#and i thought it's all probably in vain but i tried. so today. he was in their class and actually doing pair work and reading stuff aloud

[disdaidal]

I don't want to brag or sound too optimistic about it, but after three weeks of training at a private college, I think my lessons with this one particular immigrant student (who has serious motivational problems lemme tell ya) are finally starting to get through and there's been improvement.

Only slight improvement so far but I have spotted some, so maybe not all hope is lost yet.

Remains to be seen I guess.

[beast3end]

A light the darkness of truth.

Summary: You, the personal disciple of the Sage of Truth, disappears so suddenly that it cannot but cause him anxiety. Fortunately, thanks to your friends, he notices your letter. But that still doesn't solve the main question: where are you? Characters: Truthless Recluse х reader (pure vanilla x reader); platonic! sage of truth & reader (shadow milk & reader). WC: 1,5k CW: fem!reader; there may be mistakes in the text because English is not my native language; the text contains original characters (your friends); A/N: The prologue can be strange and confusing, because I'm writing fanfiction inside my little AU, which I've expanded based on the official timeline of Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk costumes. I hope, despite this, you will enjoy this work! A/N 2: It was only after I wrote everything down that I realized that there was a Sable cookie in crk. But I didn't change anything.

Something's wrong.

The day went as planned: there were no classes in the morning and Shadow Milk spent most of his time in the library, studying books on the topic of a new dissertation, rechecking information already known; after lunch and until dinner, lectures; followed by a small meeting of professors of the Yogurt Academy…

Everything that was in his plans for today. Calmly. Serene. Sometimes his irritation got the better of him when he noticed students nodding off, but that's okay. There are more than one or two of them, it's even within his expectations. No one broke into his lecture or interfered with the learning process.

It's too quiet.

In the empty corridor, illuminated by the last rays of the sun, there was a nervous knock. Tap-tap-tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap. Lost in his thoughts, the Sage of Truth began tapping the textbook with his claw.

Why wasn't he pulled today? At least once a day, but his lecture was disrupted, and sometimes his schedule was shifted due to problems. The source of these problems was [Name], a young child who, if she could, would dry up even the sea itself for the sake of her curiosity. [Name] is not a student of the academy — [Name] is only his disciple. And, accordingly, he is responsible for her antics, otherwise it simply cannot be.

But it's so disgustingly peaceful today that Shadow Milk can't really concentrate. On the days when [Name] went to visit someone from the Sources*, she at least gave a few days' notice of her departure. Now, going over the memories of the past week, he could confidently say: that there had never been a word about anything like this.

Tap. Tap-tap. Tap.

...Come to think of it, they didn't even manage to cross paths in the morning. Unlike him, [Name] prefers to sleep until noon, but invariably, day after day, she gets up as early as she can. Shadow Milk has a busier schedule than the rest of the academy's professors — sometimes his have to return home well after midnight. And [Name], knowing this, tried to be with him at least during a quick breakfast — with her face buried in the table, she sat next to him and slowly blinked, listening to her teacher's chatter. She used to fall asleep in this position while the Sage of Truth stroked her head.

Then he didn't bother her—there were days when [Name] ignored all her alarm clocks. It was just that later, after another lecture, she could burst into an empty classroom and start whining that he hadn't woken her up.

Probably in vain. He would need to check her room upon his return…

“Good evening!” a clear voice is heard somewhere from the side, as the Sage of Truth comes out of the academic building. He abruptly turned his head, looking in confusion at the two cookies rapidly approaching him.

What a hectic day it is. Where did they here?

"What a surprise," Shadow Milk nods, curiously surveying the group. The second cookie, standing silently behind her friend, frowned at his attention. The constant reaction, how charming. "I didn't know you were coming today, Biscotti, Sable."

Biscotti smiled awkwardly, scratching head.

“We didn't warn [Name].”

At these words, both cookies looked at him attentively. It was as if they expected their friend to jump out from behind him and pounce on them.

Shadow Milk smiled knowingly. Such a development of events unfolded before his eyes more than once and more than twice. [Name] was well aware of other people's personal boundaries, and then she was happy to break them.

“As you can see, she's not here.”

Sable sighed heavily, whispering something so softly that only Biscotti couldhear. Biscotti hissed at her friend, pushing her harder behind her back, after which she gave him a cursory glance. Shadow Milk pretended that he hadn't noticed either of them, and his friendly smile didn't waver a single gram.

"We've been looking for her all over the territory today, because she usually doesn't go outside the academy," Biscotti explained the situation as politely as possible, then added in a lower voice, muttering more into the void than to anyone in particular. "Did she really go to the city?"

No. [Name] rarely went to the city — she visited bookstores once a month, returning with at least a couple of books. Some of them were donated to the library, but especially valuable ones replenished their shelves.

“In any case, you can stay in your old room,” the Sage of Truth decided to end their conversation, having exhausted all the necessary information from this. "But I need to go to my office first."

"We'll go with you!"  Biscotti perked up, ignoring how hard Sable tugged at her clothes. “It won't be so lonely together.”

“I appreciate it.”

Well, that's just as well. The anxiety that had accumulated all day carefully faded into the background as he listened to Biscotti's chatter. Sable was reluctant to answer or correct her friend, rolling her eyes after another joke.

His office greeted them with silence. No matter how much Shadow Milk listened, he couldn't catch any ragged breathing or restrained giggles. So [Name] wasn't here either. He clicks his tongue in displeasure, putting the textbook in the only available place.

What kind of ridiculous situation is this?

Worry involuntarily swirled in his head — if something happened to her... it's impossible to hide everything forever, right? Someone found out [Name] little secret — neither a resident of Dessert Paradise, nor source subordinates, but someone from ordinary cookies. Biased, living in ignorance, hating and fearing…

It's too dangerous.

“Oh, it's a letter from [Name]!”

Fortunately, he is pulled out of the whirlpool of anxious thoughts, reminding him that he is not alone here.

Biscotti was standing by his desk, examining the contents with interest. It was cluttered with documents and hundreds of hastily writtennotes. Normally, Shadow Milk would not have liked such an intervention.

But Biscotti was only interested in the sealed letter that lay on top of the papers. To be honest, Shadow Milk was also interested in it.

"Hello, Teacher! I do not know when you will find this letter, but I hope sooner rather than later. Don't worry, I'm fine. I haven't been able to get our conversation out of my head for the last few weeks... oh, if you can't remember what kind of conversation it was, then everything is fine! Perhaps it's even for the best, I think, otherwise you would have forbidden me to leave the walls of the Yogurt Academy. I went on a little trip—I don't know for how long. Maybe I'll go back to next week, or maybe in a month! This is not another mission from Silent Salt, so please don't bother them for nothing. I'm an adult now and I can take care of myself on my own. Don't stay at work too long and don't forget to take care of yourself in my absence! And also breathing exercises — remember them too, you don't need to terrorize the unfortunate students of the academy just because they understand the material a little worse than others. See you soon! Love, you No. 1 disciple, [Name]~."

Considering how neatly the letter was written, the Sage of Truth could to conclude: his disciple had been preparing for this escape for a long time and carefully. If his looked closely, his could see faint traces on the paper. This means that this is far from the first version of the letter, although it is still impossible to parse the previous version. Given the new information, it is also possible to conclude that [Name] went either in search of someone or something.… But it doesn't really help to narrow down the range of ideas where she might have gone. He often told her about some faraway places of the Earthbread, various plants, unique holidays in different kingdom, or about new, outstanding minds! But this is something, if he had known about it, he would not have allowed to leave the walls of the house.…

“Did she say where she was going?”

The Sage of Truth blinked, coming to his senses, and looked up from the letter to Sable. Irritation tickled somewhere in his chest, unsatisfied that his stream of thoughts had been interrupted, because he was almost…

Well, no. He needs to calm down.

Breath. Exhale.

“No.”  Shadow Milk smiled, slightly clutching the paper in his hands. After looking around the room once more, he hummed thoughtfully to himself to finally add. “I have a couple of guesses, but to determine exactly, I need your help. I would be extremely grateful if you could do me a favor.”

“Oh, of co-”

"Why should we?"  Sable quickly covered Biscotti's mouth with her hand, while not taking her displeased gaze off one of the Sources.

"You don't have to," nodded Shadow Milk. "But you want to find [Name], right? Then you should accept my request."

"...Okay," Sable agreed with obvious difficulty. "What do we need to do?"

"Oh, it's nothing complicated!" The Sage of Truth assured them with exaggerated enthusiasm, hiding the letter in the inside pocket of his coat. "I need you to compare all the available maps from the academy library with the list and tell me which ones are missing and for how long."

Sable's mouth dropped open in genuine surprise. This request clearly goes beyond "nothing complicated". Shadow Milk giggled contentedly.

Unfortunately, they've already agreed.

There's no turning back.

A small note, because it is impossible to tell this in the text itself: Sources are the local name for Beast. Why are they called Sources? But that's later.

@shinning-stars, you asked me to tag you! <3

[girlywhooooops]

Watermelon, Sugar!

cw: mentions of death, allusions to depression, fluff/angst

Third-Year!Suguru who gets sent on a mission to shadow the chirpy Second-Year student whose optimism he finds is nauseating. The same Second-Year student who waved at him, covered in blood, one hand pressed to her stomach in a vain effort to stop the bleeding after a mission. Grinning from ear to ear she says "You should see the other guy!"

Third-Year!Suguru who doesn't know whether to laugh or to tell her off. Luckily, he doesn't have the time to ponder as Nanami drags her away while making it known how stupid she was for stopping to have a conversation when she's minutes away from collapsing due to blood loss. "But I wanted to look cool!" He heard her whine.

Third-Year!Suguru who lets her lead, watching as she swiftly pins the Grade-I down. "Make sure not to exorcise it, I'll absorb it later." he calls out. The girl salutes him and is promptly thrown off by the curse. "That wasn't very nice." she huffs, offended. He thinks if the angry emoji was a person, that would probably be her now.

Third-Year!Suguru who waits for her to incapacitate the curse before exorcising it. As he's about to absorb the curse, he notices her scrunched up, disgusted face. "I really hope that tastes better than it looks." He chuckles at that, "I can assure you that it tastes worse than it looks." He sees her face fall at that. "Do you have to eat it? Can't you just store it in your belt or something? Like Pokeballs?"

Third-Year!Suguru who actually laughs at that. Pokeballs huh? The sentiment weirdly made him feel better. The feeling didn't last as the wretched taste came back to haunt him. The girl who saw everything in black and white, saw him grimace slightly at the taste. It was faint enough that if you weren't watching him as intently as her, you'd miss it.

Third-Year!Suguru who's left dumbfounded as the girl shoves her scythe into his hands, telling him to stay put as she ran off to god knows where.

Third-Year!Suguru who doesn't know how to react when she returns and hands him a small brown baggie, grinning like a child who got all the alphabets right. He peeks into the baggie with a raised eyebrow only to see the most brightly coloured candies shaped like watermelon slices. "Although they look like watermelons, they are strawberry flavoured. The artificial flavour is powerful enough to takeover all your senses, so much so that you'd wish it was the curse you'd eaten instead".

Third-Year!Suguru who tries one and is shocked at how accurate her description had been. The flavour was so disgustingly overpowering that it managed to mask the wretchedness he resigned to live with. "Was today so bad that you've resorted to torture?". She gasps, hands grasping her chest dramatically, "I wouldn't dare!" she says. "These are but the finest watermelon treats that a broke student's spare change can offer." She bows while offering up the rest of the candies. "I hope you enjoy them well!".

Third-Year!Suguru who mirrors her smile as he takes the candies from her. He looks at her cherry tinted lips wearing a satisfied smile. "You know," he begins as he steps closer, cupping her cheeks with one hand, squishing them lightly causing her lips to pucker. "If you were so worried about the taste.." he leans in "I can think of finer treats you could've offered".

Third-Year!Suguru who doesn't move as she stutters out something about reporting to Yaga and runs off, trying in vain to hide the blush she's now wearing. He looks at the candies in his hand, something so overpoweringly sweet to make his life a little less bitter. He smiles at the thought.

Third-Year!Suguru who sees the same candy filled bag next to her mangled corpse later that week.

an: baby's first fic!!!! feel free to send in critiques~ <3

[buckybabybaby]

not like this (not on your birthday)

Plot: rushed confessions over a dodgy comms link with Bucky.

(friends to lovers, mutual pining, confessions, angst, bff Joaquín cos if he’s not your love interest I’m still including him <3, happy ending)

A/N: my birthday was over a month ago - this has taken a lot longer than I imagined! I originally started writing this about 4 years ago so I’m happy it’s finally finished. Joaquín wasn’t in this at first, I had Tony in his place, as Joaquín wasn’t the falcon, so may be being slow worked out for once because I think he fits so much better <3

I have a load of other birthday themed fics here <3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: angst, near death experience, feeling/being trapped, talk of dying, being in hospital

Word count: 3.8K

Masterlist

AO3

***

As the dust settles from the ceilings you've just fallen through, the emergency lighting proudly displays the level you've found yourself on.

Nineteen. Minus nineteen to be precise, hundreds of meters from the surface, from safety, from hope. You scoff at your naivety, thinking this was going to be a simple recon mission, just grab the files and destroy the building once you're out. That's all you needed to do, not end up in a pile of rubble, radio sitting besides you looking almost as broken and useless as your ankle feels.

You'd studied the plan for today so many times that even now, with a possible concussion from the fall, you know the exact timings by heart, confirmed as you hear the first explosion in the distance. Just an outbuilding for now but the rest will follow shortly.

There's not much time. With shaky hands you reach for your smashed radio, even though it feels pointless, pressing every button on the device in the vain hope it'll do something. Nothing, of course, until a crackle in your ear reminds you of the secondary communication link, less reliable but all you have.

Bucky's voice has never sounded so good, steady and calm and bringing tears to your eyes. You're going to miss him

"H-hey," You croak, mouth dry.

"Where are you? Are you safe?" His tone is sharp, even through the tinny speaker, leaving no room to lie.

"Not really"

There's silence for a second too long and you think you've lost the link, until; "Where exactly-"

"Nineteen floors down, with an ankle twisted so badly just looking at it is making me feel sick. The passage we thought would lead us out of the building into the forest had been filled in, and when I tried another route the floor gave in so now I'm just, kinda, stuck. I'm sorry Bucky."

You speak in a rush, catching your breath after as the silence from the comms drags on again, this time accompanied by the far off sounds of dynamite destroying concrete bunkers.

Finally he replies. "Okay, I'm on my way."

You sigh, far too composed considering. "Don't be silly, Bucky, you can't. I know you're at least a mile away. Even if you weren't, I'm too far down to get to before…"

You don't finish the sentence, not needing to.

In one ear the intercom provides muffled indistinguishable shouting, in the other you're aware of the building creaking as parts of it collapse.

