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loriache · 7 months ago

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"I've been waiting for ages for somebody to unmask them."

This moment tends to elicit negative reactions in a first read through, and I've got some opinions about why where Kabru is coming from here actually makes a lot of logical sense. So I thought I'd elaborate on that.

I think people hear this and go, "He thinks they must be hiding something because they gave money to someone? What a cynic." Or "he dislikes them because they did charity?? What's wrong with this guy!". And obviously, a lot, a lot is wrong with him. But I think this makes more sense than it seems at first glance! What people evaluating this judgement miss is why Kabru is paying attention to Laios and co to begin with.

Kabru knows of the Touden siblings because (he's a little bit of a stalker-) he is keeping an eye on all the relevant parties in events developing on the island, in order to be able to guide them to his preferred outcome. This includes adventurers because they are the ones actually exploring the dungeon! He's well aware that something as minor as internal tensions between party members could be key to the historical events that are developing. (He would love the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand.)

His desired outcome is that whatever the rewards are of breaking the dungeon's curse, whether that's kingship or the ancient elven secrets of dungeons, are claimed by:

A) a short lived person

B) Someone who will be a good, effective leader and/or use those secrets and the power they carry wisely, with foresight, and to establish a political bloc for short lived people.

The person he can best trust to do this is, of course, himself. But due to his PTSD regarding dungeons and monsters, he's not able to develop the necessary skills to conquer the dungeon. Once he realises this, he starts looking for someone else who he can support to that end.

But most of the adventurers don't have any intentions of conquering the dungeon, don't have the skills, or are unsuitable in other ways. In fact, it seems like some potentially suitable people are the Toudens. There are a lot of good rumours about them going around - they actually seem to have a very positive reputation! That's what Kabru means when he says "unmask".

So when Kabru is observing something like them giving money to an old comrade from their gold-peeling days, he doesn't consider it a problem because "they're giving money to this person who doesn't actually need it" or because they must have some dark secret if they act superficially nice. I think he actually understands this situation and what it implies about Laios (in particular) perfectly well.

Laios and Falin gave money to an old comrade who got injured and couldn't work. That person then healed up but kept taking their money. Then he used the money to start smuggling illicit goods to the island.

The key is that for Kabru, the problem here is the same as with the corpse retrievers - people using the dungeon's resources to fuel dangerous, selfish, or violent pursuits cause problems for the island, attract more criminals and people with motives other than breaking the curse, and increase the chances of the whole situation ending in tragedy.

Kabru is willing to work with the Shadow Lord of the island if it gets him to his goal - he isn't scrupulous - but the criminal element of the island increasing is something he sees as a major issue.

Also, when you're evaluating someone as a candidate for power, riches, secrets, potentially kingship - then being curious about how the money you give to people is going to be used is kind of a relevant trait!

Interpersonally, Kabru's actually very easygoing - I mean, Mickbell isn't exactly an upstanding guy, is he! But Kabru likes him and they get along well. These traits wouldn't be a problem at all in a friend, or a comrade, or someone Kabru was confident he could use. But he can't get a handle on Laios, and Laios is someone who has the potential to be a major player!

On Laios' end, this is the same as with the marriage seeker who joined their party. She kept asking for things and he gave them to her, because he tries to be nice to others. He even gives her money! It's the exact same thing.

That's fine, but it became a problem because he basically wasn't interested in her motives, didn't notice she was trying to manipulate him, and it also didn't occur to him that the other party members would notice or be affected. We can assume the situation with the gold peeler is the same. When Kabru says that "It's not that they're bad people, they just aren't interested in humans," he isn't wrong.

The extent to which this is true of Laios is linked to his autism imo, (because it isn't just disinterest - he genuinely isn't able to notice nonverbal cues that people are lying to him or have ulterior motives) but to a greater or lesser extent I think it's a very common trait. Most people aren't actually that interested in other people who aren't close to them. Kabru is the weird one here. It isn't an issue except as a leader - which is why we see an immediate comparison to the Island's Lord, because that's how Kabru is evaluating them.

And disinterest in/lack of ability with people to the extent Laios exhibits it, it does, actually, make him a worse leader... it's just that as we see in the story, people can help him out. The rest of the party tell him the marriage seeker is taking advantage of him so he tells her he can't give her special treatment anymore. They're pissed and it's a crisis point - he couldn't have recovered their trust without Marcille and Falin - but that's exactly the point. With Marcille and Falin, he was able to recover their trust.

And he has other good traits that make up for it, such as his intelligence, strategic knowledge, open-mindedness and sense of fairplay.

Kabru doesn't disqualify Laios as a candidate based on what he sees about him from afar, though - he still tries very hard to get close to him, obviously hoping that if he manages he can steer Laios to defeat the dungeon and make up for his lack of people-skills in the aftermath. (Which... he does eventually achieve that goal!) He completely fails until the events of the story, so... definitely I think "They just aren't interested in humans" could also partially be a stung reaction to Laios' complete disinterest in him.

Anyway, that's my read on what exactly Kabru's "issue" with Laios is. Obviously, once he does find out what Laios' true nature is like - about his love for monsters - he develops an entirely new set of fears about Laios' priorities. But since Laios kept that a secret until the start of the story, he has no idea of that yet.

Given all that, I think it's interesting that he says that he doesn't think that the Toudens are suitable to defeat the dungeon, and that he's hoping they'll turn out to be the thieves. As some of his few potential candidates, people who he thinks may play a big role in the island's future, you'd think he'd hope they would be good people!

I suppose it's better, in his eyes, because it means that he's involved in something "interesting". They haven't just had their stuff stolen by regular criminals (boring, puts them further away from his goal) - they've been caught up in the beginning stages of "a historic event". The desperate and dwindling group forgetting morals in their quest to retrieve their lost comrade probably appeals to his sense of melodrama. Because he also just... loves drama.

Despite it being "uglier than anything he was expecting", he still pursues Laios as the person he wants to conquer the dungeon pretty much as soon as it becomes clear that he won't be able to do it himself and they are out of time. That's because... well, to be fair, there aren't any other options. And he fits standard A: he's short-lived!

and Kabru still hopes he can fit standard B, too, and be persuaded to use the power he wins for good. No matter how many nightmares he has about Laios, or whether he thinks about killing him. He doubts him, but ultimately he puts his faith in him and seems happy after the manga's ending that he made the right decision.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #dungeon meshi meta #kabru of utaya #laios touden #labru #laios x kabru #dunmeshi #og post #kabru is such a big picture thinker. and he evaluates people more than he judges them imo #the hater jokes are funny but the people he judges most harshly arent laios and co. they're people like the island's lord.#but you don't see that as clearly because he isn't interested in the island's lord. he understands him. finds him contemptible but useful.#whereas laios lives in his brain rent free because he WANTS to understand him but doesnt quite.#even though he sees the elves as a major threat to his ultimate goals and dislikes the way they treat short lived races #he still understands and evaluates mithrun as an individual based on his own merits #he's one of the characters who is least judgemental in that sense because while he's always making judgements and evaluations #he's also constantly revising them whenever he gets more information #my beautiful machiavellian prince <3 #it's genuinely a really laudable way of understanding others imo.#the only problem is that because he's driven towards his goals by his PTSD and survivors guilt #he pushes himself into situations (the dungeon and also interpersonally) that trigger him or even just upset him #without regard for what he authentically wants or his own wellbeing.

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noahthegrailkeeper · 2 years ago

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"A love is only as good as the lover. Wicked people love wickedly, violent people love violently, weak people love weakly..."

fucks severely with my brain.

#In this weird mindspace rn where....ya'll idk who tf I am anymore #I've grown so insecure and unstable and just....weak #and it fucks with just everything I thought or wished I was #And idk what to do #I shouldn't need constant validation that people still like me and still want me to be around and yet #I need to work on my self worth but tbh ya'll it's terrifying #especially in the eyes of the fact that this will take a long time and I don't even know If I can do it #like....how do I navigate my relationships like this? Should I prioritize that I need intimacy from certain people as a form of selfcare #knowing that I cannot give as much as I would like #and knowing that I cannot be enough #is it even ethical of me to engage with and burdern others with my need for compassion and love #with no realistic timeframe I can give or not even any knowledge of if I will be able to get better and become someone worthy of this love #or am I using this as an excuse for distancing myself as another form of self harm #and bc. i don't think in the events of when I leave the choice to stay or leave me to the other person and they choose to leave #I could be able to handle such a rejection #so instead I isolate myself to protect myself from such an outcome #I'm scared that this is all there is to me #that underneath all that scar tissue there's nothing left anymore #Nothing will be enough to make me feel loved or make me loveable because I am inherently broken #and every moment I spent with another person brings them closer to this revelation #....i need a hug #or a straight up punch in the face cause i deserve it

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thesimsresourceofficial · 2 months ago

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Addressing the Recent Changes to TSR's Artist Program

Hi everyone,

I’m writing today to address the recent changes to TSR's Artist Program and the concerns that have been raised by members of our community. We understand that these changes have caused a lot of frustration, confusion, and disappointment. We want to provide full transparency about why these decisions were made, how they affect our current and future artists, and what this means for the TSR community moving forward.

Firstly, I want to apologise for the way the restructuring of the Artist Program was handled. I acknowledge that the communication our artists initially received could have been better. It was always our intention to follow up with support, feedback, and advice, which we are doing now. The communications for a loss of badge at TSR is structured, and I understand how this has created confusion and hurt. Please know that we are committed to maintaining an open line of communication with these former artists, we have been following up with all artists affected, and we will continue to support them in any way we can.

Why These Changes Were Necessary

TSR’s Artist Program, which has been home to nearly 200 talented paid artists, had not undergone a thorough evaluation in years. This lack of oversight led to a situation where the program became financially unstable and exposed to significant risk. Without proper management and planning in previous years, the program was not sustainable. If we hadn’t addressed these risks, it would have jeopardised the long-term viability of the program, threatening our ability to fairly compensate artists and sustain the community that depends on their creativity.

It’s also important to highlight that these financial constraints had prevented us from inviting new artists, promoting Select Artists or increasing pay for current artists, leaving over 100 talented creators waiting for up to 3 years for an opportunity to advance. 120 Artists have now finally been promoted, rewarded and acknowledged for their outstanding contribution to TSR, but unfortunately their achievements have been overshadowed by information spreading online.

Why This Was Done

The changes we implemented were not easy, nor were they taken lightly. The difficult decision to let some artists go was made to ensure that the program could continue to operate sustainably and support the 120+ artists who remain with us. Many of these artists rely on TSR for their livelihood, with some coming from countries where the additional support they receive from TSR is vital.

As part of our thorough evaluation process, we assessed the performance of each artist by analysing the value they brought to the platform relative to the investment made in their work. This included reviewing metrics such as engagement with their content per dollar spent. We deeply appreciate the work of our artists, but the financial outcomes unfortunately did not align with the investments that were being made, and we had to make difficult decisions based on these findings to ensure the overall sustainability of the program. In doing so, we were able to fairly compensate all remaining Artists.

Addressing Misinformation

We want to address the misinformation that has been spreading online. Some are claiming that more artists were let go than actually were. In reality, a number of the artists included in these rumors were not let go—they left on their own terms a few months ago. Furthermore, several of the artists who were let go had been inactive for longer than the agreed period and were fully aware of the terms they had agreed to. Some of the named Artists are actually still with us, and have been caught up in this for no reason at all other than by assumptions or a lack of research. It’s important to clarify that this is not a traditional job where someone is “fired.” TSR is a user-generated content platform that compensates artists generously based on their performance on our site.

