#Honestly I don't think context can save this one

[zuko-always-lies]

OK? You kind of acknowledged I was right on this point, as far as I can tell? That Ozai reaction's to finding out the Avatar wasn't dead wasn't to instantly go into "murder son" mode? Even threatening Zuko with it here is transparently an effort to control Zuko through fear, because that's how Ozai rules. Honestly I don't think Ozai actually decides he wants to kill Zuko into way, way later in the confrontation, but of course we can't know the precise moment. I will say I think everyone kind of misunderstands why Zuko got exiled in the context of Fire Nation culture...it wasn't really for speaking out of turn, it was for refusing to fight to back up his words when challenged.

Again, I think we mostly agree here. To some degree I think Zuko clings to his status as response to the abuse he faced. The only thing I'd say is that I think being a prince and being crown prince would still be absolutely central to Zuko's identity, even if he wasn't abused at all, due to Zuko being raised as royalty and due to his personality.

Nothing Zuko ever does is coldly rational. Every decision he makes, for good or ill, is highly tinged with emotions. In part, that makes people more sympathetic to him, but doing bad things because he is, say, in the middle of a tantrum doesn't make him any better of a person than if he did bad things because he was coldly calculating what would be most advantageous to him.

I don't think Ozai would be anyways as suspicion as you think. Fundamentally, early Book 3 Ozai has bought into the notion that Zuko is now someone worthy of pride. In any case, it merely a suggestion that there were other choices Zuko could make rather than try to murder someone who had saved his life multiple times.

Kind of as an aside, "killing the Avatar" was not the only reason Ozai accepted Zuko back:

Ozai: I am proud of you, Prince Zuko. I am proud because you and your sister conquered Ba Sing Se. I am proud because when your loyalty was tested by your treacherous uncle, you did the right thing and captured the traitor. And I am proudest of all of your most legendary accomplishment: you slayed the Avatar.

Azula also told Ozai that Zuko was integral to capturing Ba Sing Se and that Zuko captured Iroh. Those are half-truths, at best, but they served Azula's purpose of getting Zuko back in favor and making sure Ozai doesn't regard Zuko as a traitor.

Moving beyond that, I don't think you fundamentally understand what Azula wanted out of her relationship with Zuko at this point nor what her objectives are, but this is really not the ideal thread to discuss those topics.

Also:

She orders the violent occupation of Ba Sing Se. She weaponizes the Dai Li to suppress an entire city.

Those are not war crimes. I really hate doing war crime discussions of fictional works for a variety of reasons, but those acts specifically are not war crimes under any possible definition of the matter. There is no system of military ethics in which "occupying the enemy capital city during a war" is a criminal act. I do not think any sort of production discussion of this sort of matter is possible unless you gain a much better understanding of what "war crimes" are, conceptually. Which is fine, because no one in ATLA acts according to modern treaties on war crimes anyways.

Just thinking about how Zuko hired an assassin to kill the person who had saved Zuko's life, twice, just because Aang being dead was convenient to Zuko. I don't mean to hate on Zuko here, but if Azula had done it, people would talk endlessly about how it "proved" that she was a psychopath.

[goldenbrowns]

somebody else || bucky barnes x reader || part one

proofread and edited by @d4nshyp3r ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

summary: on his 54th birthday, tony stark goes all out and chooses to take all of the avengers to one of his ridiculously many vacation houses, this one in hawaii. given that you're now seeing a guy, you choose to extend an invitation to him so you can spend these two weeks together, enjoying paradise. the only issue is how much bucky randomly despises this new guy, he considers him impossibly annoying, as well as your odd idea to take him on the vacation. after a few days, you notice buckys made it his mission to shoo the guy away...

authors note: im aware how much of a bully I made bucky out to be, but idc. also pls beware of cringy drunk bucky. idk if its obvious but "somebody else" by the 1975 was what loomed up this whole fic into existence.

ʚ "so I heard you found somebody else, and at first, I thought it was a lie." ʚ "but I hate to think about you with somebody else, our love has gone cold, you're intertwining your soul with somebody else"

word count: 10k (yeah...)

pairings: bucky barnes x afab!reader, reader x random guy.

warnings: making out, dirty talking, dry humping, drunk!bucky, cheating, alcohol consumption, bucky is a huge bully, swearing, implied sexual encounters, sexual themes discussed

part one — part two (unreleased)

If you've known Tony Stark for a while, you wouldn't be shocked to receive an invitation to his fifty-fourth birthday celebration. For you, regular birthdays are like Christmas for him; he goes all out. For context, last year he invited you —and maybe another 300 people— to the tower's rooftop, where he had Prefab Sprout and Hall & Oates perform. He still insists that wasn't even his best work. As if it were nothing, this year Tony is taking everyone out to his vacation house in Hawaii. Private jet, casual tickets, a beach house bigger than your entire block, and a DJ flown in from Europe —you know, casual.

The rest of the crew will also be there. Pretty much everyone who's ever saved the world at least once: Steve, Natasha, Sam, Bucky, and the list goes on. Honestly, it's like you're automatically on the guest list if you've ever been punched by an alien, a Hydra agent, or if you're just someone's plus one. And since Tony said you could bring whoever you wanted —his exact words being, "the more the merrier, as long as they’re not boring"— you figured… why not invite Mark? It’s a free trip to Hawaii, he’s cool, and honestly, it’ll be nice to have someone around who doesn’t treat saving the world like it's just another Tuesday.

You met Mark a while back, maybe two or three months ago, at a dive bar in Manhattan. You two clicked pretty quickly. You vividly remember dancing to at least three cheesy 90’s songs with him. Some of the night is a blur, sure, but you remember staying until maybe two in the morning before the bar closed. After that, disgustingly drunk, you shared a cigarette outside, and he asked for your number before walking away. Of course, the only thing you're a little nervous about now is not just the fact that you're bringing a goddamn accountant to casually meet the Avengers, but you also worry because your friends could be a little nosy; especially Sam and Steve who saw you as a little sister. Not to mention Wanda will probably hog him to know everything about how you met. Either way, it’s nothing serious between you and Mark. You haven't made anything official; you still don't even know what to call it... whatever it is you two have.

Anyways, you’re definitely not in any kind of panic. Nope, of course not. It's simply Hawaii. Ocean, sun, and, if Tony’s bartenders aren't paying close attention, maybe a few too many drinks to distract you from the chaos you willingly signed up for. Just a good time with old friends who also happen to be, you know, the most powerful heroes on Earth. Like you always say: casual.

At this point, you're just praying Mark doesn’t get overwhelmed and start asking for autographs. Or worse, that Bucky doesn’t pick this exact moment to be weird and broody about everything, and Thor decides to bring up your deepest, most humble moments, which he tends to do while drinking. Either way, you’re sticking to the plan: drink something fruity, sit somewhere sunny, swim a little, and... take a deep breath.

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The flight to Hawaii is just another part of the whole Tony Stark experience — private jet, full amenities, and absolutely no lines at the airport. It's hard to care about the fact that you're flying in a plane big enough to fit a small city when you're sprawled out in a leather chair with a cocktail in hand. The crew’s doing their usual thing: Steve's reading a first edition of The Great Gatsby (not even trying to fit in anymore), Sam — although you can barely see him sitting at the back — is scrolling through his phone, watching memes at full volume, Peter has about three books spread out on his table while he hunches over his MacBook, cramming for a test he has tomorrow (because even though Tony sent a note to excuse him from high school, he still has to do online work), Thor is knocked out in his seat, jaw basically unhinged, drooling all over his blanket, and the birthday boy himself is up in the cockpit, already tipsy and arguing with the pilot to let him fly the plane.

"I bought the plane, slackjaw! And you're really not gonna let me fly it, you twerp?" he yells.

Bucky and a bunch of others are sitting at the back of the plane, so you can't exactly tell what he's up to, but somehow, you can feel his gaze boring into poor Mark’s head. You remember a few hours ago, when you and Mark were making your way to the access gateway, you could feel Bucky’s eyes following you from a few feet away. He was standing at the base of the stairs, arms crossed, looking... off. Not exactly angry, but definitely too focused. It's the kind of look he gets when he's calculating something in his head — probably sizing Mark up like he's some kind of threat, even though Mark was too busy clumsily adjusting his carry-on, kicking it down the runway like a stray soccer ball.

Bucky was staring at Mark, and you felt the weight of it. It wasn’t just a glance; it was a lingering look, one that didn’t quite settle, like he was trying to figure out what exactly was going on between you two. You don’t know if it was jealousy or something else, but it was heavy enough to make the air feel tighter than it should have. You could almost hear his thoughts: Who’s this guy? What’s his angle? What hole did this jerk crawl out of?

Whatever. You’re not about to let him get in the way of something new. You’d be pretty damn stupid if you did. That night in the tower so many months ago was just a drunken mistake and you didn’t give it much thought, so neither would he, right? You glance to your right and see Mark leaning against the window, sound asleep. You press a soft kiss to his cheek and run your fingers gently through his hair.

Unfortunately, the two cocktails you had earlier are starting to catch up with you. With a groan, you get up, looking for a bathroom. You approach Tony — who is very clearly drunk at this point — and ask, "Hey Tony, sorry, where's the bathroom?" He peeks at you from under his tinted glasses, swishes one finger around lazily in the air, and points toward the cockpit.

"Try the cockpit, there's a piece of shit flying the plane anyway," he slurs, running a hand through his hair.

Pepper, sitting right beside him, swats his hand away and gives you an apologetic look.

"Right down there, sweetie," she says kindly. "Just walk down the aisle."

As you head down the aisle, you finally get a full view of everyone — those at the front, and those tucked into the back. You near the bathrooms and you spot Bucky. He’s sitting with his arms crossed, headphones on, and his eyes closed. But you can tell he’s not really asleep; a second ago he was scratching at his beard and scrunching up his nose. Sam, sitting next to him, is still cracking up at memes on his phone.

When Sam catches a glimpse of you, he calls out, "Y/n, please look at this!"

You bend toward him to check it out — it’s a ridiculous cat compilation on Instagram reels, of course — and you laugh, telling him it’s funny. But as you go to straighten back up, you notice Bucky has cracked one eye open, squinting at you and tilting his head like he’s still trying to figure you out.

You probably linger there a second longer than you should, because he lifts an arm from his chest and points behind you.

"Bathrooms are back there, pretty sure," he says casually.

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It feels like entering a dream when you finally touch down in Hawaii and get off the plane. The first thing that hits you is the warm air, not too hot, just the ideal tropical wind. Tony's massive, stunning summer home, which looks like it belongs on a magazine cover, towers over you. The entire compound, perched on a cliff on the side of a mountain with amazing views of the ocean for miles in all directions, is more than just a beach house. The main living area has a pool that spills over into an oceanfront view, the kind of pool that looks like it belongs in a resort. Cushioned lounge chairs dot the edge of the deck, and there’s a bar tucked in the corner, ready for whatever drink anyone might need. It’s calm, almost serene, except for the occasional burst of laughter or someone screaming.

You drop your bags in your rooms, each of you claiming your space in the massive house. Bucky’s room is tucked away at the far end, quiet and away from the chaos. He’s quick to throw his stuff down and head out, as always.

Once you and Mark are all set, you meet up in the main area. Tony’s already got a drink in hand, cracking jokes. Steve is adjusting his bathing suit by the hem, and Natasha is looking through her beach bag, trying to find her sunglasses. Bucky, who is standing right behind Steve with Sam, also has a drink in hand, something unbelievably fruity for the incredibly macho man holding it. Bucky, Sam, and Steve are all belly laughing about something. Sam arched, holding on to his belly with one hand and with the other grabbing onto his knee, trying to catch his breath.

Either Steve or Tony says something about hurrying up, and everybody starts making their way to the buggies, which fit four people each. You all hurry to get in and speed off excited to see the beach, getting there in about five minutes.

The second you hit the beach, you drop into a lounge chair without thinking, sinking into it like you’ve been waiting your whole life for this. The sun’s still clinging to everything, warm and lazy. Natasha drops into the chair next to you, all cool indifference.

Without saying a word, she pulls a bottle of wine from under her beach bag and sets it between you with a grin. "Borrowed it from the bar," she says, way too proud of herself. She pulls two glasses from a bag like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You take one, and you toast silently, stretching your legs out toward the ocean, watching the waves roll in. Vision is somewhere in the sand, reading a book with Wanda in his arms. Peter, poor guy, is still spread out in the sand studying with a calculator in hand. And finally, Pepper is rubbing sunscreen on Tony's back so that he can take a dip.

Down near the water, Steve’s hurling a flying disc across the sand, Sam and Thor laughing while Bruce struggles to keep up, poor guy is basically tripping on his own feet every few throws. It’s chaotic, loud, familiar. Steve calls Mark over, waving him into the game, and you know that if there was someone who was going to make Mark feel at home, it was going to be him. Mark glances at you for permission, but you just lift your glass in a lazy cheers. 

"Go ahead. I’ll survive," you tell him, smiling into your drink.

As he jogs off, almost instantly the lounge chair beside you dips under the weight of someone new. Bucky drops into it with a grunt, lounging back. He glances sideways at you, the corner of his mouth twitching up. Without looking at his face, you can make out the smugness in it. "Settling in real nice, huh?" he says, voice low and a little too close, like he’s in on some joke you haven’t caught yet. Clearly poking fun at poor Mark.

"Sorry?" you say, holding back a laugh. He bends his elbows and places both of his hands behind his head as he straightens his back and looks at the game in front of him.

"Oh, just you know... Uhm—" he points forward with one finger and swishes it around in the air, and snaps his fingers like he's looking for an answer.

"Mark?" you say, answering his unvoiced question.

"Yeah! That guy... Where did you find him? Was he on clearance or...?" he answers back with genuine confusion on his face, almost like he's worried.

"No, Bucky, I didn't find my boyfriend on clearance," you answer back to him with a smirk, obviously amused at his humor, but deep down feeling bad that those things are being said about him.

Bucky flips his head for a second to look over at you with squinting eyes from the sun. "Oh, boyfriend?! You guys made it official, did you? Looks like that's the first time you do that, last time you were pretty scared to do so..." he snarks back at you as he turns his head back to look at the game, clearly meaning to be as sassy as that sounded.

"Well, no, not yet... But that doesn't mean anything, I can see it happening any day now. He's just busy with work, and I believe him... I get it." you mutter, knowing how stupid that sounded and how much of a red flag he'd find that to be. But it's true, he's told you he hasn't asked you to be his girlfriend yet because of work and the things he has going on in his life. And that's okay, you guess... right?

Bucky scoffs and quickly snarks, "Oh yeah, real busy. Saving the world one spreadsheet at a time... I was really hoping he was better at relationships than he is at standing around awkwardly, and it really, really seems like he isn't, doll." As he says that, you can see him analyzing Mark's playing technique and standing position. Now, as you see this happening, you realize how clumsy he really is while grabbing the disc, how his knees buckle when landing back down after jumping, and how, after playing for 5 minutes, he's already sweating like a beast, as red as a man can be.

"I believe him, Buck, no need to make fun of him. I wouldn't wish for him to feel left out on this vacation. Besides, he's clearly having a good time, look at him playing with Steve and Sam." Your eyes flick back to him running around, which honestly just looks like he's throwing his limbs around in a circle...

"Yeah, he’s having the time of his life... bless his heart. Probably thinks he’s one of the Avengers now." He shoots you a sideways look, that tiny smirk tugging at his mouth. "Might have to get him a little cape or something. Make it official."

This finally makes you burst out in a belly laugh, even Nat, beside you, is holding in a laugh with her index finger pressed on her lips. You look back at Bucky, he's smirking while doing the exact same thing he was doing earlier, ogling and sizing up Mark.

Finally, obviously not being able to keep up with the stamina of a super soldier and the god of thunder, Mark comes back panting like a dog. He stands in front of Bucky and you, covering up the sun. 

"Did you see that? I just played flying disc with Captain America, my coworker is not going to believe this." Bucky tilts his head, eyes narrowing playfully as he watches Mark catch his breath. He lets the silence stretch for a moment, clearly enjoying the opportunity to poke fun.

Finally, he smirks, leaning back in his chair like he’s about to deliver the knockout punch. "Oh, yeah? Played frisbee with Cap and survived? That’s a pretty big deal, huh?" he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Bet your coworker’s gonna love hearing about that. 'Hey, I spent the afternoon with a super soldier and a god, and still couldn’t catch a damn frisbee to save my life.'" Bucky glances over at you, raising an eyebrow like he's silently asking for permission to keep poking fun. Obviously, your mouth had fallen agape since Bucky started talking. Then, looking back at Mark, he shrugs with exaggerated nonchalance. "Maybe grab a souvenir, yeah? You know, something to really capture the ‘I’m just a regular guy in over his head’ vibe. Maybe a ‘Survived being a Civilian' t-shirt."

"Alright, Bucky, stand up, I'm pretty sure Sam's calling you. They're short for a teammate. Come on, get out of here," you say to him, pushing him off the lounge chair.

For a moment, Bucky and Mark come face to face, well, face to chest... Mark shifts uncomfortably, looking up, like he’s not sure if he should be awkward about it or just roll with it. Bucky, of course, notices immediately and shoots him a smirk.

"Didn’t know they were stacking ‘em so tall these days," he quips, immediately looking back at you to see your reaction, glancing down at Mark with that sly grin of his. He gives Mark a quick once-over, almost like he's sizing him up, before he glances back at you, voice low and almost amused, "Don’t miss me too much, I’ll be back before you can finish that drink."

You scoff, and Mark sits back down on the chair. He says something about how rude Bucky was, or was he asking what's up with him? To be honest, you don't really know; it's not like you were paying attention. You were shamefully watching Bucky run and bounce back over to the team at the beach. Almost like the scene was in slow motion, you saw him dap up Sam and send a teasing kiss to Steve. His muscles shifting like gears, shiny with sweat under the tropical sun, you heard him say from afar, "Alright, buckle up! Y/n sent the heavy cavalry this time, someone is gonna need a stretcher." 

