#but i also realised i forgot to bring my command strips back with me over the break

[aza-trash-can]

My anime/weeb shelf grows

Plus some close ups of my haul earlier today

[beccascribbles]

Can i ask for a suna x reader request where the reader is the team’s manager and swear she wouldn’t date another volleyball player after her ex, but suna changes her mind? 👀👀

a/n - this ended up way longer than i intended. whoops. honestly as i wrote this, i forgot all about the original plot. he does still change her mind though! it just became more of a best friends to lovers au (which i’m a big fat lover of). anyway, hope you enjoy :)

You swore off dating volleyball players the night you turned up at his house, tears rolling down your cheeks and red eyes. Your voice was hoarse when you told him, when you told Suna you would never date another volleyball player. The tears dampened his shirt as he held you, as he listened to you rant.

Suna hated to admit it, but a part of him was glad when he saw you on his doorstep that night. It meant you had finally realised what a piece of shit you had been dating and also opened up an avenue that had been previously shut for him. However, none of that mattered when you were in front of him. Any part of him that rejoiced at your broken expression disgusted him.

"All volleyball players are shit," you sobbed, pressing your face into his chest, choosing to forget that you were currently seeking comfort in the arms of one. "Can you believe he cheated on me?"

"I always told you he was a piece of shit," drawled Suna, rubbing soothing circles into your back. You bit back another sob, landing a light smack to his shoulder.

"And you're suddenly Mr Perfect?"

"I wouldn't cheat on you."

"Well, it doesn't really matter anyway," you sighed, curling into the warmth Suna provided, arms wrapping around his waist. "A volleyball player and me will never be a thing again. Fuck that. I'm not going through that pain again."

That whole night Suna was there to offer you comfort. He let you wash in his bathroom, giving you one of his favourite t-shirts and a pair of boxers to wear to bed. He even gave you his bed to sleep in, saying he would sleep on the floor. You couldn't let him do that, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him into the bed beside you. Suna was also the one who called your mother, explaining that you were staying at his house tonight.

And, the next morning, you were awoken to the smell of breakfast wafting through the house, walking down the stairs to be greeted by Suna on a video call with Osamu. It was clear Osamu was instructing him on how to cook, something that Suna struggled with.

"Morning, Rin, Samu," you greeted, waving at the phone screen as you stepped into view. Osamu eyes widened slightly at the sight of your clothing. You were still dressed in Suna's clothes, and, if you didn't know why, you would admit your reaction likely would have been the same.

"Ooh, y/n," sang Atsumu's voice, his head appearing at the top of the frame as Osamu pushed him away. "What have ya -"

He was cut off by Suna's barked 'shut up'. In a quiet voice, you stated simply, "My boyfriend, ex now I suppose, cheated on me."

"Did Suna make ya forget all about that loser?" asked Atsumu, his head now back in frame and pushing against Osamu's as he tried to claim the centre of the screen.

"Sumu!" snapped Osamu, shooting him a glare as he gave him a hard slap to the back of the head.

"If letting me cry and rant to him counts, then yes," you sighed, turning away from them and heading to the cupboard to grab a glass.

"Samu," called Suna, looking up from the pan helplessly, "what do I do now?"

He held up the food to show that it was burnt, charred to the point that it was disintegrating. Osamu let out a sigh. "I can come over and cook for ya if you want."

You nodded enthusiastically in the background, letting out an enthused shout. "Yes please!"

"Okay," he nodded, standing up from where he rested on his bed. "I'll be there in a bit."

"Don't bring Atsumu," pleaded Suna.

"I'm comin’," said Atsumu, poking his tongue out at the camera before Osamu hung up. Suna let out a sigh, looking over at you apologetically. His plan for a quiet morning with you to let you recuperate and prepare to face the world again was coming to an end. Instead, you would be thrust back into it with the presence of the twins, especially Atsumu.

You stepped towards him, resting a hand on his shoulder. Wordlessly, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. Head pressed against his chest, you mumbled, "I really don't mind you know. I love hanging out with the twins. You know that."

"I just wanted everything to be good for you, you know?" he admitted, resting his cheek on the top of your head. "Are you feeling better this morning?"

"Like you said, he was a piece of shit. I supposed it was about time I realised that."

"Yeah," he sighed, brushing a kiss to the top of your head. "It would've been better if you hadn't been hurt in the process."

"Well hey," you said, looking up at him with a small smile playing on your lips, "at least I know who not to date so don't worry. I won't go running into the arms of anyone on the team to make me feel better."

"You can come to me though," he murmured, voice low. You looked up at him, eyebrows raising in confusion.

"What did you say?" you asked, pulling away and moving across the kitchen to grab a glass from the cupboard.

"Um...," he hesitated, running a hand through his sleep mussed hair. He refused to meet your gaze, focusing instead on a point above your head. "Just that you can run to the twins if you need, preferably Osamu but I suppose Atsumu is good for a hookup. I guess it depends on whose hair you prefer. You've always had a thing for blondes..."

"Rin, I'm going to stop you there," you laughed, holding up a hand and cutting off his tangent. "You don't need to worry. Also, where'd you get the idea that I'm into blondes?"

"Well, your last few boyfriends..."

"Personally, I've always preferred brunettes," you shrugged, heading over to the sink to fill up your glass. You let out a light giggle. "Now that I think about it, it is weird that I always end up dating blondes."

“Evidence of your horrible taste,” he teased, forever thankful that you could take any awkward comment in your stride and put him at ease. It was something so natural to you. In fact, you had grown used to his occasional odd remarks, brushing them under the rug. There were times when you would tease Suna for it, but, most of the time, you let it slide. It was a part of your best friend.

You let out a gasp, holding a hand to your heart in fake shock. But then, you shook your head, face splitting into a grin. “You’re not wrong. Maybe you’ll have to teach me how to find a nice guy.”

“I don’t know if I’m the best choice for that.”

“You don’t know that. You’re always right about how horrible anyone I show an interest in is.”

Suna might always be right, but he was always searching for the bad points of those you dated. Jealousy drove him to overlook any of the good things, like how happy they usually made you the first few weeks you were together.

“Yeah, well,” he admitted, “I’m not necessarily looking for the good things when I judge your boyfriends.”

“You’re so overprotective,” you snorted, dancing around him to take a seat at the kitchen table. He didn’t reply to that, and you glanced upwards, taking note of his furrowed brow. You decided to change the topic of conversation, taking a sip of your water. Before you could, there was a furious knocking at the front door. Suna rolled his eyes as you stated, “The twins.”

“Well done, Captain Obvious,” he teased, ruffling your hair as he walked past you and headed towards the front door. He glanced back over at you. “Are you going to change?”

“Nah, it’s fine. They’ve seen me in worse states.”

That was true, and the fact annoyed Suna whenever he dwelled on it. 

Atsumu, thinking he was being funny, had snuck into the bathroom while you were showering and stole your clothing, leaving your underwear. To be fair to Atsumu, he hadn’t attempted to peek at you in your naked state. It would’ve been difficult if he had tired considering the shower curtain was drawn. If he had attempted to look, he would have been subject to Suna’s wrath, and he had a number of photos of Atsumu in compromising positions that he could release. Suna wished you had just walked to his room and taken some of his clothes. Instead, you had strode downstairs in your underwear, ignoring the looks from the team that Suna had invited over and stood over Atsumu.

“Clothes, now,” you commanded, hands resting on your hips. Suna had been quick to leap up from his position on the sofa, pulling his sweatshirt over his head and tugging it over your own, moving you like a doll as he shoved your arms into the sleeves and pulled it down to cover your lower half. Then, Suna had also fixed a glare on Atsumu.

“You’d better fucking hurry,” he said, the set of his face threatening some kind of consequence. Atsumu hadn’t wanted to find out, getting up from his seat and jogging towards the kitchen, where he thought it would be wise to hide your clothes in a cupboard.

“You’re so irritating,” you grumbled, pulling on the leggings and then removing Suna’s sweatshirt, and throwing your t-shirt on. You held the sweatshirt out to Suna. “Thanks for the cover up.”

“Did you really need to strip again?” he spluttered, blushing furiously as he took his sweatshirt back from you.

“So dramatic,” you sighed, rolling your eyes at Suna’s embarrassment. Atsumu, meanwhile, had looked like a child in a candy store.

“I always knew ya were hot, but damn,” said Atsumu, letting out a low whistle. Though you appreciated the compliment, you didn’t hesitate to give him a hard slap to the back of the head.

“Don’t steal my clothes,” you said, before your lips tugged upwards in a teasing smirk. You leant in. “If you wanted to see, all you had to do was ask.”

It was Atsumu’s turn to blush then, looking away and avoiding your gaze. Both of you were aware your statement was a lie, but he couldn’t help his reaction. Suna watched with his arms crossed, quietly seething. His chest felt tight. Then, you had looked over at him with a bright smile and asked, “You picked out the film yet?”

Suna was jerked from the memory by an increase in the knocking and a loud shout through the door. “Open the fuck up, ya idiot. I’m hungry too.”

“Shut up, Sumu,” he grumbled, swinging open the door. He nodded towards Osamu. “There should be enough food in the fridge but, if you need more, just give me a list and I’ll nip to the shop.”

“I’ll go, too,” you piped up, appearing in the corridor behind him. Atsumu sprinted forward, pulling you into a tight hug which you returned. “Okay, you big oaf. You can let go of me now.”

“If you cry, he’ll let go of ya in an instant,” said Osamu, giving your head a pat as he walked past you and into the kitchen.

“It was one time, Samu,” whined Atsumu, releasing you and following his brother into the kitchen. “I’m great at comforting girls, better than you.”

“I can cook.”

“Yeah, well,” spluttered Atsumu, “I’m hotter than you.”

“We’re identical.”

“Still hotter.”

“Identical. Twins.”

“Just like normal,” you said, grinning over at Suna as he held his head in his hands. Any plans for a quiet morning went down the drain, but, when he glanced over at you to see your smile, he couldn’t deny that he was glad the twins had come over.

That happiness dissipated when Atsumu had been kicked out of the kitchen by Osamu and sent out with you to get the rest of the ingredients. Osamu had insisted that only Suna could be trusted in the kitchen, despite burning what he tried to make earlier. Ultimately, though, Osamu wasn’t going to trust him with cooking. He had simply wanted to talk to his friend, find out what was going through his head.

“So,” Osamu said, taking a sip from the cup of tea Suna had made before continuing, “how is y/n after last night? How are you?”