Spreading incorrect information hurts the 120+ artists who are still part of our community. These creators have continued to pour their time, talent, and passion into their work, and they deserve your support too.

The communications with the former artists ensured they would still be paid for all remaining works they have done with us. It also included that if circumstances ever change, they would always be welcome back as an artist. We do not forget the hard work that has been done, and we do care.

Looking to the Future

Our evaluation process was thorough and took into account numerous factors, including each artist's contribution, consistency, quality of work, and the community's engagement with their creations. We are committed to maintaining a program that is fair, transparent, and supportive of our artists.

Moving forward, we will continue to refine the program to ensure it remains financially viable while fostering the incredible creativity of our artists, to prevent situations like this from happening again. We are also dedicated to providing a community where artists can thrive, receive the recognition they deserve, and be part of a vibrant, supportive environment.

Conclusion

This has been a challenging period for everyone involved, but we believe these changes were necessary to secure the future of TSR’s Artist Program. We remain committed to our artists, our community, and the values that TSR stands for. We hope you will continue to support our artists as we work to build a sustainable and thriving platform for creators.

Thank you for your understanding, your support, and your dedication to the TSR community.

Sincerely, Queenie, Creative Ops Manager, The Sims Resource

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mrinafria · 6 months ago

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And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you. (CoS)

[contains spoilers; tw: blood]

When they ask me about the purest love story out there, I'd show them these two.

It's not the sacrifice per se that makes it great for me, it's the way they feel about each other, about the love they give and receive. Even in their last/worst moments, they somehow find the courage because the other one is safe? Im Sol is scared out of her mind handling this traumatic ordeal on her own so she seeks help from the detectives. Her only peace of mind is that at least Seon Jae is safe. Then she learns about his phone call and doesn't spare a second to run. The same girl who was so scared a while back throws all caution out of the window the moment Seon Jae is in danger, because she'd risk her life than Seon Jae's. Can you imagine the trauma seeing him dying for the third time, and her actually witnessing it this time around? If I were Im Sol, I would do anything to not have to go through that too. Even if it meant losing the person so they were never my person to begin with.

And Seon Jae. Boy is dying. Dying. You can see it in his eyes that he's aware of it too and yet, he is so grateful? So at peace with himself and with life? Like he has no regrets about any unfinished business, unlived years, unattained dreams, unspoken words to his loved ones. He already told Im Sol he loved her, and she reciprocated. That was enough. For him, that was good enough.

I go back to this scene like a masochist because THE DETAILS. By the time Im Sol arrives, you know Seon Jae is beyond saving. He knows it too. He's not even trying to escape or save himself. It looks like he's been holding on on his own for a while. His face has turned ashen, breathing uneven, hands slightly shaking. He's barely holding it together. Barely there.

However, he is not trying to push that guy away or take that knife out.

Instead, he's holding that guy's hand.

Let that sink in for a moment.

He is holding on to that hand. JUST SO HE CAN HOLD ON TO THE GUY.

Since the taxi driver is at an advantage here, and Seon Jae knows he cannot fight back anymore, so he is using whatever he can as a last resort to keep the guy occupied with him, and keep him from going after Im Sol. Seon Jae could perhaps guess Im Sol would arrive any time since the cliff was where he'd found her earlier, sitting in shock. But even if she didn't make it, you can bet he'd have spent his last breaths trying to fall off the cliff taking the guy down with him. THIS SCENE. The resolution is so clearly etched on his face.

And then he sees her. And the detectives. She is safe. She is saved. He did it. He saved her. And it's the Im Sol who knows him, who recognizes him, who loves him. She is safe, and that's all that matters. He saved the person he loves more than his life, literally.

His job is done. The choice he made gave him the outcome he wanted and desperately fought for.

And he is exhausted. All that resolve took a lot out of him. So we see his body finally giving up, him finally letting go. He resigns to his fate, but also not in a resentful way. He knew this was his fate all along (because no matter what choice Im Sol made, he'd choose to run toward her any day), it just happened earlier than expected. But he knew it, and he still made that choice. He doesn't regret it because he'd be making the same choice in every timeline (as he has been). He is able to see his Im Sol for one last time before his eyes close, with memories of their time together and Im Sol's voice echoing in his ears, his soul.

Sometimes you know the consequences, but make the same choice anyway. Because you like it.

The faint smile on his face in his final moments before he falls off the cliff? You'd think the boy won a gold medal for swimming or something. It's like he's achieved the biggest purpose there was in his life besides loving Im Sol. True to his words, he is grateful Im Sol exists in the world. That he got the chance to love her because she exists in this world. And he is thankful he gets to leave the world knowing Im Sol still exists in the world, his gift from the heavens.

One is jumping through space and time, living the same nightmare, constantly, over and over again, and yet going out of her way to save her love. Even if it means carrying the trauma and heartbreak and pain and loneliness and longing of three, four, multiple timelines, for the same guy. The other is making the choice to love her through all the storm, all the warnings, all the odds of time and space and fate stacked against him. How could you be so brave when fate is both so very kind and yet so extremely cruel to you no matter what you do? How do you choose to persevere? How do you get to have a love so pure?

Should I be ready to die if I want to be with you? - Ryu Seon Jae

#Lovely Runner #Byeon Woo Seok #Kim Hye Yoon #Sun Jae #Im Sol #Seon Jae #선재 업고 튀어 #kdrama #kdrama recommendations #east asian drama #episode reaction #I'm focusing on seon jae here because this scene will stay with me forever #and tbh I don't write a lot about im sol cuz it's too traumatizing to think through her perspective T_T

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azrielbrainrot · 6 months ago

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I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 6

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: Getting answers out of Norris has proven quite challenging. Your disagreement with Azriel is weighting on you more than you thought it would.

Warnings: Violence, Torture, Gore

Word Count: 5550

Notes: This took me a bit longer to write than I anticipated but I wanted to make sure not to forget any details. Hope you enjoy!

Part 5 ○ Part 7

The sun was already shining high in the sky when you finally stepped out of the dungeon. Feyre had arrived with Cassian and Amren a few minutes earlier, ordering her mate, you and Azriel to go and get some rest while they took over for a few hours. Rhysand could only use his daemati powers for so long and the strain was starting to become visible on his face, so she likely could feel his fatigue through their mating bond. His efforts were starting to be in vain anyway, you needed to wear Norris down a lot more physically before his mental walls would start giving in.

You didn't want to leave at first, completely unwilling to take your eyes off Norris for even a second, but both you and Azriel had been forced to go take a bath and eat something, maybe even get some sleep and only come back later in the day. Logically this made perfect sense, but you'd rather stay with him until he told you everything you wanted to know. You believe them all to be more than capable of handling this but you also know Norris, if anyone could find a way to escape from the Night Court's dungeons it would be him.

Still, you knew it was going to take a lot longer than a few hours to crack Norris so you needed to keep your strength, you wouldn't be any help at all if you exhausted yourself. Apparently the same wards around your memories were also present in Norris' mind, meaning Rhysand was only able to knock him out in the forest but not read through his thoughts, the same way he wasn't able to reach your memories before. This meant he was the one in control of said wards, both his and yours. Amren was quick to explain that since they had been done with the help of a witch's tool, he had to have it with him to keep up his wards since it wasn't his own magic that was keeping them in place.

It also explains why he risked becoming your handler even though letting you know him could lead to this exact outcome. He needed to strengthen your wards every once in a while to make sure no memory slipped through them. Unfortunately, even without his checkups the wards were strong enough that simply time wouldn't give your memories back in full, at best only letting you see some fragments. There was also no way of knowing what they could do to your mind when left unattended so your only option was to keep pushing him until he told you everything you needed to know.

The tool he used couldn't be far, he either had it on his person or hid it somewhere close before meeting you in the forest. You've searched through his belongings more than once, as did everyone present in the cell, including Azriel's shadows, but came up empty. He likely had a powerful glamour cast on it, one you had to make him break. Getting your hands on that tool meant you could break both the wards around his mind, which would grant Rhysand access to any and every piece of information he wanted, and the wards keeping your memories hidden inside you. One simple object could set you free.

Azriel winnowed you to the middle of the mountains surrounding Velaris, right behind the House of Wind, making sure no one in the city could see your bodies drenched in blood but unable to winnow you straight home. Having a house protected by wards that didn't allow for any winnowing, even by its inhabitants, was really good in theory, you've never seen a safer place really, but in practice having to fly up every time was more than annoying, especially when you don't have wings of your own.

The air was strangely awkward around the two of you since you hadn't spoken a word to each other after the short argument in the forest. Most of your annoyance had worn off at this point, got redirected at your smug handler chained up in the dungeon, but you still wanted him to be the one to come to you and explain himself. His attitude earlier had seemed completely different from everything you'd experienced until then, you know there's a reason for it but you're too prideful to ask him about it.

The only plausible reason you could think of is that he's been using you to get to an assassin with a higher up position in the guild, but something told you immediately that wasn't the case, it seems like a part of you balked at the thought that he'd betray you like this. Even putting your annoying phantom feelings aside, it didn't make sense considering the High Lord has followed his word on letting you help in interrogating Norris. Your mind was fresh out of ideas, and much too tired to analyze that small argument. He'll tell you what happened eventually, and if he doesn't… Well, then it's a good thing you didn't get your hopes up even more.

“I'll fly you up to the House,” his voice was scratchy from not being used in so long, making it deeper as he almost whispered beside you, not wanting to disturb the quietness in the mountain. Azriel had done most of the cutting and breaking but he hadn't even asked Norris any questions, content in letting you and Rhysand take over the interrogation while he carved out Norris' skin. You can't be sure if it was because of your fight or just the grueling last few hours but he didn't seem to be in the best mood anyway.

You nod up at him, simply walking closer and letting him pick you up into his warm embrace, strong hands careful as they handle your body. You've only flown once - from what you can remember at least, you can't imagine a version of yourself who wouldn't ask her husband to take her flying regularly if he had wings - and, given the circumstances, you didn't really have the chance to stop and truly enjoy the moment. It would be the same now, even worse given the fact that you'd rather not deal with the shadowsinger, but the breeze hitting against your tired body sounded heavenly, and so did the big bathtub and soft mattress waiting for you up in your room. There was also no energy left in your body to even try to argue with him, if there was you would have been using it on your handler.

His body relaxes slightly when you simply slip your arms around his neck, his wings stretching and flapping a couple of times as he got ready to take flight. He looked like he was expecting you to refuse, as if there was any other way to the House besides flying and he wasn't the only Illyrian here.

The actual flight doesn't take long, within a few moments Azriel is gently setting you down back on your feet at the top of the stairs, hands lingering on your body as if moving on their own, a habit he can't quite break himself out of. You meet his eyes, briefly wondering if you should say something, debating if you have enough patience in yourself to extend a small olive branch to the male who is covered in the blood of your enemy.

He beats you to it, looking down before speaking as if he couldn't hold your gaze for top long - yet another way he's acting out of character. “You're free to do what you want. I'll meet you in your room and fly you back to the dungeon when it's time. I won't bother you before that.” The professional, detached tone in his voice makes your annoyance want to rise up but you swallow it down, realizing how tired you really were as soon as you had stepped foot inside the house.

“Alright,” you tell him before turning around and walking straight to your room, never looking back to see his reaction or the way regret flashes in his eyes as he watches your every step away from him.

