him harder or yelled, and i’m sorry i called you because your eye, that was me, that was my fault and i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i -”

with your face pressed flat against his chest, his sudden embrace almost swallowing you whole, you couldn’t find the rest of your slurred, blubbering words. somehow, at some point, joost manoeuvred you both onto the sofa and with his arms around you, kept you curled up against his side. a few fingers moved up the back of your neck to scratch your scalp as others held onto your hip.

it was the only thing he could think to do to shut you up, to calm you down enough to take big, slow breaths, in and out.

he didn’t have it in him to let you finish that sentence.

delicate reassurances were mumbled into your hair, quiet ‘you’re okay’’s and faint ‘it wasn’t your fault’’s becoming mantras that helped soothe the pain in your chest. you wanted to believe him and knew that you didn’t. you knew that as the deep baritone of his whispers slowly lulled you to sleep, you’d wake up with that pain still very much there.

but joost wasn’t going to stop trying anytime soon, noor was he going anywhere. it was one of the few things you’d actually let him do for you, making himself a home on your sofa whenever you would have one of your episodes. he’d sleep there, eat there, work there. sometimes joost would spend entire weeks of his life in your living room just so that he could know for sure you were still alive and breathing.

he was the only thing offering you the slightest bit of comfort. you could feel his fingers running through your hair as you curled up even further into his side, his voice still low in your ear. it was becoming to struggle just to keep your eyes open, but you knew that he wouldn’t mind.

you could fall asleep just to wake up with that same ache in your heart still there, but joost would still be there too. for now, that was all you needed.

[rin-solo]

Finally, I am happy to present to you my ...

EPIC: THE MUSICAL | ACT I [Character Design project]

I have been working on these for a long time and I am very happy with how these turned out. I am a huge fan of visual character design and I simply needed to do a full lineup.

Act II will follow shortly (it is all done except for Ithaca Saga, which I will add as soon as it drops.) Please enjoy, and read below for some thoughts and background on some of my design choices!

TROY | CYCLOPS ft. Odysseus, Athena, Eurylochus, and Polites

With Odysseus, I really wanted to emphasize his free spirit in this era and mark him as Athena's warrior, so I gave him a special belt and some armbands that represent her (this was inspired by some of @mircsy's work). He also has heterochromia; his left eye is green, representing his cunning, wisdom, and spirit; his right eye is gray, representing his ruthlessness and warrior side.

I simply love Athena in purple/gold. Her mask is a symbol of her invulnerability and comes off only during "My Goodbye" when Odysseus tells her that she's alone. Her cape can also transform into wings, and her eyes are actually golden without the mask.

I had to give Eurylochus his large anime sword (it's just as heavy as it looks but he likes it that way because that means no one besides him is strong enough to wield it ... I imagine Eurylochus can bench press at least Odysseus' and Polites' weights combined. He and Polites are also wearing variants of Odysseus' armor, indicating that they belong to the same army.

Listen, I can vibe with Eurylochus' giant sword but I draw the line at Polites with glasses, sorry. He still gets the hairband, of course. He's also dressed more casually, and without a weapon, because of his pacifistic outlook. He's the physically weakest among the trio by far but also still an inch taller than Odysseus (it's fine, Odysseus is still like 5'10, his friends are just all so freaking tall...)

OCEAN ft. Aeolus, Poseidon, and Odysseus

Not gonna lie, I LOVED designing Aeolus' outfit. She's playful and mischievous and loves to hang out in the clouds all day; her outfit is probably made out of clouds let's be real. Also yes, her image on the windbag moves to make cheeky faces.

Poseidon I cannot imagine without tentacles anymore thanks to @gigizetz's "Ruthlessness", idk it just fits him so well. He definitely got all dressed up to go and sink Odysseus' fleet that day, he has a reputation, you know? And he just likes the shiny gold and accessories; the ocean is full of them so why wouldn't he?

Since breaking up with Athena, Odysseus lost her belt and armbands. He's still wearing her brooch because he couldn't bring himself to fully throw that away as well yet. Polites' hairband around his wrist reminds him of what he's fighting for and what to live by ... for now (Poseidon is about to ruin this man's whole career...)

CIRCE | UNDERWORLD ft. Circe, Hermes, and Tiresias

I wanted to give Circe the "witch" vibe while putting a Greek spin on it and I actually adore her design. She seems both immortally youthful (something I aim for with all my god designs) and motherly. There she was, gathering some herbs when a bunch of strangers crash onto her island ... Oh well, at least this man was a good man this time.

Hermes is kind of just Hermes. I wanted to keep him shaded, a bit impish, and definitely up to no good. He's wearing the contrasting colors on purpose, by the way. And yes, his hat can fly on its own ... But for it to do that he'd have to actually be willing to show his face which he seldom does unless he really trusts you.

Tiresias is a soul, so he has the same kind of ageless youth as all my gods (something that goes for souls of dead people too, since I like to think they get to appear at whatever age they want after death.) He's looking a bit regal since he's a prophet, so I imagine regarded highly, even in the Underworld. Instead of the blindfold, his hood covers his face, adorned with a symbolic eye to identify him and his skill.

***

Well, that's it for ACT I, friends, I hope you liked these! I will upload ACT II asap. Please comment and/or tell me your thoughts about my designs! And feel free to ask any questions you may have! I would love to talk more about these.