“I think she’ll be fine,” Suna said, trying to decide how much he was comfortable with sharing. Letting out an exhale, he decided he might as well take the chance to explain how he was feeling. Nothing good came from bottling it up, something that had become all too clear to him when he had almost taken advantage of the alcohol to finally kiss you.

It had been on your eighteenth birthday. Using the excuse that you only turn eighteen once, you had downed drink after drink, slowly growing steadily more drunk, evidenced by the way you had zero inhibitions to jumping up onto a table and swaying your hips enticingly for all to see. Suna had frozen at the sight, the alcohol he had also drunk making him feel slightly braver. He had walked over to you, offering you his hand as he helped you jump down from the table. He leaned in, yelling to be heard over the music.

“You want to go somewhere else?”

You looked at him in confusion, your drunken mind not being able to fully process his request. All you could really concentrate on was the party, the happy buzz lighting your nerves. “Why?”

Suna had drawn in a breath, steeling himself. “I have something to give you. In private.”

The promise of a gift had caused you to loop your arm through his, letting him guide you somewhere else. It barely even registered that he had already given you his present, a beautiful necklace, an ornate and delicate star as the one charm on it. He had pressed a kiss to your cheek after being the one to place it around your neck. In fact, you were wearing it at that moment, the lights glinting off the silver.

“So, what did you want to give me?” you asked under the light of the moon. He reached forward, tracing a finger along the curve of your face. Suna’s hand stopped its movement, cupping your cheek. “Suna?”

He let out a breath that tickled your face. Slowly, carefully, he leaned in, his lips a whisper away before a shout broke through the relative peace of the garden.

“y/n!”

Your head turned in the direction, pulling out of Suna’s grip in the process. Atsumu stumbled towards you, slinging his arm over your shoulder. “Come on. I convinced Kita to play ‘Never Have I Ever’ and he’s usually no fun at parties. You too, Suna.”

That moment between the two of you in the garden had been forgotten by you, but it replayed regularly in Suna’s mind. He buried his face into his hands, Osamu’s quiet support enough to prompt him to continue with what he was saying. “I don’t know if I will be though.”

When he looked up, his eyes were unusually vulnerable. There was a hesitation in his gaze, and Osamu waited a moment before prompting, “Why?”

As Osamu began to chop up some of the ingredients, Suna began to speak again. “She swore off dating volleyball players, and I think that extends to me. To be honest, she’s probably only ever seen me as a friend. Pathetic, right? I invest all this time into our relationship. Don’t get me wrong, I love her friendship. I’ll never take it for granted. It’s just frustrating. Do I act too friendly with her? Am I not flirty enough? Why was I friend-zoned?”

Osamu continued cutting, choosing his next words carefully. “She’s probably never thought to look at you in another way. It would make sense she doesn’t want to risk your friendship, Rin.”

“I understand that,” he sighed, “but, what can I do?”

“All you can do is try to show her how you feel and hope she realises you’re the one for her,” advised Osamu. Suna made note of this, though a part of him wondered if it was the best option. In his opinion, Suna was already showing that he had feelings for you. How could he make that more known? Seeing the uncertainty on his face, Osamu continued. “You could always ask Sumu for advice but I doubt it would be more useful than mine.”

It was some time before Suna was able to broach the topic with Atsumu, though this time with more hypotheticals than outright admissions. Your head was resting in his lap, your breathing steady as one of his hands rubbed absentminded circles into your back. You would be the first to admit you hadn’t had the best of sleep that night, falling asleep as soon as the film Osamu had chosen was playing.

“It must have been really boring if y/n’s already asleep,” teased Atsumu, giving his brother a playful shove which Osamu ignored. “She usually stays up out of pity.”

“Whatever, Sumu,” sighed Osamu, hugging a cushion to his chest as he became fully engrossed in what was unfolding on screen. It was hard to rile Osamu up when he was in his element, and, frankly, this film was one of his favourites. It made him dream of running his own chain of restaurants, though without the mafia using it as a front for drug trades.

“Hey, Atsumu,” began Suna awkwardly, immediately getting the other twin’s attention. Osamu was too focused on the film to care what was being talked about around him, something he would regret when Atsumu bragged about Suna confiding in him the whole way home. “Say you liked this girl, but she was your best friend, and swore off dating volleyball players. How would you change her mind and show her how you feel?”

“I’d just tell y/n how I feel,” he replied. “It is y/n we’re talkin’ about, yeah?”

Suna nodded, though the slight frown that twisted his face told Atsumu he wasn’t happy that he had figured it out. Atsumu simply shrugged, giving his friend’s shoulder a squeeze.

“It’s kind of obvious,” Atsumu said, glancing down at the way Suna gently brushed your hair away from your face, his other hands resting against the curve of your waist. “Anyway, she’d appreciate the honesty. No need to show her. You show her how much ya care everyday anyway. It might not change her mind straight away but havin’ it out in the open might help her come around to the idea.”

“Thanks, Sumu,” said Suna, genuinely meaning the words.

“They don’t call me the Love Maestro for nothin’,” he bragged.

“No one calls you that,” shot Osamu, tuning in for that part of the conversation. Atsumu turned to him, scandalised.

“Do too.”

“Name one person.”

“...”

“Exactly.”

Later that day, Suna walked you home, slinging an arm around your shoulder and leaning a bit of his weight on you as you walked. Your own arm wrapped around his waist instinctively to keep your balance. It felt so natural to walk along with him like this, something you genuinely missed when you were dating someone. It just felt disrespectful to the other person to act as you did with Suna while with them. A part of you recognised that the way you acted around each other could be construed as a relationship, but you had never thought to entertain the idea. He was just Suna, your best friend.

You came to a stop in front of your front door, and he released your shoulder in favour of wrapping both of his arms around your waist to pull you into a hug. Instantly, you relaxed against him, arms winding around his neck. When he pulled away, your hands still rested on his shoulders and you smiled up at him.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said, eyes unusually soft as he stared at you. His eyes landed on the necklace around your neck, the star shining up at him from where it rested just above the neckline of your top. “I’ll see you tomorrow but if you need anything, if you just want to chat, call me, okay?”

You nodded, giving his shoulder a pat before releasing him. However, you made no move to step away and open your front door. Suna leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek. At that, he stepped off your porch, turning away from you. “Goodnight.” I love you.

“Night, Rin.”

When his phone rang at two in the morning, he couldn’t say he hadn’t been expecting it. He was. It was normal for you to call him at random times of the night, particularly when you couldn’t get to sleep or had been awoken by a nightmare.

“Rin?” you breathed, voice quiet to avoid waking anyone up in your house. “Um, hi.”

“Morning, y/n,” he mumbled, switching you onto speaker and placing the phone down beside his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I was just having trouble sleeping. Um, can you tell me a story?”

“Don’t you think we’re too old for bedtime stories?” he chuckled, though he was already shifting through his brain for a tale he could tell you that had not already been shared.

“We’re still in high school,” you protested, and he could hear the pout in your voice. “We’re not adults yet.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Are you ready?”

He heard the sound of movement through the speaker, the sound of you getting into bed and placing the phone on the pillow beside you.

“Ready.”

So, Suna began, telling the story of a foolish knight who had fallen for the beautiful princess, a princess who was at home when she was sparring with the knights, when she could forget about all the eligible bachelors from other kingdoms. She was a princess who ate with the Royal Guard, prepared the roster for their training sessions, and offered her support whenever she was needed.

His voice lulled you to sleep, and, before you could question what had inspired such a tale, your eyes had slipped shut and sleep had pulled you under. Suna heard your change in breathing, your soft inhales and exhales slowing until they reached a steady rhythm. He trailed off, reaching for his phone, finger hovering over the button that would end the call. He pulled his finger away, letting his hand fall back down onto the mattress. Suna fell asleep to the sound of your breathing. He could almost pretend that you were beside him.

Your phone was flat when you woke up, and you cursed, hurriedly plugging yours into the charger. You hated being late, hated not knowing what the time was as soon as you woke up. You jogged down the stairs, reading the time on the clock in the kitchen and releasing the tension in one exhale. There was plenty of time. At a more relaxed pace, you continued to prepare for the day.

It was a busy day for you as manager of the volleyball club, something that you were thankful for as it meant you couldn’t dwell on your break up. Even if you weren’t busy with your club duties, the team would provide a distraction. Atsumu and Osamu argued more as third years, the influences of Kita, Aran and the others no longer there to calm them down. Suna was no help, urging them on whenever he could and then documenting the whole affair on his phone to send photos and videos to Kita and Aran later. To be fair, you did little to break it up either, preferring to let them work out their anger. It worked, though Kita insisted there was a better way. If he wanted to come back to Inarizaki and deal with them, he could.

The sound of your phone ringing sent you running back up the stairs, dodging out of the way of a parent that had just emerged from the bathroom. Suna’s name flashed on the screen, and you accepted the call, perching on the edge of the bed.

“I guess we fell asleep on call,” he laughed, his voice rough from having just woken up. “Your phone died, didn’t it?”

“Of course it did, idiot,” you sighed. “Why didn’t you hang up once I’d fallen asleep? You usually do.”

“You sounded cute,” he admitted, glad you could not see the flush that dusted his cheeks. “Plus, I figured you would be smart enough to have it plugged in if I was.”

“Not a valid excuse,” you quipped, resting your head in the palm of your hand. With a laugh, you said, “I panicked this morning thinking I would be late. The coaches wanted me to meet with them before class. You don’t know how pleased I was when I walked down the stairs to see I still had a while before I had to leave the house.”

“Sorry about that,” he muttered sheepishly before clearing his throat. “Is it charged now?”

You glanced down at your phone screen. “It’s at about 20% so it’s probably not going to last the whole day.”

“You can use mine if you need to. It is kind of my fault after all.”

“Kind of?” you questioned, humour in your tone. “Don’t worry though. It should be fine if I leave it off until I need to use it.”

“Just let me know if you need to borrow it, okay?” he insisted. “We have late practice.”

“Yeah, I know, got to make sure you lot are prepared for nationals. No losing to Karasuno this year.”

“Mmhm,” he hummed. “I’ll walk you home, alright?”

“Don’t worry about it, Rin,” you said. “My phone will last till then. Plus, you’ll be tired after practice. I’d be a bad manager if I didn’t make you go straight home to eat.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” he argued. “Besides, I can just eat at your house. Your parents say that I’m always welcome.”

“But then you’ll be going home too late. Won’t your mum be worried?”

“She’ll be fine. I usually stay out late, or are you forgetting the nights I’ve snuck over to yours and we’ve gone on midnight walks?”