Azriel stayed true to his word, only coming to check in on you right before it was time to return. You can't even be sure if he stayed in his room the whole time, if he truly spent these few hours resting as he was ordered since there was no sound coming from his room or around the house at all. Curiosity had gotten the best of you a couple of hours ago, when you woke up from your nap feeling strangely alone, like a piece of you was begging to go find him. This feeling was clutching at your heart for long enough that you actually considered going to find Azriel, but held on since you didn't fully know your way around the house and you had no idea where he could be. You didn't really know what to say either.

Luckily it wasn't long until you heard his footsteps getting closer to your room before a soft knock sounded at the door. He always does this, makes sure to let himself be heard before knocking. Sitting up at the edge of the mattress, you call out to him, wondering if he'll tell you anything now or simply fly you back to the cells.

As soon as his form comes into view you can tell he hasn't slept much if anything at all, dark circles prominent under his eyes. He's at least taken a bath, the sullied leathers were now replaced with new ones, the stench of blood not clinging to him anymore. You're wearing some yourself, your old ones as you've been told. Your clothes were ruined and putting them back on would defeat the purpose of the bath you took earlier, but it feels weird to wear a version of what you always see Azriel and his family in. He takes notice of this as well, hazel eyes raking over your form, lingering around your waist long enough for you to start feeling self conscious, standing up and taking a step closer to him almost involuntarily.

“Is anything wrong? I thought you left them for me to wear.” Since he had given you the leathers along with your old belongings you had assumed you were allowed to wear them, but, at this point, these clothes were more his than yours. Maybe he was scared you'd ruin them and he'd lose his memories of you.

“No, that's not it. They're yours,” he assures quickly, eyes widening slightly before a conflicted expression takes over his face. “The buckles are done wrong,” his observation makes you look down at yourself, there were more straps and buckles than necessary for any piece of garment and you'd taken a bit longer to figure it out than you cared to admit, apparently you should have taken even longer.

Your fingers reach for the straps around your waist, tugging at the leather before he continues, “I can help you with them. They can be hard to put on if you're not used to it.” When you look up from the confusing clothes and your eyes move to meet his, you find him watching your hands hesitantly, his own flexing at his sides. You end up agreeing without even thinking it through, something you almost regret when he walks closer to you and suddenly all you can see and smell is Azriel.

He looks into your eyes before reaching out to the buckles around your waist slowly, giving you a chance to push him away, almost expecting you to. You drop your hands at your sides awkwardly, not knowing what to do with them or yourself when he starts working on your leathers. Expert fingers undo the buckle before pulling on the straps, unexpectedly tightening your armor in the process which pulls a startled gasp out of you. His hands move to grab your waist, surprised by your reaction. Wide hazel eyes meet yours at the sound, a heat spreading within them the longer he holds your gaze, hands frozen around your waist.

All your senses are overwhelmed with him so close, staring down at you like that. The only thing you can think of is the kiss you shared a few nights ago, your entire body begging to repeat the action as he looks down at you with the same passionate look he had worn then. He seems to be reminded of the same, perhaps of similar moments from your previous life, even more scandalous ones surely.

Thankfully, some of your common sense finds you before you could do something stupid like pull him down to you and taste him again, the thought making you look away from him and clear your throat, hoping he breaks from the spell and lets you pretend it didn't happen. This prompts him to keep buckling the leathers, with an urgency he didn't have before, and you look down with him, following his movements even though your mind isn't actually registering any of them as you try to calm your breathing and not think of the way his hands feel around your waist. You'll likely need his help fastening everything tomorrow as well.

“These are meant to cross so the leathers are molded to your body and there are no openings,” he tries to explain as he finishes and moves back, but you can tell he's as affected by your little moment as you were.

You nod at him, “There were a lot of straps, I wasn't sure which ones belonged where. Some of them don't even look like they have a purpose,” you finish as you play with the straps around your wrists, the ones you really couldn't figure out.

“Those are for your gloves,” he explains, a somewhat endeared look crossing his face. “I didn't think you'd need them but you can put them on. Though I'm not sure how they will behave with your powers now.”

“Did I not have these powers before?” You hadn't thought of the possibility but if the spell could erase your memories maybe Norris could have found a way to give or take powers. Just the thought of it brings a chill down your spine.

“You did, but you've gotten a lot stronger,” there was a hint of pride in his words, though the somber meaning hung between you. No matter how hard you practiced and how well they could have trained you here, the results wouldn't be as fast or maybe as clean as the ones resulting from the guild's harsh training. The guild had no problem pushing you past your limits, you either adapted and got stronger or you'd die and be replaced. You suppose you never had to use your powers to torture people before either.

“When this all ends we could spar together,” you sound hesitant even to your own ears, “Maybe I'm even stronger than you by now.” You haven't talked about what will happen after all of this, you can't know for sure what you'll want to do when you recover your memories. You also keenly aware you had just been telling yourself you wouldn't make it easy on him, but ended up seconds away from kissing him and inviting him to spar with you as soon as you saw him.

“I'd like that,” he nods, a reddish tint rushing to his ears. He makes it unbearably hard to even remember why you were upset with him in the first place. It takes everything in you not to lean into his genuineness and forget it ever happened. You bite your lip and give him a small nod of your own, “Are you ready then? We should go.”

“I wanted to talk to you before we left,” his voice takes on a serious tone, regret peeking through every word.

“Maybe this is not the right time. They're probably waiting for us,” you offered, not really sure how to go about having this conversation after what had just happened, even if the curiosity was killing you. It was clear you couldn't keep a level head when it came to Azriel.

“No, I can't…” he cuts himself off, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh, a heavy sound coming from deep in his chest as if he’s been pushing it down for a long time. He looks scared somehow, his wings pulling in tighter to his body and his shadows crawling up his shoulders as if comforting, or even encouraging him. You let him find his composure, find the right words to explain the situation. This feels bigger than a silly argument when adrenaline was pumping through both your veins and that gnawing feeling in your chest comes back, getting stronger with every breath, making you think this might be something he's carried on from the time you were still married.

Azriel opens his eyes after a few moments, the emotions swirling in them enough to make you breathless, and reaches his hand out to yours, waiting for you to accept it and then squeezing it tight as if he needs the reminder that you're real.

“I need you to know I wasn't trying to keep any secrets from you or order you around as you said,” he starts lowly, shiny hazel eyes alternating between watching your hands clasped together and staring deep into your eyes, “We've had this conversation many times before. I know you don't remember but I need you to know I never meant to make you think I want to have any sort of power over you.” He brings your hand up to his chest then, spreading your palm right over his beating heart as he continues, eyes never straying from yours, “I know you can handle yourself, and I know you want to be there when Norris tells you everything. I wasn't trying to keep you away from the dungeon because I didn't think you could handle it.”

“Then why?” Your voice is but a whisper, not wanting to disturb the vulnerable moment.

“I never let you see me down there before, know the monster I have to become. You tried, many times, but I never allowed it. I've always been too afraid of what your reaction would be,” he presses his hand down on yours a little harder as his heart beat picks up, “It would kill me if you were ever scared of me, if you couldn't love me anymore after learning who I am. I was so scared of losing you. Scared that you would ever look at me with fear in your eyes instead of love.”

You let your gaze fall to the way he presses his and your hand to his chest, letting his heartbeat lead yours. It takes a moment for you to process his admission. From what he told you before you thought you had been open with each other throughout your marriage, but it seems there were parts of him he kept hidden even from you, especially from you.

Moments like these always leave you in a weird position. You can't speak for the old version of you, as much as you want to believe that you wouldn't leave him, would never feel scared of him, when your love for him transcended your memories as if it was written down into your bones, the truth is you don't remember her at all. Maybe she would have been scared, maybe his worries hadn't been completely unwarranted then. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

You turn your hand around, your palm no longer pressed against his chest in favor of holding onto his hand, your other hand joining in as you massage the rough skin and let them fall between you two, needing something familiar to ground yourself while you think of what to say. You twist his wedding ring around his finger once, closing your eyes at the tremble that runs through him at the motion, the way even his wings droop to the floor. The fact that he lets you touch him like this makes things so much harder sometimes.

“I've seen a lot of monsters. You're not one of them, Azriel. Far from it,” you start carefully, “and… I'm not sure how I was like before, if seeing you down there would have really been too much for me to handle but if I truly loved you like I think I did, then I know it wouldn't have mattered. There's nothing about you I see as unlovable.”

“Loved,” a broken mumble between you, not a question. This makes you look up at him. You want to deny it, tell him you still love him, but you can't make sense of the feelings inside you, can't say for sure what will happen to them when you regain your memories. Most of all, you don't want to hurt him, give him hope when he already lost so much, when you already hurt him so much.

You drop his hand, taking a small step back. “I'm not the same person you used to know, and recovering my memories might not bring her back either. Most of what's left is just my body.”

“It doesn't matter,” he says so matter-of-factly it almost makes you want to believe him.

“Azriel-”

“No,” he brings both of his hands to hold onto your face gently, giving you no option but to look into his eyes, “I love you. That didn't change when you died or over the century that followed, when I didn't think I would ever see you again. It didn't change when I saw you in the townhouse or even when you stabbed me. And it won't change whether you get your memories back or not, if you choose to stay or not.”

“I don't love you,” the words stumble out desperately, tears gathering in your eyes, “I don't even remember you, Azriel.”

“That doesn't change it either,” he smiles, thumb caressing your cheek softly. You know he means it then, know there's no way to change his mind even if for his own good. You can only pray to the Mother that your memories don't give you any unpleasant surprises. You're trying so hard to keep his heart safe, why must he keep offering to rip it out of his chest for you?

His expression changes abruptly as you're lost in thought and soon after you feel a presence in your mind before Rhysand's voice comes through. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. Azriel's hands drop from your face then, a scowl overcoming his features. You can only imagine the words he's throwing at his brother in his mind, but Rhysand's voice returns, noticeably more amused, Our break is over. It's time to meet them back at the dungeon. I take it you'll fly our captive back? The answering growl that comes from the shadowsinger actually makes you hide a chuckle behind your hand. His gaze softening once again when he notices the gesture.

Despite the timing and the way he insisted on addressing you as “captive” to rile Azriel up, you could actually thank Rhysand for breaking you away from the moment. He's right, you've rested more than enough and it's now time to go back and finish what you started. You only have the luxury of dealing with your marriage after Norris is gone and you could actually remember your husband.

The flight to the dungeon is a lot easier this time as your prior annoyance was replaced with strangely welcomed awkwardness and a tinge of bashfulness. As much as you tried to deny it, you can't pretend Azriel's admission hadn't made your heart want to leap out of your chest. You don't think anyone could have remained impartial to such a confession, especially coming from a male like Azriel, but as soon as you step into the dungeon, you feel yourself morph back into the cold assassin. You could even feel Azriel's mask fall over his face as well, ready to resume what you'd started before.

This same routine is repeated for a few days, slowly but surely wearing the formidable assassin down. It wouldn't be long until Rhysand or Feyre could read through his mind completely even if he didn't willingly tell you anything. This sentiment was felt among all of you, it's like you could all taste how close he was to breaking.

You came back from one of your mandatory breaks to see Cassian leaning by the cell door, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at your prisoner as Amren stood in the middle of the cell covered in blood, a wicked grin on her face as Norris looked the most unsettled you'd ever seen him. She was told to hold back in the first days but since Norris insists on resisting, Rhysand had allowed her to toy with him. You truly hope you never cross her, just the thought of the things she could do makes every hair on your body stand.