You don't want that to be the last thing you hear.

"Bucky? Can you talk to me? For as long as the connection stays. I don't want to be alone."

"You won't be, we'll get to you."

He sounds desperate and you feel the first tear fall. "Okay." You let him believe you believe that. "But can you anyway? Please?"

You can envision the tension in his posture, the way his jaw is probably clenched, metal hand likely crushing something as he works through the impossible situation. It sounds like he's just sat down heavily, his chair protesting as he breathes out.

"Just something nice, happy. Please?" You press when he doesn't reply. "Like, my birthday? It's soon, did you know?"

He laughs, once, sad. "Of course. I've been looking up cake recipes. You remember that slice I got you from the bakery a few weeks ago? I wanted a full cake but they don't do that, apparently. Ridiculous. So I'm going to try to make it myself. "

"I can't imagine you baking."

"No? Well, you'd be right."

"Did you put your arm in the dishwasher again?"

"Now that's just rude."

You grin, feeling lighter. He always makes you feel better, no matter the circumstances, his friendship one of your greatest treasures. It took a while to break through his walls and win him around, but you did, and now you can't remember what it was like not having him so close.

"And presents?" You ask, remembering last years haul. "What has the great Bucky Barnes bought me this year?"

"That's the best part." His tone changes, pride obvious. "I really had to think, you're not easy to buy for but I'm sure you'll like what I've got you."

"Intriguing. What is it?"

"Not telling. It'll ruin the surprise."

"Please?"

"Nope."

"Bucky, please. I don't want to die not knowing."

You can hear the way he chokes on his words as he answers. "You won't die."

"Okay, but can you tell me anyway? So I have something to nice to picture while I'm here."

If he was with you, you'd use the face you make that gets him to agree to anything. It seems your words have done the same trick today. Listening as he rattles off a whole inventory of smaller presents you smile, resting your head against the wall behind you.

With your eyes closed it could be any other evening chatting away with Bucky. Those were your favourite moments with him, sat somewhere cosy in the compound, letting him rant about a mission, or the latest scheme of Sam and Joaquín's that has wound him up, sometimes memories from before the war and his and Steve's early years.

"And you know that coat you wanted but said you couldn't justify?" Bucky finally ends his list. "I got the blue one. That's the main present, most of the smaller ones are either in the pockets or tucked into the sleeves and the hood as I wrapped it up. So you'll get one at a time as you open it."

"Like pass the parcel?" You chuckle at the thought. "That would have been nice."

"It will be nice," He corrects.

Your eyes sting. You're almost convinced.

Another explosion shakes the floor beneath you, causing loose rubble to trickle down from above, covering you in a fine dust and making you cough. It brings you back to the present, reminds you that you're on borrowed time.

"Bucky, can you promise me something?" You're the one who sounds desperate now, not waiting for him to respond. "Promise me you'll start sleeping in your bed more often?"

"Of all the things-"

"I know you don't unless I make you," You interrupt, thinking back to the times you've stayed over and found him on the floor at night. "I also know you sleep so much better when you do."

Bucky makes a non-committal noise but you don't let it deter you.

"You deserve nice things Bucky. Deserve to be comfortable, to enjoy the little luxuries."

"I do. With you."

Your chest hurts with want. "Okay. And when I'm not there? Please be kind to yourself."

That was something you've said to him countless times, after missions that went wrong, or when he'd woken up from a nightmare and you'd calmed his mind. You knew all about his insecurities, the endless guilt you've tried to chip away at, hoping one day your positive words will outweigh his dark thoughts.

Even as the shock from your fall fades and the pain from your injuries cuts through the adrenaline, you need to tell him one more time.

"You are not responsible for your previous actions. And even if you were, everything you've done since has more than made up for it. But there was nothing to make up."

He doesn't say anything in reply, letting you continue your monologue as the thoughts keep coming.

"And will you allow the others in a little more, when I'm not there? They care for you. It was hard work to get you to open up to me, don't let it take as long with them."

Shifting your weight off your bad leg, you swallow, needing to say this next bit even if your heart protests.

"And do you remember when we talked about you trying to go on a date again?" You definitely do, and how you wished you were the one he wanted to ask. "You should. You deserve to find love, Bucky."

That finally gets a response, laughing disbelievingly as he says, "No one can love me."

"Yes they can."

"You're just saying that. How could they?"

You take a deep breath, against the light-headedness and also to steal yourself for the coming confession. "How could they? Very easily, Bucky, because I love you. Not in the way Sam and Joaquín do. In the way that someone loves someone with their whole being, loves someone so completely it leaves no room for any doubt. I just wish you could see yourself the way I do."

The rumbling sound of dynamite fills the air as your tears make tracks through the dirt on your face. The sharp pain running through your body keeps you alert as you wait for his response, hoping you haven't said too much, haven't made him uncomfortable with this forced declaration of love.

"Bucky, did you hear? I said-"

"I heard."

Closing your mouth again, you let the static sit over the comms, let him absorb your words.

"This is not how I imagined you saying that to me. Not like this. Not through a call." He breathes out eventually.

You smile sadly. "Me neither."

"I never imagined you'd be the one to say something first."

Frowning, you try to understand. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you must know how I feel about you? I've been waiting for the right time to see if you felt the same too. Was planning something for your birthday if I found the courage."

Your head is spinning, from the conversation and the blood loss you've just noticed you must have.

"I mean, I know I said earlier no one can love me, but I get the feeling someone could when I'm with you."

You wish you could hug him, you get the feeling he needs one right now and you certainly do. This wasn't part of the plan, leaving Bucky with even more trauma was never the intention and you can only hope he doesn't blame himself for what’s going to happen to you.

"Bucky, can you promise me something else?" You rush out in a panic. "Promise me you won't hide away after this. I know it's not easy to lose someone but let the others help you through it, okay?"

"Oh, sweetheart. That won't be necessary."

You miss the pet name and how his voice has softened, too worried by the implication of that sentence. "What do you mean by that? It's okay to ask for help, please don’t-"

"No, doll. I'll be okay 'cos I won't be losing you."

A light from above blinds you momentarily and you squint against it, wondering if you're hallucinating the Falcon suit as it lands in front of you.

"You two are breaking my heart," Comes the unmistakable voice of Joaquín from inside. "Do you know how long I've waited for one of you to snap, to finally say something?"

A delirious laugh bubbles out of you. Whether or not this is real, you allow yourself to be comforted by the sight, to pretend that rescue is possible. Letting him scoop you up, it soon becomes clear it is reality as your laughter turns to a gasp of pain, the movement sending pain shooting through your ankle and a previously unnoticed injury to your thigh.

"Stay awake for me, okay?" He says, seeing your eyes flutter.

You give him a less than convincing nod. Adjusting his hold on you, he starts the ascent back to safety and you go limp.

Joaquín shouts your name but, knowing that even if you still die at least if will be in the arms of your best friend and not buried under a tonne of concrete and metal, you let the darkness drag you under.

***

There's a steady hum filling the room as you finally stir awake. The world feels heavy and fuzzy and far too bright, you're in pain all over, worse in concentrated areas, one of your ankles, your thigh, the back of your hand. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath.

Opening them again, on the side of your bed you spot a head of messy brunette hair, but not that of the person you expected. Deep brown not blue eyes meet yours as Joaquín shifts and blinks across at you, his face lighting up as he sees you're awake.

Sitting up, he wipes the sleep induced drool away from his mouth with a quiet laugh. "Don't tell Bucky I dribbled."

You laugh too. It hurts. Wincing, you attempt to adjust your position, Joaquín stepping in to help you move the pillows until you're a little more comfortable.

Staring down at your body, you try to assess the damage.

"Is it broken?" You ask, nodding towards your cast.

"Yep. Sorry pumpkin."

"Pumpkin," You repeat back with a giggle, long used to Joaquín's cute terms of endearment.

You let him fuss around you as you take in your surroundings. You would recognise the medical wing in the compound immediately, especially after spending so much time there after Joaquín's last accident only a few weeks ago.

You try to piece it together. "How did you get to me so quickly? Weren't you back at the base on bed rest?"

"When have I ever done as I'm told?" He smirks. "No, I snuck out and man and I'm glad I did. Your tracker dropped off the system and I moved straight away, it was lucky you weren't too far from your last location."

"I thought they locked away your suit when you're out with an injury?"

"They do. Sam nearly had my head, going against every order to get to you. But only for a second until he saw there wasn't another option."

Your eyes are wet as you realise the same thing. "You saved me."

He shrugs. "Just like you do every other mission."

"No Joaquín, this is different." You argue shakily. "I could have-"

"But you didn't, okay?" He own voice trembles as he clasps your hands. "You're safe. A broken ankle but not much more. Everyone else is safe too," He adds, answering your question before you can ask. "You know I'll always be there if you need. That's what we practice for, what a team is meant to do."

He wipes away your tears, keeping hold of your hand as you let his presence comfort you. It's quiet for a moment, save the machines monitoring your stats, but with Joaquín silence never last long.

"And on a positive note, I think Bucky finally likes me now."

You roll your eyes. "Bucky liked you already."

"Maybe. But now I've saved the love of his life I'm basically his best friend."

His cheeky grin has you hiding your face in your hands, memories flashing back. "Did I embarrass myself?"

"Don't you remember?"

You do, but you're not sure what is real and what you've imagined. Not the whole thing, obviously from Joaquín's teasing, but are you misremembering the reciprocation?

"Has he been here?" You ask, desperate to speak to him in person and not over a crackly comms. Maybe it's the painkillers but you feel brave in a way you're not used to when it comes to Bucky, something only a near death escape could contribute to.

"You just missed him. I've just manage to persuaded him to go eat something finally, he's been moping around in here for days."

"Days?" You gasp. "How long have I been out?"

Joaquín's expression softens. "A while, pumpkin. Tomorrows your birthday, so nearly three days now."

"That's quite a long time," You say weakly.

"And Bucky didn't leave your side the whole time, until an hour or two ago. You've got a good one there."

"I haven't got him," You mumble, trying to suppress your smile.

"Not yet," Joaquín sing-songs, fluffing up your pillows as you think over the meaning of Bucky staying by your side, more sure than ever you need to see him.

The universe answers your wish. A rustling at the door to your room catches both of your attentions, a bunch of balloons and flowers entering the room followed by a super solider who has, in your opinion, never looked so good.

"Joaquín, how it's going in-."

Bucky stares across at you when he sees you're awake, and as you take him in it's like the rest of the world fades away. His shocked expression melts into that smile you love, your own face mirroring his, cheeks warm.

Joaquín snorts. "Well, I'm going to take that as my cue."

Pressing a quick kiss to the crown of your head, he starts to leave, passing Bucky on his way out. Joaquín hesitates, then also kisses him on his forehead, having to stand on him tiptoes to reach and laughing crazily as Bucky tries to swipe at him as he dashes out the room.

Seconds later he pops his head back around the frame. "Remember, I heard everything, so don't pretend it didn't happen. For my sake as well as yours."

Letting the door close softly behind him, you're left with Bucky, your previous confidence fading slightly as he watches you quietly.

You shift your focus to something else to stop it getting awkward. "What's with the balloons?"

"Oh." Bucky seems to have forgotten about his handful of decorations, finally placing them down on the long window sill and drawing one in particular out from the colourful bunch. "Your birthday, of course. I've still got a few minutes left until the big day."

Tying the sting around your bed frame, he let's you pull it down to see the pattern on the face of the balloon, a red star on silver.

You laugh at his proud grin. "How long did you spend looking for this?"

"Not too long. Had to get back to you."

That sobers you up. Swallowing, you gesture for Bucky to sit in the chair Joaquín was previously occupying, breathing becoming a little irregular as you try to find the right words.

Bucky starts for you. "Ignore what Joaquín said, if you want to forget what we said then we can."

You shake your head, noting the way he looks as though the very thought is breaking his heart. "I don't want to forget anything."

He smiles at that, a little nervous still. "So, when you said-"

"Yes."

"That you love-"

"Yes."

"You weren't just saying that 'cos you thought you were going to die and wanted me to believe that I'm worthy of something as pure as you?"

You scrunch your nose up at his phrasing. "We both know I'm not exactly pure." You say, reaching for his hand. "And I would never say something so important if it wasn't true."

"So you really love-"

"Yes."

It's like every ounce of tension leaves his body at your reassurance. You share a soft, promise filled smile before he's rising up and collecting the flowers from the pile of gifts he brought.

"That’s good, otherwise the bouquet I've got you would be really awkward."

"Friends give each other flowers," You argue as you take them, admiring the artful way they've been arranged.

"Not ones where they've specifically asked the florist to add flowers that portray how I feel about you." Sitting on the edge of your bed he points to each bloom in turn. "This one is for true love, this means that I'll always be loyal, this is devotion, this one I think is for-hey, don't cry."

How can you not, when this is what you're met with? Bucky can be so charming, you've seen it when he interacts with others at press conferences and during photo shoots, but this is the first time you've felt it directly.

He dries your eyes as something shifts between you two. "The flowers are great but I think this is the point where you kiss me."

"Oh yeah?" He smirks, placing them safely on your bedside cabinet. "Sure you're recovered enough for that?"

"Try me," You challenge, letting him guide your head back against the pillow before his lips find yours.

He's so gentle with you, barely brushing your mouths together before he leans back to check on you. Letting out a whine, you grip his collar to bring him into your space again, into a sweet kiss full of the pent up longing you've both been suffering.

But when you try to deepen the kiss, eager to feel him as close as possible, the room fills with an ear splitting noise that has you pulling away with a confused cough. "What's that?"

"Your heart monitor."

"What! Like Tony's?"

"No, silly." Bucky laughs gently at your panic. "A heart monitor. Checking it's not beating too fast cos your boyfriend is getting too enthusiastic."

You completely melt at the term boyfriend, urging him to lay down with you, letting Bucky shuffle carefully so you're laying comfortably, half on him.

As you listen to the beeping slowing back to just above its regular rate, you remember another detail from your life changing conversation.

"Will you still sleep in your bed? I don't remember you actually promising me."

Bucky hums thoughtfully. "That has more to do with you being there than the mattress or anything."

You all ready suspected that, but the confirmation has you sighing, wanting the best for this man. "Guess I'll just have to stay over more often."

You're mostly joking but Bucky certainly isn't. "Won't hear any complaints from me."

"I better not." You say, curling up more into his side.

Bucky takes a moment to check his phone, making a startled noise before showing you the screen displaying two minutes past midnight.

"Happy Birthday, doll. Just you wait, I have a few surprises for you."

"Ooh yes, my coat!"

Bucky scoffs. "Well, that's not a really a surprise now I told you, is it? Nope, I had to go get a whole new set of presents so you wouldn't know exactly what you're getting."