“Fine,” you sighed, letting him win this time. “Don’t complain to me if you’re tired at school tomorrow.”

“When am I not half-asleep?”

“I’ll see you at school, Rin.”

“See you.”

There was no arguing with Suna over things like this. He was stubborn to a fault when it came to your safety. You might have been able to convince him to head straight home if your phone was fully charged. When that was the case, he insisted on staying on the phone with you the whole way, not feeling comfortable at the thought of you walking home alone in the dark. Suna wasn’t overbearing. If you honestly didn’t want him walking you home or calling you, he wouldn’t so long as you messaged him when you got home. But, you liked talking to him. That was the simple truth. You enjoyed spending time with Suna, and enjoyed talking to him. It was only Suna who wanted something more.

“So,” asked Atsumu, slinging an arm over Suna’s shoulder yanking him closer, “when are ya goin' to tell her?”

“Tell who?” asked Osamu. The look Suna shot him made him nod his head in realisation. “Ah, y/n… Wait, tell her? What happened to just showin’ her how you feel?”

“If that was going to work, it would’ve already,” said Atsumu, puffing out his chest proudly. “As Suna and I discussed, comin' clean and confessing is the best way forward.”

“I hate to say it, but he had a point Samu,” agreed Suna, sliding out from under Atsumu’s arm. “Anyway, I’m not going to tell her anytime soon. She’s had enough to deal with. She doesn’t need her best friend confessing to her straight after a rough break up. It’s almost nationals time as well. Confessing might throw off the team dynamic and I don’t want to ruin that.”

“I think you’re just being a pussy,” declared Atsumu, lips quirking upwards in a teasing smirk.

“I think you’re being smart,” said Osamu. “Wait until the best time.”

All Suna had done, was continuing to do, was wait. However, he made a concerted effort to be there for you more often, being the shoulder you would lean on for support. Unknown to you consciously, a part of you had begun to reciprocate Suna’s feelings. On occasion, it would be you who would reach out for him, locking your pinkies together and sharing a secret smile across the lunch table.

Over the course of the next few months, there were many late night phone calls, which quickly transformed into video chats. He listened to you, helped you work through the residual feelings from your break up. Being cheated on had left you feeling inferior, and Suna had been there to build you back up.

One day, you turned to face your friend Reo, hardly believing the words that fell from your lips. “Tell me honestly. Do you think I’m falling for another volleyball player?”

“Another one?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow. Then, the realisation finally seemed to hit her and she let out a gasp. “Suna?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, resting your chin on top of your open palm. “Am I just projecting? Do I really have feelings for him or am I just craving that kind of emotional connection with someone? Plus, it’s Suna. He’s my best friend.”

“Is that all he is to you, though?” she questioned, studying you. “I know he’s your best friend, but I am too. Who did you seek comfort from after your break up? Who do you fall asleep with over the phone every night? Did you ever act the same with people you were in a relationship with that you do with Suna? I mean, I know you haven’t kissed him or anything but you are more physically affectionate and open with him than people you’ve been in a relationship with. I know you’re going to be stubborn about this, say that’s just how you’ve always been, but I want you to think about how you treat each other. If you want my honest opinion, I’d say the feelings have always been there, especially on Suna’s part.”

You blinked at Reo, taking in what she was saying. It made you contemplate, think back on specific moments in your friendship with Suna where it was possible you had crossed some invisible line that you weren’t supposed to. But every moment with Suna felt so natural you couldn’t pinpoint where the line would be, let alone when you would have crossed it. It became clear to you then. You had feelings for Suna Rintaro. There went your vow to never date another volleyball player again.

If only Suna had realised you had made this realisation already. He could have stopped planning out how to confess to you with Osamu and Atsumu, their idea involving him reducing his contact with you until everything was prepared. That fact itself was easier said than done, and they couldn’t control what he did in the quiet of his home (which was find any excuse to phone you and talk to you).

That night, he asked you, “Can you be ready for one in the afternoon tomorrow? I have something planned that I hope you’ll like.”

“Sure,” you agreed. “I have something I want to say to you as well.”

He felt anxiety grip him at your statement, fearing the worst. His fingers tightened around the phone, his breath catching in his throat. You could hear his struggle through the phone and reassured, “Don’t worry. It’s nothing bad, at least I hope you don’t think it is. I’ve just finally realised something and want to tell you in person.”

"Okay," he breathed, though the knot of anxiety in his chest didn't loosen. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good sleep. Love you."

"Night, Rin," you replied, feeling your heart flutter slightly at his words. The words had been said before in passing, but always with Suna firmly placed as a friend. "Love you too."

At one the next day, you were sat waiting for him on your front step, fiddling with your phone in your hands. You had just spoken to Reo for advice, her words soothing your nerves. She had told you it was clear that Suna wanted to admit something too, and, for some reason, having that knowledge outlined for you by another put you at ease.

Seeing him approaching, you rose from your seated position, gesturing for him to wait for you on the pavement. Suna came to a stop, holding out his arms for a hug. You were quick to relax into his hold, arms giving his own waist a squeeze before letting go. Smiling up at him with unusual silence, you asked, “Can I tell you something before we go? I just think you deserve to know.”

He hesitated. A part of him was curious, wanted to know, but the rest of him feared that your news would ruin what he had planned. Suna wanted to confess to you before you revealed whatever you had realised. “Um, can I show you what I planned first? It’s kind of important.”

You raised an eyebrow, wondering how it could be so important that he didn’t want to hear what you said. At the nervous look in his eyes, you took his hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Still holding his hand, you pulled him after you, moving with confidence though you had no idea what direction Suna wanted to take you in. He pulled you to a stop, shooting you a smirk. “Wrong way, idiot.”

“It’s not like I can read your mind,” you sighed, throwing your arms up in exasperation. You gave him a grin. “Want to take the lead?”

“With pleasure,” he said, choosing to release his hold on your hand and drape his arm over your shoulder. In response, your own wrapped around his waist and you fell into step beside him.

The sight that greeted you was unexpected and took your breath away. It was oddly beautiful in a simple way, something no one had ever thought to put together for you before, despite its relative simplicity. You looked up at him, mouth dropping open in shock and disbelief. “You really went through the trouble of setting up a picnic for me?”

“Well, yeah,” he replied. “You said you always wanted to go on a picnic with someone you love. I figured I counted at least a little bit.”

“You definitely count,” you said, giving him a slight nudge with your elbow. “I’d probably rather do this with you anyway. On another note, who made the food? Because you can’t cook for shit.”

“Osamu might have helped a little bit.”

“Just a little bit?” you teased, smirking up at him.

“Maybe more than a little bit, but that doesn’t matter.”

“Whatever you say, Rin,” you grinned, wandering over to sit on the blanket. He sank onto the floor beside you, leaning his side against your own. You relaxed against his warmth, letting your head drop against his shoulder. His own head dropped to rest against yours, his hand reaching out to hold yours, tangling your fingers together.

For a moment, you sat in silence, cherishing just being together. Suna cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Before we eat, I have something to say to you. Can you promise whatever I say to you won’t change what we have right now?”

You looked up at him with concern. “I promise.”

Suna drew in a deep breath, releasing your hand and moving to sit in front of you. You let yourself miss the warmth of his body pressed against you, knotting your fingers together as you allowed your eyes to meet his. The hesitation in his face was clear, and you reached forward, resting a hand on his knee.

“Just tell me,” you reassured, smiling at him softly. “Nothing can change how I feel about you.”

“Okay,” he sighed, reaching forward, and clasping the hand you had rested on your knee. In that moment, he went for the bluntest approach. “I have feelings for you.”

You blinked over at him in shock, your grip on his hand tightening. That hadn’t been what you were expecting to hear, but hearing the words made your heart flutter. It made it so much easier to admit what you had finally realised. “I have feelings for you too.”

“Wait, you do?” said Suna, eyes widening in shock. This was far more than he could have hoped for. You nodded slowly, unable to help the own smile that pulled at your lips in response to his own.

Suna moved closer to you, letting his hand come up to rest against your face. He cupped it carefully, his thumb brushing against your cheek. Slowly, giving you the option to pull away he leaned in, only to let out a small gasp in shock when your hands gripped his top and pulled him towards you, pressing your lips against his. His hands slipped into your hair, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, letting out a low groan of satisfaction at the feel of your hands slipping under the material of his top and rest against his bare skin.

“Fuck,” he breathed, pulling away to rest his forehead against your own. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that for.”

“Hope it was worth it,” you giggled, leaning forward to brush your lips against his. He captured your lips once again, kissing you softly, delicately.

“More than worth it,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap. You fell into his chest, ear pressed against his beating heart. It was still racing now, even though you had accepted his advances. You lifted your head up, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“Want to eat the food Samu made now?” you questioned, turning in his hold and resting your back against his chest. His stomach let out a low grumble. You leaned forward, grabbing a plate of food and letting out a giggle. “I suppose I’ll take that as an answer then.”

[corvusravenette]

FanFiction: Qi Ye

Title: I Thought of You and Yet You Came Based on Original Work: Qi Ye || Lord Seventh Author: Priest Genre: BL Warning: Gore and Violence Rate: Teen / Young adults Pairing: M/M (Wu Xi + Beiyuan) Chapter: 3 of 5

*This has been sitting in my drafts along with the rest of the chapters for a good month! Have you ever written fics - and then start new fics - and completely forgot you have drafts you should’ve uploaded? Yeah. Me.

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          Wu Xi swore to himself, if… if his beloved lived on through this night… he would force-feed him all the foundation building pills he could find. That grim almost humorless thought sank deep in his heart, taking root as he scolded the dying man in front of him in his head. This is what you get for not taking care of yourself! Now look what you’ve gotten yourself into! If you weren’t such a lazy bout, you wouldn’t have been this… badly injured… Wu Xi’s hands stilled as the voice reprimanding Beiyuan in his head immediately quietened.           “Bei..yuan?” he whispered, gingerly holding two fingers to the pulse on his neck. “Nuahar! Ashinlae! Quickly get in here!”  

         The two men standing guard outside rushed in at the frantic command. They quickly lifted the Prince’s body into a sitting lotus position as the Great Shaman sat behind him, his hands deftly moving in a circular pattern. A very pale light blue force could be seen visibly distorting the air underneath the Great Shaman’s palm as he placed them on Beiyuan’s shoulder blades, channeling his qi into him, forcing it to protect his failing heart. Sweat dotted his forehead, and his vision swayed but Wu Xi kept this momentum up until yèbàn broke into the jī míng hours of the morning, holding stubbornly onto Beiyuan’s dimming life force.          He collapsed into Nuahar’s frightened arms as the latter watched the Shaman’s ghastly pale complexion from energy lost, unable to keep going. The Prince spat out a mouthful of stagnant blood following the sudden energy surge and Ashinlae who was staying the Prince in his lotus position quickly tapped on his meridians to allow the Prince to breathe better. He exchanged a look with Nuahar, his eyes red-rimmed from fear and exhaustion.