Everyone stays in the room this time, knowing it's only a matter of time. Azriel takes over once more, every slash of his knife meant to give Norris unimaginable pain, completely focused on making the short remaining of his life as miserable as he can.

The difference between the male who had confessed his undying love to you, held your hand as if you were the most precious thing in this world, and the one expertly carving out your former handler's body was almost unbelievable. Azriel's face showed nothing but anger, and even then you knew it wasn't even a quarter of the seething fury burning inside of him. This wasn't your doting husband, this was the Spymaster.

You feel Rhysand's dramatic show of power before you see him walk into the cell, hands in pockets as if he was walking into his kitchen instead of a seedy dungeon reeking of blood and sweat. He passes by you and joins Azriel in tormenting Norris, letting sharp black talons run across the mental walls he's been so desperate to maintain. The smirk on his mate's face, who leans against the table calmly by your side, tells you they might even be teaming up on him.

Fatigue was starting to eat away at everyone the longer you spent inside the windowless cell, but, as Norris smirks lessened and his bared teeth stopped being enough to hide the obvious grunts of pain, his skin paling considerably as his blood pooled at his feet, it was clear that you were on the right track, only needed to keep pushing.

Your handler had started answering more questions too, if only to keep you distracted and away from any blades long enough. It's hard to believe that the male you've been frightened of for a century is the same one chained in front of you. If it weren't for the stubbornness and the pride he's managed to keep somehow, you wouldn't have believed it at all.

“This whole mission was a gamble. We couldn't know for sure if they'd written you off their wards even if they thought you were dead. When you walked in so easily I thought it would be a piece of cake from there. Seems I was wrong.” You had guessed as much. At the time, being sent to an unknown place on such short notice seemed strange and sloppy for how usually crafted the guild's plans were, but knowing what you do now, it makes sense. Not only were you written into the wards as he said, but if it hadn't been for the strange nostalgic feelings inside you, Azriel would have let you escape, you would have even killed him to do so.

“The spell should have sealed your memories and feelings tight,” Norris continues as if sensing your thoughts, “I'm not sure what is trying so hard to claw its way out from behind those walls.” He tilts his head to the side and pauses as if he found the answer and that self-assured smirk reappears on his lips. The sight makes your skin crawl, your powers reacting with you and sending an icy chill into the room. Temperature dropping as his smirk only widens even more and Azriel looks at you with a worried expression before catching himself. “Maybe I just messed up the spell,” he dismisses.

“What do you mean?”

“It is a tricky spell,” he shrugs nonchalantly, knowing that's not what you asked. Azriel moves before you, Truth Teller slashing across his skin for the millionth time, but Norris seems intent on keeping at least this last piece of information to himself. There's more to this, you know there is, but the interrogation moves on to matters of the guild. Rhysand is still worried that they will come for you now that you've deserted, and that they will bring harm to his beloved court.

Within the next few hours, Norris' healing stops being able to keep up with his injuries, even his voice losing strength. It seems like he was focusing the remaining of his energy on keeping his mental walls safe, but it's not long until you see Rhysand's smirk grow, a satisfied wicked thing on his face.

You watch as Norris' head goes limp, unfocused eyes dropping to the ground as the High Lord searches through his mind, probably making it as unpleasant as he possibly can. Your heart starts beating faster in your chest, anxiety building up at the thought that this could have all been for nothing, that Norris might not have the answer after all. You feel a hand on your shoulder but don't even have the mind to look back and check who is trying to comfort you.

When he finally steps back, he simply gives you a nod and a breath of relief escapes you as you stare back into Norris' eyes. You watch Azriel and Rhysand share a look in the corner of your eye, never daring to look away from Norris' defeated face. Within moments everyone starts clearing out of the cell in silence, leaving you and your shadowsinger standing over the prisoner.

It's only when Azriel's hand reaches for yours, tugging on it to get your attention that you look away. His eyes don't give away much and he doesn't say the words, but as he places Truth Teller in the palm of your hand, you know exactly what he means. He nods at you once and drops your hand, taking a step back and giving you space.

You look down at the dagger in your hands, the same one you had held to wound the male who now handed it to you, the one you'll now use to set yourself free. Describing the feeling running through your body is impossible, you always thought you'd die in the guild, as an assassin. Never even dared to think you could be more, never thought it would be possible to get out alive and find a life for yourself. You thought you'd be scared at the prospect but you can only feel excitement and relief.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you walk to Norris and pull on his hair to lift his face to yours, so he can see all the hate and anger in your gaze before you stab the knife through his right eye slowly, making sure to get it through his brain, deep enough that no amount of healing or any trick he might have had up his sleeve would be able to save him, and twisting it around. You don't move for a few moments, listening for his heartbeat and paying attention to the blood seeping out of the wound. It's only when you're sure he's dead, that his heart is completely quiet and enough blood has poured out, that you pull the knife out with a squelching sound, flicking it down to get rid of most of the blood and any pieces of flesh stuck to it.

You hesitate for a moment before turning back, meeting Azriel's eyes. As much as you'd told him there was no need for him to worry of your opinion of him changing after witnessing what he did to Norris, of ever being afraid of him, you had hypocritically been scared of letting him see you like this, of seeing the cold blooded killer you had become, so far detached from the wife in his memories.

All your worries are proven baseless however. The only thing you can distinguish in his eyes is relief, at having the answer to getting your memories back and having the person responsible for your pain killed. You can't help the smile growing on your face, not caring for how it must look against the blood covering most of your body, and wrap your arms around Azriel's neck, pulling him down into a hug as a sigh of relief escapes you, tears rising to your eyes and flowing down your cheeks. His arms come around you immediately, tightening his grip on you and burying his face in your neck, tears of his own wetting your skin.

You're finally free.

taglist: @thisblogisaboutabook @chessebookgirl @going-through-shit @starcrossedsan @macimads @janebirkln @dr4g0ngirl @harrystyles2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @queensl1234 @lisanna2000 @starryhiraeth @shadowsaz @sakurafrost3-blog @evergreenlark @sisterjuliennes @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @historygeekqueen @writingcroissant @abysshaven @pablopascal @that-girl-reading @naturakaashi @tenshis-cake @sharknutz @isa1b2h3 @thehighlordishere @tarathia @sfhsgrad-blog @acourtofbatboydreams @starsandnightmares @cuethedepession @emryb @mybestfriendmademe @fxckmiup @adharanotfound @b0xerdancer @ervotica @aria-chikage @serendipityx150 @fanboyluvr @rogersbarnesxx @that-one-little-soybean @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @saltedcoffeescotch @astarlitsoul @just-a-social-casualty-1 @sundayysunshine

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #azriel angst

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tender-rosiey · 1 year ago

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“AND MY HEART SCREAMS: IT’S ALWAYS BEEN YOU”

— the moment dazai, chuuya, kunikida, fyodor, nikola, ranpo, and fukuzawa knew they wanted to spend their entire life with you

DAZAI OSAMU: the moment he revealed his scars to you—scars that told of the past, details of the past, details that he thought he would never reveal. there were multiple outcomes, but his lonesome heart forced him to expect only one: you getting disgusted and perhaps even refusing to stay any longer. he wouldn’t blame you if you did.

so imagine his surprise when your eyes held nothing but sympathy and the utmost tenderness as you gently kissed his scars and whispered only one sentence, ‘I just wanted to be able to be by your side then’. what was he supposed to do other than pull you close and embrace you tightly, burying his face in your hair to hide a face that failed this once to master the mask?

NAKAHARA CHUUYA: when you went out of your way to prepare an unwinding night for the both of you. chuuya loves his with his entire heart and trusts with his entire being. and he sometimes doesn’t know just what to expect from people. so seeing you put so much effort into ensuring his happiness and your own had a certain hold on his heart.

he loves you unconditionally so when you responded to that love with the same intensity, he couldn’t help but gravitate towards you even more. he falls harder, but you’re there to catch him a smile. he approaches you, unaware of what will slip out of his mouth—a desire that has been on his mind for far longer that he thinks, “marry me,” he whispers, gentle and hopeful eyes looking at your own.

KUNIKIDA DOPPO: he is a man who sticks to his ideals and those ideals are to protect others not himself. it pained you, seeing him so ready to sacrifice himself to try and follow up to said ideals till the end. so you held his hand, crying about how you don’t want him to be so careless with himself and that your heart can’t handle seeing him choose his own death as a solution anymore.

he found himself breaking down and pulling you into a tight embrace, constantly murmuring ‘I am sorry’ with kisses pressed on top of your head and reassuring that he will always stay with you. your hold on him doesn’t falter as you feel his tears and he feels his heart getting even more fond of you, his dear true love.

FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY: entertainment is something he loves, but it surprises him when he can’t handle entertainment at your expense. when he goes through his plans, even when the most ‘fun’ option involves you, he doesn’t choose it. he finds himself unable to put you in danger he knows he can avoid.

he doesn’t fight the place you have acquired in his heart; instead, he goes to you and his head finds home on your lap. his hand caresses your own and he looks at you with longing like you’re the epitome of what he truly wants for himself. a gentle whisper of your name and you look towards him and he finds sanctity in your gaze. the true form of purity: your love that he succumbs to and accepts as a part of his being.

NIKOLAI GOGOL: when you showed him that you truly understand or even try to him. you don’t call him a maniac or a monster; instead, you smile patiently, heart open for him, and ask him to tell you more. and he does. words spill out of his mouth in an unbelievable speed, thoughts—a jumbled mess—are thrown into the air and you listen.

emotions—the shackles of humans—overwhelm him in a way that he is surprised that he doesn’t hate. His legs grow weak and he falls at your feet, screaming, crying, and repeating a mantra of I love you. when he does calm down, he takes your hand and puts it on his face. he is now held back by love, shackled by you. he knows and he—somehow—doesn’t mind. he just sinks deeper.

EDOGAWA RANPO: when you slept in the office, beside him, while he was planning their next move. it is not often that ranpo actually works. so, it wouldn’t have made him upset if you left because with all his confidence, he values your smile the most. but you stayed, you always did. ‘y/n, you can go back home you know,’ he had murmured, patting your head with a small grin, but you just told him to shut up and you cuddled closer to him.

it’s not the first time you hugged, but, for some reason, this certain hug had him tightening his arms around you before shouting about how he needs to get done quicker so his sleeping beauty can rest properly with an undeniably lovesick and joyful grin on his face.

FUKUZAWA YUKICHI: when you patted his head with a murmur that you trust him. in the eyes of others, it is ultimately meaningless and silly. yet, to him, that single gesture meant the world. and behind closed doors, he rests at ease, knowing his heart is in your hands.

he dotes on others like a strict father, yet when the same affection and trust is thrown at him, he can’t help but smile helplessly while you stroke his hair and pull him close. he also feels his heart set ablaze when he sees you laughing and pulling on his hand, wanting him to join whatever fun you’re having. and he follows you, like he always did and always will—with a smile so serene it tugs at your own heart.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @waosobii @nanamikentoseyebags

do not copy or plagiarize or I will dislocate your shoulders

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generalsmemories · 1 year ago

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hiii for your event (CONGRATS BY THE WAY!!!) I'd like to request

"hey, no crying... I thought we said we wouldn't cry" with jing yuan please and thank you

Warmth of the living

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts used: "hey, no crying... I thought we said we wouldn't cry" || 1k event

✧ content: established relationship, hurt/comfort, spoilers for xianzhou storyline, we are still stuck in the jing yuan recovery era after phantylia fight

✧ a/n: istg if this man goes into the next patch half beat up and ready to intervene i'm actually sentencing him to a house arrest cause GODDAMN. in a way this can be seen as an alt version of my other fic 48 hours tbh. i just can't imagine any other scenario where that sentence specifically is used by itself than the recent events - so sorry for the same sorta events, i'll make sure it's the last one though!