"So I'm not getting my coat?" You say with a pout.

Laughing at your expression, he reassures you. "Of course you are. And a whole lot of other things that you'll find out about later."

Resting your head on his chest, you soak up his warmth, his heartbeat solidly comforting. Bucky subtly adjusts you against him as he sees the pull of sleep try to take you.

"And as soon as I can, I'm taking you on a proper date." He promises. "We can have a do over, a second birthday to make up for having to spend it in hospital. It wasn't meant to be like this so get ready, that one will be really special."

You take in your surroundings, the flowers, balloons and gift baskets, and most importantly, Bucky, so attentive and so beautiful beside you.

You press a short, none heart racing kiss to his cheek. "This ones been pretty special all ready."

***

(Bucky doesn’t forget about your cake either, presenting it to you after your breakfast the next day. Its not the prettiest buts it perfect cos he made it for you <3 )

***

AO3

[honeydoor]

ㅤ ೀ⠀bright baby blue | jeno

ওㅤHe loves to spoil you, doll you up and in the end destroy you.

softdom! jeno x femreader, smut, dollification, very implicit age gap (but both of legal age), jeno likes to take photos, jeno was pp's first sexual experience (he took her virginity), dacryphillia (?), breeding kink, hypersensitivity, mild choking, squirt, 'princess', anything else???

a/n: this is from my main blog (@mrkspo) and it was originally in Portuguese but I wanted to bring this one here, it's one of my favorites, enjoy <333 (and sorry for any mistake)

Jeno loves when you wear pink, he loves seeing you in those expensive fabrics, with makeup that accentuates your doll face, with your full lips shiny with strawberry gloss.

He loves seeing you all dolled up, or rather, he loves dolling you up.

Get you all dressed up for him, put on you the brand new pink lingerie he bought for special moments — but it probably won't last more than two minutes —, put the bright baby blue eyeshadow on your eyelids and he'll give you a kiss on your red cheek of blush.

But after all this tidying up, he needs to give the basic finishing touches: making you look silly and of course, smearing your face a little with his cum. And during this process he will take so many photos of you that he will fill up another external hard drive.

He starts by speaking softly, saying he loves you and that you are so good to him that he wants to please you. He puts you sitting on the edge of the bed, takes your face and makes you look up; give you a little kiss on the tip of your nose, another on your eye, another on your mouth…

He goes down your neck, stops there and smells the sweet perfume you exude, heavens, he already feels soft just by that.

He lays you down on the bed, one of his big hands goes inside your lingerie panties, the other stops at your breast above your bra. He massages ypur clitoris at the same time as he squeezes your chest, you can't handle both stimulation, tears run down the side of his face and whimpers come out of his mouth, he tries to stop it, take Lee's hand out of your panties but it's in vain. Your back arches, your little fingers tighten on the sheet, you feel like you're going to explode.

– Is it good, princess? Tell me. – Jeno increases the speed of his fingers on your sensitive spot.

– Is... –

– Is that what hm?

He doesn't even have time to respond, you just lets out loud moans as you has your first — of many — orgasm of the night.

He gives you a kiss on your sweaty forehead, says you're fine. You still frown, catching your lost breath as he takes a photo of your condition.

Jeno doesn't let you rest, no, now he wants some affection too. He carefully removes your pieces that this time he had mercy, kisses your belly and asks if one day you will let him put a baby there, he doesn't answer, he doesn't even listen properly. Lee removes his belt and brings down his pants next to it, he almost forgets about his dress shirt but it will still be worn the next day, so he removes it carefully. You lift your head a little, see the dick there in your underwear, marking it, it looks so heavy.

– I… Can I suck you? – He asks with that innocent face.

– Not today pretty, I need to get inside your pussy.

And so he does, without prior warning, without you even realizing that he had taken off his underwear, he enters completely, taking advantage of the fact that you are very wet. The back and forth is constant, it makes a wet noise, and you squeeze it more than anything else.

– Even after breaking into you so much, you’re still tight. You still looks like the little virgin I knew.

His hand goes to your neck and presses there a little, you smile at the pressure while squeezing the peaks of your breasts. The speed of the thrusts increased, as did Lee's precision in hitting the right spot inside you, and every time he hit you let out a little scream. He thought it was so cute. You become even more sensitive, you can't stop crying from so much pleasure you were feeling, sweat runs down your forehead and Jeno's fingers return to your clitoris. And here you feel like you're going to explode again.

Jeno feels the squirt in his own abdomen, he smiles sweetly at you repeating how good you were to him. He comes out of you and takes the camera recording the moment, "the first squirt", that will definitely be the file name of this photo.

But it's not over yet, no, he hasn't cum yet. But for that he just needs to keep looking at you. Watch your chest rising and falling, your legs open and wet, your little hands slowly releasing the sheet... His dick gets hooked just by looking at you, so he wrap his hand around it and start at the base, from bottom to top. Then his hand starts to pick up pace, speed, he comes back on top of you and shoots a lot of cum in your face, smearing your makeup and snotting your mouth, but you don't care.

As long as he continued pampering you and fucking you he could even spit on you and you wouldn't complain.

[jonathansims-answers]

[ Statement of Paula Grove, Regarding side effects of experimental Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation treatment (TMS)]

I. Hate. Everything.

You've probably heard people say that before, right? They have a bad day at work, they hate everything. Someone turns them down, they hate everything. Their mum tells them they need to clean their room. They hate everything.

But they don't. I know they don't. Because I hate everything. Every little thing. I hate this room, I hate your pompous institution, I hate this horrible piece of paper, and the way your cheap florescents bore into my eye sockets like tiny, throbbing drills. I don't even know you. I didn't get to, they said: 'I'm sorry the archivist no longer takes in person statements' and I had to come back today because the overwhelming contempt I had for you and everything you have ever cared about made it impossible to think.

The funny thing is, I didn't hate it all that much before the treatments, even though it looked like it. I was diagnosed young with aspergers syndrome. Or I guess, 'autism spectrum disorder' now. I hate when they change what words mean things...

Anyway- the point is, I had something missing. That's how the doctors always explained it. Not my fault, I'm not a bad person. It's just that most people, normal people, have this sense of 'empathy'. This almost mythical thing that no one could ever explain properly to me, except that its the reason I'm like this.

You can't just get empathy if you're born without it. There's no pill, no surgery, no magic button. You need to learn it, in therapy, where they give you worksheets and a set of flashcards with colorful faces on them that you try in vain to match to the expressions of your schoolmates. And I tried. Believe me, I tried. I didn't want to wind up alone. My sister made it very clear that once my parents die so will the last people in the world who are actually like me.

I'd started on TMS already. Its a non-invasive procedure to do with magnets and the little bits of metal floating around your brain. It's meant to help with emotional regulation, but the doctor I always worked with said that they'd also seen improvements with antisocial behavior. She made it very clear it wasn't a 'cure', I wouldn't just wake up the next say and have a thriving social life. But I was so used to hearing about 'empathy', that I didn't have it, and that was why I was going to be alone, that I would have tried anything.

Unfortunately, my usual doctor was retiring, so I was reassigned to Dr. Ott. He was a research guy, I think, because I never saw him at hospital. He had his own private clinic here in Chelsea.

When I first came in to meet him, I was a little nervous working with a new doctor. I guess I wanted him to think I was an especially good patient or something? So I explained that I'd done TMS before, understood the process, and then that thing my previous doctor said about it not being a magic button.

But when I said that he just shook his head. I remember that he had this funny look in his eye, by which I mean 'ha ha' funny, and how that was strange because he wasn't laughing or smiling. Eyes cant smile, and yet I just sort of... knew, that I'd said something amusing to him.

He told me that I didn't need to be nervous, that all he was going to do was 'open my eyes'.

I'd never heard anyone put it like that before. And when I thought about it, it really did feel like I was blind all the time. Like everyone else knew something I didn't. So I sat back in the chair, put on some music and just. Let him use his magnets to fix my brain.

There wasn't anything unusual about the treatment, and once it was done I shook his hand and gathered my things. Dr. Ott told me to talk to his assistant outside to schedule my next appointment, so that's where I went.

I did the usual stuff, gave my information, my availability, put myself down in the schedule, and was about to leave before something strange happened. I have- or had, this nasty habit of cracking my knuckles. I'd do it without thinking, especially when I was in a new place. So while I was waiting for him to jot down my information into the computer, I cracked my finger and he hated it.

I don't know how I knew, but that guy just hated when people cracked their knuckles. It freaked him out, sent shivers down his spine. He didn't know why anyone would do something so gross in public.

I didn't really know what to do about that. I apologized and ran away like I always do when I'm caught doing a social blunder. It was only when I was back on the street and giving myself the usual 'you're so stupid' speech, before I realized he hadn't actually told me what I'd done wrong.

And then I heard this hideous, awful, pop. Like the sound of something deep inside you shifting in a way that's wrong. I looked down and saw my hands in that familiar position. I'd cracked my own knuckles, and the surge of hate and revulsion that pumped through me was worse than any sensory meltdown I'd ever had.

Next it was on the train. I was standing next to a woman, waiting for a seat to be freed up. I knew suddenly, violently, that I was breathing too loud. I was too close. She didn't like it when people were crammed close together.

And then I couldn't breathe at all, because we were packed like sardines in a can. It felt like torture, and I jumped off the train at the next stop and walked the rest of the way home.

I don't remember what the next one was, but it doesn't matter, right? I just started knowing things about people. What they hated. And then I would start hating it too. Someone gets stung by a bee in the park? I start feeling the crawling sensation of insects whenever I hear a buzzing. Someone doesn't like a song playing in a coffee shop? Each time I heard it again I felt like clawing my ears off.

My sister visited my parents a few weeks ago. I tried to avoid her, I already knew what would happen, but she noticed me in the hallway when I went to use the toilet.

Now I hate me too.

It doesn't matter what it is, there's someone out there who hates it, and it's only a matter of time until I meet them. I hate everything. Every sensation, every sound, every kind of person, and every horrible, sensation against my skin. Everything. I hate everything.

I didn't go back to see Dr. Ott. I hate what he did to me.

Aren't I supposed to go insane at some point? The mind numbing itself, or breaking apart, or making me numb? But it doesn't stop. It's like, if my mind fractures, the hate won't stay fresh.

This was supposed to help me love people. But now all I do is hate.

Well.. that was.. horrible to read. Every statement I read sends me.. into a very similar emotional state as the statement giver. If they are scared.. i feel fear.. if they are delusional or.. hazy.. i am too. If they are so hateful it jumps up from the page.. then so was I. I feel better now though. Now that the statement is over. Just the usual intense sense of exhaustion washing over me as we speak.... but this lady.. woman. She appears to not have this feeling go away.. it's a strange set of circumstances she described.. and if I didn't have that.. emotional connection... I would be inclined to write it off as some sort of.. hysteria. But what I just felt.. the blood boiling in my veins.. the spit flying out my mouth as I felt the need to spit words out like they disgusted me... She really does hate everything. Now I'd invite her over, but I am quite a.. negative person. Don't think it'll do her any good. I would send her that we have received her statement in good state.. however, I think she'd hate that too.

End recording.

(Ooc: funfact. I read most statements out loud. Gets me in the mindset of Jonathan easier. The way this statement was so fun to read. Able to sound hateful and condescending was very entertaining. Loved it. Just the image alone of Jonathan looking overly disgusted is my favourite.)

[jayden-killer]

Aftermath.

Eddie's death took a huge toll on you and his uncle.

warnings: mentions of death, hints of depression, bad language.

A/N: jeez. I didn't want to, but I had to.👀 It's gonna be long, so grab the tissues. Also, my taglist is now open! If you want to be tagged in my next upcoming stories, comment below!

The feeling of emptiness that I was experiencing at that moment was not comparable to anything else in the world. Without emotion, my eyes did not move from the coffin placed around the attendees, arranged in a circle. Not many people showed up to Eddie’s funeral: his uncle, Dustin, Steve, Robin, Nancy, the friends from the Hellfire, a long-time friend of his, Ronnie, moved to New York to study. I was there too.

I didn’t mind getting dressed up well for the occasion. Why would I? On one hand, I know Eddie would have wished for the opposite, but on the other hand it was impossible for me to make the slightest effort. It had become impossible for me to try to carry on a healthy routine. Fiddling with my cold fingers, my gaze shifted to his uncle. Wayne Munson was wearing a black suit. I read on him the anger, sadness, pain, despondency and regret that characterized his gaze. A real sea of emotions. The bags under his eyes had become more prominent; he hadn’t even thought of shaving. I noticed that the silver beard had become much thicker since the accident. Dustin instead cried in silence, sometimes trying to contain himself, in vain. A few days after Eddie died he told me that he would have taken his place. That he should have thought of a plan B, that he should have gone with him to fight those monsters. "I made an appointment with a good tattoo artist. I will replicate his bat tattoo," he said with a forced smile. But of course. He didn’t want to show how hard he hit him.

Fuck. My fingers were tingling again. They felt the desire to hold something. Someone. I promised myself not to cry. I promised not to be so vulnerable, not to give in. However, how can I not give in when I know that my beloved is now about to be buried underground and I will no longer have the chance of having him here next to me?

Me too. I would have taken his place too, Dustin.

It seems like an eternity since Eddie was buried. The funeral had been held in a secluded area of the cemetery to prevent citizens of Hawkins breaking in with torches and forks. As a result, Eddie’s own grave lay far away from the heights, in a small hill. Just for safety and to avoid imminent vandalism. Unfortunately, this solution did not last long. There are those who had discovered where it was. So, when I happened to visit it, there was no lack of decorated inscriptions on the stone, in capital letters, like "satanist" or "burn in hell". Can’t even a dead man have some peace? I cleaned it from top to bottom, changed the faded flowers, tried to keep it in place each single time. The stupid people of this shitty town didn’t seem to want to give up. Even today it didn’t seem to be any different.

I inhaled and exhaled, kneeling on the ground and gently passing a hand over the red paint-soiled stone. This time they used a can. Even worse. I don’t think it will come off so easily. They had even left him some weeds that emanated a nauseating smell. Probably piss. "You are shits" It came out with disgust, not too low. I wanted to be heard.

At that moment I listened carefully. The steps became closer and closer until the mysterious figure turned around me. I recognized him from his build.

"Sooner or later they’ll stop." That’s all his uncle Wayne said, placing a bouquet of mixed flowers on his tombstone. He seemed… changed. I don’t know if to say in positive or negative; surely he had thinned his beard and fixed his hair. He also seemed to have lost a few pounds. I looked away, shook my head in sign of surrender. "For me it is absurd. Persecuted even by death". Wayne pulled out of a small bag he had with him a damp sponge. He scraped the stone and I noticed that the colour was coming off. Maybe it wasn’t as I thought. There was a tense silence; the only noise was the occasional passing of cars from afar, the chirping of birds. I feared that I had made a mistake in uttering that phrase, not until his eyes were on me. However, I saw him soften.