         Carefully, the two men position both their exhausted leader and his beloved flat on the bed, lifting the blanket to cover them both. The smell of blood pungent in the air. Their hearts dared not hope that the worse of the Prince’s injury was elevated for now. There was no sense in false beliefs. They knew he was not out of the woods yet. The deep cut on his chest was bound to be infected and the massive blood loss he experienced would set off a fiery fever. It would be a matter of time and it would be another long fight to keep him bound on this earth.          Nuahar left to brew energy boosting tonic for his leader to take when he awakened, and called upon Ping An to look after them as they slept. The young man who had followed the Prince Nanning since he was six years old nodded in solemn understanding and stood by the bed in wait, his heart breaking as it had never before.

         “Prince, if you died, what would have become of your household and your servants? Who would look after us? Who… Who would argue with me over small things? Please… please stay alive my lord,” Ping An whispered, rubbing the tears in his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

         Ashinlae, who had resumed his post as guard by the bedroom entrance, overheard this lament and understood the overwhelming grief in the servant’s voice. To them, if the Prince left their leader, the heartbreak would be unbearable. The latter would be a shell of his own self, incomplete and forever punished to live a life in solitude – waiting for the day he died to be reunited again with his beloved on the Yellow Spring Road. The Prince, after all, was the receiver of the Great Shaman’s heirloom, the inconspicuous jade ring that was hanging around his neck even now. In this lifetime, it could only be given to one person – they all knew the significance and level of devotion attached to the ring.          He couldn’t bear the thought, curling his hand into a fist, Ashinlae stepped away from his post to get a grip on himself. They were not completely safe yet. If Nanjiang lost their Great Shaman, it would be akin to losing the very foundation of their beliefs. He was the chosen messenger of God, the one who would lead their people into glory and prosperity. Ashinlae knew deep down in his heart, if the Prince left this world… their leader will follow suit soon after…

+-+-+-+-+-          Wu Xi…

         A voice so soft, so fleeting was whispering his name, urging him to wake. Jerking from his sleeping position, Wu Xi sat up quickly, his head spinning from the sudden vertigo and his hand quickly came up to support the side of his head to numb the discomfort. Realising something, he snapped his head to the side, almost wanting to heave in relieve to see the man lying next to him was in the flesh and not an illusion… but that sensation didn’t last very long.          As though in tandem, the door opened to let Nuahar in, bringing a bowl that smells like a very pungent tonic. Recognising it for what it was, Wu Xi grabbed it quickly and downed the contents almost without blinking. He was used to this; he would experiment medicines on himself without hesitation. It would take a while before the familiar tonic kicks in and he would be able to function better. Nearly cursing his body for its slow recovery, Wu Xi handed the bowl back to Nuahar and turned his body over to better check on the man who was lying in the inside of the bed.          Looking out the open window, he surmised that it was probably the second half of jī míng. He must have collapsed after channeling his qi into Beiyuan earlier, but he could not afford sleep at this critical juncture. Pressing sure fingers into the man’s wrist, Wu Xi counted the pulse to a hundred. It was there, but it was feeble and irregular. He then methodically untied the man’s chemise to expose the bandages covering his chest.          “Nuahar: two buckets of hot water, fresh bandages, linens, towels, the red bottles with the purple ribbons, and ask Ashinlae to wake the servants and purchase this list of herbs from the apothecaries. Wake the owners up, bring my token,” Wu Xi recited very clinically, almost coldly, as he scribbled down the list of herbs he needed as if the person lying next to him was not his beloved but a regular comatose patient in need of urgent treatment, “Ping An, new robes, none of the frilly multi-layered ones, but thick enough so your Master doesn’t catch his death in this cold. I also need woolen blankets,”

         Ping An wanted to protest the inauspicious way the Great Shaman was calling for death but the look Nuahar gave him shut him up very quickly. Nodding, and swallowing his grief, Ping An quickly left to fetch the clothes and blankets he was requested of. Nuahar gave the list to Ashinlae who took off hurriedly without a word with a few servants to run the errand whilst Nuahar went off to boil hot water and grab the items the Great Shaman had tasked him with.          Less than half a shichen later, Nuahar came back to the Great Shaman’s quarters carrying the items in question. He was met with silent acknowledgment as the latter looked up, his obsidian eyes unblinking. It was unnerving to be the subject of that impossibly deep stare and Nuahar found his movements to have gone rigid before Wu Xi turned his attention to the bucket of hot water by his feet.

         Taking off his outer robe, the same one he had worn for days now, Wu Xi rolled the inner chemise sleeves up to his elbow, tucking in the ends securely before submerging both arms in one of the buckets of hot water Nuahar brought in. The warrior was now acting as his medical assistant, handing over what smelled like medicinal soap and watched as the Great Shaman began scrubbing his fingers and hands meticulously with the soap, making sure that his hands were absolutely clean before redressing Beiyuan’s wounds lest he risked another bout of infection.           Taking a clean towel from the rack near the bed, Wu Xi wiped his hands dry, took a deep breath and swallowed hard as his hands made quick practiced movements to completely strip Beiyuan of his upper chemise. Gently uncoiling the multi layered bandages now soaked with overnight blood, Wu Xi bit his lower lip from trembling, forcing himself to focus before pulling the last of the bandages away from his Prince’s chest. The deepest wound on his chest had begun to fester; yellow pus stuck to the bandage as it was taken off, dripping slowly out of the hastily sutured wound. 

         Wu Xi was afraid of this, no matter how quickly he had stitched and disinfected the wound on that damnable day, the rain had made his worst prediction come true. He looked up to Nuahar who, as though had read his mind before he even opened his mouth, handed him a very thin knife that had been held in the candle by the medicine table.           Holding his hand steady, Wu Xi began the arduous task of reopening the wound, unstitching his handiwork thread by thread. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed Nuahar had begun scrubbing his hands, pouring hot water over them – mimicking his earlier movements. In his hearts of hearts, he would remember the sacrifices of this warrior who became his everything in his time of need. Him and Ashinlae would be rewarded with the highest of orders when they returned to Nanjiang.          Focusing on the task in front of him, Wu Xi instructed his makeshift medical assistant to use fresh linens to press down on the blood bubbling up front the now reopened wound - his voice cold, bordering on apathy, almost mechanical without any emotional fluctuations. Without saying a word, Wu Xi sliced off the festering dead flesh in clean neat ribbons, deep red blood dripping on to the bedsheet and into a waiting basin where he deftly tossed the rotten flesh and blood-soaked linens in. He then carefully cut small nicks into the fresh wound to stimulate regrowth.          Reaching over to the table again, Wu Xi picked up his little hook needle and held it under the candle to sterilise it before sewing Beiyuan’s flesh closed once again: neatly, carefully this time, making sure he did not leave any room for new infections to grow. Once he was satisfied with the new sutures, Wu Xi washed his hands and grabbed another linen, soaked it in hot water and squeezed whatever excess water it had before wiping the blood on Beiyuan’s chest clean. Making sure that the wound was sewn tightly, he uncorked three of the small bottles and deftly poured the purple liquid generously over the fresh stitches, ensuring that it was now freshly disinfected and sealed.

         Wiping his sweaty forehead across his sleeve, Wu Xi reached last for the bandages on his side, and carefully began the slow process of wrapping Beiyuan’s chest and abdomen tightly, tying the edges into secure knots by the Prince’s shoulders. Standing up after what seemed like a long time, Wu Xi stumbled a little, realizing belatedly that he had not eaten since returning from the battlefield.          Beiyuan was still not out of harm’s way and he refused to leave his side lest the Emperor decided to hasten his way here. That would not be ideal at all, in fact that would turn into a bloodbath on its own indeed. He would never let Beiyuan out of his view ever again. Turning around, his eyes caught sight of the large basin filled with the blood-soaked linens and the decaying flesh he had shorn off Beiyuan’s chest.          An idea had begun forming in his head. Swiftly looking for the outer chemise Beiyuan wore on the battlefield, and finding the torn garment haphazardly tossed to the side, he rummaged through the inner pockets and pulled out a blood-stained cloth, almost unrecognizable if not for the embroidered initials in one of its corners. The initials of the Prince, a small Osmanthus flower with the emblem unique to the Prince’s household was delicately stitched in light golden threads.

         Grimly, Wu Xi carried the bloodied cloth to the basin filled with Beiyuan’s blood and pushed it in, soaking in every last bit of fresh blood, staining the already browning cloth with deeper darker red. Not waiting to wash his hands off again this time, Wu Xi pulled on his outer robes, his appearance not any better than when he had reached Beiyuan by the waterfall.          He hadn’t the time to bother with appearances. It had all been occupied by his beloved. His braided hair was pulled into a high ponytail secured with a leather cord, his outer robe unfastened, exposing the inner chemise freshly stained with Beiyuan’s blood; his very being holding the stench of overwhelming death about him. Nuahar didn’t stop him, he eyed the handkerchief in his Shaman’s grip and knew where he was headed… the Imperial Palace.

         “GET ME MY HORSE NOW!” Wu Xi barked the order as he stepped over the threshold of his quarters. One of the guarding warriors quickly untied the black stallion waiting outside of the gates and brought it into the Great Shaman’s compound. No one wanted to be on their leader’s bad side at this moment.

         “Nuahar, when Ashinlae gets back with the medicines, divide the packages into seven equal parts, boil the first set on low heat – don’t burn it – and add three drops of the contents of this bottle, no more than three drops! His body might not withstand the effects. Then get him to find Master Zhou. Tell him, it’s time,” Wu Xi instructed rapidly as Nuahar followed him out into the compound.