After this, still feeling like the whole scene was in slow motion, you caught him looking back at you while bunching up his swimming shorts at the top of his thighs, dangerously close to flashing everyone at the beach.

You try to act as though you missed that by rolling your eyes. Mark gives you an expression of confusion. He asks, half-laughing as if he believes you're going to reveal some secret about Bucky,"Is he always like that?"

You try to be casual about it, though, and just shrug. Clearly, you're not gonna tell him that the man who was absolutely ridiculing him was the guy last guy you fucked before meeting him; and who, for reasons unknown to you, was acting unusually jealous. Something completely out of the ordinary, considering he never had you. So there’s no reason for him to be. 

You tap your fingers against the chair's armrest and respond, "Yeah, unfortunately," not really listening to what is being said. As if he were the star of some absurd show, Bucky has already returned with Sam and Steve. He jokes that he could have saved the world in less time than it takes Steve to toss a frisbee, and you can hear him laughing and being snarky.

Mark notices you watching, and you quickly glance away, but it’s too late. He catches on. "You know, it seems like he’s... trying to get a reaction out of you." He grins, but you just shake your head.

"Trust me, it’s just Bucky being Bucky. He does that with everyone," you explain, though you’re not entirely sure it’s a lie. The way he keeps looking over here — you’re not sure. It feels different, you're familiar with it, you’ve seen that look before, a long time ago. You recall seeing it that one night you guys spent together, but somehow he's found a way to make you question that which you were so certain about, but you’re not about to get into it now. Not in front of Mark.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

As you start gathering your things, the atmosphere shifts, a mix of exhaustion and excitement hanging in the air. Sam’s tossing his frisbee one last time with Steve, Thor’s trying (and failing) to teach Bruce how to actually throw it properly, and Natasha’s already scanning her phone, probably getting all the security details ready for tonight. You and Mark grab your stuff and start heading toward the buggies, but the moment you turn, you see Bucky leaning casually against one of the lounge chairs, his eyes flickering between the group and you.

He smirks, slow and deliberate, clearly savoring the moment. "You guys really gonna leave me to clean up all this mess? C'mon, I'm tired, too," he says, his voice low enough that it feels like he’s only speaking to you. There’s something about the way he stands there; his gaze stays locked on you. It’s like he’s waiting for you to make the next move.

You force yourself to look away, grabbing your bag and trying to look casual, but his presence is enough to make your pulse pick up. Every time he says something, it feels like he’s leaning in just a little closer. "You look like you’re about to fall asleep standing up," you say.

He chuckles, his grin widening when he notices you’re the one answering back to him, as he pushes himself off the chair and walks toward you with his hands on his hips, his movements slow and controlled. "Only if you promise to catch me when I do, angel," he replies, his voice a little too smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. There’s that underlying something again...

Mark nudges you, a little too eager, clearly oblivious to the tension. "You coming, babe?" he asks, his voice casual, but his eyes wide, glancing between you and Bucky, waiting for a response.

Before you can even answer, Bucky cuts in, his voice dripping with a passive-aggressive sweetness that makes your skin prickle. "Oh, sure, let’s all wait for Mark to lead the way," he says, looking over at him with a raised eyebrow. "I’m sure he’s the perfect choice. You wanna drive my buggie, buddy?" He pauses just long enough to look you over, his eyes taking their time with you before he smirks. He gets closer to you so that Mark, all the way back at the lounge chair, doesn't hear him. "I’m sure it’s charming... if you’re into that whole ‘average guy’ vibe. Just don't expect him to keep up with us." He glances back at Mark, then back to you, his voice lowering, teasing. "No offense, buddy," he adds, lifting a palm up in the air while keeping the other at his hips, as if asking for forgiveness, but it’s so loaded, you feel bad for Mark. You should've never invited him; you knew this was gonna happen.

He shrugs lazily, his tone soft and too damn confident. "Hey, I’m just saying. You can’t really compare... You know?" He glances at Mark again, but this time, his attention lingers just a little too long on you, his gaze shifting down to your bikini top, and he's obviously not admiring the stripes and designs on it. His voice dips into something more intimate. "But, whatever, if you’re cool with settling. Tell him not to trip over his own feet on the way there, yeah?"

You try not to react; he knows exactly what he’s doing. His words aren’t just mean and teasing—they’re digging at something deeper. Bucky’s always like this, pushing at the edges, pulling at invisible strings, and you can’t figure out if he’s just playing or if he really means every word.

Mark gives you a quick glance, a little uncomfortable, and you can’t blame him. You shake your head to clear the tension that Bucky’s left hanging in the air. "Yeah, I'm coming, I'm coming. Just give me a second," you say.

Bucky watches you, his smirk growing like he just got some grand idea, like he knows he’s got the upper hand. "Take all the time you need, doll," he calls out with a wink as you turn toward the buggies. His voice is a whisper now, so damn close, like it’s meant for only you. "Just don’t take too long, yeah?"

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By the time you make it back to the compound, the whole place feels completely different from when you left. Earlier, it was this easy, lazy beach vibe — now, it’s chaos in motion, the sunrays dissipating, the smell of sea salt lingering in the air. Everything seems almost nostalgic, like this could be the rest of your life, just beach hopping and endless tan lines. All around, there are staff that Tony must have flown in from who-knows-where who are rushing around, clipping up strings of lights, adjusting floral arrangements, setting up a red carpet on the entrance, and testing sound systems. It smells faintly of washed clothes, cologne, and faint stress. And champagne. Always champagne.

Mark wanders off almost immediately, following one of the staff members who's gesturing him toward his room, where someone probably left suits hanging neatly pressed and ready. He gives you a quick, wide-eyed smile — a silent help — before disappearing down the hall. You can't help but chuckle a little to yourself. He’s trying. He really is, it's so cute that he is, he's not meant for all of this.

You hang back for a second, pretending to check your phone, when really, you’re just... delaying. Taking it in. The night ahead feels electric in a way. And probably just mentally preparing yourself for the cosmic hangover you're gonna wake up with tomorrow, already deactivating any kind of alarm on your phone.

That’s when Bucky falls into step beside you with his beachbag in hand, so quietly you don’t even notice until he’s matching your pace. You were too distracted watching poor Pepper orchestrate the whole thing from afar, telling all the staff how to hang the decorations and which setting for the lights to use.

“You better not keep him waiting too long,” he says casually, nodding down the hallway where Mark disappeared. There’s a slyness to his voice that makes your skin prickle. “Wouldn’t want poor lover boy getting lost before the big night,” he says with a small pout and scrunched eyebrows, clearly trying to be as sarcastic as he can.

You toss him a glare over your shoulder. “He’s not lost. He’s probably just... figuring out where everything is. Just like any normal person here, I don't blame him.”

Bucky chuckles under his breath, a low, rough sound. “Mm. Cute. Hope he’s got a map. Or a damn survival guide.” He leans in a little, close enough that you catch the mint he's chewing and whatever soap he uses, all warm and clean and unfair. His voice drops, low and teasing, “Poor guy’s about to get eaten alive tonight." As much as you hate hearing that, it might be true.

You pass through the archway leading to the guest rooms, and he slows, letting his knuckles casually brush against your hand for half a second — like it’s an accident. You feel it more than anything. Sparks running up your arm.

"You sure you're up for babysitting him all night?" Bucky says, voice like a dare now. "Could always come swim with the big sharks instead, maybe get a drink, a shot or two. You know how much Sam loves those. Tell me that doesn't sound like your kind of fun, angel."

You turn sharply, about to shoot something back at him, but just then Sam’s voice echoes down the hall, yelling something about how everyone needed to be ready in twenty minutes or Tony was gonna start sending search-and-rescue teams after us. You chuckle.

Bucky smirks like he planned the interruption, like he knows he’s in your head now. He nudges you lightly with his shoulder before peeling off toward his room, sending an index finger into the air and calling over his shoulder without turning around:

“Don’t be late, doll.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you standing alone in the hallway, still feeling the ghost of his knuckles against your skin, heart beating a little too fast for someone who’s supposed to be cool and unbothered.

You finally make it into your own room, closing the door behind you and letting out a long, shaky breath. You have twenty minutes to pull yourself together, look like you belong at a billionaire’s party, and — apparently — survive whatever game Bucky Barnes thinks he’s playing tonight. You hear Mark scrambling in the bathroom, clearly having trouble doing something, god knows what...

"You need help in there, Mark?" you say genuinely trying to help him, and well, trying to empty that bathroom to get ready. "Nope! I'm fine, I'm just peachy!" he says as he comes out of the bathroom, slamming the door. He looks surprisingly put together for someone who started getting ready ten minutes ago.

"They hung your dress right there, babe," he says, pointing over at the huge dresser on the far right wall of the room. Your dress was hanging with a layer of clear plastic over it to protect it. You reach for it and peel the plastic off. Right after taking it, you set it on the bed and headed for the bathroom to put on makeup. About ten minutes later, after you finished, you were quick to put it on and look in the mirror. As you looked in the mirror, you could see Mark struggling in the background to put on his shoes, feet up in the bed, kicking them up relentlessly.

The dress cascaded in a river of red silk, clinging to your figure with a natural grace. Thin, delicate straps rested almost imperceptibly on your shoulders, while a soft draped neckline revealed your neck and collarbones, just covering your torso over the beginning of your breasts. Ethereal panels of sheer fabric floated from your arms. The fabric caught the light with a liquid sheen, making you look pulled straight out from a vampire tale.

Mark finally looks up from lacing his shoes, his eyes dragging up and down the dress. He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head a little. "Wow," he says, almost like he can't help himself. "You look like... I don’t know, like you walked straight out of, like, the Middle Ages or something."

You blink at him through the mirror.

He catches your expression and rushes to tack on, "I mean, it’s cool. Dramatic, y’know? Not what I expected, but hey, if you’re feeling it..." He shrugs, like it’s no big deal, like it didn’t just sit weirdly heavy in the room.

You smooth your hands down the silk of the dress, letting the fabric shimmer under the lights, trying to find the beauty in the dress while also trying not to let his words cling to you the way his voice did. Did you really look that odd? You started considering asking the team or the staff for a new dress.

Behind you, Mark grins, completely oblivious. "I should’ve dressed up more, huh?" he jokes half-heartedly, plucking at the collar of his wrinkled shirt. "You're gonna make me look like I picked you up from a Ren fair." What the fuck?

At that moment, as you were about to text Nat for a spare dress or something, a sharp knock sounds at the door — and Bucky’s familiar voice cuts in, rough and teasing: "You two lovebirds dead in there, or is Mark still fixing his hair?"

A real smile breaks across your face for the first time in minutes. Thank god. Hearing yourself think this was absolutely disheartening, but sadly, you were right. You both pick up the rest of your things, you grab your bag, and take a final look at your hair. You hear Mark walking out of the door, and the second he did that you were expecting some comment out of Bucky's mouth, and just like clockwork: "Look who it is, Mark! The lady of the hour..."

Bucky pokes his head in the room and his gaze falls on you the moment Mark steps out, and a slow, appreciative smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. "Well, well," he drawls, his voice warm with that signature charm that always sends a shiver down your spine. His eyes trail over you, not in a rush, but with a deliberate, almost possessive pace. "Doll, you’re going to need a spotlight to match that look."

Mark’s shoulders stiffen, but Bucky doesn’t even acknowledge him as he steps closer, his gaze now fully on you. "You look... stunning," Bucky adds softly, his tone almost too intimate for the moment. “Like you just walked out of some dream." His eyes linger on the way the dress hugs your body, before he lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "Did you make that choice for tonight? Because, believe me, it’s working." Maybe the dress isn't so bad, maybe Mark was wrong and you look very pretty.

Mark shifts uncomfortably beside you, but Bucky doesn’t break his gaze. His smile widens just a little, and he raises a brow, enjoying the effect he's having.

You can see the muscle in Mark’s jaw twitch as he tries to keep his cool. "You really need to stop making everything about you, Bucky," Mark snaps, his words laced with frustration, though it's clear he's trying to hold it back. "And you, y/n, not everything has to be a damn show, dress down for once. You look like they pulled you out of Nosferatu."

Bucky shifts and focuses back on Mark, and his smirk turns into something sharper, more dangerous. "No offense, buddy, but I don’t think you’re gonna impress anyone in that sad excuse for a suit. But, hey, at least you’re trying."

Mark’s fists clench, and he visibly seethes, trying to stay composed. But Bucky just looks at him, unbothered, watching with almost cruel amusement.

Mark spits back, "Yeah, well, I’m not into the whole ‘look at me’ thing, I'm not the one looking like a clown."

Bucky steps even closer, his voice dropping low, his tone almost dangerously smooth. "Look at you, pretending to be something you’re not," he says, letting the words cut deep. "Neither she nor I need to prove anything to anyone. But you, on the other hand… you’re still playing catch-up."

Mark starts breathing faster and clutching at his suit, and it seems like at some point he wasn't able to resist it anymore and decides to storm off, like a child who didn't get a toy.

Bucky decides to take advantage of this time you have alone and he starts grazing the side of your arm as he steps even closer, his presence overwhelming. His fingers linger, tracing over the fabric of your dress as though he can’t resist the temptation. You can see in his face some kind of expression. It's weird, but it's like the sole reason he touches the dress is to feel the curve of your waist, like proving to himself that he can't really penetrate the dress with his hands and finally touch you. He’s slow, and you feel the heat rising in you, your breath catching. It’s like he’s savoring the closeness, like he’s enjoying every second of this.

“You’re not like him, you know,” Bucky murmurs, his voice almost a whisper now, his lips close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. But,” his eyes darken as they flicker down your body, and his voice turns a little lower, more sensual, “you’re still the only one in the room I’m interested in proving something to. You've always been that person. I know we don’t acknowledge what happened between us last year, but still, every time I see you, I try to prove to you I'm as funny as when you left me, exactly as gentle as you wanted me to be back then, and obviously, just as disposed to lift that little satin dress, getting on my knees and letting you use me right here in this corridor, doll I'm just as willing to give myself up as I was when you left..." he says, so close to your ear, rubbing impossibly small circles on the back of your neck. You've never heard him breathing so heavily, never in your life have you seen that look in his eyes, he's so needy.

"Buck- no, I can't do that. Me and Mark fought, that doesn't mean we're over. It would still be cheating, and you know how against that I am..." you say to him, pushing him off gently.

The tension still lingers in the air, but you can’t afford to stay in this headspace any longer. The party’s starting, and you can’t just sit here, lost in the chaos of your own thoughts. The guests are starting to trickle in, the bass from the music outside beginning to thrum through the walls, and the sound of laughter and conversation fills the hallway.

You take a steadying breath, but before you can convince yourself to leave, Bucky stands there, still watching you, his gaze lingering just a little too long.

“James,” you murmur, your tone more firm now, trying to break through the haze of what just happened. “We’re going. You’re coming with me. Now.”

He looks almost surprised, like he hadn’t expected you to snap out of it this quickly, but then the smirk returns, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “You sure you can handle me at this party, doll?” he teases, stepping closer again, but not crossing the line, as if he’s giving you the chance to take charge.

You can’t help but roll your eyes, though there’s a smirk on your face now too. “Oh please, it’s Tony Stark’s birthday. We both know I can handle whatever’s coming.”

As you make your way into the party, Bucky’s not exactly helping you focus. He's got a hand resting on your hip, but he's not letting it rest there proudly; he's got it hidden almost like he knows now what's wrong and what's right. He’s too close, too confident, and his words come with that familiar teasing edge.

“You know,” he starts, voice low enough that only you can hear, “this is the part where you let me steal the spotlight. I mean, come on, gorgeous. Not when I’m dressed like this.” He flashes you a grin, giving a mock twirl in the middle of the room, clearly enjoying the attention as people turn their heads to look.

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smile creeping up. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, though you’re finding it hard to be mad at him. He’s right. He does look like he just stepped out of a magazine.

“Insufferable? Maybe.” His eyes flicker over to Mark, who’s still trying to seem calm, but you can practically see the tension in his shoulders. He's talking up some chick you recognize, she's a writer for some newspaper, you really can’t recall.

You try not to react, but Bucky’s got this way of making you aware of everything, especially him.

“Hey, don’t get mad at me,” he continues, his grin turning a little sly, “you chose this guy, not me. But if you ever want a real upgrade, you know where to find me.”

The comment stings in that way that makes your heart race. You shouldn’t even let it affect you, but every time he opens his mouth, it’s like he knows exactly what to say.

You glance over at Mark, who’s now talking to Tony, obviously trying to make connections, but his eyes flicker back to you. And Bucky—of course—catches it, smirking again.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, barely louder than a whisper. “Mark’s probably wishing he could just vanish into thin air right now. Poor guy’s probably wondering if I’m going to make a move on you in front of everyone.”

You shoot him a sharp look, but Bucky just leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he lowers his voice even more.

He then leans into your ear and whispers, “But I’m not like that, doll. I play my cards right.” His words are teasing, but there’s something deeper behind them, something that makes it hard for you to breathe. “I’ll wait until it’s just us. No one needs to see how much I want you, at least not yet. Maybe a couple of shots deep into the night and I’ll lose all the composure you made me conjure up in that damn corridor.”

And just like that, he pulls away, walking confidently into the crowd, like he knows exactly what effect he’s had on you. You watch him for a second, heart pounding, before you force yourself to refocus. Obviously, after this, you start looking for Natasha and the girls.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

The night has dragged on, the air thick with laughter, the dim glow of party lights painting everything in a hazy, intoxicating glow, all the lights becoming blurry from what you've drank. Everything seems to be moving slower; the strobing lights a watercolor blur in your eyes.

You find yourself nestled with Natasha, Maria Hill, Wanda, and a few others, a bottle of vodka flowing dangerously freely as you all chat and laugh like old friends. The atmosphere is light and carefree, and somehow, you manage to avoid talking about anything too deep, instead just poking fun at each other. It's the kind of fun that only happens when everyone’s tipsy enough to let go of their usual barriers.