"Sooner or later they will tire themselves," he began, breaking into two the silence that enveloped us until a few moments ago, "and realize that it was not worth pouring all this hatred on an innocent boy."

Innocent.

Eddie was just that. Throughout his life he had always been mistaken for the criminal on duty, the one who performed sacrifices in the most remote classroom of the school and enjoyed doing so, but Eddie had never been anything like that. He was the boy who wanted to indulge in warm caresses and hugs after a busy day at school. He was the boy I admired because he could get in on the ball when it was necessary. He was the boy who showed love in the most unconventional way ever. He was just a boy mistaken for a sheep disguised as a wolf. The scapegoat of a city built on ignorance and skepticism towards others.

I swallowed with difficulty, taking a seat closer to his uncle, contemplating the stone now washed. Wayne then turned his eyes to me, and it was that look that caused a heartbreak. I could see through the dark irises of the mature man my dearest boyfriend, as if he had never left. This made me burst into tears and I did not try to stop myself as my body trembled from the sobs. I was so caught up in crying that I didn’t notice even Wayne did the same. With a hand pressed to the face, he sobbed, letting the tears flow on his cheeks and then fall on the ground below us, squeezing with force the sponge still moist. Immediately my thoughts went to him and the relationship he had with Eddie. Eddie himself confessed to me one summer evening that he was very close to his uncle, to consider him as a father. "Even if I never say it openly, I love my uncle very much" I remember that he said it to me with a mixture of sweetness, calm and affection, still feeling his ringed fingers massaging the base of my head.

He continued by telling me how his father, a very selfish guy called Al Munson, had abandoned him more than once, returning when the need arose. Wayne disapproves of his behavior, considering his brother a real thorn in the side and a bad example of father. When Al was arrested, Wayne had decided despite Eddie’s eighteen-year-old age that he should still go live with him. He did not lack anything: a modest roof, food, clothes. "Wayne will like you, you’ll see. Initially it is very on his own, but when you start to know him, he becomes unstoppable. He has a great repertoire of jokes". "Ah, so now I understand who you got it from!" I reply immediately, laughing heartly.

Eddie threw his head back, bursting into a genuine laugh that made my heart beat faster. How I would have liked to hear that melodious sound again.

It was too late by now.

Eddie was dead and the only consolation left was to share an excruciating pain with his uncle. Wayne Munson held me close to him; I let him do it. I was not the type of person who would be easily embraced, let alone by a man three times my age, but at that moment he felt the need. In the graveyard resounded our cries, our emotion, our sorrow for a person who would never return. A draft of wind ran through my bare arms. At the center of the stone laid an animal, a bat. A bat with dark fur, scratching his head with the back claw. With my eyes clouded by tears, I looked at the beast in confusion. Impossible. If reincarnation existed, then it meant that Eddie…

Eddie never left. Perhaps it was now his task to watch over us, to make sure that we did not indulge too much in the sea of despair that had accompanied us during that seemingly endless time. I didn’t call Wayne in time that the animal spread its wings, flying away elsewhere. A bat… with the sun so high. It had to be a sign. It was him. It might have been difficult to surface so fast. Eddie was here, though. Spiritually, he was there. And we would return to the shore successfully. Not today, not tomorrow, but we would reach it. I will never forget the true love of my life. And Wayne will never forget the son he loves.

Taglist: @ali-r3n @cowboylikemunson @zanate-in-the-stars @jeangeniex

[telail]

☆- [7:26 AM] Waking up with Wooyoung

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Poc!Fem!Reader Tags: 1k wc, established relationship, fluff, suggestive, ateez scenario 🎧- PILLOWTALK by ZAYN note: a request for my pookie and current fave moot @kairoot hope u like it stinka. ^3^ - TAE

You had to move as slowly, and as quietly as possible.

That is if you didn't want to wake up the ticking time bomb next to you. Softly snoring with his mouth slightly agape, it looked as if he was in the deepest state of zen that an unconscious person could possibly be in.

But you knew better than to believe that. It was Wooyoung, for all you knew he’d crack his eyes open at the sound of a deep sigh. 

Your body had subconsciously woken you up without the help of an alarm about 40 minutes before you needed to head out for work.

Wooyoung lay still on his stomach, his head facing in your direction as his arm bent slightly above his head. Resting barley under your pillow but more so under his. 

You sat up and stretched, extending your limbs in the most subtle way possible in hopes that your boyfriend would not interrupt his own rest and wake up at the simple movement of your stretching.

Your hopes were in vain when just as you were about to relax your arms from their place above your head you felt warm slender fingers glide their way across the little portion of your slightly exposed tummy. Settling on the other side of your hip with a subtle squeeze.

The sensation of Wooyoung’s fingers tickled and caught you off guard a bit, causing you to jolt and bring your arms down in one quick motion.

“Morning baby..” He mumbles, a sleepy smirk making its way onto his face as he turned his head slightly away from you to yawn.

“Good morning, woo.” You respond, your tiredness still evident in your voice.

He hummed to himself, using the arm that had already secured itself around your waist to tug you closer to him.

“Hey..” You say, sighing. You were intending to start a sentence but when you moved to look at him you were met with Wooyoung’s tired yet love filled eyes. Making you cut yourself off just to admire his current appearance for a moment or two.

“Hi pretty.” He responded, grinning and resting his eyes shut for a little longer than a few seconds.

You thought he’d fallen asleep again, that is until when you went to move, his grip on you only tightened as he urged you to stay close to him.

“You work today?” He grumbled, opening his eyes to look at you once again. “I do.”

He whined at this, rolling himself over so that he was laying in your lap. He looked up at you, his plump bottom lip jutting out a little, he was pouting.

“Don't look at me like that, you know my schedule honey. I’ve gotta make money one way or another.” You said, running your free hand through his messy but layered blonde and black strands.

“You don't “gotta” make money, you just choose to. I make enough for the both of us and more.” He negotiated, peppering light kisses over the scape of your navel, grumbling about how he could afford to buy you whatever your pretty heart desired. He’d rubbed his hand under the cloth of your cami so that the lower portion of your belly was revealed to him. 

“Call out,” He said between kisses. “Tell them you’ve come down with something and can't make it.” 

You sighed, it wasn't often but every now and then Wooyoung would get a break in his schedule and would want to sleep in, but not without you.

“I can’t do that, I’m fine. If I stayed I'd probably end up staying in bed all day.” You said, a small smile making its way onto your face as you thought back to you and Wooyoung’s last lazy day where you’d stayed in bed and cuddled, made out, and watched dramas all day.

“What's wrong with that?” He asked, lifting one of his eyebrows slightly as his body relaxed against his will at the feeling of your fingers dancing around his scalp.

“Everything when I’m supposed to be working.” You huffed. You tried to make a quick escape and shimmy your way from under him but you weren't able to get more than both legs off the bed when he clung onto you like a sloth on a branch.

“You know..” he started, a pinch of mischief in his tone. “I could really give you a reason to stay in bed all day. If that’s what you’re lookin’ for.” You groaned, fighting back a smile as you rolled your eyes and maneuvered yourself out of his grip. “I am not.”

He laughed at your reaction, loosening his grip enough to let you finally get up but not before grabbing your wrist when you went to walk away.

He puckered his lips expectantly, normally you'd oblige with his silent request for a kiss but you’d just woken up not too long ago and felt the need to brush your teeth more than anything.

You blew him an air kiss watching as his face contorted into that of disapproval. 

“I need to brush my teeth.” You said, suppressing a giggle at his offended expression.

“On my cheek then.” He said turning his cheek towards you, still a little puffy considering the fact that he’d just woken up.

You shook your head before leaning in to peck him on what you thought was gonna be his cheek before he turned his head at the last moment to meet your lips with his.

“Woo-” you went to protest and pull away but his hand had come up to the back of your head to gently hold you in place as he planted 2 more kisses on your lips then a third on your cheek. 

He pulled back with a proud grin, licking his lips as he watched you walk towards your shared bathroom, mumbling about him being gross.

“Love you too baby.” He said, stretching his own limbs and sitting up, preparing to mess with you throughout your entire morning routine until you eventually would leave him without you for a few hours.

He didn’t mind though, as long as you came back to him so that he could do it all over again.

excuse any mistakes ;P

[haikyu-mp4]

Media presence, part 3

word count; 1526 – gn!reader, final part of the mini series

go read part 1 and part 2 first for the best experience

You were tapping your foot under the desk like a bunny, lips pursed as you tried to choose who to talk to first. Your eyes settled on Hinata. “Sweetie,” you started, and he nodded eagerly as if he awaited praise. “You don’t have to do everything Atsumu and Bokuto do.”

Hinata visibly deflated, but puffed out his chest to put on a brave front. “Yes, boss,” he said, and it brought forth a small smile because you did like it when they called you that.

“Imagine how much you could have earned if Calvin Klein was the one asking you to do it. Now it’s just out there for everyone.” you kept saying, visibly frustrated. Once again, Sakusa was thankful that you couldn’t see the smile behind his mask as he watched you from the side.

You turned your attention to Bokuto and Atsumu, who were so perfectly placed in the middle of the four, both wearing very guilty smiles.

“It’s not about posting thirst traps, obviously hot guys draw attention,” you said and just missed the way Sakusa’s nose scrunched. You gritted your teeth, breathing through them as you stared at the angry message from one of your bosses that was open on your computer screen. “It’s the fact that Black Jackals has taken in four younger players and three of them are doing a flexing competition on social media like they’re 17 years old,” you said, definitely rambling at this point.

Did I forget to explain what happened? If it’s not obvious already, all three of your problem children posted shirtless thirst traps on their stories last weekend and hashtagged it with HottestMSBYJackal, and then Atsumu posted another one with a poll on it so people could vote between the three. While they gained a lot of younger followers from the stunt, your bosses were not happy as older fans of the team found them to be way too vain and busy with their bodies, and not focused enough on the sport or whatever. What you felt about it was irrelevant. Caring about what everyone else thought about them was your job.

Bokuto pouted and nodded, not understanding what he did wrong but still not liking your tone. “Sorry, boss.”

“I’m letting you off with a warning, just please think twice before posting stuff. Be normal,” you begged them, shooing your hand as a hint for them to wrap up the meeting.

Atsumu must have put some extra audacity in his smoothie this morning because he seemed to let the whole thing fall off his shoulders when you said they just got a warning. “I need to ask you something first, it’s important.”

“Let’s just go,” Sakusa said. He was trying to herd them outside without touching them, which always proved equally difficult. Perhaps he had an inkling about his teammate’s question.

“Which one would you vote for?” Atsumu asked, a toothy grin growing on his face that usually did great for advertisement. You sighed. They probably expected you not to answer.

“Sakusa,” you said, which made all three start yelling for different reasons. He was your favourite today after not participating, knowing that if he tried to stop them it wouldn’t have worked anyway. You covered your ears, regretting answering immediately.

“Quiet down, this isn’t a playground! Let’s go.” Sakusa commanded, this time with a sternness that made the others kick into gear.

“Keep your shirts on, thank you.” They were all on their way out, Bokuto and Atsumu hanging with their heads like wounded puppies who startled once you spoke again. “Not you, Sakusa.”

“Not keep my shirt on, or?” he asked, that Atsumu-coded smirk ringing from his voice.

“Don’t test me, sit back down,” you said, and he shrugged before following your orders. The other jackals had turned around and were looking between you two curiously until Sakusa closed the door in their faces. He sat down and excused them for being so loud, which you brushed off.

The bosses had instructed you to scold all of them, even though you insisted Sakusa was not part of it. Those old men only saw how everyone referred to the MSBY four online.

Honestly, you had no idea why you asked him to stay, so you had to pull something out of your ass real quick. Your mind was racing with all the things you had to do because even though this wasn’t the biggest scandal, it still came on top of everything you usually did. So instead of lying, you rested your head in your hands for a second. “I’m not sure why I asked you to come back inside.” It wasn’t some grand confession, but just that made it feel like a tiny butterfly was fluttering its wings in Sakusa’s belly. He was so pleased that he wasn’t sure what to say, choosing instead to scoot his chair closer to the desk and wait for you to unbury your face again. You eventually did, resting your chin on your hand instead. “Did you think about my suggestion yet?”

“Yes.”

You smiled, nodding your head as he once again gave you one-word answers. Feeling like there was too little air in the room now, you went to open the window. That might soothe your headache. “Once again, the quality of your answers rock my world,” you said sarcastically.

Sakusa hesitated for a moment before speaking up again. “You do a great job,” he said just as you sat back down. For what felt like the first time that day, you really let your eyes settle on him. His hair was a little extra nice that day, in your opinion. You liked it when it was more messy, not picture perfect. Behind the hair, you could still see how his eyebrows were drawn together. More than usual, you’d say.

If you were honest, you would have told him you didn’t always feel like you did great. That you felt like it was so difficult to understand who you were supposed to cater to when everyone had a different opinion and kept expecting you to bounce back every time you met a new challenge. Because you were so good at your job, that came with expectations.

However, your relationship with Sakusa wasn’t like that, so instead your eyes teared up a bit and you whispered a weak “Thank you”.

He nodded but desperately wished you were close enough that he could ask you to tell him everything. To rest your head on his shoulder and hug you until the pain went away. But he knew he had to go back to practice any minute now, and you two would stay an unspoken thing.

You might have only started looking at him now, but he had practically been staring at you since the second he and his teammates came into that office. “I’m sure those idiots will charm everyone with time,” he said, an added assurance he didn’t usually give anyone else. “I’ve seen Bokuto practising his Bokuto Beam, lately.”

“You’re right,” you said. The Bokuto reference did make you laugh and quickly wipe at one eye where a tear threatened to fall from the pressure. It had been a long day. “I’m just glad you didn’t join them, imagine you finally started posting and I had to yell at you.” Sure, you would love a shirtless photo of Sakusa, but your job came first.

“Mm.” He cringed at the thought, hands stuffed in the pockets of his training jacket. After a beat of silence, Sakusa’s frown slowly loosened up. He was glad he could make you laugh a bit, that wasn’t usually his strong suit. “Anything else?”

“No, you can go,” you sighed. “They need you.” He nodded and silently got up, wondering if he should say something more. But he didn’t, he just left. It left you staring at the door, sighing deeply as you realised your predicament. You felt something special for Sakusa Kiyoomi.

As Sakusa got home and settled into his sofa after he was freshly showered, he unlocked his phone and opened messages. He wrote a message, deleted it, and then repeated this a few more times before switching to Instagram. There, he opened the story camera and angled it to show a small part of his pristine living room where the last lick of the sun was shining across the floor. Imagine you finally started posting, were the words that rang in his ears.