         “But… Great Shaman… this is… this is the venom of the Manchurian scorpion?” Nuahar implored uneasily, recognizing the small yellow jade bottle in his hand. He had seen the potency of this venom first-hand.His uneasy tone was met with a sharp cutting gaze from the Great Shaman.            “You dare question me?” Wu Xi growled in a low tone, his patience clearly running on fumes and the warrior before him immediately took a step back and knelt very quickly on one knee to the ground, a hand clenched above his heart.          “I don’t dare, Great Shaman! Forgive my insolence!” Nuahar replied, realizing belatedly that he had misspoken out of turn. Who was he to question the Chosen Messenger of God? How dare he indeed, “I will follow your instructions to the letter!”          Wu Xi gave him a sidelong look and turned on his heels, quickly making his way to his waiting ride. Lifting a foot into the leather stirrup, he hoisted himself up into the saddle and immediately pulled the reins towards the gates, the bloodied handkerchief warm and wet in his hand – as though he was carrying a pulsing heart – before tucking it safely in the lapels of his inner robe. Pressing the heel of his boot into the horse’s girth, his black stallion neighed and reared on its hind legs, before thumping down and galloping away onto the still empty streets.          As though aware of its master’s urgency, the stallion charged forward, straining the strong muscles of its legs as much as it could. The cold dawn wind whipped bitingly against Wu Xi’s face, it wasn’t sunrise yet, but the horizon had lightened a little as he made the mad rush to the Imperial Palace – partially because he wanted to get this deed done and over with, and partially because Beiyuan still had one foot firmly secured in the netherworld and he didn’t want to be too far apart from him lest the grim reapers beckoned his beloved away while he wasn’t there.          Reaching the outer gates of the Imperial Palace, and immediately recognizable by the unique silver adornments on the stallion’s armored forehead and the thick black robes of the Great Shaman who drove the fear of God into the hearts of the Vakurah warriors and the Great Qing soldiers alike, the guards stepped aside swiftly to let the now famed Great Shaman enter freely into the imperial grounds.          Pulling in the reins, his stallion slowed down and trotted a few circles before it neighed lightly to a stop in the vast outer courtyard of the Imperial Palace. He wasn’t surprised the least when the palace guards immediately descended upon him. He knew from Zhou Zishu’s visit the night before that the palace guards likely had orders to wait for him. They quickly approached him: one helped steady his ride, and another quickly leading him forward – climbing the many steps of the Imperial Palace towards the Emperor’s inner courtyard.          The Emperor’s own personal attendant, Yu Kui, received him anxiously, relief evident on his face when he saw the Great Shaman’s powerful long strides making his way towards him, but quickly the uplifted mood turned somber when he realised the state of the Great Shaman’s bloodied clothes. It was clear that the latter had not changed from the battlefield at all. His heart sunk in trepidation, already predicting the outcome of this visit. Swallowing the thought down in his throat, he gestured hurriedly to Wu Xi to follow him. “Your Majesty, the Great Shaman returned!” “Invite him over, quick!”

         Wu Xi had followed Yu Kui in and could clearly hear the bellow from the inner chambers. His eyes took note of the line of imperial doctors and other eunuchs-in-waiting outside of the Emperor’s chambers: the anxiety and nervousness in their body languages, and how they averted their gazes when he bore his own challenging ones down on them.          Entering the vast chamber, Wu Xi kept his eyes aimed straight at the monarch, and the words he wanted to say died in his throat at the sight of the disheveled Emperor. This was the claimed Son of Heavens, the chosen one of their Gods. Yet, at this moment, he looked no better than a man drowning in water, his features pale and ghastly, his complexion waning. He was thinner than Wu Xi remembered – majestic still – but somewhat less of the impression he had of him before.          He saw the Emperor; no, he saw a man struggling to admit his forbidden love, the bitter desperation in his eyes evident, yet he made no claims on his beloved; that for a split second, Wu Xi knew his decision to take away Beiyuan had been right. There was never going to be anything between them yet this man in front of him was showing possessiveness over another he had not had the courage to fight for openly.          If you loved him, you should’ve fought me for him. You should’ve shown him. You should’ve chased him, stopped him, shielded him, protected him, made him yours openly. Yet, you did none of those but you have the audacity to want to claim his life. Your own need for power and control overcame any love you have for him. You do not love him as much I do. Wu Xi disgustedly thought ro himself. He no longer had no patience left to deal with this half-assed man in front of him. He wanted to leave as quickly as he had come.

         Without saying a word, he took out the small bloodied handkerchief out of his lapels and watched as the Emperor’s eyes widened, his entire body frozen, his breathing hitching as the latter’s gaze fell on his hand. Wu Xi had not washed the blood off his hands, and he knew the Emperor had seen his bloodied state when he entered, smelled the stench of blood on him as he drew closer. He watched unblinkingly as Helian Yi continued to stare at the handkerchief in a daze, only after a long while later did he moved stiffly to reach out and take the handkerchief out of his hand and into his own palms.

         “Where is he?” Wu Xi heard him demand in a hoarse voice as the Emperor lifted large maddening eyes towards him. Of this, Wu Xi shook his head mutedly, neither confirming nor denying anything.          “We… want to see him if he’s alive, his corpse if he’s dead! Someone! Come here!” the Emperor bellowed hysterically, almost dementedly.          Wu Xi stared at him fixedly, unblinkingly, apathetically. His decision had been right. There was no way this man could be allowed to know the Beiyuan was still with him. He would not allow it in this lifetime or any other lifetimes. As the imperial doctors and attendants hurried into the room, Wu Xi turned around, ignoring the Emperor’s words amidst the chaos and left without saying anymore lest his face betrayed his own revulsion of the man.           He knew that this would not be the last time he had to deal with the Rongjia Emperor... CLICK HERE: [1] [2] [3] [4]

[nellied-reviews]

The Sound and the Fury Re-listen

Well, I've reached episode 7 in my Wolf 359 re-listen, which means it's time for:

The Sound and the Fury

In which Hera and Minkowski are fighting, Eiffel gets caught in the middle, and Hilbert just wants them all to submit to the biologically superior will of the Blessed Eternal.

Straight up, I should probably admit that I forgot about this episode, or rather I didn't link the episode title to the episode's events until I was listening to it. And then I was like "oh, yeah, this is that episode" all the way through. For whatever reason, I thought, in particular, that the plant monster didn't come back until Season 2, with The Paranoia Game. That said, I love the plant monster to a possibly unreasonable degree, so its return here was more than welcome, and the rest of the episode was also fun!

We open in the middle of an argument - and for once, it's not Eiffel's fault. In fact, Eiffel isn't even involved, except insofar as he's trapped in the middle between Hera and Minkowski, and is forced to be the voice of reason as the two of them have it out. 

And look, that is always going to be a funny set-up. Hera and Minkowski are both incredibly stubborn personalities, and not at all shy about asserting their opinions, so there's definitely potential for a comically drawn-out, petty argument there. And casting Eiffel as the reasonable, level-headed peacekeeper, in contrast to the two of them, is perfect. It's in character - Eiffel always has been the most pacifist crew member - but it's also a role he's just totally unsuited to, because faced with the combined stubbornness of Hera and Minkowski, he's outmatched, and he knows it.

In an effort not to get involved, then, Eiffel briefly runs through the week's schedule, in a section that isn't really linked to the rest of the episode, but is full of little oddities that remind us just how weird the Hephaestus is. They have a compulsory chess tournament that Hilbert always wins. They have movie night, but only a VHS of Home Alone 2. "On Friday we'll have mustard." It's so weird, and I love it.

We're interrupted, at this point, by Hilbert, who sounds very strange, even for him. And naturally, Eiffel ignores it completely at first, focussed as he is on the unfolding Hera-Minkowski conflict. I've said it before, but I'll say it again, for such a pop culture-savvy guy, Eiffel falls into literally every horror movie cliché. He's so oblivious!

For the rest of us, it's obvious that something's wrong, and our suspicions are confirmed when we learn over the course of his conversation with Eiffel that Hilbert went looking for the plant monster, which now seems to be mind-controlling him, to the point where he's convinced that it's "the most evolutionarily competitive lifeform on this station, the most deserving of life."

And okay, I love the plant monster, but that's very alarming, and is made even more so by the fact that it's something that Hilbert might conceivably have said anyway? I mean, it's cold and Darwinistic and smacks of eugenics, yes, but it also has a callous ruthlessness to it that's totally Hilbert's style, as well as that trademark lack of concern for human life. It's like the plant monster just exaggerated what was already there, turned the mad scientist dial up to eleven. In other words, it made Hilbert even more Hilbert-y.

Luckily, Eiffel realises soon enough that something's wrong, and goes to warn Minkowski. Minkowski, being a mature, rational individual, immediately drops her argument with Hera and goes to - oh, wait, no, she does basically the opposite of that, ignoring Eiffel in favour of continuing her argument with Hera. Great. Good job, Commander.

It's at this point, of course, that we finally learn exactly what Minkowski and Hera are arguing about. And is it petty. Turns out, Minkowski wants Hera to submit reports on the various systems she runs around the station in case there's an emergency, but also just because Minkowski wants to know what's going on behind the scenes. We don't get to hear Hera's side of things just yet, but already, we can see the irony in Minkowski's arguments. Sure, she wants to be better appraised of everything going on onboard the Hephaestus in case of an emergency - but her stubbornness here means she's missing the emergency that's unfolding right under her nose!

Eiffel's attempts to make her see sense don't really help either, at this juncture. Instead, they just get him dragged into Minkowski and Hera's argument. Which I'm sure is that last thing he wants, because those two play dirty. First Minkowski pressures him into saying, to Hera's face, that he doesn't think AIs should be trusted. And then Hera, angry, plays Eiffel's words from earlier back to Minkowski, twisting what he said around so that both parties are angry at him. As a result, Eiffel ends up walking an impossibly thin line, trying to appease both of his friends, while keeping himself out of their argument as best he can and while getting increasingly frustrated with the both of them. It's a painfully awkward situation, and I genuinely feel sorry for him.

That said, the argument that then plays out is fascinating to me, because I think it shines a really interesting light on the power dynamics onboard the Hephaestus, putting the focus on Hera and Minkowski's relationship in a way that we haven't really seen before. Up until now, after all, they seem to have worked in tandem pretty well, with Minkowski giving orders and Hera carrying them out. Here, for the first time, we see a tension between them, stemming from the fact that Minkowski, as the commanding officer, nominally has the most power onboard the Hephaestus, while Hera, as the ship's AI, probably actually has the most power, between her vast sensory array, her huge databanks, and her literally running the entire Hephaestus. Yes, Minkowski is technically in charge, purely by virtue of her being a human. But Hera, on a day-to-day basis, is actually more crucial to their ongoing mission - even though, as an AI, she doesn't get to hold an official ranking position.