At some point, the conversation shifts, and the girls get curious, their eyes glinting with mischief as they turn to you.

“So,” Natasha smirks, tilting her glass with a teasing expression as she changes her sitting position completely to tilt in your direction, “what’s going on with you and Mark? And, well — Bucky... I mean, this is a whole situation, huh?”

Maria raises an eyebrow, leaning in with a grin. “Is it just me, or do they seem like they’re both trying to outdo each other? You’ve got the perfect little love triangle brewing over here. Me, personally, I've dreamed about this.”

Wanda laughs softly, clearly amused. “No one’s ever been this conflicted over a guy before, right? You’re so calm about it, though. I don’t know if I could handle that.”

You roll your eyes, trying to brush off the playful teasing, but it’s getting harder with each round of laughter from the girls. The truth is, you don’t know how you feel about any of it—between Mark’s constant need for reassurance and Bucky’s complicated way of showing interest, you’re caught in a whirlwind of confusion.

Before you can answer, the conversation naturally shifts as the girls move on to something else, but they leave you with a lingering feeling of being caught. You need a break from all of it.

You find yourself wandering back over to Steve, Thor, and Sam’s group, who are now deep in their own state of tipsy camaraderie. Steve and Thor are practically slurring, which is a very rare sight, but since Thor brought his very own Asgardian mead, you’re about to see things you'll never unsee. Their laughter is loud and infectious, as Sam watches with an amused expression. He’s more sober than the other two, but it’s clear he’s starting to feel the effects.

As you settle into the conversation, Sam leans in, clearly eager to share some gossip.

“You know,” Sam says with a sly grin, his eyes shifting toward where Bucky was last seen, “Bucky’s tipsy as hell tonight. Earlier, he was going off about you, y/n—talking about how no one can hold a candle to you.” Sam laughs, his voice dropping a little lower. “Said you were the only one that could actually handle him.”

You glance around, half-expecting Bucky to pop up and say something, but Sam’s right. Bucky had disappeared a few minutes ago, and you haven’t seen him since.

Steve, grinning widely, throws his arm around Thor. “You know, Bucky can’t even try to hide that kind of thing when he’s drunk. And as for Mark,” Steve pauses dramatically, “he’s too busy trying to talk up some chick from the newspaper to even notice what’s going on. I saw them worryingly close a few minutes ago, sitting on that very couch. I'm pretty sure they stood up, I haven't seen them since. Maybe worry a little about that, y/n.”

Thor lets out a booming laugh, clearly having no concept of personal volume as he sloshes his mead around, completely unaffected by the alcohol. “Ah! Yes! Mark! So focused on trying to impress some small insipid human woman while Bucky... well, Bucky is a mighty warrior who knows what’s really important!” Thor gestures wildly, spilling some of his drink, but not caring in the slightest. “Mark has the charm of a goat! Bucky, though—ah, Bucky has the power of a storm!”

You barely suppress a laugh at that, wondering if Thor realizes he just made Bucky sound like a romantic hero in some cheesy novel.

Sam chuckles, shaking his head at Thor’s drunken rambling. “Yeah, man, I get it. Thor’s a little extra, but he’s not wrong. Honestly, Bucky’s got more of that raw attraction than anyone else. He was really going on about you, though.” Sam looks over at you with a knowing smile. “He was all like, ‘I don’t know why she’s wasting her time with him, she deserves someone who knows what’s worth fighting for.’”

You bite your lip, a mix of feelings surging in you. Part of you feels a weird rush of warmth hearing that, but the other part feels tangled up in confusion.

“Mark’s not like that, and that chick he's trying to get with is gonna realize that any second now,” Steve adds, giggling at his own remark, still grinning. “But you know what? He can’t even see what’s in front of him.” He pats your back. “Don’t let him hold you back. You’re not stuck with anyone.”

Before you can answer, Thor slurs out another line, “Ah! No one will ever be as strong as Bucky! Not even me! I am only strong at fighting battles! But Bucky, he is strong at heart, yes?” He takes a long swig of mead, clearly enjoying the sound of his own voice.

Just as you're trying to sort through all the messy thoughts running through your head, the music shifts, and the lights dim just a little. Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of a microphone crackling cuts through the air. Your head turns instinctively toward the source, and there, standing in front of the makeshift stage set up near the far corner of the compound’s great hall, is none other than Bucky Barnes.

Oh. my. God.

Bucky steps up to the mic, his stance a little unsteady, clearly very drunk, but his confidence unwavering. You can't look at this. This is so bad. He looks out into the crowd, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips as he taps the microphone twice, testing it. The room quiets for a second, and he takes a deep breath, his eyes landing on you as the opening chords of “Jessie’s Girl” begin to play.

You can't help but think how absolutely cringy and cheesy this all is. He's going to regret this so much tomorrow. Whatever he's doing now is not something regular Bucky would do. But just for the fun of it you shut up and enjoy this one in a lifetime show.

And with that, he launches into the first verse, and you already feel the weight of the room shift. “Jessie is a friend,” he sings, his voice deep, lingering over each word. You can hear people in the crowd start to whistle and cheer. His gaze doesn’t leave you for a second, making the song feel too personal, too intimate. “Yeah, I know he’s been a good friend of mine…”

He mouths a very exaggerated "no" and shakes his head from side to side, stupidly drunk. He had to have drunk from Thor’s mead, cause you've never seen him so drunk... Everyone seems to be having fun. They're all cheering and clapping on beat with him.

The chorus hits, and Bucky leans into the mic, his voice a little rougher, the voice of a man who's been screaming all night and had the grandiose idea of doing karaoke. “I wish that I had Jessie’s girl,” he sings, his voice low and dripping with desire as he holds your gaze. “Where can I find a woman like that?” At this point, everyone seems to be okay with the song of choice. Even Thor, with his drink still in hand, is swaying his arms from side to side. Sam, on the other hand, has this knowing glint in his eyes, like he's saying " told ya."

Bucky moves a little closer to the mic with half-hooded eyes, his body swaying lazily with the beat, and his words come out with an almost teasing sensuality, slurred but sensual, sure. “I play along with the charade, there doesn’t seem to be a reason to change,” he croons, lowering his voice even more, every word like a caress. “'Cause she's watching him with those eyes, and she's loving him with that body, I just know it, and he's holding her in his arms late, late at night.” He says this with a face of genuine disgust in an attempt of being theatrical, throwing his hand around like he’s mocking you or Mark.

He keeps singing and embarrassing himself onstage for a few moments more till the song ends. He bows clumsily to the public and steps off the stage with a confident swagger, making his way toward you, not bothering to stop as he gets right into your personal space. Everyone claps and cheers at him, and a few pictures of him are taken standing off the stage. You could already see the headlines tomorrow...

“Don’t act like you didn’t love that,” he says out of breath, voice low and sultry. He places a hand just barely on your lower back, just enough to send heat rushing through you. “I told you earlier that a few shots and apparently a drink of Thor’s mead would make me lose all my composure.”

"Actually, that little show you decided to throw was disgustingly cheesy. Promise me you'll never do that again, yeah?" Bucky just snorts at your comment and ignores it completely, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. That was just a warm-up.” He leans in even closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re gonna want to hear the rest of what I’ve got planned for you tonight.”

The music resumes in the background, and everyone goes back to dancing. Bucky grabs your hand and starts leading you somewhere. Somewhere you can hear Thor scream like a damn air raid siren, “Strong like a storm, Bucky! Yes!” Right after him, you hear Steve and Sam woohooing and whistling.

As you walk down the corridor beside Bucky, the weight of your decision starts to settle in, and despite the butterflies in your stomach, you can’t help but feel a sense of clarity. Everyone’s been right — Mark’s off with some random girl from the newspaper, and you’ve spent too long pretending this was something it wasn’t. Your chest tightens as you finally let yourself admit that you deserve more than the half-hearted games you’ve been playing.

You glance at Bucky, who’s smirking, his eyes gleaming with something between amusement and triumph, like he’s been waiting for this moment. You try not to let him get under your skin, but it's getting harder.

“Well, look at that,” Bucky’s voice cuts through your thoughts, dripping with mock sweetness. “Finally figured it out, huh? Took you long enough.”

You roll your eyes, the faintest smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m just getting started, doll.” His voice drops lower, teasing and dangerous, as he leans in slightly. “I mean, come on. You really thought that he was your guy? That little puppy act? Please.” Bucky lets out a dry laugh, clearly enjoying himself. “You deserve better than that. You’ve always deserved better.”

You shake your head, walking a little faster to distance yourself from his teasing, but it doesn’t work. Bucky’s stride matches yours effortlessly.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Sure am, Doll,” he replies, his voice lowering again, almost a whisper now. “You think you’re fooling anyone? I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching. How you flutter your little lashes somewhere else when you notice I'm looking right back at you. You think I can't tell what you're thinking about, but to be real, most of the time you're such a nasty girl! Shame on you... Don’t think for one second I haven’t noticed.”

You stop walking, my hand gripping the doorframe of the room we’re passing. His words hit harder than they should, but you keep your voice steady. “That doesn’t change anything.”

Bucky steps closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You keep saying that, but you know it’s not true. You and me? We were always gonna happen.” He pauses, letting the weight of his words hang in the air, his eyes flickering over your body with a slow, deliberate gaze. “Always.”

You feel your pulse quicken, but before you can respond, you pass your room. The noises coming from inside are unmistakable—low moans, muffled laughter, the sound of shifting sheets. You freeze, a sickening realization hitting you like a ton of bricks.

It’s Mark. And the girl.

Bucky notices you stop, and for a moment, he tilts his head curiously. “What’s wrong?” His voice is softer now, though the teasing tone never fully disappears. You don’t respond, your mind reeling as you hear the sounds getting louder. Mark and some random girl... Right behind that door.

Bucky’s face shifts, and for a second, he can't believe that's really happening. When he catches the look on your face. “Oh,” he murmurs, his voice more compassionate now. “Didn’t expect that, huh?” He leans closer to me. “I told you he wasn’t worth it. What man in their right mind would pass up on you, huh?”

You shake your head, feeling frustrated. “I—” You don’t even know what to say. Bucky watches you, almost like he sobered up in half a second. “See? You’re so much better than this; you don't need to endure this sort of thing. Why waste your time on someone like him?”

And at this moment, you realized how right everyone is. You remember when you ended your fling with Bucky, you thought to yourself, how you'd never find someone like him ever again. You were never used to attention or feeling loved your whole life, but Bucky was the first to ever make you feel that way. And the moment you stopped feeling that sweet, tender embrace, you went out looking for it again, somewhere, anywhere. And when you found something minimally similar, you went with it. Mark and you have nothing in common. You don't know why you convinced yourself to think that. Bucky's right, he and you were always meant to happen.

“We don’t have to do this tonight,” he says, his voice shifting from teasing to something more commanding. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. There's a whole party waiting outside, remember?”

You freak out the moment you process his words, "What? No! It's fine, I'm fine. I want to do this, please!" You grab his hand to stop him from walking back, completely sure of what you just said.

"Are you sure? I've been a pain in the ass about this the entire night, but that was just me being a jerk. I want to know you genuinely want this," He whispers so gently, as he holds your face in between his hands, almost encompassing your entire head. "I wouldn't like to mess this up," he said, punctuating the sentence with a drunken hiccup.

"Yes, Bucky. I want it so bad..." You say.

His whole demeanor changes, "Mhm? So bad? I have no other choice but to comply, do I? Let's get you to bed. I have a few things planned for you. Been thinking the whole night what I would do with you if I ever got my hands on you again, " He begins as he leads you to his room, a little far from the rest.

While still leading you by the hand, he continues, he clumsily trips over for a second but continues to walk forward. "Had a hard on the entire night, doll. Fuck- just before the karaoke I went into the bathroom and rubbed one off, like some teenager with a crush. Came all over the sink thinking about you, baby." As he finishes saying this with a low grunt, you notice you make one final lazy turn, and you get to his room. You're breathing faster than ever, almost like you're gonna be sick. This only ever happened to you when you were with him; You never went out of breath like this with anyone else.

Bucky opens the door, and not even a second after, he leads you through, and he's already kissing you. Slamming himself against your body and keeping balance as best as he can, holding your head between his hands, like he's almost leading you into the kiss, showing you exactly how he wanted it, like he was the one in need. It was sloppy and messy, his tongue licking its way into your mouth like he was in heat. After a while, he starts kissing the right corner of your mouth and starts making his way to your jawline, near the ear. Every peck accompanied with its own little whiny "Hmm fuck", and "Baby..." As he licks and kisses your neck, clearly making sure to leave a mark, he snakes his hands down to the back of your dress, getting a handful of your ass. With his hands almost tearing at the dress with the force he's holding on to you, he starts grinding you against his hard-on. "Can you feel me, baby? Hm? Can ya' feel how hard I am for you? You have me wrapped around your finger, doll. It's so dangerous."

As much as you're enjoying this, you can't help but think about what Mark did to you; you're not even sad because you lost him. You're just seething with anger. How dare he? Bucky, as he pulled back to look at your face once again, caught something in your face that made his stomach twist. You were still smiling, still reaching for him, but your eyes were glassy in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

Bucky froze, reaching over to you, cupping your cheek gently. "Hey," he murmured, voice low and careful. "Talk to me, doll."

She tried to wave it off, but the crack in her voice gave her away. "I'm fine, Bucky. Really."

He shook his head, pressing his forehead to yours, grounding them both. "No, you're not. I know that look. I’ve worn that look. I know what you're thinking, and you know what? It's fine, angel."

"I just… I thought I could get it right with this one guy," you whisper, voice trembling despite your best efforts. "I've never even dared to stay before. I finally let myself believe it could work, and the second I do, this happens?"

"Listen to me, doll," he says softly against your hair. "You didn’t mess anything up. You gave someone a chance because you’ve got a good heart, and that's never a mistake. Him messing it up? That’s on him. Not you."

You tried to shake your head, tried to smile like it was nothing, but Bucky just shushed you gently, cradling your face in his hands like you were something precious, something about to break. "You’re allowed to hurt. Hell, after what that asshole pulled, I'd be surprised if you didn’t. You don’t gotta rush it just 'cause I’m here," he said, his voice slurring a little but still clear in meaning. "I’m not going anywhere, alright? I’m gonna take care of you. Even if it’s just holding you tonight." He gently lays the bunched-up fabric at your thighs back down to your ankles.

Bucky kissed the top of her head and chuckled softly. "Besides," he murmured, "kinda bein’ nice for once. Don’t tell anyone, though, ruins my whole tough guy rep."

He finally laid you down softly on the mattress, making sure to place enough pillows under your head. "You're my favorite girl, you know that?" he slurred slightly, brushing his nose against your forehead. Trying to grab the edge of the blanket from under the pillows, "No one else even comes close." He says. Finally, you felt his whole weight bounce on the mattress. And just before you could answer back to him, you felt him go slack.

"Bucky?" you whispered, nudging his shoulder. Nothing. Not even a grunt. You couldn’t help but laugh quietly, half exasperated, half endeared.

"What a menace."

[twilight-deviant]

[prokopetz]

We can joke about retro game devs making their games bad on purpose, but honestly, the read I get is that – at least for the faux-NES strand, which is the one I'm most familiar with – most of them aren't deliberately emulating the flaws of that generation of games. It just seems like they are because most of the stuff we tend to think of as characteristic flaws of NES-era games happen to be common failure modes of game design when you don't really know what you're doing. You see exactly the same mistakes being made in indie games with fully modern designs – they just don't read as retro in that context.

(Of course, actual NES games have saving grace that their developers were literally figuring this stuff out for the first time, so this is one of those "an explanation but not an excuse" deals.)

[biblicallyaccuratecrow]

isat thoughts: stupid rotten adults isn't talked about enough

y'all can we talk for a minute about stupid rotten adults event because dear god i have thoughts

[tw for talk of death and suicidal ideation]

[woe, spoilers be upon ye!]

it's honestly one of the more tragic party interactions in my opinion, purely because in this case... siffrin was trying to do the right thing, or at least what they thought was right. they tried to use touch to comfort them, something that they had heard would help, and had it rebuked. Which isn't bonnie's fault, really. they're a kid going through something that a kid should never have to go through. we don't acknowledge enough how fucked up it is for bonnie to be with the party on their journey, even if it leads to them bonding with the group. so it's not surprising that it could come out like this at an age when kids may not have the words or emotional intelligence to express how they're feeling (lord knows some adults never learn either)

but then.

they hit you with this:

and i remember just full stop going "holy fuck bonnie" when this happened. because holy shit, in the context of everything that siffirn is going through, especially if you already had the dagger interaction... they have. they have done that. over and over again, they've died. This isn't directed at isabeau, who was the one to bring it up in the first place, or mirabelle and odile who answer, it's directed to Siffrin, who lost their eye trying to save them, and who could have died for bonnie but didn't. Bonnie doesn't want to lose any of them, but they lash out because of the stress, and direct it at the person who they hold guilt over.