The picture he took was nice enough, and he added “Good evening.” in white before spending a while choosing the font he liked. He even added a calm song he heard the other day and grew to like.

After it was posted, the likes flooded in, but he turned on silent mode and switched back to messages. He wondered if seeing the story would make you do another victory dance. Once again, he opened your contact and wrote, deciding to finally send it.

What are you doing for lunch tomorrow?

You: Probably eat

Sakusa rolled his eyes yet smiled affectionately. Eat with me.

You: Okay:)

You: I look forward to it

No more 'unspoken thing'.

part 1 ║ part 2 ║ part 3 (final part) ║ headcanons ║ masterlist

[justwonder113]

Head over heels - Lee Know

part 2

Warning: Mentions of drinking, Minho is a bit tipsy but he's sober by the end of it. Rader is getting hit on by some weird dude. Slightly suggestive at the end. Minho is staring at the reader's chest. GN reader. Not proofread. Please tell me if I missed anything

Word count -1.8k

Masterlist

A/N- I'm finally back!! Thankfully I got over the virus and more than dedicated to write as much as I can. I have many ideas and can't wait to write all of them. Thank you for all the love and support you've given me it truly means the world to me. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. If you have any requests too feel free to do so. Take care of yourselves, love you all❤️

If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

When is the right time to say that you're head over heels in love with someone? Perhaps when they do something really romantic and/or selfless. Something probably really kind and generous, something really cool... Probably not when they are dazed from having a bit too much to drink and look like they are about to fall asleep any given second now, right? Yup, you were definitely weird, probably the main reason you and Minho clicked this well. Okay in your defense you knew you were smitten with him for a while obviously, who wouldn't fall for him? it just downed on you though how down bad you actually were.

Really though. To think that you would realize that you're in love with your best friend when his like anywhere but this world is beyond crazy, even for you.

"Pretty boy do you want me to bring you some water?" You asked after seeing him blink slowly yet another time. You were at this club Hyunjin had invited you at. The music was blasting on the full volume and everyone was having the time of their life, well maybe except you and Minho. Normally you would be also be having fun with your friends but now everything felt a bit dull. Maybe because you didn't drink anything. You had bad flu earlier and you just didn't feel like drinking today. As for Minho, normally the drinks didn't get to him that easily, but he wad been overworking himself a lot lately and due to the fatigue even such small amount of alcohol as two or three shots got to him pretty easily.

Minho looked at you with dazed eyes for a second or two, as if trying to gather his thoughts. Something glimmered in his already sparkly eyes and he gave you a small smile. God, he looked so squishy and cute like this you wanted to pinch his cheeks. Not that you would, he had this tough persona to keep. Also not to sound weird but you didn't want others to notice how cute he was. Let's just say you wanted to gatekeep him for yourself.

After Minho gave you a small nod you got up and headed to the bar. There were a lot of people in line so you would probably have to wait quite a while to get something as simple as glass of water. You texted Minho that this could take a minute or two and started waiting for your turn. Meanwhile from the corner of your eye you saw someone shamelessly check you out, like, could they be any more obvious about it? You prayed that he wouldn't approach you while you also crossed your fingers for the bartender to hurry up. You decided to ignore it. You didn't see anything.

Unfortunately your prayers hadn't been answered, the sleazy man decided to approach you, honestly the audacity some people had. You tried to keep your distance but it was all in vain. The man stood in front of you now. He even made a show of slowly checking you out. God what a pig. You really tried your best to compose yourself, you really didn't need to make a scene now.

"Hello. Gorgeous can I buy you a drink?" God even his voice was so annoying. You reminded yourself that you needed to keep calm. With the most polite voice you could muster you answered that you were good and that you were with someone. But the dude still kept pestering, making your blood boil even more. Who the hell did he think he was? You had enough of this, you were about to warn him that you would call the security on him, when hands wrapped around you. You stiffened for a second, but relaxed when you noticed that it was Minho. The strange man grumbled. "Shit, boyfriend of yours?"

Minho answered before you could, his hands tight around your waist, his glare cold as ice. "Yes, now fuck off." The man was about to argue but Minho's death glare shut him up quickly. The man slithered away to disturb someone else you guessed. You noticed to yourself to nitify security about him. He seemed shady.

You turned your full attention to Minho, who kept hugging you and now had rested his head on your shoulder. He still felt sleepy you guessed. "You took too long." He grumbled after a few seconds of silence. You turned your head and kissed the top oh his head. Minho grunted again. "Sorry pretty boy. Let's get you that water." You took a step towards the bar but Minho stopped you.

"Don't want it anymore."

You fully turned to Minho and started closely examining him, his face was unreadable though.

"Hey, how are you? Are you okay?"

"Just tired. Can I stay at yours?" You thought for a minute jokingly which Minho didn't really appreciate which he showed by softly pinching your side. Really, what was up with him being all cute today? You couldn't help yourself and you gave him a little peck on his cheek.

"Sure." Minho didn't say something, and you couldn't read anything on his face. He held his hand towards you and after you held it he started leading you to others so that you could say your goodbyes.

The walk to your house wasn't long. You appreciated the comfortable silence between you two. It was peaceful. You also loved how extra protective Minho was over you, he didn't let go of your hand whole way. Your heart felt like it would burst from joy.

You sighed in relief once you walked into the safehold of your house. It felt so good to be home. Like the two youthful people you were you immediately started getting ready for bed. You of course on top that pestered Minho to drink plenty of water before going to sleep. You didn't want him to wake up with a hangover. Surprisingly he was being obedient. You also couldn't help but admit that sleepy Minho was absolutely adorable. To you he just looked so soft and squishy all you wanted to do was to cover his whole face with kisses. And from the way how whiny he was, telling you that you should hurry up already and come to him he would most likely let you.

You didn't know when you crossed the boundary between being friends and well something more, but here you were now. You were always touchy with each other and flirting was a regular occurrence too, you didn't know when these playful banters became meaningful and made your heart flutter, you didn't really know when did you get so extra affectionate but you loved it if it meant that maybe you two could become something more.

You tried to get ready for bed as fast as possible, but the chains you had worn today didn't really let you. They managed to get stuck and you didn't really feel like going to sleep in them. So you turned to Minho who laid across on your bed. Diagonally like a sweet person he was. He had changed into the sweats and oversized shirt he had left at your house, but as it seemed he got lazy to get under the covers. "Min can you help me with these?" You asked sweetly as possible. Minho didn't answer and you thought that he fell asleep again laying diagonally on your bed, but he got up after a couple of seconds. He looked at you with unimpressed eyes waiting for you to ask what you wanted. You motioned towards your bundled up chains. Minho grumbled again but immediately started working on it.

The chains were more tangled up than you could imagine. Minho kept grumbling about how he should just snap them but still kept diligently working through every knot. You had no idea how did they get so tangled up on your neck. You got curious on what was taking so long and looked down and only when did you notice that upper buttons were open and you were showing quite a decent amount of cleavage. You felt shy for a second but then as if on cue you noticed how Minho's eyes kept shifting down towards your exposed skin. Let's just say it was a nice ego boost. Subtly as possible you even straightened up a little so you could show off your assets better. You didn't know if Minho knew you did that on purpose but his eyes sure did appreciate the sight. You didn't even realize you were staring at him, before he looked up and your eyes met. Suddenly you felt lost at words. How was he so gorgeous? You could use every word in dictionary and still it wouldn't be able to fully express his beauty. You wondered for a second if he was aware just what he did to you. God, you could just stare at him for hours.

"I did it." He spoke calmly as he placed your chain on your hands. "I think I know how you should thank me." Was it you or was he really close? You could even feel his breath on your skin. Your eyes couldn't help but shift from his eyes down to his pretty lips. What were you even doing? Minho noticed your wandering eyes, his gaze also shifted down to your lips.

His finger touched under your chin and slowly lifted your face so that you were eye to eye again.

"What do you have in mind?" You found your voice after a few long seconds of being rendered speechless.

"I want to kiss you so bad." Minho's confession sent shivers down your spine. Good thing that you were sitting on your bed, you felt like you would fall otherwise. You felt like fanning yourself, your whole body felt so hot.

"What's stopping you then?" You quipped back, he was so close now with each breath your lips slightly grazed each other.

"Nothing." His voice was raw with emotion. You didn't even get to say anything, his lips were on you in matter of milliseconds. The kiss was raw, passionate. It ignited you, you felt alive now that you had the taste of his lips. It was everything and so much more, it was like he tried to convey his feelings with this kiss.

Guess you were not the only one head over heels for the other.

Reblogs and Feedback are greatly appreciated^^

If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

[4doras]

ADDICTION ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

you’re addicted to this one coffee shop, but you’re never getting any coffee. ⊹♡

ricky x reader | enemies (?) to lovers

genre. fluff (lowercase intended)

wc. 1.4k

a/n. finally wrote something for ricky!! i hope you guys like this ~ also warning for slight swearing

you never really liked coffee, but you found yourself continuing to go to a coffee shop. maybe it was the atmosphere, or the smell of the coffee brewing, or the guy that came everyday. it was probably the last one. he was well dressed, his hair was perfectly styled, he was the perfect man.

for a change of heart, you decided to buy a coffee today. you ordered an iced americano, you liked the bitter taste of the coffee, especially when it lingered on your tongue after. “order for y/n!” the cashier called out. you walked up to the register and grabbed your coffee, on your way to leave. but to your disappointment, the coffee was flying out of your grasp before you could even take a sip. “shit! i'm so sorry.” you apologized before looking up to see the love of your life. “are you serious…” you heard him mumble in a low tone. “i’m so sorry, oh my god.” your coffee was splashed all over his white shirt, now staining it brown. “i can do something for you.” you tried to make the situation better. “you’ve done enough, already.” he sighed. clearly, your attempt hadn’t worked. you walked out of the store, leaving without a drink.

more under the cut!

“i thought you were getting a drink?” gyuvin asked you, staring at you dumbfounded as you held nothing in your hands. “i bumped into a guy and it spilled all over him.” you got comfortable in your seat, sulking without a drink. “funny, my friend got a drink spilled on him. but he said the person was pretty, so i guess it’s not you.” he teased you, trying to make the conversation more happy. “oh, shut up, gyuvin!” you pushed his shoulder.

this small interaction didn't stop you from coming everyday, even if that meant seeing the guy you spilled your coffee on. maybe you were drunk in love from his good looks. what you didn’t expect was gyuvin walking in with the guy. “oh, y/n!” gyuvins lanky arm shot up, waving his arm in the air. he and his friend waddled over to your little table.

“why's it so… tense?” gyuvin asked. “she spilled her coffee on me that day.” ricky flatly said. “hey, look at that! i should order the drinks.” gyuvin smiled, leaving you and the mystery man alone. “you think i'm pretty?” you immediately started. “of course gyuvin told you that.” he rolled his eyes. “well?” you weren’t going to shut up until you got an answer. “i thought you were pretty before you chucked your drink on me, yeah.” he admitted. “i didn't do it on purpose!” you fought, “you bumped into me, if anything.” you crossed your arms, laying back into your chair. “enough fighting!” gyuvin cut the two of you off before a fight broke out. “anyway, y/n, this is ricky, ricky, this is y/n. you two will be good friends.” gyuvin took you and ricky’s hand, holding them together, and shaking them, imitating you two shaking hands.

ricky was weird. how could he look so cold, and dark, but love such cute things? a man like him doesn’t fit the image of ordering strawberry drinks whenever the option was available. he quietly sipped on his strawberry smoothie, as he listened to you and gyuvin talk, his eyes diverting to whoever was taking. you picked out all these small habits ricky had. but it wasn’t to say that he didn't hate you. whenever you and him were left by gyuvin, his whole personality seemed to change. with gyuvin, he seemed cuter and smiley, with you, he became quiet and reserved.

the things ricky did to tick you off, was in vain. it didn't stop you from coming everyday to see him, even if that meant he would only roll his eyes at you. at least it was something.

the cafe was filling up by the minute, luckily you came early in the morning. ricky walked in with gyuvin, and looked around for an empty table. after taking a glance around, they quickly realized there were none left expect from your table. “can we sit here? please!” gyuvin said in a sing-song voice. “yeah, come sit here.” you patted the seat next to you, signaling for gyuvin to come sit next to you. but instead of gyuvin who was supposed to be beside you, ricky snatched the seat before gyuvin could even walk to your side of the table. gyuvin looked at you with raised eyebrows, “me or ricky?” you weren’t sure who you wanted to sit next to you, but either way, you didn't mind. “i don’t mind you both, you guys can pick.” you left the option to them. “i wanna sit next to y/n.” ricky said, looking at gyuvin as though he should’ve known. “okay, okay.” gyuvin put his hands up like he committed a crime.

it was fate that you coincidentally brought a few strawberry candies with you today. you reached into your bag and fished for the pieces, and passed them to ricky. ricky took them from your hand without saying anything, and popped one into his mouth. like the investigator gyuvin was, he had to ask another question about you and ricky. “since when were you two so close?” he cocked his head to the side, crossed his legs and sat up straight as if he was ready to hear a story. in sync, you and ricky looked at each other and shrugged. you weren’t really sure why you and ricky had become more closer with each other, but it just happened with time. seeing one another became a daily routine, plus, you couldn’t escape each other by going to the same cafe everyday. you may as well gain a new friendship.

once ricky and gyuvin finished their business, they got up and started to pack away their stuff back into their bags. “bye y/n.” gyuvin said, walking away with ricky. “bye y/n!” ricky smiled and waved, looking back at you as he got dragged away by gyuvin. “what are you being so happy for?” you could hear gyuvin say as he left the store.

your small greetings with ricky grew into small talks, that turned into going out with each other outside of the cafe, which became to going to each other's houses. it was such a frequent occurrence that ricky spent more time with you than gyuvin.

“what’s up with you and ricky?” gyuvin plopped himself on your couch. gyuvin decided to invite himself over to your house and talk to you about ricky. “what d’you mean ‘me and ricky’?” you asked. “i mean you two are really close all of a sudden, i thought he hated you because of the whole coffee incident. i thought you hated him too, y’know? mutual hatred or something.” “i dont hate him, i mean, i did because he kept blaming me for the coffee but i don't anymore. he's really cute in a way, i guess i didn't expect it.” you admitted. “why?” “hes so… i dont know, he didn't fit that sort of image in the start.” “so you think he’s hot? and his personality was cute?” gyuvin said bluntly. “babe?” the voice came from your room. a messed up hair ricky came out of the room looking for you. once you saw him you quickly got up and ran to him, closing the door behind you two. you completely forgot your boyfriend was sleeping in the other room.

i felt like being in the principal's room. you and ricky sat next to each other, with gyuvin on the other side, asking question. “well, i suppose if he makes you happy, im happy. both of you.” even though gyuvin seemed happy, he was still sulking. “i'm still upset you guys kept it from me.” “it's not my fault, ricky wanted to keep it a secret.” you said, putting ricky on the spot. “i didn’t want gyuvin to tease me, it’s his fault.” ricky pointed at gyuvin, turning the whole situation into a who-did-it.

you giggled as you watched the two guys fight over who’s fault it was. gyuvin making huge movements to emphasize his point and ricky using his whiny voice to persuade you did nothing but make you love him even more. you wrapped your arms around ricky, giving him a small peck on the cheek. “ugh! not in front of me.” gyuvin gagged. ricky softly kissed you for good measure, or, to piss gyuvin off.

who would’ve known the guy you would look for everyday would become yours?