That's possibly why Hera takes Eiffel's well-meaning dismissal ("It's just her programming") so personally. It's a reminder of her different, subordinate status, and it reeks of a double standard - she's right that nobody would think to blame a human's erratic behaviours on their biology. That would be patronising, right? As much as Eiffel means well, writing Hera's reactions off as mere programming strips her of her agency - something that comes up again and again in her character arc. How much is Hera responsible for her actions, if she can also be programmed to act a certain way? In what ways has she been "made" a certain way, against her will? And how can she best deal with that while still retaining a sense of agency and control over her life and identity?  They're big, complicated questions, and we're only really scratching the surface here, but I do think it's a solid foundation for later developments. At the very least, we get the impression that Hera doesn't like to be reduced to her programming - and rightly so, I suspect. To some extent, at least, she is more than just the code that she is made of, just like humans are more than the sum of their biology. And that's a good thing to be establishing now, buried in the middle of a relatively low-stakes argument, before the more plotty stuff kicks off later on in the show.

And of course, it also bleeds into Hera and Minkowski's argument, which really picks up steam at this point, after an impassioned but ultimately futile speech from Eiffel about how it's a stupid fight to begin with and how making him pick sides is dumb and unfair. Hera, ignoring this, accuses Minkowski of feeling threatened by the big, powerful AI. That, for Hera, is why Minkowski is micromanaging her. It's because she's a typical human, insecure about an AI having more power than her.

Hera's point is almost immediately complicated by Minkowski, who rightly points out that the issue, for her, isn't that Hera's an AI. It's that Hera' unreliable. She keeps breaking down and glitching, and so the crew keep experiencing emergencies that could maybe be avoided if Hera would just give Minkowski the reports she wants. We've seen Hera break down as recently as last episode, and so this does kind of ring true, even if the way that Minkowski brings up Hera' vocal glitching feels like a bit of a low blow.

Both of them, then, have a point, and I think it's also worth noting that it's also, as Minkowski points out to Eiffel, a question of protocol. Whether Hera likes it or not, Minkowski is, technically, her commanding officer, and should be able to just give her commands and demand reports from her. Refusing to do so undermines Minkowski's authority. That said, Hera didn't exactly have a choice when it came to joining whatever weird sort-of military thing Goddard has going on. She never signed up for the whole "commanding officer" thing, so why should she obey Minkowski? Because she's programmed to?

It's messy, grey situation, with no clear answers, and it's worth noting that the argument doesn't really get resolved. Neither Minkowski nor Hera back down at any point. Instead, a combination of Eiffel calling them out for being childish and Hilbert attempting a coup snaps them out of it, reminding them that they have bigger problems right now. There is a time and a place for the discussion they were having. But that time is not now, and so they decide, without really discussing it, to set aside their grievances. It's not that their respective opinions aren't valid. But keeping each other (and the rest of the crew) safe comes first, and so they bond over being annoyed at Eiffel, and they set off to save Hilbert. It's sweet, in a way, and I like how quickly they both just get on with it. And Eiffel's dejected resignation at the end is the cherry on top. Bless him.

And so we get to the end of an episode that, while it's reliably funny, also gives us an outline of the main points in an argument that we probably should have seen coming. It's yet another example of how stress and tension can easily build up in the contained, isolated atmosphere of the Hephaestus - only this time, we don't get Eiffel cracking and hoarding toothpaste, we get Hera and Minkowski cracking and unleashing the titular sound and fury. The points raised get us thinking, in particular, about Hera's status, as an AI, but also just as a member of the Hephaestus' crew. Eiffel, meanwhile, is forced into a responsible, mediating role that he is neither comfortable in nor particularly good at. And at the end of the day, we're reassured that Minkowski and Hera do, at least, have their priorities straight. Arguing over reports is fine and dandy, but it's not worth getting killed over.

And of course, perhaps most excitingly, the plant monster returns. Surrender your flesh, and feed your new master :)

 Miscellaneous thoughts:

It doesn't escape my attention that this is the second title that's a Shakespeare reference. Keeping it classy there, Doug

"Umm... that's all it says for Friday."

The schedule bit is basically the Night Vale Community Calendar segment, but in space

Hilbert's voice in this is sooo weird and dull and creepy ugh

I know the science of it isn't really the focus here, and I'm 100% down with that, but also how does a plant mind control people?!? I want to know!

"Our operating system is a tin-headed, insubordinate, feckless fool!"

"Sit your Swiss ass down, and take a side, Doug."

Aww, Eiffel just sounds so confused and stressed-out by the whole situation :(

And finally we get the obvious Little Shop of Horrors plant monster joke :)

I didn't go into much detail about Eiffel in this, but his speech where he finally gets them to shut up and work together again is also great and I love it jsyk

"Shut up, Plant-Hilbert." Bwahahahaha.

[imagine-loki]

Greatest Fears

TITLE: Greatest Fears CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 3 of 3 AUTHOR: MaliceManaged ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s wife suffering a terrible nightmare and him soothing her after it. RATING: T? Probably? I mean, if you got this far, you should be fine. NOTES/WARNINGS: This is an older fic. I meant to post it here when this imagine popped up, and then completely forgot to because I am great at planning. Since I’m going through my files trying to rekindle the muse, I figured I might as well post it now, y'know? XD

I… forgot to submit this chapter. I have failed this city.

__________________

    After the initial shock and bemusement over the news that she now had a personal slave in Amora had waned; Samantha had smacked Loki upside the head for being so rash, kissed him for his intent to defend her, and then punched Amora hard enough to knock her to the floor for messing with her head. Loki was surprised at that last one, as she had never been one very prone to physical violence; he inwardly decided that Amora’s torment would be even worse now for rattling his wife that much.

      “I really must say, Sam; rage is a… surprisingly good look on you…” Loki practically purred; wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and drawing her earlobe between his teeth, tugging it slightly, before kissing his way down to her neck, “Perhaps we could put it to more… productive use…”

      His intentions were two-fold: He did want to calm her; as long as he’d known her she had been very self-conscious about her superhuman strength, and he knew that she would feel terrible about herself later if he let her lash out like that again. But there was also a part of him that wanted to flaunt his very healthy marriage in front of Amora, to further drive home her failure.

      Samantha pulled away from him slightly. “This is hardly the time,” she replied and looked pointedly towards Amora, who was watching them with a mixture of anger and disgust as she got back to her feet.

      Loki scoffed. “You didn’t seem to mind when I took you in that very public park in Midgard last year.”

      “That was different,” Samantha said quickly, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, “Nobody saw that.”

      “Or maybe you were just too preoccupied to notice,” Loki teased.

      “By the Norns; you are depraved,” Amora spat, looking very much like she might throw up.

      Loki laughed darkly. “You don’t know the half of it.” He grinned menacingly. “Yet…”

      “Out,” Samantha ordered, nodding her head to the doors.

      “Yes, mistress,” Amora said through gritted teeth before she turned and walked away into the next room.

      When she was gone Samantha turned around, looked up at her husband with an arched eyebrow. “Really?”

      “She started it,” Loki replied with a shrug, causing her to roll her eyes. He looked at her intently and licked his bottom lip. “I was serious with my suggestion, you know.”

      Samantha opened her mouth to reply, but he interrupted her by lunging at her suddenly and kissing her with an intensity that stole her breath away. She didn’t need much convincing after that as Loki pulled her over to their bed; and while Amora was spared from having to watch, the closed doors did very little to muffle the sounds of their passion, much to her dismay and Loki’s secret amusement.

  ***

     Once Loki had had his temporary fill of Samantha, he told her about the last thing Odin had said to him. She had been a bit surprised; in the time she had known the Allfather, he had only rarely shown his adopted son any overt regard, let alone affection. She was careful to stoke the little ember of happiness the praise had given him and told him to remember the words well, not wanting to let the king’s actual good advice go to waste; she then left the Enchantress at the mercy of her husband after making him promise he wouldn’t take it too far (she didn’t think he would, but it didn’t hurt to make sure) and went off to find her father-in-law, intending to discuss matters further. She found the king speaking to one of his generals, and waited until they were finished to approach.

      When Odin turned and acknowledged her, she commented, “You know; Loki is convinced he is losing what little sanity he still had left.”

      Odin huffed a slight laugh then gestured for her to follow him to a nearby bench; once they were seated he said, “My late wife spent most of his life telling me that I was too hard on him; that I did not treat him as well as Thor.” He paused for a moment. “It has taken me far too long to realise just what she meant by that.”

      “He has a sensitive heart,” Samantha said thoughtfully, “Which by no means makes him weak; he just… feels things more intensely.” She gave a slight laugh. “Combine that with an overactive and curious mind, a quiet disposition and a penchant for mischief; and I can’t imagine he was very easy to deal with.”

      “Ah, but I should have made more of an effort to understand him,” Odin replied, and she only barely held back the urge to agree aloud. He was thoughtful for a moment then said, “I have made mistakes where both of my sons are concerned, but at least I can take pride in the men they have become.” He placed a hand over Samantha’s on her lap. “I have you to thank for bringing Loki out from the depths of madness and rage he spiralled into. I myself would never have reached him; I was at a loss as to how.”

      Samantha smiled. “No one should have to feel that tormented.”

      Odin returned the smile and said fondly, “You remind me of her so.”

      “And I will always be honoured to hear that,” Samantha replied, knowing well to whom he was referring, “I wish I could have me her.”

      “She would have adored you.” He was silent for another moment then said, “You are a fine young woman, Samantha. I confess at first I did not expect it to be so; my impression was that you would be as dark of mind and heart as Loki, for who else would love him as he was. Instead I was faced with a soul full of gentleness, quiet strength and compassion; and a son I never thought I would see again.” He patted her hands with a surprisingly fatherly affection. “You have my eternal gratitude for helping to make my family as whole as it can ever be again.”

  ***

      By the end of Amora’s sentence she was thoroughly miserable. Loki humiliated her with the most menial of tasks (his favourites being having her change the bedsheets and assist him in his baths, which she loathed the most), and Samantha had her almost constantly running around on errands, though hers where a little less embarrassing for the Enchantress. Normally the former mortal would’ve balked at the idea of taking advantage of a situation like that, but she had been very upset over the nightmare and she figured maybe Amora would leave her alone after that.

      Amora walked up to Samantha, who was lounging on a couch in the sitting room of hers and Loki’s hall with a book in one hand and a cup of wine in the other, and placed a small stack of books on a nearby table before turning to the other woman. “Is there anything else I can do for you, mistress?”

      Samantha lifted her now-empty cup, wordlessly indicating she wanted a refill, without so much as a glance in the Enchantress’ direction. Amora swallowed her pride and anger, going over to another table and grabbing a jug of wine before going back and filling Samantha’s cup. The dark-skinned woman didn’t bother to acknowledge the action beyond taking a small sip of her drink and Amora bit back the urge to say or do anything she knew she would come to regret, resigning herself to simply standing there until Samantha told her otherwise.