But from a Siffrin POV... it's similar to the time travel joke with isa. it's just another reminder of the ways in which they've failed, and another nail in the coffin of their misgivings regarding what the party thinks about them. All of the things bonnie says here- that siffrin should die, that nobody cares what happens to them, that they are hated- these are all things echoed in act 5 by siffrin.

so i just have to wonder... how much of this conversation stuck with Siffrin? they can resolve it by completing the quest and reassuring bonnie that nothing will happen, if you've done the king quest then you know... something already has happened. And maybe in a way siffrin sees bonnie's anger towards them as a sort of confirmation that it was their fault, and that Bonnie trusted them to keep them all safe, and he failed.

anyways im sick and this probably is rambling and disconnected im goin to take a nap

[avelera]

hi, I hope you don't mind me coming to kind of vent in your inbox (please toss this out if you do) but I was reading your post on the contrasting way Viktor and Jayce view their first meeting and it got me thinking about how some people just sorta brush aside Jayce's suicide attempt here as being somehow pathetic or an overreaction to what they consider a slap on the wrist and I kinda get really mad about that perspective because I don't think people really follow through on what the trial actually meant for Jayce and what the consequences reasonably could have been. people seem to think he was just embarrassed by the trial without understanding that that kind of reputational hit can be, and clearly was, ruinous.

setting aside entirely the emotional/psychological repercussions of having the thing he'd dedicated roughly 2/3's of his life to taken away, his very public trial ended with his own mother making an insanity plea on his behalf and his extremely wealthy and influential sponsor dropping him like he was radioactive and the actual ruling body of the city declaring him dangerously incompetent. do any of those people who deride him for the suicide attempt actually take the time to think about what that outcome means for him in a social and professional context? he jokes to Caitlyn about working in his family factory but honestly, it is entirely within the realm of possibility that the fallout of the trial has made him a social and professional pariah and his reputation is in such dire straits that he may be entirely unemployable within Piltover, perhaps even to the point of being toxic to his own family business if they take the reputation hit by association with him.

it's not actually hyperbole or an overreaction for him to stand in the wreckage of his life and think his life is over, to be at a complete loss as to how to move forward or come to the belief that moving forward is impossible and despair, especially if he doesn't have a support network which he pretty clearly doesn't. his only connections appear to be his mother and Caitlyn and, for obvious reasons, they're not viable at this time.

he was drowning and Viktor threw him a lifeline and he spends the literal rest of the story trying to return the favor.

Sorry for the delay in responding, there's a lot here I want to address.

First of all, I absolutely agree. I think people underestimate just how much that trial left his life in wreckage. That said, there's a few points I'd like to add some nuance to from my perspective, along the lines of YEAH THIS WAS REALLY BAD and people underestimate how much Viktor did for Jayce with his vote of confidence.

(This is gonna be a long post y'all but I have a LOT of thoughts and feelings about Jayce here so buckle up if you do proceed.)

1 ) The Kirammans dropping him as his patrons is absolutely devastating. It's actually the moment I think I hated Cassandra Kiramman for the most, which was turning Jayce away from her door at his lowest point, and cutting him off from Caitlyn, who seems to be his only friend before Viktor. I think it also demonstrates just how severe the crime was that she did so, by the way, I don't think she was just being cruel for the sake of it. But the fact that in 1.04 she's then showing off Jayce as an accomplishment of her house is particularly infuriating as a result. It's also no exaggeration to say that the Kiramman rejection was the final straw for him. After that, he decided to take his own life, so Cassandra would have been, in my opinion, directly responsible for his death (ironically saving her own life down the line, but then Arcane S1 is a series of hinging butterfly effect moments) if not for Viktor.

2 ) One layer of nuance I wanted to add to the Kiramman rejection in particular that you mentioned is the idea of him working at the Talis hammer factory because I think about this a LOT.

I do want to push back a little on the idea that he wouldn't be able to make a living for himself at the Talis hammer factory. To me (as someone whose family has a family business, though I don't work for it), it was never in doubt Jayce would have been able to work there the rest of his life. It might have been the only place he could get a job in Piltover, in fact, at least one with any sort of prestige or intellectual pursuit attached (basically, with anyone attached or graduated from the Academy).

However, I think Jayce would have had to work in a non-scientific part of the factory, either out on the floor or in the back office. And this is what I've been wanting to address in meta for a while now.

Caitlyn asks him what he's going to do next and Jayce says, "Work for the Talis hammer factory, I guess?" and she exclaims, "You can't do that!"

I think the nuance missing from your point that I'd like to add my view of that scene to is that Caitlyn is essentially saying, "That would kill you."

I get the very strong impression that Caitlyn and Jayce bonded over being members of their family who wanted bigger things than what their parents wanted for them. It's basically there on the page in this exchange.

We explore directly that Caitlyn wants to be a detective instead of working in politics like her mother, and pursues her dream despite adversity and her mother's disapproval.

But I think from this exchange and the one Jayce also has with his mother Ximena, we can glean that the Talis's also wanted Jayce to work for the factory, the family business, instead of going to the Academy to pursue his dream of magic.

(Also as a person whose family has a family business, that I don't work for, that has their own career and faced a lot of consternation from my family in my desire to be a writer, I feel this one very keenly.)

Jayce to me reads as someone who had to fight his family all his life to avoid going into the family business, in his pursuit of something greater.

With the Hextech dream taken away, all that's left to him is his family business, the thing I'd argue we have evidence that he's been fighting to avoid his whole life. It doesn't inspire him. It's not what he wants.

Joining the Talis factory would kill him. And that's what Caitlyn points out, and that's when he realizes she's right and goes to finish the job by his own hand instead. Further evidence I would say that working for his family business would represent a death of the soul to him, such that a physical death is preferable. But since his family built the business, and his mother clearly has reservations about his pursuit of magic, I think we can safely say he's been feeling similar pressures to Caitlyn to conform and join the business instead.

3 ) Now to go back to Viktor, I think this is another reason that Viktor literally and spiritually saved Jayce's life. Jayce outright says to his mother that if his own family won't believe in him, he'll find someone who will. Whether you read Viktor/Jayce as platonic or romantic (spouses are family, after all, which is how I read it), Viktor is Jayce's family from that point forward.

But Viktor doesn't bring Jayce back from the brink just by believing in him at his lowest moment (which is so powerful it can't be underestimated, btw) he also gives Jayce a bit of tough love too just when Jayce needs it.

Like many children of privilege (I'd firmly put Mel in this category, since she too is "trapped in the family business" I'd argue), Jayce saw himself at rock bottom after he lost his patron, the benefits of his House name, his family's support, his research, his equipment, access to his one friend, his access to the Academy, and his reputation.

Viktor points out that he never had any of those things growing up.

I think this is a welcome slap in the face for Jayce. Viktor rose to be the Dean's assistant on ability alone, without any of the scaffolding of privilege, and it humbles Jayce just when he needs it. Viktor is telling him that Jayce already has everything he needs to succeed and that others like Viktor have gotten further with less.

So not only does Viktor give his vote of confidence, he materially shows Jayce there is a way to achieving his dreams without all of the things he just lost.

Not only that, he's won the respect and assistance of someone who has done it before, someone who admires him for what he's done, someone who will help him make this dream a reality when no one else would.

Of course Jayce dedicated his life to Viktor after that. Of course he saw Hextech as their shared dream after that. I'd argue that of course he saw his life as belonging to Viktor after that point, because Viktor saved it.

[c-is-for-circinate]

It feels like there's this narrative that fandom keeps wanting to explore, with Steve Harrington, about this very specific type of martyrdom where self-sacrifice is an expression of a lack of self-worth. And, like, yes, write the narrative that's meaningful to you, and yes ok Steve does admittedly get beaten up a lot, but -- legitimately I do not think this narrative is actually Steve's story.

Like, without gendering things too much, there is something in the Steve fanon that I keep seeing that's so reflective of the specific kind of sacrifice and societal pressures exerted on girls, specifically -- this story of 'you make yourself worthy and worthwhile by carving pieces out of yourself', of believing that you must always give and never receive to justify the space you take up in the world. Yes, boys can experience this same pressure (and obviously trans and nb people of all genders run into it as well! sometimes a lot!), but especially in the mid-1980s cultural context where Stranger Things takes place, it's just...really not likely to be a dominant narrative for Steve to be operating under? It doesn't even really match the Steve we see on screen -- who is happy to make sacrifices for the sake of others, yeah, when needed, but who's not particularly kind or giving unless somebody asks first.

And Steve does get hurt a lot on other people's behalf! And this is a problem! It's just a completely different problem than the one fandom keeps writing.

Steve, and I'm going to say this forever, is a story about toxic masculinity, which the show may or may not even know it's writing. The archetypes influencing Steve's character as it shows up on the screen (and the stories and messages that Steve would actually be surrounded by in his actual life) are not deconstructions of suffering heroes who never should have had to fight in the first place and were destroyed by it. That's the Buffy the Vampire Slayer story. Steve's not Buffy. Steve's cultural context is Indiana Jones.

Steve is The Guy! And part of being The Guy is that you're expected to take the hits -- not because Steve is less important than the women-and-children he's supposed to protect, but because, the story says, he will get less hurt. Why should Steve get in between Billy and Lucas? Because Steve is an eighteen-year-old athlete and Lucas is in middle school, and of the two of them, Steve actually stands a chance. (And yes, Steve got badly hurt there, and Max had to save him -- but if Lucas, if Max had taken that beating they would not have been running through those tunnels later.) Was somebody else better-qualified to dive down to the uncertain bottom of a cold lake in the middle of the night? Steve doesn't list his credentials there as a way of justifying some ideal of martyrdom; he is literally the most likely person on the boat not to drown.

And make no mistake: when Steve's pulled into the Upside-Down, he survives the bats long enough for backup to get there. Realistic or not, he's apparently tough enough that he's physically capable of hiking barefoot through hell without much slowing down. Steve is the tank for the same reason as any tank: because he literally has been shown to have the most hit points in the group. You cannot honestly engage with Steve in this context without dealing with the fact that he's right.

AND THIS IS A PROBLEM! This is still a problem! But it's not the same problem that fandom seems to expect. It's not an expression of caretaking or the need for self-sacrifice; it's not an issue with Steve valuing himself less. It's an issue of toxic masculinity so ingrained that Steve doesn't even recognize he's suffering from it, because one of the tenets of toxic masculinity is that Big Strong Guys don't suffer. It's just a concussion, it's fine, he'll walk it off. It's not that Steve thinks he deserves to get hurt, or even that he's less deserving of safety than the others. It's that absolutely nothing in his cultural context allows him to admit that he can be hurt in a significant way.

There's still so much tension that can be gotten out of this situation, I swear. There's so much that can be explored in writing! Hell, the show itself is deconstructing some of this trope, believe it or not, by giving us a Steve who absolutely can take all the hits thrown his direction but still doesn't know what the fuck he's doing with his life. It turns out that doing his job as The Guy is only mildly helpful in horror movie situations (mostly by buying time for smarter, squishier people to do the damage from behind him), and somewhere a little worse than useless in everyday life.

But Steve does not go out of his way to self-sacrifice, he really doesn't. He just does his job. He's The Guy. Of course he's not going to let a kid or a girl or some scared skinny nerd who just learned about monsters yesterday take the hits. Of course Steve's got this.

[brayneworms]

prompt: l lawliet + food play + pink

wc. 2.8k. gn!reader, foodplay, virgin!l, handjobs, sliiiight come eating, reader is a wet cat in a cardboard box kinda, safe sane and consensual, no real power dynamics.

L contextualises things in the way he sees the world.

Strings of numbers, statistics, behavioural patterns that he's memorised to a 'T' until he can tell guilt from the aversion of an eye or fury from the remnants of nails pressed into the palm of someone's hand. It's why maybe something like sex or desire is a struggle for him. It's not that he doesn't understand it, it's more like he doesn't see the—the need for it, or whatever. You chalk it up to him being extremely busy and also probably totally asexual and don't think about it.

(Don't think about it much.)

It sort of surprises you that it's you he corners with his questions about. Maybe he's more embarrassed than he lets on—as it is, he looks cool as a cucumber save for the faintest shade of pink across his cheekbones. There's no way he would escape a conversation about it from anyone on the squad without a degree of ragging. Misa would squeal like a pig if L dared to broach the topic with her, you're sure. Matsuda would blush bright red and trip over all his words, and Aizawa would probably stare at him like he'd set his firstborn on fire.

And Light is Light. He probably knows little more than L, for all the airs he puts on.

So it's you he comes to. When it first starts, you think it has something to do with a case or lead he's hunting. Tell me, have you had sex before?

Perched like a frog, licking whipped cream off his finger. You don't know if he's doing to be provocative or not; don't know which is worse, that he's aware of what he's doing or not.

"This isn't exactly proper workplace conversation L."

A flicker of a smile. Cheeky, omniscient. "Feel free to report me to HR, in that case."

You do answer—honestly and concisely, if not with a shade of awkwardness. He's essentially your boss. But L seems so far removed from the worlds of sexuality and desire that it seems harmless, occupational, and eventually it stops feeling embarrassing. Out of nowhere—what is the purpose of restrains in an intimate context? Why do you think some people like to feel as though they have no control in the bedroom? Would you say that visual pornography has given watchers unrealistic expectations of actual intercourse?

One night, the two of you alone in front of a big glowing screen, turning to him and asking. "Why do you ask me this stuff, anyway? Is it for a case?"

"No," he says neutrally. A quick glance from his dark eyes you could almost describe as coy. "I'm just... curious."

"Curious," you echo, deadpan. "You?"

"Does that surprise you?" he murmurs. You almost feel that your honest answer—yes—would be insulting now, so instead you just shrug and mumble something incoherent under your breath. "You're not completely wrong. I thought having a better understanding of things like sex and power dynamics would be beneficial in the long run. Most people have a greater knowledge of it than me, which—puts me at a disadvantage." He says these last words with an air of revulsion, as though the very concept of knowing less than someone sours in his mouth, and you chuckle at his childishness.

"That makes sense." You pause. Wonder if you're reading this all wrong, then barrel ahead anyway. "Wouldn't actually experiencing it for yourself lend a better understanding than anything else, though?"

L's eyebrow raises. His smile has vanished, leaving him bug-eyed and unreadable. "What are you suggesting?"

He's not stupid, and you're not subtle. He knows exactly what you were suggesting. The fact that he's trying to get you to go into more detail rather than firing you on the spot is probably a good sign, and further than you expected to get. You squirm in your seat.

"You know. It's like being told about how something feels rather than knowing," you say awkwardly. "I'm just—can I ask—"

"It only seems fair," L says slowly. "After I've been badgering you with my own questions for so long." His chair spins; he rests his wrists on his rucked-up knees, fingers steepled in front of him. "Please."

Hot-faced, you spin your chair aimlessly. "Okay, well, uh—have you? I mean, before?"

L hesitates before he shakes his head, an almost imperceptible twitch that has his dark hair floating. You swallow the sudden large dry lump in your throat.

"Okay. So. Probably somewhere to start," you mumble.

L seems to consider this. "Would you be willing?"

You don't have the right to be surprised, with all the dancing around the subject, but you are, still. You choke on your spit and fly around to look at him, which is a mistake. His gaze is so dark and intense, and you think he can see right through you before you even open your mouth to answer.

"I'm not—" you stammer, with no idea what you're going to say. "I mean—"

"I had assumed you would be," L goes on calmly, but you catch the slight flicker of his eyes, a ghost of uncertainty that makes your chest squeeze. "If I have read your responses incorrectly, though, feel free to forget I asked. I can guarantee no awkwardness tomorrow."

"It's not that," you blurt. L blinks at you, go on. "It's just... do you have any idea what you're, you know. Into? Where to start?"

L's eyes flicker, the barest furrow knitted between his brows. You can tell he hasn't thought too hard about it. "What would you suggest?" he asks, curling his long fingers over his knees.

You swallow. "Well... anything you like the idea of, I guess. Something familiar, to ease you into it."

L's eyes roll over to his desk, where a perfectly glistening slice of strawberry cake waits for him. Pink sponge and halved red berries, topped with pale pink cream. "Familiar," he echoes. "I may have a suggestion."

-

So you feed L a strawberry just to get started.

Hold it up. It's distinctly awkward; L just stares at it for a moment, the berry dusted with frosting that glistens between your fingers. You tell him, "If you're not comfortable with this, sex is probably going to be—"

He leans forward and plucks the fruit from between your fingers; you feel the barest ghosting of teeth, the sweep of his tongue sharp and curious against the pads of your fingers before he leans back again. You watch the motions of his jaw and throat as he chews and swallows. Pins you with his headlamp stare, wide and dark.

You deconstruct the strawberry cake carefully, removing the berries and setting them to the side. Cast a look over at him. "Take off your shirt?"

L twists the hem of this shirt for a few moments before removing it. It feels so strange to see him devoid of clothing, like a knight removing their armour. Pale ribs, pinched waist. He's not whipcord-thin like you had imagined—there's lean muscle packed under the skin, his stomach flat and somewhat soft. It flexes almost nervously when you look at it. He reclines back on his bed without being told, bracing his weight onto his elbows, legs dangling off the side.

"You sure about all this?" you ask, glancing from the smooth planes of his white skin—shit—to the plate of crumbling pink dessert. "Didn't think you'd be into, you know. All the mess."

"I have a shower," L says reflexively.

You take that as permission to approach with the plate. You place the strawberry halves in a red dotted line, starting at his clavicle, watching him shiver and flex at the cold touch. Down—one at the bottom of his ribs, one above his bellybutton, one at his naval just above the low sling of his jeans. He's started to flush, prettily pink down his chest. It makes you slightly dizzy.

"Okay. So. Okay." You try not to feel so nervous, but it's more like you feel out of place, or time, or space. It feels surreal, basically. Standing between L's legs with your fingers stained pink from fruit and frosting. Him looking up at you like that, all big dark round eyes and slightly parted lips. Damn it. You take a deep, steadying breath. "Okay, so, I'll start now if you're okay. And just say if you don't want—if you want to stop, or if you don't like anything, just say, okay?"

"I understand the basic premises of consent, if that's what you're trying to affirm." The words are all L, but there's an element of breathlessness to them.

"Just making sure we're clear," you mutter. You lean forward and smooth a palm over his collarbones. They're sharp, they jut up to meet your hand like cut diamond, and you hear and see his breath hitch, which is slightly intoxicating. His skin is warmer and softer than you thought it would be. You run your hands over his shoulders and neck, which he squirms away from with a wrinkled nose.

"No neck?" you ask.

He shakes his head. So no neck.