[mask131]

Greek gossip time: The truth behind the worst marriage that ever was! HeraXZeus, the REVEALS ~

I tried to make the title like one of those gossip magazines.

I was just having a chat with @themousefromfantasyland about the character of Hera in Greek mythology, and so I decided for fun to collect below the many various theories trying to explain why Zeus and Hera have such a dysfunctional relationship. Because every fan of Greek mythology knows this: Hera and Zeus are renowned for their constant fighting and for being the worst match made in Heaven (he is constantly sleeping around and falling in love with everybody and seducing every girl and boy, she is mad wrathful and mad vain and mad jealous) and yet... And yet it is said that Zeus shall have no one else sit on the throne and hold the scepter but her, and he ferociously punishes anyone trying to touch his wife... And yet when Hera wanted to divorce Zeus and heard he had a new bride she ripped off the dress of the new bride in revenge... And yet their union was considered the ideal model of all marriages in the world, and the Moirai themselves sang at their wedding - probably to mean that Fate itself was agreeing with this... They cannot even agree on what sex feels like (Tiresias can testify)!

Mythology took back the religious teaching that Zeus and Hera absolutely love each other, are perfect equals, and will forever be united and return to each other... Yet mythology also delighted in depicting Zeus as a sleazy cheating husband, and Hera as being insulted and offended by every mistress and every bastard child, and Zeus basically being powerless to stop her from murdering everybody or driving people insane (except when he does act, which is rare but VERY spectular and VERY violent - see the "hanging from Olympus with FREAKIN' ANVILS" incident).

Scholars, academics and analysists of Ancient Greek mythology and culture have offered throughout the centuries MANY different explanations and theories. Some are very recent, some are very old. Some are widely enjoyed, others were completely discredited. Some are reasonable, others are a bit looney. I can't possibly include them all, but I want to offer a melting pot of the various views and thoughts on the matter, and why what is supposed to be the perfect, ideal, ultimate union in Greek religion ended up becoming the most dysfunctional and messy relationship of Greek poetry. [Note, I am focused here on Hera's behavior mainly. Zeus' own lust deserves its own post - but here I will start with the many explanations people came with for why Hera keeps loving and sticking by the side of Zeus despite absolutely loathing the way he behaves]

Hera and Zeus' couple is explicitely stated to be the "model" and the "example" on which all married couples and human unions between a man and woman are to be based upon. The sort of "core" of it all. So, while religion presents it in its most idealistic, positive format (yearly yet eternal union of absolute love between perfect entities equal in power), the storytellers and poets had much more awareness of reality and decided to depict what couples actually went through - ups and downs, feuds and reconciliations, stormy relationships - but mythology being mythology and gods being gods, it got magnified and amplified until we have the epic mess we know today.

Hera's main default is vanity, it has been proven many times, and so her getting so angry at Zeus whenever he loves someone else or "honors" another woman with a child is just another manifestation of her great vanity and pride - the same reason she punished those women claimed to be more beautiful than her. By extension, her many "revenges" against Zeus are also, literaly "vain" because every time she fails - again, highlighting how her flaw is "vanity" in all the senses of the term.

Hera has, throughout mythology but it is especially present in the texts by Homer, a rivalry with Aphrodite, which reflects the fundamental opposition between the wife and the lover ; the legal relationship, something purely institutional and official, versus the actual romance, something true desire and attraction. It is Hera losing to Aphrodite during the Judgement of Paris and then siding with the Greeks and the legitimate husband Menelas, against the Aphrodite-defended Troy with the lovers Paris and Helen. The same structure can be found implied in The Odyssey, where Odysseus, seeking to return home and wishing for Penelope and their couple being idealized, is the implicit champion of "Hera", and has to fight the many seductions and temptations trying to prevent his journey (the "Aphrodite" force). [Though it has been noted Homer likes to blur the lines, as for example to seduce Zeus Hera puts on Aphrodite's belt, and thus uses her enemy's own weapons for her personal gain] Hera's beauty is a chaste, majestic, "covered" one as opposed to the most sensual, nude beauty of Aphrodite.

The feuds of Zeus and Hera were just so beloved by poets and storytellers because it was a great way to create conflict, tensions, drama and epicness. And the Greeks loved drama ~

Depicting Zeus as an obsessive, frivolous seducer bordering on the rapist, and Hera as an irascible bully and jealous murderer might have been the Greeks expressing the dangers of wild emotions and the negativity of passions as a whole - as the Greeks promoted moderation, measure and reason in all things.

Her persecuting Zeus' bastard sons - aka heroes - is precisely what allow them to prove their greatness and manifest their heroism and earn their status as demigods. Thus, Hera is a sort of "necessary evil". It isn't so much that she hates these sons per se, or that she only wishe for their destructions - despite being the main enemy of Herakles and Dionysos, she still ends up welcoming them on Olympus and becoming their "adoptive mother". It is rather that she forces them to undergo the tests and trials by which they have to prove their worth and defend their existence, as a way for her to protect the official and legitimate nature of the "true" Olympian family, of which people like Dionysos or Herakles are "illegitimate children", "bastards" . (Also see how Hera doesn't seen to have any animosity or hatred towards Athena, the two of them being frequently allies or associates - usually against Aphrodite)

Hera is by nature an ambivalent, dual entity that offers the good and the bad. She gives birth to the beautiful and to the monstrous - Hebe and Ares, Hephaistos and Typhon... In the Iliad her role as the "queen" of Zeus is dual by nature, she is the faithful advisor of her husband, but also his scheming rival. She loves Zeus and reunites with him, but she also hates his behavior and tries to leave him many times - simply because Greek gods are dual by nature.

These legends simply highlight Hera's function as a goddess. As the goddess of the legitimate wife, of official marriages, of legitimate children, she hates and hunts down adulterous loves, extra-marital affairs and bastards children. It is her job and reason to be.

Hera and Zeus' relationship is messy because she is a goddess that exists in a constant cycle. It is attested that her wedding to Zeus was renewed every year through great processions, tied to the legend of when Hera isolated herself on an island and Zeus had her return by pretending to get married to another woman. Pausanias talks of how she regained her virginity every year. It can be linked to the three-appearances of Hera in Stymphal, as the child/wife/widow, which can also be interpreted as "the virgin", "the bride", "the separated/divorced woman". Thus, religiously, Hera, goddess of all women and embodiment of womanhood as the Greeks understood it, undergoes the cycle of a female lifetime every year. She regains her virginity, "marries" again Zeus by uniting with him in love, then separates from him out of dislike and anger, only to then love him again and return by his side.

This specific theory aboved is deeply connected to the common consideration that Hera used to be a goddess of nature connected to springtime and the cycle of seasons, back in her "early life". The divine marriage of Zeus and Hera celebrated every year was a ritual to regenerate fecundity and ensure the fertilization and peace o nature itself. Hera was said to have been raised by the Horae, and people saw her name as etymologically deriving from "year" or "springtime" ; and her wedding with Zeus is connected to the Garden of the Hesperides and its Golden Apples, symbols of eternal spring, eternal youth. Thus the stormy relationship of Hera and Zeus might be tied to an ancient, forgotten role of the goddess as representing the cycle of seasons, the coming and going of springtime.

That, or Zeus and Hera's quarrels were primitive ways to explain the storms, the violence of weather phenomenon, the disturbances in the air and other "celestial fights" - the disasters explained by the quarrel of the two main gods living in heaven.

Hera simply embodies the misogynistic view Ancient Greeks had of women, and as the "synthesis" and "embodiment" of all women, her greatest virtues are love and faithfulness, but her greatest flaws are anger and jealousy.

It was (and still is in some places) a strong theory that Hera used to be a "Great Goddess" or a "Mother Goddess" with a worship distinct from the one of Zeus, a more queen-and-matriarch focused cult that was in rivalry with the one of Zeus. Hera's cult ended up defeated and "absorbed" by the one of Zeus, the Great Goddess became submissive and "domesticated" by the Great God, from a natural deity became a moral and social one, but memories of the two cults' opposition remains by showing the bickering and feuding of the to deities. (Though we know Hera and Zeus were already together by Mycenaean Greece)

Hera only exists for and by Zeus, as she is the embodiment of the wife and the bride, more so than of the "mother" - in fact, legends paint Hera as not very motherly, as being uncaring, neglectful or abusive towards her legitimate children, despite being supposedly associated with maternity and childbirth. Her feminity seems to mainly manifest when it comes to Zeus, either to seduce him or to separate herself from him, and by extension she is only concerned, if not obsessed, with having her prerogatives as Zeus' queen respect and her honor as Zeus' bride defended. Thus she only lashes out and acts negatively when her positon or domain is threatened - by rivals for Zeus' affection, by bastards that could pretend to an inheritance, by Zeus himself when he produces offspring seemingly without a female presence. Some even add that Hera not being a very motherly goddess might be what causes the cycle of generational war in Greek mythology to end - as the previous kings of the gods always ended up overthrown because their wife-queen were concerned with and cared for their neglected or abused children (Gaia, Rhea), whereas with Hera she is mostly concerned with staying by Zeus' side and making sure Zeus still needs her, rather than by the fate of her offspring.

Speaking of which: some argue that the conflictual relationship between Zeus and Hera is a reflection of the ambiguity of Ancient Greece society when it come to gender relationships. Ancient Greece was a deeply patriarchal and misogynistic society seemingly working to reduce and reject women, and yet they also recognized women as deeply needed and essential, and idealized them heavily. Thus Hera and Zeus have a very ambivalent and tumultuous relationship, made of them growing apart from each other then joining again - in a similar way to the "necessary evil" theory above for heroes, Hera keeps challenging Zeus' authority and kingship, but never in a truly disastrous or dangerous way. She isn't trying to actually overthrow him, or only does so in temporary ways, because by her very defiance and constant challenges she allows Zeus to regain his authority in a more solid and efficient way than before. Every time she sends a monster or births a form of chaos, it is only for peace to return more strongly than before and for order to be restored in a more perenial way.

Not a theory per se, but in Homer's conception of Greek mythology (which is noted to be anterior to the one of Hesiod) the "equal yet rival" status of Hera and Zeus is notably due to their respective positions. Zeus is the king of the gods, and Hera's husband and brother - and thus has a domination over her... But Hera is (in Homeric tradition) the oldest of the daughters of Rhea and Kronos, and thus an elder Olympian compared to Zeus, his "big sister", giving her a form of domination over him.

"Appeasing Hera" is a deep part of the religiosity of Ancient Greece, where the wrath or anger of the goddess is seen as manifesting deep crisis and troubled times - usually linked to the apparition of monsters - and in this angle Hera becomes similar or tied to "eris" both as a goddess and a concept, and "appeasing Hera" by various means and rituals is a way to "calm the trouble", "solve the crisis", "deal with the disaster", symbolized by whatever monster or madness is born of the goddess' ire.

Also not a theory but a side-detail - as the queenly goddess and a deity of royalty, it is Hera's prerogative and place to determine the sovereignty of humans. This is why she offers to Paris to become the greatest king of the world as her gift - and by Dumezil's tri-function theory, during the Jugement of Paris Hera embodies the first function, political and religious sovereignty. And it is also one of the minor reasons Hera can enter in conflict with Zeus - such as the story of how Hera schemed against Zeus during the births of Herakles and Eurystheus, it was because it was also a matter of crowns and thrones.

And what is so nice with Greek mythology is that, if you wish, all of these theories and readings can co-exist together X3

As I said before, I focused heavily on Hera here, but I do intend on having a follow-up post talking about several theories about why Zeus is such a horny eagle, despite also being very clearly the most in love with Hera.

[Since Homer they talk of how Hera was Zeus' first love, well before his marriage to any other deity ; we also know how Hera was the last of Zeus' wives but as a result "concluded" his series of primary weddings, she became the "definitive" wife and queen of his, and all his ulterior loves are deemed as "infidelities" ; and in tales such as the Iliad Zeus keeps repeating how he loves Hera more than any other goddess or mortal he ever loved, and how he wants no one else but her on the throne by his side ; plus the story of how she decided to leave him he tried to regain her by all means, and succeeded with a wooden statue parading on a chariot...]

[randomprose]

fated to pretend

satoru and shoko, and a discussion of the concept of normalcy, no matter how relative it may be [ao3]

“Hey, Shoko. Why do you never heal your eyebags away?”

If Shoko is surprised by the question, she doesn’t show. She just shrugs and continues munching on her sandwich as she looks over the charts of one of her patients. Just another working lunch for her, another bad habit that Satoru has tried to make her quit in vain.

“It makes me feel normal,” is her quick and succinct answer.

“Normal?” Satoru scoffs as if the mere mention of the word offends him. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“I don’t know,” Shoko shrugs. “It’s just one of those mundane things that makes me feel human, you know?” That is all the explanation she is planning to give, but she elaborates at the slight downturn of Satoru’s lips in confusion, and just before he could open his mouth to no doubt try to annoy a longer answer out of her, or worse, debate her on it. “It’s like the way RCT works, right? The way it heals is not exactly what you would consider a normal or orthodox way of recovering. It’s not how humans naturally heal, unlike modern science and medicine. I understand the need to heal fast in our world; it’s almost always life or death after all, but I’d like my eyebags to go away naturally.” 

“Why?”

“It’s not something life-threatening and therefore worth using my cursed technique over. It’s just there. Plus, with the hours I work, it’ll just be a waste of time.” Shoko shoves the last of her sandwich in her mouth and downs the rest of the ramune Satoru bought for her to wash it down. “Besides, don’t you think it’ll be a good sign when they finally go away?” 

Satoru huffs out a laugh at her cheeky grin. He thinks about what she said and concludes that it makes sense. In a way. 

“I see your point. I guess.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You ever have moments when you just want to be normal?”

“Normal is relative,” Satoru scoffs and waves a vague hand. “Isn’t this our normal?”

“For the sake of this conversation not falling dead flat on its face, humor me.”

Satoru seems to really think about it and supposes he is being rather cynical about the whole ‘being normal’ take if he’s being honest. Of course, he’s thought about being normal and more…human now and again, even ordinary, sure. He has always had a curious mind, and Satoru has pondered the what-ifs of not being all knowing, all seeing, or all powerful. 