      Though she would never admit it aloud, Amora greatly preferred Loki’s wife to the man himself; aside from the often exhausting amount of running around to fetch things she had her do, Samantha mostly ignored her altogether. Loki was not nearly as merciful; often toying with her by giving her conflicting instructions then berating her as though she were an idiot when she got things wrong, as well as taking pretty much every chance he could to humiliate her in public, especially when her sister or Thor were around. The worst part of it was that Loki wasn’t actually hurting her; she hadn’t expected to survive the month after Loki’s reaction to her spell, but instead she was subjected to verbal torment and embarrassment and nothing more.

      Loki walked into the room somewhat tiredly - wanting nothing more than a long bath and a nap with his wife cradled in his arms - and raised an eyebrow when he saw Amora standing in front of his wife, evidently awaiting a command. “You; with me,” he snapped.

      “Yes, master,” Amora bit out, trying not to stumble over the title, as she followed him into the bedchamber then the bathchamber beyond.

      Oh, how she hated calling him that. Which she knew was exactly why he insisted on it.

      As Amora helped Loki strip out of his armour, Samantha leaned against the doorway. “I really hope you’ve learned your lesson here, Amora.”

      “And what lesson would that be, mistress?” Amora asked; hating her current task even more now there was someone to witness it.

      In a flash Loki had grasped her chin then none-too-gently turned her face towards his. “Never try to come between Sam and me again.” He released her and waved her off. “Your services are no longer required.”

      As Amora walked out of the room Samantha walked past her into it to take her place, intending to join her husband after a week of not seeing him. After a while the Enchantress heard a bit of splashing coming from the room as well the distinct sound of moans, and decided that, yes; she had definitely learned her lesson.

[bybibucky]

Give Me All – Pt. 7

Bucky Barnes x reader Modern AU

      After a series of disappointing wanna-be doms, you give this last one a chance and he not only makes you forget every man you’ve ever been with but also your own name.

     word count: 3.2k

     warnings: smut (18+ please), language, daddy kink, BDSM, oral (m receiving), Bucky and reader kinda switch positions for experimental purposes

     A/N: watch out, people, this one has everything. I’m talking smut (duh), there is angst, there is FLUFF, you’re in for a bit of a ride. it is kinda short, but this ending felt right for the chapter, a new one is in the works

“Bucky?” The waiter had just brought your food to the table – the starter of a super expensive three course meal at the fanciest restaurant Bucky knew – and you longed to dig in but the question had been burning you for a while now. “What’s it like dominating someone?”

Bucky, sitting across from you, had, this whole time, only once taken his eyes from you to choose something from the menu, now looked at you like he was surprised by the question whilst expecting it at the same time. “Do you want to talk about this now?” His tongue darted out to part his lips and you wouldn’t have caught the move had you not been staring at him nervously. He gestured towards the food in front of you and you lifted your cutlery.

“I just– I’ve been wondering for a while,” you said,” because I don’t really understand what you get out of it.”

Bucky tilted his head in confusion. “Can you elaborate? And eat, it’s gonna get cold.”

“It’s a salat.”

“It’s gonna wither, then,” Bucky deadpanned.

You took a few mouthfuls, letting the flavours get to know each other on your tongue – Bucky had ordered for you, you couldn’t decide – and used this time to think of a coherent answer.

“Like, you do all these things to me and you always make me cum so many times while you don’t get more out of it than fucking me in the end.”

Bucky’s eyes widened at the word ‘fucking’ before his expression changed to something more gentle. “It’s not about the orgasms and you know that,” he almost tutted, “the one major thing, and I can’t get that with anyone other than you, is trust. I get to push you to your limit, knowing that you trust me so much that you put down every defence mechanism and give yourself up to me completely. You can’t imagine what a thrill that is.”

You nodded, not knowing what to say. The food was incredibly good but you couldn’t find it in you to pay it the appreciation you’d intended.

“You want to try it out?”

And the food got stuck in your throat mercilessly. Coughing it up without trying to attract too much attention, you eventually prevailed and gulped down some the wine that went perfectly with the meal.

Bucky looked at you with wide eyes but softened up when he saw that you were fine.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Bucky said, dragging out the words slightly, “do you want to try it out?”

“Like, being your dom for a night?” That felt weird to say.

“Yeah, why not?” Bucky shrugged but just after, he had his dominant face back on. “Though kitten, and make sure you don’t get that wrong, I am letting you do this to me and I can turn it around on you just as quickly as we started it.”

You nodded instantly. “Of course, Sir.”

“That’s my girl,” he said in the tone that had become music to your ears, “and let’s finish this meal so that I can take you home and bend you over the nearest surface I can find.”

“Bucky?” you asked carefully.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can we skip dessert?”

Bucky smiled. “Of course, darling.”

:::::

“Where do you want me?”

You were not in your element. In fact, you were nowhere near it, but you were too curious to pass this opportunity up.

You had him in your usual room in the club, trying to straighten your posture like he always had it, doing your best to stop your hands from fidgeting. It was exciting beyond anything you could have imagined and you had a thousand things on your mind at once and no idea where to start. You mainly wanted to hear him beg.

“Stand there, don’t move.” You kept your commands short and tight, just the way he did, but it didn’t feel right on your tongue. “Please.”

Bucky stood to attention like you would have imagined he had done in the army, shoulders back, chest tight, jaw clenched. You wanted to relax him. So, stepping closer, you let your hands roam over his chest and stomach, moving them towards his behind before settling on his ass, where you cupped the cheeks and squeezed harshly. Bucky couldn’t contain a smile just in the corners of his mouth but you got it off him with a quick slap to his ass.

“Are you mocking me?”

“No,” he said earnestly, still fighting that smirk.

“Thought so.”

You ran your hands back up his torso before you, with careful fingers, loosened the knot in his tie. He was looking down at you the entire time and while you loved his eyes, it wasn’t his turn to study you tonight.

“Close your eyes,” you said to which he obliged reluctantly. He wanted to see you do this, but, as much as he hated to admit it, you were in charge.

You walked around him and pulled his hands back. With a swift knot you had learned specifically for this, you tied them together by his wrists, using a rope you had asked him to bring. “Is this too tight?”

Bucky shook his head, earning him another slap to his ass.

“Use your words,” you demanded, using his own methods against him.

“No, baby,” he said, “it’s perfect.” You’d decided to keep the nicknames as they were, having him call you ‘mistress’ or anything like that felt entirely wrong and you wouldn’t have been able to get into the right headspace for it. Both of you knew that he could easily get himself out of the restraint but this was not about that.

You were back in front of him, then, and worked the necktie off him altogether to use it as a makeshift blindfold. Bucky made a noise of protest but otherwise kept quiet.

“What is it?” you asked in mock pity, “would you like to watch me as suck your cock?”

“Yes, please.” He was politely pleading already, and you suddenly felt proud of yourself.

“Too bad.” You started on slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “I thought about making you strip for me, but I realised nothing you could do would be as good as me in the lingerie I buy only for you.”

And you were right. Bucky made a strangled noise. No doubt he was imagining you sway your hips right in front him, wearing nothing but a nice set he loved to see you in. The thought alone was torture.

“Are you hard for me?”

He was. Achingly so. His jeans trapped him uncomfortably, his length eagerly pulsing with every heartbeat. “Please, touch me.”

“Or what?” The hint of a smile was noticeable to Bucky even with the blindfold, the amusement that was blooming up in you for teasing him obvious. “What are you gonna do if I don’t give you what you want?”

“Whatever you tell me to, baby.”

With the shirt open, his taut chest right there, you fumbled with the button of his jeans without opening them. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” Shit, even like this, he was better at following the commands than you were. To this day, you frequently forgot to always give an answer with words and nothing less.

He gasped loudly when you – quite literally – grabbed him by the balls, rubbing your hand over his crotch. “This better?”

“Oh shit, yes.”

You didn’t give him enough pressure to please him, only enough to get him breathing heavily against your ear. “What do you want?”

Bucky cursed. “Touch me, baby.”

“But I am touching you.” You worked a hand up his abdomen to pinch at one of his nipples. “You need to be more specific.”

This was maddening. You knew exactly how he felt. Having to say what you wanted had a humiliating aspect to it, and you were wondering whether he thought the same right now.

“You said you would suck my cock,” he offered, but that wasn’t what you’d asked for.

You laughed like he sometimes did. “Oh, and is that what you want?”

“Yes, doll, I need you.”

“Do you really?” You opened the button of his jeans, and torturously slowly pulled down the zipper. “Tell me how much you want it. Tell me, daddy. Beg.”

“Oh, God.” He wanted to touch you, bend you over his knee for challenging him like this but you had made a deal, and he wanted you to have fun tonight. He’d be happy either way. The dam broke, then. “Please, fuck, please. Doll, I’m begging. Please, touch my cock. I need it so much.” Bucky gave it his all. He really was borderline desperate, given your teasing.

You gave in. Reaching into his pants, you pulled out his heavy length and wrapped both hands around it. You gave him no time to gather his thoughts as you pumped him slowly. Bucky groaned loudly next to your ear, and it sent a shiver down your spine, knowing you pleased him like this.

He bucked his hips forward and you let go instantly, taking a small step back. “Don’t move,” you said sternly, “you’ll take what I give you and nothing more.”

“Shit, shit.” Bucky shook his head. “You feel so good, baby. Please, I want more.”

With his blindfold on, Bucky had no idea that you’d sunken down on your knees in front of him. A long lick with your tongue up his length, though, painfully made him aware.

“Is this what you wanted, daddy?” You looked up at him to capture his reaction. He nodded, and that earned him a smack to his thigh where he was still wearing his jeans. “Not so easy to use your words after all, is it?”

“Yes, yes! Please, let me fuck your mouth.”

Still pumping his length, paying most attention to his tip, you teased him. “This is not a very polite way to ask a lady, is it?”

Bucky growled deep in his chest.

“I can pull back altogether and just watch you squirm from here,” you warned. You were getting better at this with every word you spoke. It really was fun, you were beginning to realise.

“No!” Bucky bit the inside of his cheek before he spoke again. “Please, baby. Please, I need–ah!”

You sunk down on his cock as far as you could – you’d gotten much better at it over the last year – until you could feel his pelvic bone against the tip of your nose. Sliding back up, you had him wrapped around your finger, all he wanted was to cum and only you could make him.

“Oh, God. You feel so good, kitten.” Bucky moaned weakly. “I think I’m close already.”