Once you're done exploring this part of his body, you lean forward, close your lips around the strawberry and bite the end of it, sinking your teeth into the flesh. Pink juice runs down your chin; L's eyes follow it, transfixed, as you tilt your head forward and push your mouthful against his lips. They part unquestioningly, and you push the strawberry into his mouth with your tongue. Your lips brush together, tantalising and sweet with sugar. A mimic of a kiss, a palimpsest of intimacy. You don't want to overwhelm him, anyway.

This goes on; your hands over his chest next, the soft pectorals. An experimental brush of your thumb over his left nipple that makes his whole body shudder. He's so sensitive, reacting to every prod and touch and tweak with a jerk and a shiver. Gooseflesh blooms up his skin, pebbling his nipples, and when you tweak the other one gently he lets out a choked sound.

Finding the strawberry nestled under his ribs. Taking it between your teeth and passing it to him. His face gets pinker with each one. Stomach, concave, flexing with every hard breath. A ticklish spot over his belly button. Strawberry, bite, pass. The flex of his jaw as he chews.

Fingers over his waist, indenting the skin as much as you dare. You try not to think of how easily he would bruise. Brushing your touch over his lower abdomen makes his breath catch again. You find the strawberry, hold it between your lips. L cranes his neck, searching this time—he thinks he knows the game, has memorised the steps, found the pattern, the sequence. He doesn't know that the best sex is the unpredictable kind. This time, you press your lips against him and when your tongue pushes the strawberry into his mouth it stays there. His lips part, slack against yours, either in shock or inexperience. You allow yourself the briefest twirl of your tongue against his before pulling back with a wet pop.

L stares at you as you retreat. The strawberries leave pale pink residue on his skin. Pulling back fully reveals the hardness between his legs, pushing up against the dark denim of his jeans. He grunts when your eyes land on it, either out of embarrassment or frustration. You swallow and its like sandpaper.

"Still want me to...?"

"I have not changed my mind," he replies, slightly hoarsely and a beat slower than usual. You shrug, smooth your hands over the tent at his crotch, and he whines. It's the most searing noise you've pulled from him yet, and all from some halfhearted palming over the jeans. It sends a thrill zipping through you, hot and addicting. His arms shake with the weight of holding himself up, neck craning to follow as you sink to your knees between his legs.

You unzip him, pop the button, and he groans slightly at the freedom from the constraints of his clothes. He's fully hard, straining against his dark underwear. You experiment, rubbing at the tip, feeling for the wet spot, and he keens and thrashes, losing his stability and crashing to the mattress. He makes a frustrated noise just after, as though cursing himself for his own lack of control.

"That—" he swallows hard, breathes shakily. "That feels..."

Your hand hovers. "Am I stopping?"

"No, I don't..." He scrambles. L scrambles over his words. "Please, continue."

You stroke him over his underwear for a few concentrated minutes, mostly enjoying the way he twitches and huffs and occasionally makes soft, whiny noises, the way he starts to rut his hips against your hand. No technique, no rhythm, just some sort of baseless desire that you find incredibly hot. There's almost a frustration to it that makes you want to laugh—of course there would be nothing more agonising to someone like L than seeing what he wanted so close to him but being unable to accomplish it himself.

When he starts gritting his teeth, you pull his boxers down to his thighs and he makes a choking, embarrassed sound. When you wrap your fingers around his cock for the first time, finding it velvety-soft and leaking, his eyes roll back and his hips arch into the loose wet tunnel of your hand. "Oh," is all he says. Small and soft like he's surprised. His neck twists and his mouth presses into the starched white sheets. "Oh," he says again as your fist moves slowly, stroking with intent, up and down. He's not overly big, fits nicely in your hand, makes swiping over the head where the pre beads with your thumb nice and convenient. And you love the way he shudders and thrashes when you do it.

"How does that feel?" Your voice is lower than you remember it being. L cracks a bleary eye open; his face is flushed bright pink now, a flush that bleeds all the way down his chest, blending in with the strawberry stains.

"It feels," he starts, before his brow pinches. "I—I am not sure how to—how to describe..."

"It's okay," you tell him. His thighs shake, flexing against the edge of the mattress. When he tips his head back the cords in his pretty throat bulge, so biteable. "You can come whenever."

"I wasn't—oh," he gasps, squirming. "I wasn't aware I n-needed your—permission, oh."

"Yeah, well," you say intelligently, a little struck dumb by the sight before you. "Just making sure we're on the same page."

"A-and what page is that?" he pants, thrusting his hips messily into your hand. He's so fucking sensitive that you swear you can see his eyes growing shiny.

"The one where I help you out, so don't be a brat," you murmur. L laughs breathlessly, trying, you think, to summon some retort. You twist your fist around him and it died, half-formed in his brain, his eyes rolling back and fingers flexing hard in the sheets.

After another minute, he reaches out and grabs your wrist hard enough to bruise. He doesn't say it—can't, maybe. But you know. Your pace speeds up just a touch and he honest to god moans, spilling out of him soft and breathy before he comes, streaking over his stomach in pearly arcs. You watch him flinch at the contact, fingers slipping on your wrist. His chest flexes—in, out, in, out.

You collect a big scoop of pink frosting on your finger and dip it in the come starting to cool between his pecs before pressing it to his lips. L's brow wrinkles, startled—but he opens his lips and lets your fingers pass into the hot cavern of his mouth. Like a cat he licks your finger clean, pointed pink tongue prodding with no technique or flourish, just something steadfast, something stubborn.

You do him the dignity of tucking his softened cock back into his underwear and zipping up his jeans. Unsure how to proceed until L sits up rather abruptly. His hair is even more tousled from his tossing and turning as he reaches for a tissue to wipe himself down.

He looks at you. "I understand it's customary to offer some sort of equivalent exchange in these circumstances." A pause whilst he gathers his breath. "You'll have to forgive me. I'm not quite feeling up to the task."

His tone is normal, if a little shaky. You rock back on your heels. "Did you like it?"

L blinks at you. "My curiosity has been sated," he says, carefully. "Yes, I believe I did enjoy it."

Well, that's a relief if nothing else. The pink remnants of the strawberry cake it on the plate; the shade matches his blush.

[demonslayerunhinged]

Unhinged analysis - Sanemi

Why's Sanemi so aggro? (Part 1)

Sanemi is one of the most controversial characters in Demon Slayer and the most misunderstood, along with Obanai. People in the fandom just take him at face value, and it is a disservice to his character. You don't have to love him, but at least try to understand him, his background and how it all contributes to his behavior. So this is a character analysis on, in my opinion, the coolest motherfucker in Demon Slayer. Lesssgoooo!

His introduction

Sanemi's Hashira intro remains one of my favorite in the series. This is because we're fed so much information about him in such a short time.

The first thing we see are the W7s, the uniform belts around his shins, instead of the standard kyahan that other characters wear.

Then we see his back, his white haori which tells us nothing about his breathing style. At least with the others we can make an estimated guess at theirs. The only decoration is the kanji 殺(kill). Which is interesting because it's in the same position as the 滅(destroy) that we see on the backs of other slayer's uniforms.

Then we hear his voice for the first time. His speech is similar to that of a Yakuza member. I'll explain more later.

We then get the first glimpse of our man.

We notice a bunch of things. One is the fact that he's holding Nezuko's box with one hand, which tells us yea, this dude is strong as fuck. Then we see that his uniform is open at the chest, indicating a lack of care for his safety. We see the scars which lets us know that this guy has been through some shit, and he still keeps his chest open??? Nah.

Then we finally see his face and woah! The scary jagged scars, wild hair and bloodshot eyes combined with his rude way of speaking. We come to the conclusion: Oh my God! This guy's a crackhead!

Only kidding! But we can tell that this guy is not to be messed with and from the Jaws music that plays in the background and his signature Hashira theme, we also know that he's going to be trouble for our protagonist.

So let's break it down further with the first aspect of his introduction.

His haori, the kanjis, and their significance

Destruction has a certain impersonal feeling to it, like you destroy bad things not because you want to, but because you have to. Within the context of Demon Slayer, it's no different, the slayers have to destroy the demons because they are a blight on the world and there are no personal feelings about it. We can see it from the way Giyuu almost killed Nezuko, the way he killed Rui, the way Shinobu and Kanao almost killed Nezuko, and the way Zenitsu and Inosuke also killed demons.

Even in this episode where the Hashiras are introduced, their plans to execute Tanjiro and Nezuko show no personal feelings towards the situation, no maliciousness, and no hate. Nezuko is a demon she has to be killed. Tanjiro was harboring a demon so he has to be killed too and something tells me this isn't the first time they had to deal with a situation like this.

Kill, on the other hand, is very much personal and malicious in its intent. It doesn't matter if the target is bad for the world or not. What matters is that the killer thinks they're bad, and that alone is a justification to eliminate them. It's not about duty, it's a want spurred on by hatred, and Sanemi is full of hatred. We can see it from the sadistic way he stabs Nezuko, and the way he laughs at Tanjiro’s pain. Even when he wanted to test Nezuko with his blood, he gives her more unnecessary stabs instead of just simply opening the box.

Honestly, just by the kanji alone, I would’ve been surprised if he didn’t stab Nezuko. A demon can save baby orphans and kittens and sweet little old ladies from a burning building, and Sanemi will still gut the motherfucker.

Then there’s the color of his haori. The haoris, or absence of haoris, of the other characters (excluding Muichiro and Mitsuri) reveal information about their heritage, past, beliefs, and other aspects of their identity that extend beyond their role as Demon Slayers.

Sanemi has no heritage like Rengoku. We’re not given anything that tells us about his past like Giyuu. The kanji for Kill on his haori is in the same position as the Destroy on the standard uniform because, for Sanemi, being a Demon Slayer or more specifically a killer of demons IS his identity. It’s all he cares about, his entire life and the core of his existence. He has a one-track mind, and Kill Demons is the only song playing on a loop.

He doesn’t have time for anything he deems ‘frivolous’, has no special variation to his uniform aside from the fact that he keeps the chest open, and the uniform belts he wears around his legs are probably faster to put on than the standard kyahan.

So from his haori and kyahan alone we can tell that this guy is very strong, very wild and very dangerous.

Extra note: While doing research for this post, I also noticed that Sanemi’s haori is similar to the shirt he wore as a child, which could indicate how much his childhood affected him and how it led to his hatred of demons. Instead of the sleeve stripes, there is now the Kill kanji on the back.

Now let's move onto the other aspect of his introduction

His way of speaking

This part is based on my little understanding of the Japanese language and the research I did. So please don't attack me!

Sanemi kinda speaks like a thug or a Yakuza member. It isn't really noticeable in the English subtitles, but he uses particles and sentence endings that are typically used by men and can come across as rude, unrefined, and uneducated.

He doesn't use honorifics (unless speaking to the Master) when talking to people, even his fellow Hashiras.

He uses sentence endings such as ぜ (ze), ぞ (-zo), な (-na), か (-ka), かよ (-kayo) and だな (-da na) that make his questions and statements sound commanding, rough and forceful.

Not only that, but he often uses words such as:

"Urusee!" - a rough and rude way of saying "Urusai"

"Temee" - a rude way of saying you.

"Ore" - a very informal pronoun for "I"

Sanemi's way of speaking bears a teeny tiny resemblance to the Kansai dialect, which is like the Southern accent in the US. Kansai people are stereotyped as being uneducated, stupid, loud and aggressive.

That's why Tanjiro(bestest boy ❤) was shocked when Sanemi switched up real quick as he was speaking to the Master.

His default manner of speaking, even when it's to those who he likes or is okay with, is rough, forceful, aggressive and sometimes confrontational. It tells us about his personality and most importantly his upbringing or lack thereof.

I'll be going into his background in the Part 2 of this post, I'll also talk about how all these aspects makes our boy act the way he does.

In Conclusion, to be continued?

[honeycreammilkshake]

"you are me."

i have a lot of thoughts on this whole scene, both shipping and non-shipping ones. the relationship between yuuji and sukuna is honestly the most fascinating and complex one that i have seen in anime, and one of the reasons for that is just how much these two actually understand each other, which i don't think a lot of people realize. yuuji and sukuna see right through each other, more than anyone else does, and i think that's why their bond is far more personal than it seems to be.

yuuji and sukuna are enemies. they hate each other for their opposing ideals and characteristics. yuuji is caring, empathetic, protective, kind, and willing to put his life on the line for both friends and strangers. sukuna is narcissistic, self-absorbed, indifferent to suffering, murderous, unfeeling, and unconcerned with any life other than his own. they seem to be polar opposites in every way, so why would yuuji say something as contradicting as "you are me" to sukuna?

i think it's widely overlooked just how complex yuuji's character is. he's overall a "sweet" person, but he isn't very stable (he has been described by quite a few characters as being a bit "crazy"), he has a high tolerance for disturbing or gory things (he took learning about curses and fighting them very easily), he doesn't question the danger he's been put into (he actually runs headfirst into it), and he can be really violent and vengeful as well.

this is all explored very well in his confrontation with mahito, where he also says "i am to you" to the curse.

why are these scenes so different? mahito and sukuna both killed people yuuji knew and cared about as well as strangers that yuuji would die to protect. shouldn't yuuji be approaching sukuna with the same hate, disgust, and vengeance that he shows to mahito? shouldn't he be lashing out and making sukuna pay for all that he did?

why is he showing his "crazy side" to mahito but not to sukuna?

to give some context to this scene with mahito, the curse wanted yuuji to accept their similarities. and, in the end, yuuji did.

yuuji is acknowledging that he serves as nothing more than a weapon to keep killing the curses of the world, perhaps with no other deeper purpose than that. just like curses only exist to bring misery and prey on humans, yuuji's sole existence at this point is just to act on the orders of sorcerers: to keep eradicating curses and eventually help kill sukuna by dying with him. he doesn't need more meaning or roles than that.

but sukuna doesn't see yuuji as just another cog. he doesn't respect yuuji, true, and he loathes to give the brat any kind of credit. but he knows yuuji is the only one who really, truly cares about sukuna's devastating impact. the death of innocent strangers doesn't affect others quite as much as it does yuuji (even nanami in the vs mahito arc noted how much yuuji cared about the suffering of others).

and many of the other sorcerers are also not as horrified or repulsed by sukuna's actions as yuuji is. in fact, sorcerers and curses alike look up to sukuna. gojo actually seems to respect the king of curse's lifestyle. it feels like yuuji is really the only one to truly despise sukuna for his actions and ideals.

and sukuna knows this. sukuna knows how much the suffering of others gets to yuuji. which is why he gives yuuji such special treatment: he saves a unique brand of torment just for yuuji that he doesn't really give to anyone else.

sukuna intentionally returned control to yuuji's body just for yuuji to witness the massive damage and death that sukuna's domain expansion caused. it killed thousands of people, innocent strangers included.

it led to yuuji breaking down, even wishing for his own death. but yuuji is strong and, deep down, sukuna knows this. yuuji doesn't give up and instead uses his rage to fuel his fight with mahito, where he snaps and shows us his vengeful side. he doesn't need any other reason than mahito being a curse to want to kill him, over and over. that is yuuji's purpose. which seems like an uninteresting and boring one to someone like sukuna.

but for all that sukuna keeps calling yuuji uninteresting and boring, he shows a lot of investment in yuuji's growth and in their fights.

he's even invested enough to show disappointment when yuuji lost to choso. (if he thought yuuji was so weak, why did he seem so bothered by yuuji's loss here?)

and then sukuna looked surprised and curious when choso got hit with some kind of false memory empathetic attack that included yuuji in it. he's having a lot of strong reactions to someone he claims isn't interesting enough for him.

sukuna also loves to aggravate yuuji, somehow knowing how to provoke a strong reaction from him.

there's a lot of interesting things about this scene, one of them being that yuuji refers to sukuna as a "curse" which is technically untrue. sukuna is a sorcerer who used a set of cursed objects to send his soul into the future, but he isn't a curse himself.

but to yuuji, sukuna is nothing more than a curse because he doesn't show any sort of positive traits. sukuna's mindset reflects that of a curse since he only exists to please himself and loves to cultivate the kind of negative emotions curses are born of (fear, hate, jealousy, selfishness, etc).

there's also a clever reference to sukuna being a cannibal through yuuji saying "let's see if you can chew up me and my suffering." yet what we've seen throughout this story is yuuji essentially cannibalizing sukuna by eating his cursed fingers, which he calls the taste really gross. so i wonder... what would yuuji taste like to sukuna?

every human has a unique taste but all of them are fleeting to sukuna. there's no actual meaning or savoring to it. it's just a way for him to pass the time until death.

both yuuji and sukuna are cannibalizing as a form of destruction. but while yuuji is eating the cursed fingers so that he can hold all of sukuna inside of him for them to be exorcised together, sukuna was eating humans simply because he wanted to. he ate whatever he wanted because he was at the top. he is an apex predator with no real rivals or threats. it was for a completely self-absorbed and depraved indulgence while yuuji is giving up his life on this plan to save others.

yuuji and his suffering is the complete antithesis to how sukuna's eating only serves himself. which is very interesting to see when yuuji challenges sukuna to "chew him up." yuuji is proving to be more predator than prey and is far more of a challenge than sukuna wants to admit.

but maybe something about yuuji's resilience does please sukuna? maybe he actually finds worth in yuuji never giving up?

though he still underestimates and discredits yuuji's strength, he actually looks impressed with yuuji and seems even a bit eager to take him on again.

for someone who claims to find yuuji not worth his time, sukuna is showing yuuji far too much special treatment that he doesn't give to anyone else. he even calls yuuji a specific name (kozou) that he doesn't use with anyone else. others are just various offensive terms, but only yuuji seems to have a name just for himself.

sukuna is a really contradicting and complex character, and his relationship with yuuji really shows that.

i've seen a lot of anti-sukuna sentiment after his death, and i understand why a lot of fans hate him and celebrated when he died. however, i think a lot of fans have this somewhat inaccurate view of him being nothing more than a static villain with zero complexities and no chance of any kind of character development.

some of sukuna's most underrated and interesting traits are that he is actually pretty smart (he has an overall plan and is making all the right moves to get there), he's cultured (a poetry snob who hired a chef just to cook him humans instead of eating them raw, and perhaps he even knows more about flowers than he lets on), he shows respect to those he deems worthy and even seeks to learn from them, and he might not actually be the most "evil" person in jjk (which I consider to be kenjaku, but that warrants another post).

overall, sukuna is and has always been more than what he first seems, but a lot of fans don't want to see this or they overlook it.

after sukuna reveals he was an unwanted curse of a child, there was pushback against fans who interpreted this line as sukuna having a tragic backstory that explained his current self.

i understand why these fans don't want sukuna to be a sympathetic villain and i've read posts on how gege writes his villains to be intentionally unsympathetic.

from here (https://x.com/soukatsu_/status/1520796590612566022)

sukuna is the perfect example of a villain that is unsympathetic. he is horrifyingly strong, lives as he pleases, murders people for fun, is a literal cannibal, acts and appears monstrous, and makes our protagonist yuuji suffer over and over again. he represents exactly all the ideals and traits yuuji despises and the two of them are fighting each other because of this.

however, one thing i want to point out is just because sukuna is completely unsympathetic now doesn't mean he couldn't have had an actually tragic past that made him into this.

i believe that sukuna was seen as a curse from his birth on. much like how jogo wanted curses to be the true humans (sukuna calls this jogo essentially wanting to become human) sukuna became purely curse-like to escape being human. whether or not you empathize with him is irrelevant, because after he became the king of curses, sukuna has committed countless irredeemable horrors that even i, as a sukuna fan, don't ever want him to be forgiven or easily justified for doing.

having a tragic past doesn't justify his crimes, it only provides a catalyst for them. it explains why he, who was born human, became more of a curse than some curses are. you don't need to have sympathy for him after that. just like he has no sympathy for those he considers weak and inferior, he has no more reason to be a tragic character.

a lot of people acted like sukuna potentially having a tragic past that turned him into the monster he is now makes him "uncool" or "uncharacteristic" of himself but, to me, it makes his character all the more detailed without changing the fact that he is still purely "evil" and irredeemable.

but does this all make him incapable of character development?

i personally believe that yuuji has been affecting sukuna throughout the whole series, especially in these last few chapters.

i recently came across a post on reddit on why sukuna could never be more than a static villain character. one of the arguments was that gege never intended for sukuna to have any kind of redemption arc.