NOT BETA-READ CAUSE I LITERALLY WROTE THIS ALL IN 30 MINUTES THE MOMENT I GOT SOME MOTIVATION FOR IT HAHA

"Lady Bailu is taking care of him as we speak, [Name]. Please excercise some patience and believe in her - she's not titled the best healer of Luofu for no reason," Fu Xuan tries to comfort as you pace back and forth at the Seat of Divine Foresight - a hand massaging her temples as she looks towards the mountains of unopened scrolls needing to be read through within the day, "... If it helps, I've also foreseen that he won't be in any immediate danger. He's fine and he's going to recover."

That diviner noticed that her assurance seemed to ease you to the point you let out a long shaky exhale before sitting down at one of the steps leading to the grand desk, combing a hand through your hair for the nth time, "You haven't rested either with helping both me and Qingzu arrange documents and various meetings with the Six Charioteers. Why don't you try to take a walk outside the Exalting Sanctum?" Fu Xuan suggests, but you merely shake your head with a chuckle.

"If I leave you'll be more overwhelmed than you already are. Qingzu is even starting to pity you, lady Fu Xuan," you start, taking a deep breath in before standing up again, "Besides, if I leave the Seat, I just know I'll go running to where he is, I don't think that would help any of us now, would it?" you say with a light-hearted chuckle.

Fu Xuan didn't comment on the fact that your voice was trembling slightly as you spoke.

You can visit the general now. Please bring me some tuskir wraps, I'm hungry.

The message was sent as you had just placed a plate of food in front of Yanqing, almost dropping the contents entirely over the table if the young lieutenant didn't notice the grip you had on it falter and catching it in time, "Woah- [Name] I was looking forward to eating your food today! What would I do if you just suddenly do something like... that..." Yanqing's words died down when he saw your widened eyes, but a quick look at the sender of the message made him let out a relived sigh, only leaning back and picking up his chopsticks, "Why not visit the general instead of staring at your screen like that? It's not like you will be able to be able to teleport yourself to his location by doing that."

Yanqing's words made you snap out of your surprise, rushing towards the entrance, "Lock up after me! And give-"

"Mimi her food, I know! Just go!"

You knew that your worry was not needed. You knew that no matter how much you worried and that no matter how many times you wished for things to go differently that day that none of it would happen, "What happens and what has happened will inevitably stay like that no matter how much you try to alter it. And if my life can ensure that the rest of Luofu can stay safe then that is ultimately the best outcome in the long run, don't you agree, dear?" is what Jing Yuan had told you after the both of you had gone through his initial plan to handle the crisis.

You knew that he was right, which was why you bit your tongue and confirmed his plan. As the general of Luofu and as an official handling the lives of the people - you both knew that his plan, although reckless would yield the best results instead of sacrificing lives where it was not needed.

You knew.

But as you stand before him in person and get a thorough look at him you can't help but wish things had gone differently that day when he came to you with a final plan - a final play.

You wished that you had let your selfish mind overtake your logical mind for a second and beg him to come up with something else. Anything that didn't involve setting himself in danger.

But you didn't, and now you're seeing the very consequences of not doing so in front of you.

His skin is paler than usual, there's bandages wrapped around his torso, his forearms and even a few of his fingers. The usual spark in his eyes are dimmed slighty. There's an air of exhaustion around him, like he's trying his best to stay awake even though he desperately wants to sleep, but his smile is still the same.

The same reassuring, convinning and gentle smile he gives you when you greet him at the Seat of Divine Foresight, when you return home after work and he's home before you and when you run into each other on the streets of Luofu. And yet you can't find yourself to smile back, your fingers tightly twisting the material of your garments while you struggle to let out a word, a sound or anything at all to even try to match his own effort to reach out to you.

But you can't, you can't bring yourself to speak, and every time you open your mouth you can only make a tiny sound that sounds like a wheeze. But before you can try to recollect yourself, your eyes widen when Jing Yuan forces himself to sit in an upright position, snapping back to reality when you hear his quiet grunt of pain.

However you're not able to tell him to lay back down again (as Bailu had instructed he does) before he grabs a hold of your hands and pulls you into his arms with quiet coos and a low chuckle, "No crying... I thought we said we wouldn't cry over things like this?" he whispers, pulling slightly back to instead cup your cheeks, thumbs caressing the few tears that had managed to fall down from your eyes with a gentle gaze.

It tears you utterly apart how your wellbeing is still his priority than his own recovery.

"That... was a different... situation," you manage to squeeze out, bringing your hands up to rub the tears away yourself.

You didn't know when the tears began to form, nor when they began to fall.

"I know I'll lose you one day to the mara, as much as you're aware that you might lose me to it as well - and that's what we promised not to cry over! We never agreed to this sort of situation!" you croak out, trying your best to stop the tears from flowing. You know it's a silly comparison - Jing Yuan would much rather die out in the battlefield protecting the Luofu and the alliance than fall victim to the curse. You know, but your selfish self won't accept that outcome - even though you know such an outcome is the best for the general of Luofu.

"I agreed to this plan of yours, yes. I also agreed knowing that you're essentially putting your own life at risk yes, but still!" you sob, raising a closed fist to lightly beat down on his already battered body, "Knowing that you still came back safe just made every possible scenario of things that could go wrong and knowing they didn't and that you're here right now- scolding me of all things for crying in relief just makes this seem more surreal so you out of everyone can't fault me for actually crying because I was preparing a starskiff for the soul-soothing ceremony in the background for aeons sake," you rasp out, ending the whole rant with a saddened chuckle.

Jing Yuan merely laughs in return, one arm wrapping around your waist while his free hand pushes your head into his chest while gently patting your head, his body shaking with his soft chuckles when he feels your tears wet his garments again, "I'm fine dear, I just need to be in bedrest for a while. I'm not leaving anytime soon, so stop those tears, okay? You know I can't handle it when you cry," he whispers, bending his head down slightly to kiss the crown of your head softly.

"Just let me cry this one out, I don't think I've cried for a good couple of years," you murmur, burying yourself further into his chest, the arms you have wrapped around him squeezing a tiny bit - making Jing Yuan let out a small yelp of surprise from the force.

He's warm, you notice. His heart is beating and you can feel his chest rise up and down with every breath he takes. You can feel his fingers run through your head, you can hear the his nonchalant commets of his observations of the room in the commission amidst the otherwise silent room. And you can feel his whole body when he shuffles a bit to rest his back to the wall while he himself tries to squeeze you a bit tighter to reassure you.

Everything indicating that he's alive for another day.

And only after that do you finally feel like you can breathe again.

another request that had the same scenario in it!

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr imagines #star rail x reader #star rail imagines #star rail x you #jing yuan x reader #generalsmemories 1k event

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femmefatalevibe · 1 year ago

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Femme Fatale Guide: How To Manage & Overcome Fear

Ultimately, fear is born out of anxiety over some sort of distrust –whether it's grounded in logic, emotion, perception, past experiences, etc.

Fear arises from an unknown – any new experience, opportunity, failure, relationship, changes in habits/routines, etc. So, ultimately, this fear is your way of coping with not distrusting others to do what you expect or desire and/or not trusting yourself to be able to cope with a certain environment, habit, responsibilities, changes, interpersonal conflict, etc.

To depersonalize fear, recognize that it's an anxious/emotional response to either a reasonable or illogical unknown/uncertainty. Then, I see what my realistic options are on how to handle the situation and proceed with my following actions by answering these questions:

Looking back at this moment in a year's time, what do I wish I would've done?

What red or green flags are my anxieties discounting or telling me to overlook?

How many of my concerns are grounded in reality, and how many are based on assumptions or negative self-talk?

If a friend was handling this situation, how would I proceed?

Once you answer these questions, you're forcing yourself to take the emotions out of the situation and see all of the key players + moving parts more objectively to make a rational decision.

You have to calculate the best possible outcome for yourself, but ultimately, the goal of overcoming fear is to stop holding yourself back from what you want and live without regrets.

#emotion regulation #emotional health #feelings #self talk #self reflection #glow up #inner work #personal growth #personal development #femmefatalevibe #goalsetting #risk taking #self confidence #q/a

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thewertsearch · 5 months ago

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AG: It was kind of an intense sym8iotic thing, a particularly demanding lusus-troll relationship, and only really strong kids are supposed to 8e a8le to handle it.

Sure. Symbiotic. Let's.... let's go with that.

AG: I really didn't think I would make it. I was sure I'd fail, and my lusus would either get angry and eat me, or she'd just die and then I'd 8e culled.

It's a dark thought, but I did wonder if Vriska could have just quietly euthanized the spider. It's not like she really depended on it after infancy - quite the opposite, in fact.

Also - why does Alternia even prosecute trolls for killing a lusus? They clearly don't care if trolls kill each other. I guess the monsters are more valuable than the children.

AG: 8ut then I saw a shooting star one evening. AG: I tracked down where it landed, and found a chest with my sign on it.

Sounds like a Sburb meteor to me - but Vriska obviously didn't find her own ancestor in the chest, so this wasn't one of the Player or Guardian meteors.

Perhaps her ancestor was hiding in her session, just like Grandpa Harley. If so, she could have arranged for an extra meteor to get sent down during the Reckoning.

AG: A sign is an insignia we must wear, specific to our class. Each class has a huge alpha8et of signs, so when someone shares yours, you know you have a lot in common. I was so excited to see it.

If you didn't know about your ancestor beforehand, how did you get your sign in the first place?

I guess the Empire could just DNA-test every troll at birth, and add them to a database. Then, if your DNA is sufficiently close to a troll who came before, you get their sign.

What happens, then, if you don't have a recorded ancestor? Do you get a random sign? A new one? Does the government just assign you a sign that sort of matches your DNA?

The Marquise certainly looks like Vriska writ large. She doesn't really resemble any other troll - although her massive hair does being Gamzee to mind, and her vampiric fangs evoke Kanaya. I'll lock in a guess that those are the trolls she contributed DNA to.

AG: She documented all of her amazing adventures as she sailed around the world, commanding a notoriously deadly fleet of Gam8lignants. AG: It was so thrilling reading it. It really felt like she wrote it just for me, like she was talking right to me and telling me how to 8e like her. She even left notes on where she 8uried treasure and stuff, which I followed l8er when I started RPing. I found her dice that way, and so many other gr8 things.

She was also clearly aware of her descendant's strange fate, did what she could to prepare her for Sgrub's trials, and equipped her with a grossly overpowered weapon to ensure she'd be a winner.

...mind you, Vriska's dice are only as overpowered as they are because she can rig their outcome. Did Serket Senior even predict her descendant's Title ability?

EB: it really sounds like our situations are not so different! […] EB: i never even knew my nanna. […] AG: You had it so easy! You don't have to go hunting for clues a8out your ancestors at all. AG: There was a picture of her hanging RIGHT THERE on the wall of your hive. […] AG: Your lives are so simple and easy. It must 8e really nice 8eing a human, even though you're all so weak. AG: 8ut may8e it's ok to 8e weak, if that's what's normal.

Vriska has no idea how huge it is that she was able to say that.

#full liveblog #homestuck liveblog #act 5.2 #3474 #s128

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kuromori4 · 1 month ago

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I just want to talk about how absolutely emotionally DONE MariBug is.