But being all three of those is all he’s known, and Satoru isn’t exactly sure how he would fare being ‘normal’ or ‘ordinary’. Or if he’d even like it. She tells her this much.

“Knowing you? Oh, you’d absolutely hate it.”

“You think?”

“I’m sure. Positively loathe it. You’d be scratching at the walls trying to find a way to stand above the rest.”

“Sure.” He shrugs, trying for casual. “You’re probably right, but I guess it might be nice to not have to put out fires every second of every damned day and just be, to use your term, ‘normal’,” he says as he puts up air quotations with his fingers. Then he grins and lightly bumps her shoulder. “But that’s why I hang around you.”

“Oh? What are you trying to say?” Shoko smiles at him, calm, serene, and oh-so-threatening. “And I advise you to be very careful with your next words. I do handle all matters regarding your health, just saying.”

“I didn’t mean anything bad by it, doc. Chill out.” Satoru laughs, fixing the Ray-Bans he decided to wear today, when Shoko pulled them down his nose. “Unlike you, I can’t turn off my technique. I can’t just not use the Six-Eyes or take down Limitless.” Because every time he does, tragedy and mayhem always happen. “And I don’t have anything I can just let be like your eyebags because I have to have my RCT always running in the background so my brain doesn’t get fried.”

“Any more than it already is, yeah.”

“Shut up.” Satoru pouts and teasingly tugs at the ends of her hair. “Anyway, with all that on top of being the next clan head, I’m pretty much handed everything I want on a silver platter since birth and—”

“We get it. You’re rich and a very, very special boy.  A gift to mankind, a god amongst men, a—”

“Shut uuppp! I’m trying to make a point here!” Satoru whines as Shoko snickers. “Anyway, as I was saying, before you just had to point out the obvious, things just happen for me. Sometimes, before I even ask for them, or even when I don’t need them. Inevitably, I grew up to be a spoiled, rotten brat.” He scowls when he sees her opening her mouth for another quip. “As you never fail to remind me, even now.”

“The biggest brat the jujutsu world has ever seen. Perhaps even the universe. I guess you’re kinda alright now, but, man.” Shoko shakes her head as she remembers their teenage years and how apparently insufferable Satoru was then. “High school you. Every time you opened your mouth, it took everything from Suguru and me not to punt you out the window. Or smother you in your sleep. Limitless be damned. Truly a herculean effort. The patience we exerted on you? Saintly. Even Yaga held back from really maiming you every time you open your mouth.” She pauses and looks up from the papers in her hands, squinting her eyes as if realizing something. “Maybe Geto was on to something, building a cult around him.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it already. Damn.” Satoru rolls his eyes under his sunglasses, but makes no effort to refute Shoko’s words. There’s no use since she only speaks the truth after all. Teenage him was a real arrogant, spoiled brat. He still is, but he’d like to think he’s toned it down to a lesser degree, what with Shoko always humbling him and only very, very rarely letting him get away with anything. “But you see what I mean now, right? I mean, you basically just proved my point.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“You make me feel…normal. Ordinary. You don’t see me as the Six-Eyes or Limitless. Hell, I don’t think you ever did, you muggle .” Satoru uses an old taunt he used to call her and Geto for their lack of knowledge of jujutsu society and class standing. “And that was…nice, you know? You never looked at me and decided how you’ll treat me based on merits or what I can do for you, or the favors or status you’ll gain from being associated with me.” 

Not that Shoko ever had any designs of the sort other than occasionally making him pay for her bar tab—a small price to pay for everything she does for him. Satoru honestly wishes she’d ask for more. 

“You’re still in denial about how much of a dork you were then, huh?” 

“Hey! Don’t try to pretend you didn’t also cry at the end of Digimon Tamers when we were watching the reruns.”

“I never said Digimon was dorky. I said you were dorky,” Shoko easily counters. “And I didn’t wanna be caught dead with dorks like you, loser. You were gonna ruin my street cred.”

There is a pause before they both dissolve into giggles. But Shoko is right. She really was the coolest girl Satoru had ever met. Still is. 

“You know, I’ve never heard anyone oppose or turn me down until I went to Jujutsu Tech? And I mean, let's be honest, even Suguru spoiled me sometimes. Okay, a lot of times. But you—” Satoru cuts off with a soft laugh, shaking his head. He pushes his sunglasses up to his head and turns to her with a smile and his clear blue eyes full of mirth. “You know the first time I heard the word ‘no’ said to me was from you?”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Remember in first year when I asked to copy your biology homework and you said ‘no’?” 

“Yeah, that’s because I haven’t done it then either.”

“I know, but that’s not the point. You could’ve said you’ll let me copy it after you’re done, or offered to do mine.”

“Hah!” Shoko lets out a cackle and slaps the papers she’s holding on her thigh. “Fat chance I’d let you copy mine, and an even fatter chance I’d offer to do any of your homework for you.”

“Exactly. You don’t see me as Gojo Satoru, clan head and the first wielder of Six-Eyes and Limitless in the last three centuries, the Strongest sorcerer of our time,” Satoru says the titles bestowed upon him, which usually always come right after his name in an almost monotonous tone. “You make me work for things. You don’t see me as a god or a king or the strongest. With you,” he shrugs and pokes a finger to her cheek, “I could just be Satoru.” 

“Tch. You’re not a god or a king. You’re just, and still are, a spoiled brat.” Shoko turns and attempts to bite at his finger just as Satoru laughingly retracts it. “Shitty, spoiled Satoru. SSS. You should have that on a shirt or engraved on something.”

“I love it when you’re mean to me.”

“Masochist.” 

“Only for you~”

Satoru leans his weight on her as he singsongs and chuckles when Shoko lets him for a moment before shoving him off her.

“I don’t always make you work for things, you know?”

“Oh?”

“Uh-huh. For example, I’ve never made it hard for you to take a pretty girl out for a meal—” Satoru lets out a cackling laugh at this. “—and enjoy her company.”

“Is the pretty girl here with us right now?”

“I am,” Shoko counters smoothly. “I even choose where we go so your pretty little head doesn’t have to think about it.”

“How very generous.”

“You’re very welcome. Just a small payment for my ‘making you feel normal’ services.” Shoko smirks at him, cool as ever. Satoru barely held himself back from letting out a dreamy sigh. She gathers her things as she stands to leave. “Pick me up at six?”

“Six? Isn’t that too early? Your shift ends at nine, right?”

“Talked Okkotsu-kun into covering the rest of my shift so we could go to that bakery with the parfaits you like so much before it closes.”

Damn. Satoru really likes it when a woman has initiative and takes charge. Considerate too.

“Careful, Shoko. You’re spoiling me.”

“Sometimes you deserve it.” Shoko leans down to plant a kiss on his forehead, sweet and entirely indulgent, before turning to walk back to the Infirmary with a backhand wave. “See you at six.”

Satoru watches after her, wholly smitten and wishing the hours would go by fast.

[eulogium-red]

i'd like to see more of the theme of "family" in overwatch. we see it a lot with ana & fareeha, ram & zen, brig/torb/rein/bastion, genji & hanzo. but those are the obvious ones between playable characters. the ones that are much more clearly written on the wall, even once-in-a-blue-moon players could pick up on. much else is hardly focused on despite how much family (or a lack thereof) has shaped many of the character's lives & identities for better or for worse

i don't like how martina & the unnamed reyes kid are only mentioned in passing, despite gabriel himself visiting often unannounced. clearly they were an important part of his life. clearly, family is an important part of his life — i'm very willing to wager that small passage about the death of his parents in declassified was written very intentionally. his complicated relationship with death, and how it was further affected by his own "death," & how he's now in some warped reversed position with his new family. but we don't get much more than a few voice lines about martina (is she even mentioned by name in-game orrr am i not remembering?)

i want to see how ashe manages the gang throughout the second omnic crisis. or perhaps we could see her mannerisms slightly change with bob. maybe instead of standing side-by-side with him as she is in the reunion cinematic, she puts herself more between him & potential unrealised threats. or maybe she subtly tries to nudge him under awnings whenever she spots ufos, weary they're housing subjugators — little things that are very intentional. maybe her demeanor tilts ever so slightly from confident but guarded, to guarded but confident.

i want to get a better picture of the role sam english played in fareeha's life just from playing the game, especially after ana's presumed death. i want to know more about their relationship other than the christmas dinner they had. i wonder how many players just assume fareeha's father died young, or assume the writers didn't care to write one at all? for a long time, i thought the former. i wonder what sam thinks of some of fareeha's closest friends — has he met cole & angela? what does he think of helix? we hardly even see fareeha's native heritage expressed other than the two skins off the top of my head

what about cassidy & echo? i know this is a more implied one, but cassidy was the first one to nurture her "childlike intelligence." even today, he guides her — he encouraged her to help winston&co at paris when he was still on the fence. one of the cutest things for me is her enthusiastically shouting "hello winston!" mid-battle, presumably not long after cassidy told her to say hi. she probably would've either way, but i also don't want to discredit the role cassidy has had on her development & i really do want to see more of them

or, speak of the devil, how winston views everyone at overwatch as family. how in watchpoint: gibraltar's 1st defense spawn, you can see the little beds he set up for lena and mei, how you can read an email as proof he got the blankets from a small kids blanket business. the way he keeps photos of the gang, years later. how vehemently protective he was of all their locations. i wish we could see it reciprocated a little more, i wish we could see individual sleeping areas for other heroes as the story progresses, or more items on his desk. & that's not even getting into hammond

& i don't think i can have a family post without mentioning dad 76 or how i desperately want to see benicio being the best supportive dad for lúcio more but honestly i'm getting pretty sleepy so either i'll add more later or someone can add more.

depending how you stretch the definition of family here, it can include other dynamics too. baptiste finding a new sense of belonging in the new overwatch, or mei braving the antarctic to not let her team's death go in vain & to help people who can still be helped — from jiayi and her team still on mars, to the people who now need her help on earth. i'd also argue hana's squad in korea. what are niran's siblings up to? are we gonna see more of efi & orisa? moreover, how are all these non-playable side character characters handling the invasion? i guess we got some texts between lena and emily

family is such a powerful motivator, but can also be really complicated, as seen with the amaris and shimadas + kiriko, i wish we got a similar amount of investment some other places too

a major theme of overwatch is moving towards the future, progressing in some way. & that looks different for everyone depending on their emotional readiness to do that, and what they view "progression" as. so it makes sense a lot of characters don't look back on those they lost along the way so much, at least not too openly (zarya comes to mind), but that's what can make their present relationships with others that much more worth preserving & seeing

probably an impossible ask of a game feeling the effects of layoffs that's primarily focused on pvp/bp/shop items but ykn

thank u for coming to my tedtalk

[talshiargirlfriend]

kiss prompt? "Kissing tears from the other’s face."? >:)

Thanks for the ask from the kiss prompts post!

This is probably not what you wanted, but sometimes a scene just coalesces in your mind when you read a prompt. This one was insistent. —

Staying awake to update the captain and catch up with the senior staff after repairing coolant leaks all night had seemed like a good idea, but Trip was starting to zone out a little toward the end of the briefing. He shifted in his seat and stifled a yawn.  It might have been easier to stay alert standing; then again, he might have just fallen on his face. 

As the meeting ended and people began to file out of the conference room, T’Pol didn’t immediately stand. The captain glanced at her in concern and then met Trip’s eyes in query. 

Trip gave him a little head shake, a nonverbal cue meant to indicate “You go on. I’ll take care of it.”

The captain nodded, and Trip blew out a quiet breath. He’d try anyway.  Maybe she’d even allow him to ‘take care of it’ - to take care of her - this time. 

They’d reached an equilibrium of sorts, as friends with a mating bond. It sometimes felt like too much and not enough simultaneously. T’Pol always knew when he had a nightmare and checked on him the next day. Trip knew which movies and foods she refused to admit she enjoyed, and he made a point of requesting them.  A few weeks ago he’d tripped over his own feet in Decon when he realised she was admiring the sight of him in his skivvies. He should’ve told her she was busted… and that he thought her ass was mighty fine, too, but he’d been too shocked to tease her when she’d looked him in the face so innocently and asked if he was all right. 

Once the room was empty save the two of them, Trip leaned toward the seat next to him, “What’s wrong, T’Pol?” 

She didn’t bother with denial. “Elizabeth would be one earth year old today,” she said simply. 

Oh. Of course. 

Trip had been dreading this day for weeks. For months, really, ever since they’d read the date in a classified report on Paxton’s operation. And then Wednesday had drifted into Thursday when he was too preoccupied with the engine’s little hissy fit to even notice. 

Damn it.

Suddenly his lungs didn’t seem to be working properly. Or maybe an invisible elephant had settled on his chest.  

He sucked in a shaky breath. “Yeah. She would be.” 

He wasn’t sure who had reached for whom, but he found T’Pol’s hand clasped around his and then it was a little easier to breathe. “Is, uh, is that a big thing in Vulcan culture?” Trip asked. “A child’s first birthday, I mean.” 

He tried in vain not to picture their daughter, a little bigger, a little stronger than they’d ever seen her in her short life: Elizabeth, with her daddy’s eyes and her mother’s pout, curiously contemplating the complexities of the icing on a slice of birthday cake. His breath hitched again and he blinked his stinging eyes. 

T’Pol spoke in a slow, measured tone. “It is a remnant from less civilised times, when life was more precarious. A child surviving a full year was cause for celebration within the family and their community.” 

T’Pol didn’t say that she was now without not only her child but a family and community as well, but the sentiment seemed to echo off the walls. 

Trip pulled their joined hands up to his face and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles. She may not have much in the way of a traditional Vulcan community, but she had Enterprise and her friends here… She had him. 

“I know there is no benefit to dwelling on the situation or considering hypotheticals…” T’Pol faltered, leaving a rare sentence unfinished. 

“That’s true. You don't have to… you can’t live in that pain all the time, but you saw me after Lizzie died…” he sighed. “You can’t just ignore it either.  It’s important to acknowledge what we lost, what was - taken from us.” He swallowed hard. 

T’Pol looked at him, her eyes awash with sorrow and sympathy. “Agreed,” she said softly. 

She closed her eyes. “My mother was still alive when Elizabeth was born.” Barely a whisper. 

She continued in a stronger voice, but the very calm evenness of it evinced how tightly she was holding onto her emotions. “She cautioned me against romantic involvement with you, suggesting my future children would be shamed.” 

Trip winced in sympathy. 

“Perhaps it is foolish, but I believe that despite her reservations about the … concept, she would have met the reality of our child with affection.”

There was something of a symmetry there. In his darker moments Trip had considered that perhaps his parents may have found it difficult to accept an actual half-Vulcan grandchild created under disturbing circumstances if he had been able to bring her home to meet them. A concept  - a sad story - was in some ways easier to deal with. 