(https://www.reddit.com/r/Jujutsufolk/comments/16vphxl/sukuna_is_different_from_other_strongest/?rdt=36326)

(now, i couldn't find the original source where this interview came from, and it's not worded very well so i'm thinking it's been quickly translated. and there's always missed meanings and alterations to the original message when translations have been made, especially with japanese. i'm also not sure if the "him" being referred to is mahito or sukuna, but i'm assuming it can apply to both of them.)

this post was made about a year ago, so i assume this interview with gege is also a bit dated now. i think gege is intentionally vague in their interviews because they don't want to reveal too much, but my own interpretation of this post is that gege never intended for sukuna to get any sort of redemption because he is incapable of being redeemed through any kind of love.

and i agree with that. i don't want sukuna to get redemption. what he has done is unforgivable and i don't want him to get off easy for it. but him showing character development is not the same as him getting redemption. and him being affected by love isn't the same as him fully accepting it either.

in these last few chapters, yuuji has offered mercy to sukuna multiple times, despite how even he himself considered it to be a lost cause.

as i wrote earlier, yuuji is the only character who really understands how terrible and curse-like sukuna is. he hates sukuna on this fact alone. yuuji told mahito that his purpose is to kill curses, and sukuna - in the end - is nothing more than just another curse.

so why did yuuji suddenly change all that up and show empathy and genuine concern for sukuna in these last few chapters? why was he trying so hard to convince sukuna that they can co-exist?

one of my sukuita-cult friends (flight-of-death) pointed out that during his fight with yuuji, sukuna explicitly recalled his conversation with kashimo about not needing another person to fulfill him.

while sukuna saying he didn't anyone else to fulfill him was relevant during his discussion with kashimo, it's very interesting that he was remembering his own exact words about it while facing down yuuji, who was making sukuna doubt some of his previous statements.

my friend has convinced me that sukuna and yuuji have found a "reluctant fulfillment" in each other. and i think this is proving to be very much possible.

yuuji was alone most of his life. without wasuke there for him, he could have turned into a ruthless monster like sukuna. yuuji has so much physical and emotional strength, but it was the catalyst of wasuke's death that motivated yuuji to use that strength for good. he might have chosen to be selfish and only concerned with his own wants and needs like sukuna did, but wasuke provided the role yuuji needed to be the selfless person he is now.

i think that yuuji, in all his loneliness, found a kind of closeness to sukuna, even if it was unwanted. and sukuna has definitely been affected by yuuji, too.

as sukuna is dying, megumi finally regains control. he notices how sukuna seems to be scared of death.

sukuna genuinely does look concerned about dying. his mouths are in the shape of a grin but are turned upside down and look more like actual dread. for someone who claimed that eating people was only a way to pass the time until death, sukuna now looks unwilling to die.

i think that this shows that sukuna gained some sort of respect for life, even if it was only in his will to keep living. he does seem to want to keep existing, and it's interesting that it's what yuuji offered him.

yuuji was created by kenjaku to be sukuna's vessel. the sorcerers wanted to use yuuji as a vessel to hunt down all the cursed fingers so that yuuji and sukuna would die together. no matter how you see it, sukuna and yuuji were bound to end up either living or dying together. that is their fate. but now that he has more power in making his own choices, yuuji seems to genuinely want to share the kinder fate with sukuna: to live together. and if you think about it, them coexisting makes a lot of sense.

sukuna has been described as a natural disaster, so how can yuuji have any kind of empathy for something as devastating and unfeeling as an earthquake or a tsunami? in truth, the human race has been coexisting with natural disasters since the beginning - especially japan, which has weathered many terrible calamities. yuuji is a lot like the embodiment of the resilience and strength needed to survive such disasters, so i think he's more than capable of handling a life with sukuna, especially if sukuna is far more subdued.

and sukuna being allowed to live isn't redemption at all. though it would be a form of character development for him, it would still be one of the most selfish things he could do, as it would mean condemning yuuji to an indefinite amount of time with sukuna.

but yuuji seems to want that. he is willingly offering up the rest of his life to sukuna, for them to live together.

personally, i don't consider this to be a form of redemption in any way. he is proving sukuna's mindset wrong, not forgiving him. just accepting his nature and still offering a way to coexist.

i think that by offering this to sukuna, yuuji would essentially become that person that sukuna claims he doesn't need to feel fulfillment. but it's clear to me sukuna wasn't satisfied with his life in the past, since he couldn't offer an explanation to kashimo about why he chose to cross the ages as cursed objects. he is obviously lying or beginning to doubt his own words.

and i think that's why he chose death.

accepting yuuji's mercy, finding that fulfillment sukuna denies needing, would be very un-curselike of him and he can't have that. he would rather be seen as an inhuman monster than something capable of accepting love.

so in the end, sukuna is doing exactly what gege said he would: rejecting love and rejecting anything that makes him less of a curse.

but yuuji isn't easily pushed away. he kept coming back for wasuke and i think that if he really does care that much about sukuna, that if he's wiling to live with him even if no one else accepts it, he won't let sukuna go without more of a fight either.

they can still find fulfilment in each other. they are capable of coexisting. and if sukuna decides to make that change, it doesn't necessarily mean he's completely broken character. and if they don't get to survive together in this lifetime, there's still a good chance for change if they're reincarnated.

[bokettochild]

What is Legend’s and post-totk Wild’s relationship like? Does it change or is it the same?

Honestly, I keep trying to write an answer but all I have are inexplicable vibes.

It would change. Legend's the same as he was but Wild's grown up. Wild would be either 22 or 23 by the time TotK is over (in game we're told it's been 5 years since BotW) meanwhile Legend is still, at best, 17, but likely 16.

That's a 6-7 year age gap where before they were either the same age or very close.

Legend's still got his experience, but now Wild has the context of years, of knowing what normal looks like. Post BotW Wild has no concept of normal or peace, but post TotK Wild would have spent 5 years just existing and doing People Things. He knows what normal kids are like now. He's a teacher. He's a leader. He's an adult, even if he's still a young one. But he's got that frame of reference that Legend never has had of what life looks like after the adventure, but now also with the understanding that legend does have of the fact that heroes' can be ripped away any time, life uprooted to save the world again at any moment.

Wild has life experience that Legend can't fathom. Wild knows what growing up is like. Wild knows what peace looks like now.

Legend doesn't even know what the word "retirement" means, much less "stop" or "peace". He's used to having only enough time to heal between adventures before heading out again, if that!

I think Wild would come back, thinking he could slip back in, just to realize he can't see his brothers the same anymore. I won't dig in too deep, since you just asked about him and Legend, but for the vet I think he'd just get shocked at how young his brother really is, by how screwed up Legend's outlook on life is, and I think he'd be floundering because the guy he used to look to as a veteran, an expert and a role model, is actually just a teenager with too much responsibility on his shoulders.

I don't think he'd know what to do with that, because that's still his brother, but Legend's no longer his BIG brother, or at least not his peer. Legend's younger than him now, and much as he tries to see the vet the same way he used to, he'd just keep realizing how screwed up everything about Legend really is.

Meanwhile Legend, Mister Abandonment-Issues, would be over here struggling with the feeling of being left behind and out of the know and suddenly feeling small around a hero who used to make him feel so big. Wild's an adult now, but he's not supposed to be. Wild's matured now (but still Wild) and he's not sure what to do with that. Wild is wiser now, knows things, isn't charging in without thought anymore, and Legend has to adjust his whole perception all while wondering if this is even the same guy. All while trying his hardest not to let on that he feels that way because you bet your BUTT this kid has gotten enough grief over the years for not being the same kid people used to know that he has no wish to make anyone else feel that.

Like, adventures change you, a LOT. Legend's had a lot of adventures, ergo; he's changed a ton over the years and it definitely throws off everyone who knows him every single time. it's not his first rodeo, but it is the first time he's not been the one riding the bull that is change.

I think they'd both struggle a lot with this. I think there'd be a lot of frustration and fear on Legend's side and a lot of shock and confusion on Wild's. I think both would grieve, and I know Legend wouldn't be the one to know how to fix it.

Legend fixes problems, but the thing that sets him apart from the rest of the heroes is that he's never had time between adventures to actually process and learn healthy coping mechanisms or ways to express himself. Kid knows how to fix other people's shit, but never his own.

Wild would have to be the one to cross the divide between them, and as the older brother now, I think that would just make it all the weirder for both of them.

Anyways, congrats, I had enough brainrot about this that I wrote a dang fic and then sobbed for a good ten minutes in a public coffee shop T-T

Thanks for the ask!

[threepandas]

Bad End: Mama Mine

I woke, that first time, to the most beautiful child I had ever seen. Even through a fever that felt like it was cooking me from within, I could see she was different. It was honestly impossible not too. She looked cherubic. Angelic. Impossible, somehow. As though favored by the gods.

Even in worn, threadbare, patched then re-patched old clothes, so far from new as to have forgotten the name of it, she looked... like a dancer. Beautiful. A tiny painting brought to life. I couldn't understand, delirious as I was. I thought I was hallucinating. Worried her terribly.

She was just a small thing. Trying her best. Too care for her sick mother. She could barely reach the stove. Struggled to carry the buckets of water she needed, to cook and wipe my fevered sweat away. But she let nothing stop her. So determined to save me. Her little face so filled with love and worry, forever a step away from tears.

She was so afraid.

How could I do anything but love her back?

Disoriented or not. Lost and confused I may be. I had a child. Any plan I made? Would be for two. I had never really seen myself a mother, but cast into the role? I refused to abandon the child who loved and needed me. Who was innocent in all this.

Instead, as my fever broke, I held her close. Told her she had been so, so brave. Let her cry. Cuddled my little girl and gave myself a moment to just... breathe.

Then in the morning I got to work.

I appeared to be a single mother. A PEASANT single mother. Delightful. We had little to nothing to our name. I could try and fix that, I think. I knew a few crafts. But I had "forgotten" everything practical. Great. Luckily? I had a VERY observant little helper. Who remembered most of how everything was done.

I could context clues from there.

We made due.

Cleaned up the house, washed the linens, aired everything out. In bits and pieces, using half remembered wiki binges and crafting videos, I improved our little homestead somewhat. It wasn't by MUCH. I didn't have the skills. But it looked... nicer, I think. Homey.

We foraged. Sold hunted animals and things we had found. The occasional baked good. More then that? I tried to make time for my daughter. Keep her away from powerful eyes. The sort that might covet a pretty young thing. Taught her what I could.

Not just how to braid her beautiful hair, but that her beauty did not define her. That love was wonderful but not all there was to life. Too be wary of empty promises and watch for how the powerful treat those that they deem weaker then them. To lead with a smile but be prepared to throw her fist.

Also don't eat those mushrooms, honey, those are the poisonous ones.

I wish... Honestly? I wish I could have given my daughter a better childhood. Better education then the lessons scratched in dirt I was able. If I'd been able to REMEMBER. To recognize. Maybe I would have scrimped and saved more for third or forth hand textbooks, instead of the new hunting knife she so badly wanted.

But I didn't remember.

And as we were visiting town? PROPER town as opposed to our little settlement? I heard about wealthy, comparatively, family's having their children tested for... magic?

I faltered but adapted. Was it that much stranger then being transported into a new body and world? Magic it was then, I guess. Huh. We continued shopping. I bought my daughter a new sturdy pair of boots. Room to grow, would serve her well. She adored them. They had FLOWERS on them, mama! I couldn't help but laugh. Ah, my daughter is so cute!

Then I saw it.

As we passed the temple square. The only building in this whole town that could count as ostentatious. Some silk clad toddler broke from the pressing crowds, no doubt displeased with being crushed in on all sides. He wriggled free. Back from the steps and out into the road. Blind to the mortal peril he had just put himself in as the carriage of some wealthy To-Do raced carelessly down the street. Looking around, innocent, as only a toddler can as he wandered farther and farther from safety.

I dropped my shopping.

The world fuzzy and muffled, far away in my panic. Some Mother's instinct SCREAMING as I raced forward. Throwing a few people aside to reach the road. Then bolting. Distantly I heard my daughter scream, another scream as they finally notice, too late, their child was in mortal peril. But all I could see... was the little boy. Turning. Noticing. The big scary horses.

About to crush him to death.

Time felt slow.

I got there.

Then PAIN.

Far away, people were screaming. A child was crying. Small and terrified in my arms. Some arrogant voice was first demanding, then stuttering, then begging. A frantic voice, joined by others. Rich perfume. The... the child reaching for someone. Safe? Safe. I let go. Tried to smile. Ah... my daughters voice. Crying. Shhhh, shhhh. I'm sorry. It's okay. I'm sorry.

Ah... there... there was so much blood.....

Then there was LIGHT.

Like someone had cupped the sky itself and poured it directly onto me. Blue. So light and weightless and blue. The pain vanished as though erased. New agony and old aches alike. My eyes blinked open in suprise. And there? Tear stained and glowing? Was my daughter.

Like the sky itself had wrapped around her. Sunlight and blue sky and drifting clouds. Swirling like she was the world itself. Her eyes filled with tears when they connected with mine. With a choked cry, she through herself into my arms. Oh, baby. My poor baby. I wrapped my arms around her tight. Hugged her back for all I was worth.

"Your daughter?" A gentle voice asked.

I looked up. What HAD to be a noble woman sat, skirts ruined, in the dirt and blood at my head. Clutching desperately at the toddler I had saved. I could only nod. Understanding passed between us. Mother to mother.

Which is why, when a priest with covetous eyes came forward?

The noble women's smile turned cold.

She had changed her mind. She was, in fact, going to have her son tested by the temple closer to home. AND? She was going to be taking us with her. I agreed. Immediately and before anyone could try to seperate us. Daughter mine, darling, honey, Get In The Carriage. NOW.

We got out of there while the getting was still possible.

It was safe to assume, my new noble friend eventually said, that my daughter had magic. But what did that mean for us? Well, according to Nation Law? (Oh goodie. Laws I know nothing about.) She would have to attend the Royal Magica Academy.

What.

I knew that name. I KNEW that name! My jaw was surely on the floor, my daughter squeeking out flustered and rambling questions at my side. But... but all I could do? Was slowly turn to look at her. She was healthier then the game cover. Not as "that's not what real women look like!" Thin that... that in hindsight? Was probably prolonged food scarcity. Starvation.

She was taller too. Less... oh god, less "child like". That had to have been malnutrition. Stunted growth.

The way her hair shown, soft and healthy. The brightness to her skin and nails. Clarity to her eyes. Fullness to her cheeks. She was hardly even within sight of being a plump child, more muscle then anything, from a life of work and survival, but? She wasn't... waifish. I had made sure of that.

Even if it meant sacrificing my own meals to do so.

But I could SEE it. Could SEE the familiar features. The curling hair and doe like grey eyes. The generic princess character that I had been playing right before... before... God, I couldn't even remember the game's NAME. Just the plot. It had been mid at best. Magnificent art. Everyone raving there was some secret twist after the first play through.

So I grit my teeth a pushed through the generic. Tried to figure out what it was.

Never did get the chance. I died before the second play through and the twist everyone insisted made the game awesome. Now I wish I had caved and looked up spoilers. I tried to remember the mother. Did she die? What happens to my baby girl? Should I push her towards one man or another? Let her follow her heart?

It's a long, long night.

We stay in a guest room. Fancier then anything I've ever seen in this life. I keep my daughter calm. Help her avoid embarrassing herself. Tips for when in doubt. See, honey? It's a learning opportunity! No need to panic! Mama's certainly not, on the inside! She's very calm. Completely, utterly, definitely very ultra calm. Ha ha...