Like, I'm not saying that she doesn't feel any emotions throughout the special. Clearly, she does.

But the way she handled the entire ordeal, calmly and with a level-head... I don't think it was just a show of being strong. I truly think that it was a breaking point for her. She could do nothing other than be calm, because something broke in her and she just became utterly numb. This girl has been THROUGH IT. (They both have)

But Marinette is done crying. She's done panicking. The worst possible outcome has already come to pass, so what's left but to pick up the pieces? And I don't think it's by choice. Sure, she's acting strong to get through it all. But at this point, I don't think she's truly capable of much else.

The weight on her shoulders has never been heavier. It was already too much for her, long before we got to this point. She's being completely crushed and it's like she's on auto-pilot just so she makes it out alive.

It's not until a true distraction comes her way that we see her come to life a little bit. The wish, Bunnyx, the whole time travel situation is exactly the distraction she needs to be able to snap out of that null, hollow, painful void. A task. A problem to solve. Something to take her mind off of the what she can't fix, and focus on something she can. Something she must fix.

I love her to bits and this girl just... deserves a break. a rest. A very long holiday. And she's so strong. SO STRONG. Like really, what 14/15 year old girl wouldn't completely dissolve under that kind of pressure?

(Okay and just for the added insult, I just wanna throw in here the old phrase "Pressure makes Diamonds" because I think that really parallels the whole 'Lila is a stone" thing.)

#miraculous ladybug #ml london special #miraculous london #ml spoilers #london special spoilers #poor marinette #marinette dupain cheng #ml ladybug #bug noire #LET THIS GIRL SLEEP #She's just so hurt

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dittanyinbloom · 2 years ago

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Study Habits

A continuation of Note Taking.

Ominis Gaunt x fem!MC, no specific house, 2.5k, fluff, Sorry to put Sebastian through this. Suppose he has you all to blame for wanting a part two.

.🪶📜🪶

To say your head was in the clouds would be a giant understatement.

Class was a complete blur after that. Ominis had kept to himself and fallen asleep as though nothing had gone on. You remained alert, not able to shake the phantom feeling of a hand squeezing above your knee. Four digits digging into your flesh, almost possessively while his thumb swiped back and forth. How he managed to be demanding while remaining breathtakingly gentle, you would never know. The things it made you feel were obscene, and in public no less!

You’d followed him like a puppy after class, though, that was no different than other days. This time you noticed your attentiveness, neediness, but despite how embarrassed and overwhelmed you felt, you couldn’t help but follow at his heels until you were forced to part ways for your last classes.

“Sebastian is going to want to see those notes in the library later,” he called over his shoulder on his way to Arithmacy.

You weren’t planning on showing. How could you, knowing what you know now? Spending the evening hiding under your covers wouldn’t be so bad. Or perhaps you could sneak out to the Forbidden Forest again and take out some of your nerves on an unsuspecting acromantula.

But by the end of your last class, you were entertaining the idea of going to the library. If you showed up late enough, Ominis would have given up and left for the Slytherin common room long before your arrival. Sebastian alone was something you could handle, and then he could report back to Ominis about how completely normal you seemed, how unbothered you were, aloof, nonchalant! All of the totally calm and not at all flustered words.

While your mind was planning the excuse for your fashionably late show, your muscles were working on instinct and memory. Just as you were coming to, you had already begun your ascent up the staircase to the second floor of the library. Classes had just ended, meaning you had gone straight there. You stopped with three steps left to go, realizing your mistake. In your defense, your mind was still a foggy mess. All the scenarios you had been playing out to prepare yourself were displayed through a gray haze of confusion. And if you dwelled on it too much, your train of thought fell off its tracks and started replaying that damned moment in class.

“What do you think you are doing, Mrs. Gaunt?”

Oh, why did he have to say it in that reprimanding tone? The one he always had whenever Sebastian, and by proxy, you were getting into things you were not supposed to. The way his voice echoed in the Undercroft when he got angry always made your knees feel weak. You were known for being quick to agree with him, too. Sebastian teased you for it relentlessly.

“If he told you to jump, you’d ask how high.”

“Shut it, Sallow.”

“You got here fast!” Sebastian commented when he finally looked up from his book. He was reading, of course, and like always it wasn’t something in the Hogwarts curriculum. Books seemed to be his escape from the scary thoughts swirling around in his head. You couldn’t judge. It was a much safer option compared to how you intended to battle a swarm of spiders to rid yourself of inappropriate thoughts.

Seeing Sebastian alone was usually a red flag for disastrous outcomes, but today you welcomed his solitude and took a seat across from him at the table he claimed nearly every day. Maybe you could leave before Ominis showed. Your plan to avoid him was still full steam ahead, it seemed.

“Yes, just wanted to drop off the notes for you. I have to meet with. .,” Quick! Think of something! “-Professor Fig!”

“Uncovering more of that ancient magic mystery?” Sebastian presumed.

“Precisely.” You took out your roll of parchment and handed it over. Today, you had been far too embarrassed to make any unnecessary doodles, so you had no qualms about Sebastian just copying the work himself.

“I can’t wait to hear about it. Much more exciting than History of-,” Sebastian cut out the moment he unrolled the parchment.

Amidst all the urgency of planning your timely escape, you forgot about the exact reason you wanted to leave. Ominis’s hand on your thigh, insistent that you cross out your last name and correct yourself. And you had done it too, almost as obedient as one would be under the imperius curse. Then, you had spent the rest of the period wishing you hadn’t listened so quickly, because as soon as your name was crossed out and his written diligently in its place, his hand was gone from your thigh. Every second of the last two hours you spent fighting the urge to replay the moment in your head. It had been futile, of course. Ancient Runes was terribly boring in comparison to your imagination. You craved to experience that feeling again, how his skin over his knuckles went taunt while grabbing you, how the fabric around your thigh bunched as he swiped his thumb, how your heart threatened to leap out of your chest.

“MC Gaunt? Surely my best friends wouldn’t have run off and gotten married without me.” Sebastian raised an eyebrow. The corner of his mouth twitched in an attempt to refrain from smirking, but you could see the gleam in his eyes. Mischief was brewing.

In a flurry, you took the parchment back from the boy and began to roll it up, insisting, “You didn’t see that.”

“What are you going to do? Obliviate me? What’s done is done. At least let me copy down the notes. Don’t worry, I’ll write my own name on mine.”

“Sebastian. .,” you hoped the use of his first name and the desperate look in your eyes would make him at the very least pity you. It backfired pathetically. Knowing how embarrassed you were only seemed to add fuel to his flame, and Sebastian was always itching to burn things.

“Is this why you were being odd the other day and reading them out?”

“I-“

“Are all of your history notes like this?”

No, most of them were worse. A thousand times worse. You would melt into a puddle if he saw some of the things you wrote.

“No! Now, if you want to borrow them, you’ll let this go.”

Sebastian crossed his fingers over his chest, promising, “Don’t worry, this stays between us. Anyway, it’s been a while since you’ve been in my debt.”

“Good, now, if you’ll excuse me, Natty is waiting-“

“Thought it was Fig?” Sebastian snorted. “You really ought to study the art of deception. Dunno how you managed all the loyalist and ashwinder nonsense this far without it.”

“Think you are deceptive enough for the three of us, Sebastian,” Ominis declared as he finished the spiral staircase. “Sorry that I’m late. What have I missed?”

“Just Ranrok and Rookwood talk. The usual,” Sebastian said smoothly, shrugging for good measure before sending you a wink.

“Well then, I am not sorry,” Ominis corrected as he took a seat and then patted the chair beside him. “Have a seat, and let’s get started. I hear this goblin rebellion in particular has innovative war tactics.”

You fell into the chair beside him, avoiding the amused look on Sebastian’s face. “I already gave Sallow my notes to copy, but that Transfiguration essay is due tomorrow. Mine could use another read-through.”

“Thought you had to go meet up with, who was it. . Garreth?” He might be keeping your secret, but Sebastian could still have a bit of fun.

Ominis’s nose scrunched in disgust. “What are you meeting Weasley for?”

“I’m not.”

“Good. He is only trouble, and you get into enough of that without him singeing off your eyebrows.”

Jumping at every opportunity to heighten the insanity of this conversation, Sebastian chimed in, “How do you know he hasn’t already singed one off? MC is looking quite ridiculous as of late.”

Ominis frowned and reached out for you. The back of his fingers lightly grazed your warm cheeks before he found confidence in his placement and held the side of your face. His thumb swiped over one of your eyebrows before moving his fingers along the other to find them both intact. “Merlin, Sebastian. Don’t lie to me like that. I had half a mind to hunt Weasley down and hex him to next week.”

“What can I say?” Sebastian leaned back in his chair to stretch. “I’m a world-class jester.”

“Class isn’t a word I would use to describe you,” you quipped.

“Funny coming from somebody who is no-showing Weasley right now.”

“Enough, both of you.” Ominis put his hand on your thigh as if it was a warning. “Less bantering and more studying. I would like to pass at least a few O.W.L.s.”

What surprised you even more than the warm hand enveloping your thigh was the awkward cough across from you. The table may have been blocking his view, but Sebastian could follow the line of sight and make an educated guess on where Ominis had placed his hand. Suddenly his freckled cheeks were turning a deep shade of pink, matching exactly how you felt.

Lucky for both of your sakes, Ominis retracted his hand to open up his textbook, seemingly not picking up on his best friend's discomfort. He quickly got lost in his essay with a soft frown forming before admitting, “I hate Transfiguration. Do you know what Professor Weasley said the other day about my teacup? That I have to envision it. Merlin, felt like an eternity of silence before she realized her mistake. Then afterward she said I don’t have to practice it if I write two extra inches. Basically, I’m being punished for her inability to think before she speaks.”

“That’s awful. She’s given me four extra inches and three detentions for no good reason,” Sebastian whined.

“You transfigured Leander into a bird,” Ominis deadpanned.

“Yeah? And? He deserved it. Weasley only punished me because she favors the Gryffindors.”

“Leander shit on my desk,” you recalled, “It was disgusting. I think the detentions are well deserved.”

“I’m not the one who shit in your desk.”

“No, but you’re the one who turned him into a bird.”

“Surprised you even noticed the bird in the first place with all your tedious note taking.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from muttering under your breath, “Bastard.”

Ominis raised his eyebrows. You and Sebastian were often bickering, but you rarely ever used such a malicious tone. “I don’t have to separate you two, do I?”

“You might need to if your wife keeps trying to set me on fire with her eyes.”

Oh, how you wanted to tear him to shreds. In fact, your body twitched, reaching for your wand. Ominis felt you jerk beside him and skillfully grabbed your forearm just in time. His voice was tender, but he was still chastising you, “Come now, you know we don’t hex outside of the Undercroft. Besides, it’s just Sebastian. He merely enjoys riling people up. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

“Fine,” you agreed bitterly and set your wand on the table with a loud click, making sure to have it point toward Sebastian so he knew he was on thin fucking ice.

You had expected Ominis to release you after agreeing to his terms, but his hold lingered. The pads of his fingers shifted until they found the pulse in your wrist. Knowing your heart rate must seem alarmingly high to him only made you more nervous. Then his hand trailed up to your hand. Fingers lacing with your own.

“You stopped breathing. Are you okay?” There was a genuine look of concern across his features. It reminded you of how he doted over you in the Scriptorum. You felt awful for making him worry, but your mouth couldn’t exactly form words at the moment. He squeezed your hand gently, offering comfort.