“… As I did,” T’Pol added softy.

A lone tear escaped the confines of her lashes when she opened her eyes again. 

“Oh, honey.” Impulsively Trip shifted closer and kissed the tear from her cheek. She froze for a heartbeat before leaning in to rest her cheek against his. 

They stayed that way for a few minutes, each alone with their thoughts but together in their grief. As much as they both hurt, it was … nice to share it. Nice to have a moment of understanding. 

“Come on,” Trip said at last, releasing her hand. “Let's get out of here. You want to go get some breakfast?”

T’Pol gave a slight shake of her head, tilting it questioningly. She ran her thumb over his cheekbone, probably pointing out the stubble and dark circles he was sporting. “You have been awake for over twenty-six hours. Are you not planning to return to your quarters to get some sleep now?” 

He shrugged a little and stood with a stretch, accidentally setting off a mighty yawn. “Yeah, I guess I should,” he said ruefully. At least they’d had that one moment. 

T’Pol stood as well and followed him to the door. 

“You know, I’ve still got a meditation mat in there if you want to keep me company…” he invited automatically as the door swished open, just to keep that metaphorical door open for her, too. 

“Okay.”

With his mouth already open to accept her dismissal, Trip just sort of gaped at her for a second. He’d gotten used to her occasionally dropping informal language into conversation like that, but her acceptance genuinely shocked him. “… huh?”

Without moving T’Pol seemed to withdraw, “I’m sorry. Perhaps I misunderstood you—“

He cut her off before she could possibly call him Commander. “No, no, no, you understood right. I’d like that. I’m just a little slow on the uptake this morning.” Trip was pleased he managed not to blurt out how surprised he was; the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel bad for agreeing to spend time with him. 

She still seemed a little hesitant. 

“T’Pol,” he said softly, looking her in the eye so she could feel his sincerity, “I’d really like that. The meditation offer is open, but… maybe you could tell me more about Vulcan traditions, if you want?”

“To help you fall asleep?” she asked with that familiar little head tilt eye/raised brow combination. He loved it when she zinged him, and she knew it. 

Trip snorted, relieved she hadn’t retreated into formality and made a swift exit. “Smartass. I like learning about your culture, you know. If I fall asleep it’s just good old-fashioned human frailty. If you want, we can make it a proper cultural exchange and I can tell you about the time we almost burnt the house down on my brother’s tenth birthday,” he joked as he led the way into the corridor.

“Trip,” T’Pol said quietly, and he turned back to look at her. 

She looked up at him seriously, “I would like that.” 

For the first time that day, he felt a small smile stretch across his face.

[taetaeblep]

Hello! This is my first fiction I've written on public. I know it's trashy. Hope it doesn't ache your eyes lol. Too add to your sufferings , I've added a trashy edit too. Sorry for this one. But I've been planning since a month. Finally it's done. Have a good day! (Let me know how trashy it was!)

Pairing: Ram x Devi

Book: KFOS

Warning: M

Tags: @rc-catalog

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"Colored by You"

Holi has come with colors in Bengal. Red, blue, green, yellow, everyone was colored by various hues. But Devi who was quite restless till dawn, waiting for the time to go Kalighat on this auspicious day, well probably not for the temple service which has barely been habit, has rather a darker aura over her face since the morning. Whereas the seer quite busy with his customeries, not giving much attention to restless gazes from the one whose sleepless night went by the toughts of the man who she wanted to put "abeer" on before anyone else. But only the seer knew how much he longed to meet her. To steal a moment only to be with her. But his responsibilities and role as a seer was too heavy to neglect. Hence he could only patiently wait till all the rituals are done, so he could be with the woman he's dying to see. Devi can't be blamed though. The young ladies of dozens were now eligible for marriage. And it was clear on whom their eyes might be darting. The most eligible, handsome younger Doobay is someone to be swoon over. Ladies on this occasion seems quite busy to put abeer on him. "Might be seeking a way to touch his toned body?" Devi is thinking too hard and pinning herself to her own thoughts. Ram who was trying to avoid the crowd of these beautiful ladies hovering over him and steal a chance to talk to Miss Sharma, his all efforts went in vain again and again. All he earned in return was the piercing glare of the mighty Deviya Sharma — a woman whose rage, it was said, could kill with just One. Single. Glance.

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In the evening when the chaos and colors are deemed down, Ram was in his quarters tired of the overwhelming day, still could not figure out what might have enraged the mighty Sharma. His all efforts to steal one moment, to steal her from the rest of the world, is all gone vain. So and so, Miss Sharma did not even care to look at his glances. Rather avoided every possible chances to meet him. Trail of thoughts broken by the creaking sound of the door.

"Devi..."

"Why Mr. Doobay, I guess you were expecting someone else?" Devi hissed.

"Anyone else aren't daring enough to barge into my room like that" , a smirk played on Ram's lips. Deep inside the seer having his heart dancing upon seeing the woman whom he eagerly tried to talk all day long. His eyes fell on her sari. White, as soft as petals lingering to her thin body. Ram who had his eyes locked in hers, took a long breath seeing her adornments. To his eyes, she was shimmering like moon itself. Oh Kaali Maa! How could the Brahmin even keep himself sane like this.

Brahmin could not dare to take another step. Devi tiptoed towards him "You've been quite busy today. Being cheeky with your admirers." Devi had a taunting tone while wording the last sentence. Ram took the cue and fully understood what might have agitated his Precious Miss. He smiled seeing her burning with jealousy just by the sight of any other women around him, talking to him, teasing or touching him in the name of so called applying abeer.

"I did tried to get a grip of a certain someone. But she was too engrossed in envious thoughts, barely gave me a chance to come near her. What a man can even do, if left alone amongst the drooling eyes of ladies like that?" Ram's words only fueled her already fumed jealousy. Not only he teased her about being jealous, he's not even feeling guilty to leave her pinning alone just like that. Devi could not let him so easily. Her jealousy has now taken a different form. She knew that this man is only hers. If she could, she would've make sure every one in this Bengal would know that. So no other woman or man could near him. If she could, she would have kept him all to herself. But as of now, all she wanted is to let that man know, what she truly feels, although he could see through her eyes.

"Why were you looking for me?" She asked.

"Why do you think, Raksashi?" He whispered coming near to her.

Devi didn't say anything. She brought out thaali filled with colors. She took Ram's hand on hers and put it on the thaali, then directed his hand filled with color on her cheeks. Devi closed her eyes giving into the touch oh his warm hand, which she holded and slided his hand towards her neck. Then she took his other hand, repeating the gesture on the other side of her face, marking herself with him. Devi slightly opened her eyes, which are now darkened with desire. To make this man fully hers, to embrace him, to love him, take his name as her heart wants. Engrossed in thoughts Devi holded his hand close to her cheek and rubbed her face on his palm. Ram heaved in her touch. Completely forgot their surroundings, his concerns are now getting blurry. All he could see is her, his Devi, his only love, the one he die for, he could kill for, even fight with the deity or the fate they had to face.

«Ang laga de re . Mohe rang laga de re»

«Main to teri joganiya, Tu jog laga de re»

Devi came closer to Ram, slided her hand into his nape, caressing his face with her thumb softly and pulled him towards her. She rubbed her cheeks onto his, marking him with the same abeer. Ram closed his eyes, savoring her touch.

«Ram ratan dhan

Lagan magan man

Tan mora chandan re»

His hand instinctively found her waist, sliding beneath the folds of her sari.

«Raat banjar si hai, Kaale khanjar si hai»

«Tere seene ki lau mere andar bhi hai»

Devi didn’t flinch — she only drew him closer, as if trying to erase the distance between them completely. They stayed that way, wrapped in each other, lost in the moment — intoxicated by silence and their touch. Devi tore herself apart from him and took a step behind, thumping her palm on the abeer and scooped fistful of it, then pulled Ram closer holding his wrist. She took a lingering glance at him — her eyes flicking over his face, his chest — and bit her lower lip as a thought seemed to spark in her mind. Ram who is too lost in every movements of her, only kept watching her. She put all the abeer on her fist and smear it on Ram's chest which wasn't covered as he took of the Puja's shawl a while ago. Devi came closer to Ram and engulfed one of her hands around his neck, another around his torso, She held him tightly, molding her body to his, her head resting near his shoulder, her frame sliding gently against his. Ram who was silently letting her so whatever she wanted to do, stunned by her boldness yet unable to resist, held her firmly by the waist — grounding them both in a moment that neither wanted to end.

«Tu hawa de isey, Toh mera tann jale»

Devi's white sari is now colored in Red , same as the color of love, and color of oozing blood which too carries the name of Ram of through her body, just like her soul which is only whispering his name to her. Now they both are colored by each other's colors, just as their souls were dissolved into each other.

Ram cupped her face in his hands, looking at her as if she were something divine and fragile. His brows furrowed slightly as his gaze met hers — intense, searching.He swallowed hard, caught in the depths of her eyes.

His eyes roamed around her face, his fingers gently brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and kissed her temple- Soft and slow. As if he is afraid, he might hurt her if loved her too hard, loved her too deep. Both did not speak at all. Just stayed in each other's embrace, wrapped in silence, lost in each other's touch.

«Jala de re sang jala de re»

«Mohey ang laga de re»

Devi looked at Ram, completely lost in him.Her hand moved on its own, gently cupping his face, her thumb tracing his skin with tenderness. Ram could see through her. He knew just by looking at her eyes, what she wanted, what she needed. This time too, Ram was sure, the only thing Devi most ardently needed was only Him. Her Ram. Ram too only needed her. So religiously, so farvently, these emotions maddened him to keep any distance any more.

Devi pushed him to his bed which made Ram plop on it. She made him sit and then sat on his lap. Ram took her thighs and let her sit properly. Those eyes which only shows her reflection, the freckles and those lips, the loose strands falling on his cheeks. Everything, everything about him only makes her heart fume with a strange yet soft emotion. She could keep looking at her man and admire just as she wants. Devi's hand went behind his head and untied his bun making his hair softly flowing above his neck. God, she thought, he looks divine like this.

As if the gods themselves had taken their time sculpting him, shaping him with the most delicate care.

And he — all of him — belonged to her.

Only her.

Devi blushed at her own thoughts, taking her time to soak in every detail of him. It wasn't lustful eyes, Devi has long gone from that phase. Her love for this man had reached the point where she could only worship him.

Not just love — but devotion.

«Main toh teri joganiya»

«Tu jog laga de re»

She could bow to him, not because he demanded it, but because her soul recognized his.

For who he was — the one who would kill for her, the one who would erase his own existence just to keep her alive. Her eyes fell on his nose snd touched the "nath" adorning his nose and took it off carefully, her fingers played around his cheeks for a moment. Then she leaned in to kiss him.

-his forehead

-his eyes

-his cheeks,

And all over his faces. Soft lingering kisses. Like blessings, like prayers. Ram's grip on her waist tightened to her touch and pulled her even closer, completely taken — letting her do everything and anything she wanted to do to him. He smiled looking at her - full of awe. Dear lord! He thought, How could I even deserve her!

She then moved her head and took a look of his face, then looked at his lips. Her thumb traced his lower lips, made Ram quiver. He looked at her mouth and then her. She closed the gap between them and kissed him.

Nibbling his lips then open her mouth to play with his tongue. Ram who let Devi took the lead till now, had to give in and his one hand slid up from her waist took her by her nape to guide her. Their mouth danced on their rhythm. Both were too lost in desire till they went breathless. Devi tore apart her swollen lips from his — inhaled — then leaning again kiss him softly, as too restless to leave him, yet.

Ram held her by shoulder and moved her back slightly. His hand reached her cheeks and softly caressed her. He made her sit beside him and took of the jewelries one by one. She didn't wear much anyway. The soft silk and some simple silver jewelry around her neck and earrings were her only adornments. Ram then went down, took her feet on his thigh and took of the anklets too. His touched her feet and carassed them as some devine flower. He removed her anklet and kissed there, making her feet curl from his soft touch. His hand roamed over her legs to her upper thighs. Devi shuddered to his touch. Ram smiled on her reaction and got up to sit beside her. He took her hands in his, fingers brushing softly against her skin, as if asking for permission. Devi met his gaze and gave a small nod. Ram's hand went to the back of her shoulder and untied the knot of her blouse which was a piece of cloth secured around her chest, tied with a knot. Once he untied it, she was only covered with her thin layer of her silk saree, accentuating her figure. Devi wasn't ready to easily give in. She came to take what hers. A smirk played on her lips. Without warning she brought her untied cloth to his eyes and folded them. To which Ram protested, but she kept her finger on his lips and shushed him. Devi leaned in, her hand sliding behind his neck, and her lips brushed along his jawline. Then down to his throat. Ram let out a breath, feeling her touch and leaned his head back as she drew her lips on him.

Devi's mind buzzed. She needed him madly, she sighed on her thoughts and bit his neck, which she nibbled and licked then smoothed his skin with kisses. Ram groaned, his hands reaching for her, but letting her lead. Her kisses moved to the other side of his neck, soft and possessive. Devi's soft lips had maddened him to loose his patience.

«Jog laga de re, Prem ka rog laga de re»

«Main toh teri joganiya, Tu jog laga de re»

He gripped her tightly, holding her nape by one hand he made his way to her neck. Trail of kissed fallen over her neck, then to her throat till her collarbone. Ram knew very well where his touches give her the pleasures and kissed those places and biting them to leave his "familiar marks" and again kissed them to soothe the pain. He bit down softly, then kissed over the sting to soothe it. Devi gasped, her lips let out his name — broken, breathy, desperate. It was the only name she knew. And to him, it was the most beautiful sound in the world. He never liked his name before as much, until called by her. He would die to hear them again and again... And again!

Ram then took off the cloth from his eyes and looked at her, who averted her eyes from him, then turned her body clutching a lotus that fell on the bed from her loosened braids. The bold and daring Devi felt a rush of blood in her. Ram watched her quietly. He could feel the weight of her emotions very well and smiled softly. He gently kept him hand over her grip, resting his cheek against the back of her head. As he's reassuring her. He'll go through the path however she likes. At her pace, on her terms.

And Devi knew. Devi knew very well that he'll wait for her as long as it takes. Till the very end. She relaxed her body, leaning back against his chest as he held her close. Her back was touching his heart and felt the beating rythm of his chest. Which was beating just as hers.

Devi turned to face him locking her eyes with him. At this moment nothing could be averted anymore.

Devi— who has already given her soul to him. And Ram— whose only reason to breath was the woman right in front of his eyes.

For them, this Samasara, this Maya had no meaning left anymore.

There was only Ram,

There was only Devi.

“Ram ratan dhan

Lagan magan man

Tan mora chandan re”