I think my soul had a panic attack.

Things moved very quickly after that. In the end, they had too, if I was to keep my daughter safe. The temple would want to train her. Her magic was apparently quite rare. Religiously significant. And being so lovely? She would make an EXCELLENT propaganda peice. A figurehead and puppet, forevermore in gilded chains.

Everything I feared for her.

No. That was NOT going to happen.

The Academy it was. Nobles and their games aside. The education would be unparalleled. She could probably even make friends. Possibly find love. I told her to Be CAREFUL. That is was a treacherous but beautiful place. Filled with powerful people used to getting their way. Do whatever she must to survive. Thrive. Be happy.

And remember, she is loved.

I...Returning home alone felt like ripping my heart out. I had thought I would have years, yet, before my daughter married and moved out. That I would have time to adjust. Get used to the idea, as my future son-in-law came around. Instead? I returned from a trip to emptiness. A life interrupted.

My daughters sewing, still resting, waiting for her, on the kitchen table.

I collapsed. Weeping. In the entryway.

My tiny home had never felt so vast and hollow.

Days passed. Then weeks. Finally, a letter arrived. Delivered by a very uncomfortable servant. The man checking more then once if I was TRUELY who he was supposed to deliver too. Clearly more then a little uncomfortable in the presence of such poverty. I did not care. I had a letter, thick with writing, from my daughter.

She was doing well.

MORE then well. My lessons had actually put her ahead of the curve in several classes, much to the shock and outrage of her peers. They had expected poverty to equal mental deficiency, it seems. And the library was quickly making up for any classes she was behind in. That's my girl!

She had made several friends that way. Quiet young ladies, willing to help her make sense of the complexities of history or magical theory. From nice, stable, neutral houses, too. No tea parties yet. Or boys. But I didn't care.

My baby had FRIENDS!

I sent a care package of her things back. Not indiscriminately, of course. But tools and notes, a few unfinished projects she had been working on to pass the time. Some snacks from home. They would likely still embarrass her somewhat, but... I did not want her to think I did not CARE. That I had tossed her towards that Academy and promptly forgotten her.

The servant, Geoffrey, and I got to see quite a lot of each other.

He got over the state of my house rather quickly. Instead, started bringing things he "just happened to have lying around" that would you look at THAT? I happened to need! Between letters on my daughter's meeting, then dramas, with pretty wealthy boys? Geoffrey helped me repair my roof. I mended his uniform. We shared new year's festivities together.

I even went to the actual festival, like I was some sort of lovely young thing.

As my daughter grew closer to graduation, the questions started. If I could go anywhere, where would it be? If I could do anything? What if I never had to work again? I wasn't a fool. Told her in no uncertain terms. If I EVER suspected she married for anything less then love and herself, I would disown her.

I did not sacrifice so that my daughter would SUFFER.

However... it seemed there was more then a few things my daughter had left from her letters. The next letter arrived in the hand of a man that wore Geoffrey's face, but even as I walked back towards my cabin from the forest... I knew.

That was not the man I had grown to love.

When the imposter turned, no doubt to lie, I RAN. Dropping my harvest of foraged wild greens. I had been planning to make a dish for him. One he was fond off. Perhaps my daughter's magic came from me, my line instead of her unknown father, or perhaps I had just enough to give it wings. To carry her to term.

Because...

I knew he was dead.

They pursued me. Of course they did. But this was a forest I had wandered for years. I lost them in the trees. Attacked them with rocks and stones. Destroyed my trails with rocks and rivers. Every hunter I crossed paths with an ally. Every hunting trap a peril I could lead them into. They were good.

I was better.

But more came.

Then more. And more. And MORE.

And I was not so good as to fend of a legion. I would not risk the village for some nobles scheme. I was dragged, bloody, bruised before some arrogant little sadist. A nasty little creature, like a porcelain doll filled with bile. What an utter waste of good fabric. I told her as much. Interrupt her sneering little monolog.

The backhand across the face barely hurt.

Toddlers had more muscle.

Unfortunate for this brat. My daughter had arrived in time to see that. And worse for this brat, she brought her friends and suitors. A veritable crowd of power and influence. The brat did not have the common sense to shut up while she was ahead. Even I, a peasant, could recognize royalty on sight. There were at least two of them before us.

MY daughter was not as merciful as the Cannon Protagonist had been.

It was a blood bath.

I tried to stay awake. Head wounds and all that. I... I had wanted to introduce Geoffrey to my daughter. Hinted at it, over my letters. I would... would never get the chance now... oh god. Geoff. Geoff, forgive me. Tears welled up. I could not stop them. Just as I could not stand. Just as I could not move...

I was... was rather useless... wasn't I?

Familiar yet no longer familiar arms threw themselves around me. Cradled me close to a softly perfumed chest, locks of hair I'd know anywhere, shielding me from the world.

"Mama..." my little girl said. Her voice the very picture of heartbreak. "I'm sorry. I... I was too late."

One of her suitors untied me. The knight, probably, from the calluses I felt. But all I could think about was, wrapping my daught in my arms. Together for the first time in years. And it had to be like THIS? Oh gods. Why was fate so cruel?

My little girl had grown so big.

This was a grown woman in my arms.

I just... I just wanted this terrible night to END. And as my daughters power slid over me? It did.

I woke up in a guest room. He dear friend Agatha had INSISTED. Geoffrey had worked for her family. It... it brought relief. To mourn with people who had known him. He had apparently spoken of me. Quite often. The sap.

It... it wasn't fair.

But when was life ever fair?

My daughter visisted. Now that i was finally closer. Her suitors dropped by, to pay their respects I think. Possibly win me over, as mother of their lady love. They were awkward little things. It was adorable. I was patient. Listened. Prodded them when then froze up, uncertain of what to talk about. Got them rambling about their hobbies. Really, it was no great difference then most shy kids.

The visited more. Stayed longer.

Brought gifts.

The gifts were expensive, elaborate, and wildly impractical. I was forced to gently explain why I, a peasant woman, could NOT accept their gift of fist size gemstones. It started with "I will be robbed" and ended with "they WILL be certain I stole these, no matter WHAT documentation you give me. I will die". They were very confused and alarmed. Much like puppies learning that suddenly treats were somehow illegal.

Agatha herself? Was a delight.

A very "mob" looking young lady with a sharp wit and an old man's sense of humor. Her personal maid was Geoffrey's niece. That neither held against me what had happened? Spoke of both of their maturity and grace. They WOULD however, never forgive the house that ordered the attack. I much agreed.

I considered, going back to the village, but...

The memories were too raw there.

I decided to follow my daughter, settle near wherever she decided to go. She seemed thrilled at the idea. Somehow, word spread. On the next visit, the future "head of the mage's tower" and man of entirely too many titles, Valtaan mentions an estate he owns near the Tower. How it lies empty. Would be the PERFECT place for a mother-in-law, you know... if he had one. Lovely gardens!

Oh, really?

Then, the Knight mentions how HE'S going to be stationed up North. In a Great Big Fortress with SO many rooms. Just... just SO MANY. Entirely too many, really. Honestly, he should bring more people! Like a wife! And... and a Mother-in-law! Really fill up the place, you know?

Mmmmhmmm.

The Prime Minister to be? Oh HE talks of TRAVEL. Ever considered traveling? The Embassies are LOVELY. So much to DO around them. Foreign lands, beautiful locals, silks and lovely little treats.

You don't say....

The Duke is blunt about it, at least.

I have a castle. I have SEVERAL castles. Estates. He is aware you are not motivated by that, but it does leave you with options for where you want to live should your daughter decide to marry him. And he DOES intend to marry my daughter. Second husband if not the first. Motivated, aren't we?

I politely infor both prince's, the SECOND they sit down, before they open their mouth, that I like them. I do. A lot in fact. But it's not going to happen. It'll be a cold day in hell the day I let my daughter marry into the royal family and they both know exactly why. They pause... consider it. Then nod.

They agree.

Wouldn't wish this life upon ANYONE who had a chance at something better.

My daughter graduates, with HONORS. There is much gnashing are rending of clothes from the elitist base. Ha! Get fucked. I STILL have no idea what the "twist" is in the plot or if I was being punked. Also not a single clue which, if any, of her suitors she's chosen. Could be all of um. I could care less so long as everyone consents and is aware of each other.

The graduation party is, naturally, grand. I'm in a dress one of the suitors likely bought for me. Somehow, I actually look like I belong. Instead of dancing and reveling, my munchkins hover. As though afraid to leave me alone at my first Big Girl Party. I laugh, trying to shoo them away. Go, go!

My daughter stubbornly shakes her head, leaning against me, her dress complimenting mine. Though I doubt I could be half as lovely.

"Noooo~ I refuse! I will be staying Right HERE, Mama!" Her voice is playful but... there's something strained. Desperate, that's never really gone away I think. Not since the accident. "What if someone tries to take you AWAY? You're too pretty! You gotta stay with US, mama!"

I laugh out loud, completely missing the interested looks that glance my way. Well to do gentleman, widowers and respected servants alike. Long time bachelor's, who's eyes linger a touch too long on the length of my neck, the curve of shoulder. The way it dips down, past my collarbones towards someplace... interesting.

My crowd of young protectors DO NOT miss the looks.

Bristle like angry cats. Eye venomous and society smiles sharp enough too cut glass. There is a murder to their expression. A command to Look Away.

While you still have EYES.

"No, Mama." My daughter insists when I try to tell her she's wrong. That I am far from desirable. "I'm not letting go. Not EVER. We're FAMILY. And that means? That means you're MINE."

[thigholstercas]

So I wanted to have all these parts of scripts that I love with destiel moments that were erased, changed, or added context in one place. Bare in mind that there are some that are Production Drafts and others Writer's Drafts, and so on.

4x02 - Are you there, God? It's me, Dean Winchester

Oh honey, he's gonna be your husband

Honestly, I'm just putting this here because I love this scene.

5x04 - The End

Cas received the order to follow Dean's commands once, and he sticked to it up 'til the end of everything.

7x17 - Born again identity

Just remember, this was after everything that happened in season 6 and widow!dean arc 1.0

Forward to Cas' speech in 15x18, yes the parallels.

Swear this is a whole Dean thesis. If we go back to what started this whole thing in tmwwbk. Dean tells Cas, we can fix this. And he never stopped wanting to fix it.

8x17 - Goodby Stranger

Like, I know they established that it didn't make sense for Dean to say I love you here, which fair, and we ended up which I need you (somehow worse).

But if we look at this as a whole, what Dean might understand is that saying I love you makes people leave him. Fastforward to the part when Dean takes the sigils so Cas can find him and Naomi visits and tells him that Cas doesn't return his feelings. Fastforward again to the You didn't trust me because even if we get to know that it was hard for Cas to leave with the tablet, away from Dean, Dean doesn't. For Dean, he left him, without even acknowledging that he loves/needs him, ignored him, and didn't trust him. Imagine you say I love you and you are left feeling abandoned, betrayed, and angry.

8x19 - Taxi Driver

This in the middle of I love you, and You didn't trust me is something

8x22 - Clip show

The one guy that's always had your back.

9x22 - Stairway to Heaven

Don't know what they smoked to write this, but I want some

10x23 - Brother's Keeper

You'll see the word shattered used a lot. This very much both destiel and drowley imo.

Season 12 is weirdly filled with these, so here are special mentions (because the max of pictures is 30 and there are too many moments). Most likely, it has to do with the market research by the end of 2016, which is why from 12-15, these scenes are more emotionally charged.

Mary saying Good friend when Dean and Cas hug in 12x01

Cas told Mary I promised (Dean) when they were talking outside the barn before going in to help Dean save Sam in 12x02

Dean telling Mary Get him outta here! when Cas was wounded in 12x12. And of course, when Cas says the things they have shared changed him (but that's on screen)

Cas texts? from 12x16

Dean is a worried husband on 12x18.

Dean explaining that no matter how much Cas messed up, did the wrong thing, or every dumb move he got it in 12x20. Cas was always Cas.

12x10 - Lily Sunder has some regrets

Dean telling Cas he has changed, and it has all been for the good. Again, forward to 15x18.

12x19 - The Future

This whole episode is charged with scenes from Dean and Cas. Like you have the angry Welcome home from Dean when Cas returns from Heaven. Dean calls Cas a super strong dude in a trenchcoat. The mixtape scene with the That was a gift. To keep. And Dean softening a bit even if he's angry because he's more worried.

But I think the biggest one is this one. The destiel sex scene (jk)

And after this, even though it is said in the show. There is more insistence from Dean to not let go of Cas -> We're not gonna let you just walk away. Not again. Not happening.

12x23 - All Along the Watchtower

The word shattered is mentioned a lot in the scripts. This is every part that describes Dean's reactions after losing Cas. Forward to 15x18.

13x06 - Tombstone

This is one of the best things that never happened in the show. You have Dean choking down his emotions saying he's much better now and Cas who fought with the empty with everything he had in 13x04 to return to Dean, coming to a meadow near a windmill because Dean thought he'd like it.

13x14 - Good Intentions

Forget about the in love part. They are best friends, and we didn´t get this.

13x20 - Unfinished Business

He lost Cas and it damn near broke him. Not we lost Cas, I.

14x12 - Prophet and Loss

Losing Dean was unacceptable. Cas said that losing Dean was unacceptable. And Dean got emotional. And then forward to 15x18, Cas just goes no, Dean can't die because that'd be unacceptable to me, so i'll sacrifice. And then, Dean gets emotional. Again. But for Dean, the unacceptable happened.

15x09 - The Trap

Forward to 15x20. In this future that Chuck showed Sam that he lost Dean the second Cas was gone.

Have I said how much they used the word shattered. Anyway, Dean wanted Cas to stay. That's his best friend.

He's amazing.

15x18 - Despair

This is not that different from what it was filmed, it is just that seeing it described makes it different. Especially when you get things as Still beautiful, still Dean Winchester, Dean is emotional, stunned, shocked. And have I said how much they used the word shattered. Also, you can see how it starts as a confession because Cas is confessing that he made a deal, but then it ends as a declaration, a declaration of love. Which makes testament such a good word for it.

15x19 - Inherit the Earth

The fact that Dean couldn't say Cas was gone

He's not the ultimate killer. He's not daddy's blunt instrument. He's someone who raised his little brother for love, who fought for the world for love and the most caring man on Earth

15x20 - Carry On

We don't talk about this episode because the script has way too many [omitted] but this is exactly what happened in 15x09 when Chuck showed their future to Sam if they followed the road they were taking.

Okay, that was it. Probably missed some, but for me, these are the parts that stand out.

[celestiallystella]

Hi! I absolutely loved the Mer!Legend piece you did, and I was wondering if you'd be interested in writing some NSFW headcanons for him too? If not that's completely fine but I've been STARVING for Mer Leg content ❤️

omg YES, looove mer leg sm, he and sky are my two bbys! glad you enjoyed the first post anon :p

Mer Link/Legend x GN!Reader NSFW

as always, gn reader (no specific genitalia for the reader mentioned!) and in this case an established relationship! if you want context as to how the relationship began, read my first post on mer legend here! my nsfw headcanons tend to devolve into random hcs tht are vaguely sexual, so apologies for that!

since this request is clearllyyy based around mer legend, expect him to be half fish for 99.9% of this.

also, just like in my other post, he'll just be called link since none of the others are included. there may also be vague references to some stuff from that post, but dont fret if you havent read it <3

hope you enjoy :D

unfortunately, even the bunny bullshit gets him in his merform, and he's ALWAYS down for sex (never once does he bother to consider that maybe he's just a horny guy regardless, but yk)

oral. this man LOVES giving oral

especially when he has the mermaid suit on

half in the little river by your house, you laying on the shore, his head between your thighs

i say that there's definitely more changes that come with the mermaid suit besides JUST a tail, fins, and a small set of gills

he has a longer tongue, for starters. throws him off a lot when he first transforms because he has to curl the end of it in his mouth and it feels weird to him

but for this? oh goddesses he is so in love with having a longer tongue

compared to giving you oral when he's hylian, he can just get more of you like this. taste more of you

its horribly arousing to him

more little changes include his teeth

mers live off of seafood, and so i say that link probably has slightly sharper canines in this form

nothing drastic, and honestly even during his journey it took him a while to realize

he likes nipping your thighs a lot.

mouth latched over your skin, tongue pressed flat, and teeth digging in gently

sharper nails, so when he inevitably grabs your legs or hips, his nails dig in a bit too

he's not a rough lover by any means, despite what one might assume

he's careful and a bit shy, to be honest

he takes his goddamn TIME with this too

your thighs and the creases of your hip and legs will absolutely be covered in little hickeys, as long as you dont mind

as for actual sex when he's in his mer form, it's a bit odd

honestly who knows how it happened the first time, probably that weird in between time period where he didn't know how to tell you he was hylian

either way, he kind of loves it now

there's something so different about how sensitive his dick is in this form

there's a small slit in his tail where his dick comes out of, and the way the water is, the way you are.. yeah it does something to him and he doesn't really last all that long with you, like, ever

i don't think he'd care about how you guys go about it tooooo much

you want him on bottom? yeah sure, he'll lay there half soaking in the river while his tail twitches and he lets you do whatever the hell you please with him

you want him on top? he's all for that too, like...yeah of course hun.

you guys have found it is easiest, and most comfortable for him when he's in this form for you to sit in his lap and ride him

he's all soft and shaky with his moans, hands on your hips to help guide you

you guys are half situated in the water, his fins are completely spread out, twitching pointlessly as you take him and take him and take him

it's not like it's anything fast, even

no matter how desperate the two of you are, fast fucks and hurried, passionate sex is saved for when he's hylian and you guys can really go at it, no awkward struggling with body parts involved

so, it's always slow and soft when you guys have sex like this

the water drags at your legs, and it tires you so much quicker than out of the water

eventually he's pretty much completely lifting you and rocking you down onto him gently

it's hell on his near permanently sore body, but oh he adores the little noises you make

he's a big fan of praising you!