“Merlin, Ominis, she looks like she’s about to keel over. Maybe try asking a girl before you hold her hand,” Sebastian chastised.

“Oh,” his defeated tone as he released you made you swoon. He hadn’t wanted to let go. “I’m sorry. How rude of me.”

“Nearly killed her,” Sebastian said with a chuckle.

“It’s okay!” You insisted.

Ominis frowned. “I just thought since. . . Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“It’s okay, really. There’s no need to ask. Don’t listen to Sebastian.”

The culprit snorted across the table, mumbling to himself, “Yeah, do go around taking my word for it, I’m just the one being forced to witness you having a stroke.”

Your wand snatched your wand from the table. “Shut it, Sallow.”

“You’d risk detention with Scribner for me?” His heart flew over his chest. “Mrs. Gaunt, I’m flattered.”

Ominis sighed heavily, now understanding the true root of the tension between you and Sebastian. “So, you know about how she’s taken my name.”

Your mouth fell open in shock at how casually Ominis stated such a thing. He had made it sound as though you were officially married. Taken his name, Merlin. Sebastian grinned maniacally and leaned forward with his elbows on the table as if ready to hear the latest Hogwarts gossip.

“Oh, you already know about her notes? Intriguing. How long have you known?”

Now it was Ominis’s turn to turn pink as he admitted, “A couple of months, I suppose.”

You covered your face with your hands, mumbling into them, “Sallow, you promised you wouldn’t tell.”

“I didn’t tell! Ominis brought it up.”

“After you called me Mrs. Gaunt!”

“Is that not the name you go by? Because your history notes say otherwise.”

“There is no need to be embarrassed by it,” Ominis promised, holding his palm upright for you to take.

Which you did, greedily and without coaxing. This second time around you were prepared for the sensation and were able to keep a level head. Well, perhaps level wasn’t the right word since you were shaking to the point of vibration. This time, you wanted to prove that you were okay with his touches. You planned on swiping your thumb across the back of his hand or you humming in content when you squeezed him.

Ominis did not let you get that far. As soon as your fingers interlocked with his, he was pulling your hand to his lips and leaving just a feather of a kiss against you.

“And that’s my cue.” Sebastian’s chair ground against the poor flooring with fever as he stood, collecting his things. “You two have managed to soil my favorite spot in the library. Cheers.”

“Am I not allowed to cherish my wife in public?” Ominis questioned with a devilish smile. Your stomach was doing flips.

“Just snog in the privacy of the Undercroft like normal human beings, and for the love of Merlin, send me an owl first so I know not to be there.”

a link to the final part

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #my writings

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thevillainswhore · 1 year ago

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Tension

Pairing: Massage Therapist!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: You’re devastated when your usual massage therapist becomes unavailable at the last minute, but an unexpected trainee is more than happy to handle you.

Warnings: Smut (fing-ering fem receiving, mentions of a-nal play, m-asturbation male receiving)

A/N: Unbeta’d, dividers by saradika and firefly-graphics - also a massive thank you to my babe @rookthorne for helping me edit my header, loves you bitch 💗

Listen, just please use your imaginations with the oil, let’s pretend it’s safe and can be used for… things 👀 okay thank you, enjoy x

Resting your head against the back of the waiting room leather chair, you await your appointment at your regular spa. Headache already starting to disappear from the eucalyptus aroma of incense seaping into your skin.

You needed this. The long work week draining you of all common sense to not hit your coworkers over their heads every two seconds, due to their incompetence. Now, it has finally come to a close, and you could take the opportunity to indulge in your guilty pleasure.

This was the only way you could continue to keep your head above water. A monthly treat to yourself of a two hour long full body massage - undisturbed peace and soft hands kneading the stress out of your body until it felt like you were floating.

And it was literally heaven on earth to let go of the strong willed nature that came with your work, placing your care into the hands of someone else. Giving up your responsibilities of taking charge and allowing another to take care of you for a little while.

It felt so good to let go. Forgetting all of your worries that seemed silly in the midst of the background waterfall noises that lulled you into calmness.

Jesus, you weren’t even on the massage table yet and you already felt so much lighter.

With that thought, the lovely receptionist, you’ve become familiar with from your numerous visits, walks out from the back room and addresses you with an apologetic expression.

“Miss, I’m so terribly sorry about this, but an unexpected personal emergency has come up for your regular therapist and she’s had to leave before your treatment today.”

Your face drops. The excited anticipation bubbling inside you from at last being able to relax, dying out instantly at her words.

Of course it wasn’t your therapist’s fault that you would miss out on the only pass time that gets you through the month. Of course, it wasn’t her fault you’d probably go home and scream into your pillow. Yet, you couldn’t help your internal frustration at the disappointing outcome.

It didn’t help that you hadn't had an orgasm for god knows how long too. The band inside was you on the verge of snapping. A massage being the only way to soothe the built up tension over the month and you feared you would have a mental breakdown from the added stress.

“Listen, I wouldn’t normally suggest this,” she goes on to explain as you lift your head with intrigue, “but we have a new massage therapist in training, free for your time slot. His clientele base is still quite small. However, he’s received great reviews and he’s happy to cover your treatment today - if that’s something you would consider. Would you like to meet him before coming to a decision?”

Fuck it. It’s either this or try to relieve yourself with your shitty vibrator at home that’ll probably die out before you can finish anyway. And you really didn’t want to make the dent in your bedroom wall any bigger from the other times you’d thrown the useless thing at it.

So, what harm could it do?

After agreeing to an introduction with the trainee, telling yourself you should at least see if you feel comfortable enough with him, you stand outside the private massage room, waiting to be invited in.

Eventually hearing a breathy shout of “Come in!”, the receptionist opens the door and allows you to step through, the seemingly young man’s back turned towards you as he fiddles with last minute preparations for your massage.

“Just tryna get everythin’ ready for ya, won’ be a minute.”

After finishing up and a final appraisal to the set up, the trainee spins on his fit, claps his hands together and looks at you directly, “Sorry ‘bout that, darlin’! The name's James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky, sweetheart, I’ll be lookin’ after’ya today.”

Holy shit, where the hell did they find this one?

Bucky’s mid length chocolate hair ran rogue with an errand piece falling into his eyes. It took all of your strength to not reach out and tuck it behind his ear, or maybe even scratch your nails through his hair just to grip it and tug to see if he whimpers.

Woah, settle down girl.

A tight white womens beater, stretched across his pecs, showcased his bulging arms and the pure muscle you couldn’t tear your eyes from. You were pretty sure you were drooling, but you couldn’t give a single fuck right now.

If you had to guess, you would have pinned him as a farmhand or a ranch owner from down south before he became a trainee massage therapist - it definitely would have explained his devilishly built form and his southern twang that has your knees weak.

That’s not the only reason I want my legs to be shaking.

It most definitely isn’t difficult to imagine Bucky with a cowboy hat sitting on his head, thick thighs clenching to keep himself steady riding a horse. Or how easy it is to picture him throwing stacks of hay over his shoulders, dirt covering his sweat glistened body as his pure strength gives him no trouble carrying them to the stables.

You don't even realise you still haven’t spoken a word, stood dumbstruck with your mouth gaping open and lost in your unholy thoughts about the living wet dream about to rub you up, completely forgetting another person was in the room with you.

The receptionist speaks up, “Are you comfortable with James stepping in-“

“Yes!”. Your cheeks burn hot with embarrassment from how quickly you answered, clearing your throat and steeling yourself not to continue making an idiot of yourself. “Um- yes of course, yes… not a problem at all.”

You miss Bucky’s sly little smirk as you make the effort to keep your gaze towards the floor, his tongue peaking out and wetting his lips as he gives you a once over.

Things were about to get interesting.

“So sweetheart, I’m gonna step out while you get changed, take all clothin’ off, start off with lyin’ on’ya stomach for me and cover y’lower half with a towel - I’m sure y’know the drill by now.”

Reverting your attention back onto him, your pulse quickens at his nonchalant conversing of stripping naked. Okay, it was standard procedure for the therapist to go over protocol, but that talk from him is sinfully criminal.

Walking up to the door, Bucky suddenly turns around, “Oh and don’t forget to take off the underwear too, darlin’, be back in a tick.” Bucky winks and slaps the doorframe, finally leaving the room.

Fuck my life.

You have a couple of minutes to compose yourself before Bucky comes back. Changing out of your clothes was almost a relief - sweat clinging to your skin from meeting him and that freaking accent that drove your mind wild. Your panties seemed to agree too, considering the sticky mess that clung to your folds as you pulled them down your legs.

As you now lay face down on the table, folded towel covering your ass - back and legs on display - you anxiously wait for Bucky’s arrival, muscles subtly twitching from either your stress or the need to get fucked.

Probably both.

The door opens to your only knowledge of hearing, sight only focused on the floor from the carved head cushion allowing your face to sit through it. Goosebumps raise on your arms as you listen to the door then quietly close and footsteps get closer towards your direction.

You hold your breath when you see boots stop into your peripheral and legs bend to show a pair of thick thighs straining against the denim of his jeans.

Yep, definitely Bucky.

Lifting your head slightly to look at his face when he doesn’t speak, you choke on your spit when you find him shirtless, stomach marveled with so many abs. You would count, but you’re a little afraid you’ve lost brain cells from his presence alone. And all hope is gone when you see his jeans strung low on his waist - ‘v’ line tantalising your dignity as you wonder how morally wrong it could be to drop to your knees and lick it.

You’re not proud to say you don’t take anything he says in as Bucky begins going through what’s to be expected for your treatment. Ever the professional as you think he probably tells you what to do should you like any adjustments made with his pressure or technique. Luckily, you seem to have gotten away with it as he stands and picks up some oil, tilting your head back down to do some breathing exercises.

“Jus’ the massage today then, sweets? Y’know I wouldn’t mind throwin’ a free facial in there for y’too with the trouble y’had.”

What the fuck?

Your brain short circuits. Surely he must hear what he’s saying out loud… right?

Inwardly shaking your head, you put it down to the lack of intimacy you had gotten recently, mind conjuring illicit fantasies and turning everything he says into something dirty.

You stutter to reply, “N-no, that’s o-okay, just the massage i-is fine.”

The small smile on Bucky’s face is so innocent, like he hasn’t just rebooted your entire being. “Alrightie then darlin’, lemme get started then.”

Guess them breathing exercises went to shit.

Bucky begins slicking his hands up with the massage oil, lathering between his fingers and ensuring all crevices are glistening - especially his veins that bulge all the way up his forearm.

“I’m warnin’ y’though, I’m quite good with my hands.”

You don’t have time to stop yourself blurting the next automatic thought in your head out into the open.

“I bet you are.”

If you could slap yourself you would. Cringing in despair at your ability to make yourself look stupid. You expect things to turn awkward, for Bucky to show unease and even stop the session altogether.

To your surprise, you feel a whisper of a breath caress your neck as he mumbles the very thing to probably cause your death.

“Oh, you have no idea, darlin’.”

The start of the massage truly had your nerves settling down and calming you enough to actually enjoy yourself. Yeah, you still struggled with keeping your cool with Bucky’s huge hands caressing you with his sensual touch, but you managed to stop your squirming and relax.

Bucky however, couldn’t keep a straight head for the life of him. Softness of your skin and the feel of your curves literally in the palms of his hands had his cock threatening to bust the zipper of his jeans.

Timid little thing you were, so skittish when you saw him and he just had to have a little fun with you. That soon backfired on him the second he got a hold of you. Fingers itching to just smooth down your luscious body and open you up like his own personal present.

Unfortunately, he had to make do with rubbing his erection against the edge of the massage table to give him some relief. You were just so sexy - a stunning face and an amazing figure - never mind how fucking adorably shy you were.

Just my type and I’ll be damned if I don’t get a piece’a ya, sweetheart.

Was it wrong for him to be thinking of a client this way? Of course. Would Bucky most definitely get fired before he’s even completed his training should anyone find out? No doubt about it. Was that going to change his mind over what he was about to do next?

Absolutely fucking not.

You had succeeded in keeping your moans and whimpers locked away when Bucky reached particularly sensitive spots on your back. No, not the ones that felt a little too tender, the places his touch elicited your growing desire - as much as you tried to hide it, he could still hear your little intakes of breaths.

But that’s not what I’m after sweetie, I wanna hear how good I’m makin’ you feel.

So, he comes up with a plan.

“Oh darlin’, I can feel all those knots in y’upper back, been workin’ so hard ain’t ya, sweets?”

Fuck, you really had. And Bucky’s praise paired with his seductive voice makes you feel all gooey with neediness, trying to stop yourself sinking into your fuzzy headspace as you reply back. “Y-yeah, I mean I guess so.”

“How ‘bout we try somethin’ different, hm?” Bucky begins to explain, “Reckon if we got y’to bend them legs into a kneelin’ position then it’d feel so much better.”

The sincerity of his voice has you rethinking your suspicions towards how exposed you might be. You still had the towel to cover anything private and while your old therapist never suggested anything like this, Bucky may have learned something new and wanted to try it out.

So you begin to do as he’s asked. “Um, l-like this?”

“Tha’s it, arch that back for me, sweetie.” Again, you follow his instructions all too easily. “Little more for me- there ya go, jus’ like that.”

Bucky can’t help the groan that slips out as he observes the thin towel curve over the shape of your ass. You’re not much higher from the first position you were in, but the subtle lift in your legs, and bowed back allows a perfect image for him.

And a perfect chance.

“Gonna work on y’legs now, sweetheart, lemme know if somethin’ ain’t feelin’ good.”

You don’t have a chance to reply as Bucky begins to knead the muscles in your legs. An unrestrained moan escaping from your lips as he uses his thumbs to work the tension out. You feel as though you've been transported to another world, eyes rolling to the back of your head in glorious pleasure.

Meanwhile, Bucky is having the time of his life watching the jiggle of your ass every time he switches up the motion of his strokes. You don’t seem to notice the towel slowly shifting upwards, revealing the bottom of your ass cheeks to him.

He just needs your legs to spread that tiny bit more so he can see your pretty little pussy.

“That feelin’ good for ya, darlin’?”

Apparently, you let go of all inhibitions from the satisfaction Bucky’s hands bring you, all but unbashfully moaning, “Mhmm, god yes Bucky, feels so fuckin’ good.”

That’s what I love to hear.

“Amazin’. Doin’ so great for me sweetheart, jus’ let ya’self relax and Bucky will take care a ya.”

The dip of your back deepens as you unknowingly start to bring your legs more under you, ass canting up like a cat as Bucky’s thumbs rub close to the crevice under your ass cheeks.

He’s so dangerously close to his prize, he can literally see the wetness that’s spilled from your cunt, coating your inner thighs.

Fuck it.

Bracing for the worst, Bucky’s thumb runs over your pussy lips and your breath hitches as the bolt of electricity that shoots through your body. Now fully aware of his intentions, you expect yourself to feel a slither of outrage, some kind of anger at him for letting it go this far and yet you can’t seem to bring yourself to stop him.

Bucky pauses his thumbs in question, waiting to back off as soon as you deny him and allowing you the freedom of consent.

But, you want this.

The fact he stops his ministrations within an inch of your cunt has you unable to hold back your loud whine, ass pushing back into his hold to try and get him to carry on.

As much as Bucky loves your enthusiasm and he’s almost certain you want this as much as he does, he needs to hear your verbal consent in order for him to proceed. “Ah ah, sweet girl, need to know y’want this, need to hear y’say it.”

With great difficulty, fog clouding your head, you manage to mumble a whimper of agreement. “Fuck, y-yes pleaseee Bucky, give it to me.”

And that’s all the confirmation he needs.

Bucky places both thumbs on each cheek and spreads them apart to reveal your pretty, slick pussy, hole pulsing, almost begging to be filled.

You whimper as you feel his long pointer finger slide through the mess you’ve made and teasingly give your throbbing clit a little tap for good measure.

The little shit even has the audacity to chuckle at your desperation.

“Look at ya darlin’, such a fuckin’ good girl for me, ya think we can get y’a little more wet, hm?”.

He laughs at your stutter, no worries for him though, he can’t wait to make sure he leaves your head empty enough for not one single thought to cross your mind.

Bucky gently slaps your leg and bends over you to whisper in your ear, “turn around, pretty girl.”

The last defence of the towel covering your modesty falls from your body as you quickly move to lie on your back, too fucked out to even notice the breeze that hardens your nipples and exposes your tits to Bucky’s gaze.

He could’ve just picked you up and fucked you against the wall right then and there. But Bucky’s a patient man, and he’s not about to put his pleasure before yours. He wants this to last.

Straddling the table as he combs his wild hair back, Bucky grabs your thighs over his forearms with feral need to drag you down towards him, placing your legs over each of his and separating them. This was his personal slice of heaven.

The view of your cunt and the bounce of your tits has him gripping his cock over his jeans, shaky breaths rattling his chest over how turned on he is from the sight - you really were a goddess, a doll for him to play with until you couldn’t walk.

Releasing himself and grabbing the bottle of oil from the table next to him, Bucky looks directly into your eyes, his own hooded as he unscrews the lid. Your high pitched moans and whimpers have his nerves set alight and he can’t wait to see your face as you cum from his fingers alone.

“Buck-Bucky, what a-are you d-doing?”. It takes everything in you to lift yourself on to your elbows, looking down to see him hovering the bottle over your pussy.

“Y’trust me, sweet girl?”. Fuck, with that voice alone you’d put your whole faith in him.

You gently nod as you never take your eyes away from his, that wicked smirk adorning his face as his eyes light up from your answer.

“Good.”

That’s the last thing you hear before you feel the cold splash of oil drip against your pussy and your shocked moan fills the room as your arms give out.

The liquid rolls down your folds, down to your puckered hole and the thought quickly surpasses Bucky of what your reaction would be if he suggested a little anal play.

First things first, Barnes.

Right.

After emptying the remainder of the oil over you, Bucky tosses the bottle onto the floor, and begins to run his fingers over your cunt, shining in all its pleasurable glory. Trailing down to your hole, Bucky begins to press one finger inside you, stopping at the first knuckle only to take it back out and repeat his torturous teasing.

You can’t help your squirming - hands fisted tight in your hair as your toes curl. The relief of a second finger added to the first only lasts for a minute as again, he torments you by going no further than his first knuckles. All you want is for him to slide his fingers as deep as they can go, but Bucky is far too mesmerised with the glisten of his fingers and the feel of your fluttering little pussy.

“W-want more, baby, p-please Bucky, need more.”

The term of endearment as his feasted eyes snap up to look at you, has his cock twitching - you looked so fucking beautiful like this for him and the pleading in your features has him going soft on you.

Always was a sucker for pretty girls begging.

“Need more, sweetheart? Alright pretty girl, y’can have some more.”

You soon figure how Bucky was holding out on you as he fucks you with his two fingers at a quickened pace, the squelch of mixed juices from your cunt loud to your ears and you’d be embarrassed if Bucky didn’t enjoy it.

And he really did, the sound of your arousal leaking out of you because of him leaves him feeling untamed, beastly, as his veins bulge from his arms. His cock is aching, hard from how much he gets off on your pleasure - he knows he can make it better for you, though. He won’t be happy until you lose your voice because of him.

Slowing down, his deep rumble has the knot in your stomach tightening even more, “Think y’can handle another, sweetie? ‘Cause I think y’can, think this wet pussy needs to be filled up till she can’t take no more.”

With that, Bucky eases a third finger along with his other, the stretch just right to have you wailing out with consistent cries of his name.

Curling his fingers against your upper wall, Bucky searches for that spongey rough patch - he wants you to see stars and he isn’t giving up till you do.

“Hold on a sec sweets, lemme just-, find… oh, there it is.”

All of a sudden your back shoots off the table and your scream of pleasure drowns out the sounds of waterfalls in the background.

“Fuck!”

“Tha’s right darlin’, lemme hear y’scream for me.”

You grip his wrist to keep his hand fucking you, his perfect rhythm too good for you to speak something tangible. But you can’t have him changing anything, you need him to keep everything the same, so you can finish.

Bucky still finds it so fucking hot, sweat from exertion gathering on his neck and dripping down his chest. He couldn’t care less, he just wants to see you cum.

He physically has to use his free arm to force your legs open, it won’t do that you’re trying so desperately to close your legs around him. No. He wants to see you tremble in his hold. He’s fucking craving it.

“C’mon baby, know y’so close sweet girl.”

You are so fucking close, so near to that orgasm you haven’t had in so long - you’ve turned dumb, world blurring around you, only important thing in your mind getting to finish.

And you’re done for as soon as Bucky places his thumb on your swollen clit and circles.

“BUCKY!”

He watches as your shrieks fall from your mouth. Tremors rack through your body, legs finally able to close around his hand as tears from the intensity roll down your temples. You’re in your element and he’s never seen sexier in his entire life.

White cream drips from your pussy as Bucky slowly takes his fingers out, not able to help himself as he plays with your folds and starts to fuck your cum back into you.

Soon enough, you begin to calm down, heavy breathing with your occasional whine of overstimulation from his motions blessing his ears.

He leans down to pepper kisses over your heaving stomach and underneath your breasts, other hand stroking over your heated skin and up to your cheek.

“Easy girl, that’s it, deep breaths.”

Bucky continues to talk you down and strokes your sweaty hair back from your face, your eyes closed and mouth open, panting.

He stops his ministrations altogether, but keeps his fingers inside you, his body connected over yours to settle some of his weight on you and bring you back down to earth.

Giving you a couple of minutes to come down from your fluffy clouds, Bucky analyses all your signals to make sure you’re okay and that you feel safe - and once he completes all his internal checks, he flashes you a dazzling smile.

“So… this may be a bit forward a’me, but what d’ya say I take y’out on a date tomorrow night?”

You chuckle breathlessly at his little joke - as if he didn’t already have his fingers still in your cunt. “Only if you answer my question.” you counter back.

“Sure thing, lil’ darlin’.”

Trying to keep your expression aloof you ask, “What did you do before you started training to be a massage therapist?”

He looks like a little confused puppy as he cocks his head and frowns, but answers anyway with a cheeky squint of his eyes.

“I used to work on my mama’s ranch back home, sweetheart.”

Your head rolls back onto your shoulders as Bucky begins picking up the steady pace of his fingers again, fucked out smile on your face in rememberance to your guesses from earlier.

Fucking knew it.

He may not have the slightest clue what you’re thinking, but he doesn’t have to know as long as he’s the one who’s making you smile like that.

And, he already can’t wait for your next meeting as he unbuttons his jeans and pulls down his zipper to bring his dick out and start fucking his fist while he enjoys the sight of his other hand fucking your cunt.

“Now, we got another hour to make sure ya get what y’paid for darlin’, so hold on tight and enjoy the ride.”

A/N: who doesn’t love a happy ending, right? 😈

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