he definitely murmurs soft, gentle, near mindless praises at you as he helps you along

when he orgasms it's never all that obvious

like he's not a normally vocal man, and he isn't during sex either, but during sex while he's in his mer form??

yeah no, this guy is SO quiet

don't get me wrong, he will definitely moan, and make all SORTS of cut off little noises

he just doesn't want to risk dragging attention to you guys by any potentially passing travelers

anyway i also want to say this man is very weak for you and will almost always cum first

there's usually a discussion, before sex, about whether you want him to pull out or not, and all that

when he doesnt pull out, it's really hard to notice because he'll just keep guiding you along without even a stutter

and because you guys are in the water, and your legs are tired, and you love your boyfriend and are thus kind of busy kissing him in some way, you don't always realize until after you've orgasmed and he bases stopping off of your needs

overstimulation is even worse in this already overly sensitive form for him, so when he continues fucking you after he's orgasmed, one of the biggest tells is how his arms shake a bit, how much more he near whines, and how much he huffs out little pants into your neck and kisses

when he does pull out, it's much easier to notice since he has to lift you entirely off of him, cum, and then he'd probably ask you if you wanted him to continue like that or if you wanted him to make you cum on his tongue

if you want him to continue, he will

if you want him to lay you on the shoreline and get you to cum into his mouth, he will

if you've had enough and are good, even without an orgasm, he's content with that too

some other things?

he likes when you kiss his neck in hylian form, but it is so much more arousing in mer form

his gills are there, his way of breathing underwater, and they're SO fucking sensitive

your lips even just brushing against them is enough to have him bright red, pupils dilated

it has something to do with the merperson instincts he has, the vulnerability that comes with letting someones mouth - their teeth - so close to one of his two breathing points

all his fins are super sensitive too, and I say he probably has some on his arms to help with swimming

he's an entirely different species in this form, so it takes a bit of experimenting to find out how to touch his fins without it being too much for him

but once you do?

oh boy, he's a needy mess and he will 100% beg you for anything

one general thing - he's a switch, just dependent on how you want or need him to be, which bleeds over into his mer mindset as well

so even if he's a needy little mess, if you tell him you want him to take control suddenly, he'll probably just buffer for a moment before shrugging and going yeah, kay hun, and getting it on

he has things that are probably akin to heats, but only if he's consistently in his merform at least once a day so that his mer biology is able to settle and work out a time frame for it

Aftercare!

giving aftercare as a hylian and giving aftercare as a mer are two VERY different things for link

since 9/10 times you guys have sex with you riding him while he's a mer, the most common way for aftercare to go is this:

he'll have you cuddled up against him on his lap, one hand pressing firm, yet still gentle, shapes into your lower back and the other cupping the back of your head

if he didn't pull out, he'll end up slowly moving the hand from your lower back to your abdomen, massaging gently, before his hand moves entirely to gently clean you

if you make any indication you don't want him to do so for any reason he stops, no questions asked, and just holds you

big cuddler. like BIG cuddler

you guys are, unfortunately, still in a river though, which is guaranteed to get freezing (at least for you)

so he'll end up setting you on the shoreline at some point, gentle kisses pressed to your thighs again (he can not help himself)

he'll help you put on your clothes, and then you'll do one of two things

either you end up heading back inside the house, which means he pulls himself out of the water, returns to being a hylian, and lays on the shore for about five or so minutes while the pins in needles in his legs fade before he shoots inside to affectionately cuddle with you or.. well or, ykyk

you could ALSOOO end up throwing your feet into the river, shoes and socks off, and link will very happily settle his head into your lap

his cheek is all smooshed against your thigh, and your pants are definitely wet thanks to him, but he's all relaxed and happy.

if you ask him for anything, he will do his best to comply, but certain things he just needs to be hylian for in order to help care for you with.

when it comes to receiving aftercare, he's pretty easy and content with just being able to have his arms around you in some way.

maybe a drink of water, and this man WILL just duck his head to take a mouthful of water in

he's in his mer form, so he probably assumes that even if it'd make him sick in his hylian body, it's fine for his mer body

he's right about that much at least

but, yeah as long as he's able to hold you, he's pretty happy

if you try and take care of him in any way, he'll get all huffy about it, but his cheeks will probably flush a bit and he'll melt for you

yeah... yeah, i fear i definitely devolved and it wasnt JUST pure nsfw headcanons, so my apologies, oopsies!

honestly might just do smut in the future of mer leg and reader since half of this was vaguely sexual nonsense 💀

hope you enjoyed reading though! requests are open! :D

[luciaintheskyainthi]

Hi!!! I LOVE ECM!! I'm completely down this rabbit hole now, (spider web?) And I'm reading jason/peter fics 🫠 I'm not really a fan of DC so this is a 1st for me to love 🫠 I initially went through a peter/danny phantom thing then peter/harley mostly because tom's been my person for spidey now, you can imagine those pairings wouldn't necessarily deal with the morality debate like it does with jason/peter so this really made me think how they'd work

But then, in my personal thing, for the DC, it's not really a question of who's right or who's wrong or who deserves the privelage to live or how to solve the question of who's morally superior but who can endure and live with the decisions they make you know?

One thing i see in like my general knowledge of DC and what you've opened my eyes to regarding Jason and Peter, is that they're the type of people who mingles with the community. They want to save or help people because these are THEIR people u know? They grew up in these streets, mingled with what would constitute as background characters and npcs at most to the dc world, just statistics as u say, but they're people to them even the villains

Jason in my head in these case, will understand that while the 'bad guys' can be redeemed, he's not willing to take a chance that it will cost other people's lives. Innocent people that don't deserve to be just part of a redemption arc of a criminal and he can endure killing, what that does to him and other's views of him but he's someone who survives and can do this as long as it saves those future victims

Peter on the other hand wants to help everyone because he believes and has seen those that can be saved from 'villainy'. He can endure continuing to try and continuing to save possible victims but that's because to me, he's kind of op in his possible abilities and smarts u kno, he has the option to think of a way to help both 'villain' and victim and keep standing up after he's hit. In a way that Jason, as a relative normie can't. I think peter's experiences and what he witnesses in marvel verse shows the type of power and ability that allows them to help what other's would call iredeemable, like how he did in nwh.

It's a matter of how well they'll be able to endure either killing someone who could've been redeemed or allowing someone to live who continues to kill.

They're both stubborn tho, so I imagine in these scenario they'll just be each other's support 😃 in a happy place, that's what I want to think anyway.

How would you happen to see them in this context? 'Cause honestly, in bruce and tony's case as people who don't technically mingle with the community the way the other 2 do, they kind of come off as sanctimonious pricks who has a privelaged view of how to handle their criminals.

Considering they think that the people they fight with will target them and everything they may or may not do is associated with them, they certaimly don't think about the 'background' people affected in their actions the way I imagine peter and jason do. Sorry I rambled too much I'm not even sure I explained mythoughts properly 😃

Still ur an amazing writer 🥹 thank you for your generosity in sharing your worls with us

Finally getting to this ask! 🫣 I loved it very much and have been waiting for the right bandwidth to respond because I knew I'd end up writing a damn essay ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 (and would you look at that? I HAVE)

Let me start by saying I LOVE how you've put the moral debate that lies at the heart of Jason (and of course the Jason/Peter pairing!):

it's not really a question of who's right or who's wrong or who deserves the privelage to live or how to solve the question of who's morally superior but who can endure and live with the decisions they make you know?

I DO know and it's something that I've had Jason touch upon a few times previously (but also more in later chapters). He's long since accepted that burden - in some respects, because of his training with the All Caste I think he sees it in part as a responsibility, too (the All Caste kind of exists to fight against the Untitled, who are meant to embody evil, so there's a bit of that going on with Jason, too).

At this point, I think Jason understands that Bruce isn't someone who should take on that burden like Jason has. And he understands too, that the world is better without a Batman that's willing to kill. But at the same time, he also sees Bruce's 'inaction' as hypocritical and harmful because he DOES prioritise the lives of mass murderers over the lives of their inevitable future victims. Unlike Bruce, who is an optimist, Jason is a realist and a utilitarian. The greatest good and all that.

(Of course, I don't think that was entirely his motivation throughout the events of Under the Red Hood, but I'd like to think he's matured in the 4 years since then... Of interest: the Batman: Urban Legends issue covers pretty well the reasons why comics!Jason would stop using guns, after he lets his temper get the better of himself and he kills an admittedly shitty guy, but someone he knows shouldn't have been killed. While I still have Jason use guns here so that event's non-ECM canon, I do think it made a good argument.)

I do see Peter as a hero who should be very firmly community-minded (certainly far more than he was set up as in the first few showings of MCU Spider-Man), which does bring him into alignment with Jason, despite their differing views on killing villains. The thing is though, and I said this in an earlier ask, Peter's recent villains have been men who have been changed/altered, and its primarily this alteration that led to their villainy (with the exception of Beck and Toomes). Likewise, Peter is stronger, and that's meant he's not been made a victim in the same way that Jason has. So the way he views villains has been tarred by the belief that they can change.

But the thing is... while, sure, there are Gotham villains who are like that, there are also some who are just... irredeemable assholes. There's no 'fixing them' because there was nothing 'broken' about them. Or not broken in the way Peter's used to....

I think you also bring up a great point about the fact that Peter and Jason, living in the heart of Crime Alley, and community-centred heroes, would see Bruce's POV as sanctimonious because those future victims aren't just faceless victims, they're their neighbours. They're friends. They're the petty passive-aggressive arch-enemy whom Jason's in a constant battle with for the final parking space on the street.

There's no ivory tower for Peter or Jason. And that means something. To both of them.

I would also note, that while Peter's against killing and certainly would never bear the knife himself, he's capable of nuance. Because LBR, both MCU and comics Peter has associated with characters who've killed. MCU Tony killed Thanos, yet Peter never decries that decision. He still hero-worships the man after death. Same goes with all the Avengers, which there's no doubt Peter was aware of, yet he still wanted to join the roster in Homecoming.

Likewise, comics Peter still associates with killers like Deadpool, and though I've not read the comics, from what I'm aware it's not so much that he's antipathetic towards Deadpool because he kills but because he's a mercenary.

(Of course, one could make comparisons between Jason and the Punisher, who Peter canonically hates, and thinking of the Jason from UTRH, there's no way Peter would associate himself with the Red Hood then. Because like the Punisher, the Red Hood was indiscriminate when it came to killing 'bad guys'. But the Jason of now is a very different beast from the Jason of UTRH.)

To me, that says that the motivations behind having to kill someone matters to Peter. As of course, do the circumstances. Though you never saw that conversation from Peter's POV, he was immensely relieved when Jason confirmed that he wasn't interested in just breaking into Arkham and killing the villains inside executioner-style, even if that would still prevent them from creating any more victims.

Anywho, all of this to say, that while Jason thinks himself capable of taking on the burden, he doesn't think that should be the case for every hero. Likewise, while Peter would never allow himself to kill someone, even in the heat of a battle, that doesn't mean he's going to immediately condemn someone else for being forced to do the same.

[imagine-silk]

Hello! May I request fallout 4 companions (Nick especially) with Sole who shares the bare minimum of information about themselves? Not because Sole doesn’t trust them, they really enjoy theirs companions company. Perhaps they busy themselves so they don’t have to think about all the little and big things they miss. (I bet Codsworth would find pristine things that Sole would miss (like a favorite movie, vinyl, or comic?))

Sorry if its not something you’re interested in doing right now. The ask kinda came out as a ramble, I’m lacking sleep haha. Thanks again for considering my request!

》Honestly one of my favorite kinds of characters.

【Cait】 She doesn't appreciate it. Her contract was traded to some random weirdo who barely says anything. It took three days before the topic of your name came up. And two weeks to know what you were looking for, who. But in return you don't ask what she does on her own time or what she's done. It feels like you don't mind rather than you don't care and that makes her feel seen. It stays between you unsaid in her eyes.

♡If romanced she doesn't push for any information. You'll tell her if it's important. People think it's weird the two of you to not share about yourselves like normal people but you're happy, that's all that matters.

【Codsworth】 It's just like it was before. He, unlike the others, already knows you. He knows you very well. Not only did you do an intake for daily preferences but he also served you for a few years. While you're out and about you'll do something or say something that sounds like no information to others or out of context and he'll answer, "Just as I was thinking as well." While you camp with some of the other companions he does chores the way you like without needing to ask, making comment on recent events, which makes them jealous for sure. He digs up things from the house he preserved or found and fixes them up brand new before presenting it to you. Songs you liked or wanted to hear. Movies and shows and comics. Clothes pressed for you and the furniture is redone the way it used to be. He knows you and wants to keep it that way.

【Curie】 Low-key doesn't care. She has one thing on her mind and that's her own goal to better medicine. Finding things to do that is all she needs of you. When she goes to be a synth her feelings overwhelm her and you guide her through that. She's never ever asked about you. She'll tell you about what she's feeling but never thinks to ask what you feel. In her defense, is doesn't understand the nuance of social interactions. And to her credit, it works for the both of you.

♡If she's romanced she realizes she wants to know what you feel and if it's the same as her. She's mostly interested in what you feel now rather than what your opinion is in the past or isn't currently relevant.

【Danse】 Right away he doesn't care for it. A mercenary who talks very little can be dangerous. But you followed orders well and are a damn good shot. The way he asks is more like demanding. It was all for a vetting process but still rude. After the intake he didn't care about your lack of openness. Didn't matter to him personally. After BB he suddenly regrets not knowing you. He was so rude and dismissed you as another faceless soldier and you saved him, from the Brotherhood and himself. Now he wants to know you.

♡If romanced he makes effort to know you, like really know you. For a long time he refused individuality so his own sense of self is not great. But you know yourself and make no attempt to hide it. You are so sure of yourself you don't need to explain. That's one of the things he loves about you.

【Deacon】 He thinks you're like him, that you want to hide in plain sight. As much as he gives that to you he's nosy as fuck and takes every chance to learn about you, mostly from afar. It doesn't take any time at all for him to realize you'll just tell him. Most of them are one word answers. It takes him even less time after that to realize you'll comment on things from before the war especially.

♡If romanced he goes out of his way to show you stuff. Old posters and toys. If you follow my headcanon that he's pre-war, he makes old references and generally adds comments on things to bait your answers.

【Hancock】 He thinks it's pretty cool. "Oh, tall, dark, and handsome/beautiful." He does play twenty questions with you 24/7 and is very happy with your half-answers because an answer is still an answer. Plus he knows at least two other people like you. He is the one who figures out that you just don't have the time or think about talking about yourself rather than purposely keeping secrets the fastest. He knows people so he knows better.

♡If romanced he plays with it. You want a kiss? Tell him what's your favorite color. He'll get on his knees if you tell him what you like about your new home. But honestly he'll do it anyways. All he needs to know is that you want him like he wants you.

【MacCready】 He was more concerned about you putting a bullet in his head while his back was turned. Everyone in the Commonwealth was looking out for number one. So imagine his surprise when you were looking out for your number one and it wasn't you. Not only were you looking for your son but you stopped to help every person who asked for help. Your actions spoke to him in a way your words, he figured, couldn't. You didn't need to help him but you did. You didn't take the caps back. And you killed the gunners the second they turned their guns on him even when they said their beef wasn't with you. It was what you did, not what you told him.

♡If romanced he will ask things. Basic ones are like, "How was your day?" Normal questions that are the peak of domestic life. Then the more personal things. Some sound silly, "What's your favorite color?" But most build off of a quick thing you said in passing, "Wait, you've been to California? What was it like?" He trusts you'll tell him the truth.

【Nick】 As a private detective this simply won't do. He gets it at first, you just need him to find your son, it's business. However, you want him to stay with you after that. It confuses him because you made no indication you like him in the slightest way. He's the second fastest to realize you're not keeping to yourself on purpose. As one of the only ones who are pre-war he's able to get things the others can't. He'll talk about things and give his options and bait you into answering it. That was a common way to get people to talk back then when you were trying to be polite and keep up the conversation, even if the conversation stays a bit thin.

♡If he's romanced he makes fun of the fact you forget to say things about yourself. Don't get it wrong, he makes it clear you don't need to share. He's just poking fun.

【Piper】 This simply won't do. She asks as many question as they come up but she gets depressing short answers. You either give one word answers or say you're not really in the mood, on some occasions you admit you don't know, you never thought about it. It takes a long time for her to stop and that's only because the questions start getting old. And you still feel like a mystery even though you've told her everything.

♡If she's romanced she realizes how much you've told her and pushes it. What is your type? How do your lips feel? Why do you look so good? It becomes playful and light, never serious.

【Preston】 In the beginning he didn't realize he didn't know much about you. He took your help selfishly to get him and his people back on stable ground but you told him you were happy to help. So he takes time to learn about you and give you everything he could possibly help you with. In hopes you would share by yourself he gives things to you without any prompt. It doesn't really work most of the time.

♡If romanced he asks things with hearts in his eyes. He is so lovesick he takes all of your half-answers and files it away in his mind. It hardly matters at that point.

【X6】 It wasn't his mission so he didn't care. You owed him no explanation or justification. Doesn't mean he doesn't question you. He asks why you helped someone, why you stopped for a distraction. And of course you give short answers like, "They needed help." or "I wanted to." Later, after the Institute is gone, he sees how you carry yourself and tries to copy it. Obviously he can't so you help him too. You showed him he can figure himself out by himself and he didn't need you. So he held the same opinion; he doesn't need to know you like that.

♡If romanced he's still comfortable with you keeping things to yourself. It's only after months of being together do you realize he's never asked you a personal question, that you've never shared anything that personal. When you bring that to him he tells you that hardly matters. But seeing you make the effort after that gives him a feeling he can't describe. It's a good feeling he thinks.