You worked your magic. Licking from his base to his tip, playing with his balls just the way he liked, taking him in all the way again and again, until his knees began to wobble.

“Do you need to cum, daddy?” you asked as he was moaning loudly, swearing, calling your name, and it was a dumb question because it was painstakingly obvious. But you wanted to hear him say it, beg for it.

“Yes! Shit, yes. Please, allow me to cum.” He was holding back, that much was noticeable through his flexing hips, and you knew just how much he wanted to shove his cock down your throat, but he couldn‘t.

“No.”

Bucky’s entire posture tightened. “What?”

“I said, no.” You were back to slowly rubbing him up and down. “I’m gonna cum first.”

You stood up. He could feel you walk behind him, and rubbed his wrists once you had loosened the rope there. The blindfold followed, and before he had the time to take in his surroundings, take you in, you pushed him backwards in the direction of the bed. He stumbled, losing his pants on the way, and fell back into the mattress. Breathless, he could do nothing but stare up at you as you undressed right in front of him. Down to nothing but your bra, you climbed up onto his lap.

“You move, and I’m gone. Is that clear?”

“Yes, baby,” Bucky agreed reluctantly.

“Lift your arms over your head,” you ordered, and used his crossed wrists as leverage, holding him down. You started to move then, pushing your hips against his, grinding on his cock. With the first whimper that fell from your lips, you sped up, dragging your soaking wet pussy over his length over and over again. It wouldn’t take long for you to cum, that was for sure, but you needed to make a show of it.

“Can I touch you, please?” he asked cautiously, but you shook your head and picked up the pace. You were coating his cock in your juices with every rock of your hips, and it felt so, so good. Him beneath you, rubbing you in the most amazing way, having him at your mercy.

“Daddy, I’m close,” you couldn’t help but whine.

“Fuck, me, too.”

You shook your head again, silently telling him not to. Then, you locked your gaze with his, and ground your hips down hard. His hard shaft against your clit, you wanted to cum, you were so close, but the more your hips bucked, the more it dawned on you.

“Daddy, fuck. Fuck, daddy, please.”

And Bucky, too, began to realise what was happening. “You need to cum, baby?”

You nodded heavily, breathless. “But – ah, shit. I can’t.”

“You need me to tell you, is that it?” Bucky licked his lips. “You need my permission?”

Again, you nodded, eyes screwed shut. “Please.”

Bucky studied you from where he was trapped beneath you. He could easily push you up, roll you over, and fuck you like he desperately wanted to, but he decided to let you have this one. “Okay, baby. You can cum. I want you to cum.”

And you did. The coil within you grew tighter and tighter before it finally snapped. Hips shaking, desperate for friction, you rubbed yourself on his cock, riding out the orgasm. Breathless, you fell forward onto Bucky’s chest, and he embraced you. Wrapping both arms around you, he held you close.

It took a bit for both of you to calm down. “Too much,” you mumbled against his skin.

He picked you up then, knowing exactly what you needed. He walked you over to the bathroom with you wrapped around his body and turned on the shower when he got there.

The water was blissfully cold when it hit your skin. The fire within you calmed down and your head felt clearer all of a sudden.

“Better?”

You nodded into the crook of his neck.

Bucky’s skilled fingers unclasped the bra you were still wearing and tossed it somewhere behind him. “It’s all good. You are good,” he mumbled, “can you look at me?”

Reluctantly, you pulled back and lifted your head.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you replied, “I don’t know what happened.”

Bucky turned the temperature of the water up, so you wouldn’t catch a cold seeing how you were shivering already, and tilted his head to the side. “I think I do.”

You looked at him questioningly.

“You’re a sub through and through.” He grinned cockily. “And I’m your dom.”

“Captain obvious.” You lightly slapped his arm.

Bucky laughed. “I’m a sergeant, actually,” he said before he was serious again. “No, I mean, I wouldn’t be able to submit to someone, not like you do to me. It’s just not part of me, like you don’t feel comfortable dominating anyone.”

You nodded. “It’s difficult. You have a lot of responsibility. I was constantly worried I could harm you. I don’t know how you do it.”

Bucky’s features went soft. “I’m terrified as well, don’t get me wrong. I just trust myself enough to be able to read you completely, and I trust that you tell me when it’s too much.”

“It’s more about giving and taking than I realised.”

He nodded, gently running a thumb across your cheek. “You give me all, and I give you all in return.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you pulled him in for a kiss. And you kissed for a while until Bucky pulled back, looking deep into your eyes.

“Will you marry me?”

Your mouth fell slack, and you stared at him in shock.

“Wait!” Bucky set you down and you let him move you like you were a doll, no resistance, as placed you on your feet, and, looking back, you had no idea how you’d stood upright as he’d sprinted out of the room. Your heart felt like a kickdrum in your chest the entire time, and when he returned and actually went down on one knee in front of you in the small space of the shower, holding up a ring box with a gorgeous diamond ring inside, you fell to your knees as well.

“Yes.”

“Holy shit,” Bucky said disbelievingly, but with so much happiness in his voice. He pulled you in for another kiss that quickly evolved into something more intense and desperate.

“Fuck me,” you breathed, “please, Bucky. Please.”

“Whatever you want, babygirl.” He took the time to slip the ring onto your finger, before he lifted you up again. You were pressed against the wall barely a second later, and Bucky was inside you once another had passed.

“Oh, God.”

You moaned in unison, holding onto each other for dear life. You had your legs tightly wrapped around his middle, answering his thrusts with your hips bucking forward.

“Shit, you always feel so good around me. It never gets old.”

You could do nothing but moan in response.

“You’re mine,” Bucky grunted, and when he picked up the pace, his thrusts were so forceful, they knocked your head against the hard tiles on the wall. “Fuck, sorry.” He leaned out of the shower far enough to reach a towel that he bunched up and put behind your head, all the while continuing his movements. When he was sure you weren’t hurting, he ran a hand down your torso, briefly stopping at your breasts, where you were pulling and pinching your own nipples, over to your clit, rubbing it just the way you loved.

“Say it, baby.” He was staring down at where his cock was disappearing between your folds over and over again. “Say you’re mine.”

You gasped, “yours. I’m yours, daddy.”

“That’s it, pet. Fuck, you feel so good. I’m not gonna last.”

You shook your head, telling him you weren’t either. “Daddy, please.”

He sped up even more, his thrusts relentless now. “I know, baby, me too.” Bucky kissed you again. “Let’s cum together, yeah? Cum for me, now.”

Walls clenching down on his cock, you came so hard that white dots were dancing in your vision, shuddering in his arms. Bucky followed suit almost instantly, chasing his own orgasm, as he buried himself into your tight heat.

You kissed him, then, and didn’t stop until long after he had gone soft inside you. Wrapped tightly around each other, you kissed until the water ran cold again.

“Marry me,” he mumbled into the skin of your neck.

“I already said yes.”

“Say it again.”

You pulled up his head by the hair at the back of his neck, looking at him intently. “I will marry you.”

[darkmindsotome]

Risque Rouge pt17

Tagging: @umbralaperture​ @otome-smut-queen @silver-fox-of-azuchi @tsundere-mitsuhide @jennacat84

General warnings for the whole fic: Angst, some fluff, Mental health issues, emotional things, trauma, blood, death and possible triggers. Please read responsibly. 

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

---

Chapter 17

Acrid smoke clinging to her, wrapping itself around as if she were to be bound in a blanket of toxic fumes. The air was burning, particles of embers and ash floating like feathers all around her. Her hand was being held by someone she couldn’t make out through the thick smoke. They were holding her so tightly her fingers were going numb but she didn’t cry out against them as they encouraged her to keep moving, dragging her in their wake.

Her heart was pounding in the darkness, every movement of her body felt torturous. She could feel the ground under her feet even though she couldn’t see it. Bodiless screams in the dark rose up around her in a terrible crescendo no musician could ever emulate. The feeling of pain and torment that was not her own filled her up to bursting. Why was this happening?

There was a muffled moment where the smoke seemed to become a wall, the sounds around her drowning out what was being said to her. She felt like she was about to lose the last thread of hope she had and was overcome. The fear she had been able to hold back till now dug itself in deep, latching on to her with icy claws. As the hand holding hers slipped through her fingers like sand. Then there was an almighty force shoving her away, casting her alone into the smoke and darkness.

Evie opened her eyes to find herself in a tangle of bedding on the floor of her bedroom. Her breathing was ragged and every part of her body was screaming in confusion and pain. She brought her hand to her head, the sensation of moisture finding her fingers. As she pulled her hand back, she saw the sweat of her brow glistening like powdered diamonds in the moonlight.

“It was only another nightmare.” She muttered to herself with a broken laugh. Her body had still not calmed down and she dragged her knees up to her chest leaning back against the bed frame. “Just a bad dream…”

Her mind raced as she tried to convince herself it was all just in her mind. It naturally began to focus on the fatale conversation from town and the pained look of Comte as she rejected him. Her body had stopped trembling, the sweat on her skin had all but dried up. Still, that conversation played on a loop and the more she thought about it the more it seemed to resonate in her. Each time she came to the same phrase there was a dull spark in her mind. Pure blood.

---

The air from the balcony was particularly crisp tonight. If it were more than a slight breeze it could have cut right to the bone and yet there was at least one man standing there oblivious to it all. His mind hadn’t just naturally drifted to the young woman in his house in truth it had been stuck on her from the moment they returned.

He had hoped she would reappear but she had cloistered herself in her room and had not even opened her door for Sebastian when he took her meals. That part was concerning for more reasons than he dared think about. His hands unconsciously tightened their grip on the stone balustrade as he looked out over the landscape tinted in the moonlight.

It was always a relaxing sight and he came here often, but tonight the view didn’t register. He simply stared, unfocused on a fixed point in the distance. Neither his gaze nor his heart moved as the breeze made his hair and coat flutter on the wind. They were the only signs of life when he himself felt closer to a statue carved out of time than a living creature.

“I thought you would be out here.” A friendly voice greeted him. The soft click of the door leading back into the mansion being closed gave the subliminal warning of escape being futile.

“Not now Leo.” Comte sighed. He could have faked a smile, placed any one of his masks on his face and put on a show. All of them would have worked a charm, except on his oldest friend. Comte was actually a little surprised it took Leo this long to track him down.

“Oh, you would prefer I smoked inside? You’ve changed your tune.” Leo appeared chuckling at his side, slipping one of his beloved cigarillos from its tin.

“I would prefer you didn’t smoke at all, it clings to the furnishings.” Comte groused his usual complaint that was destined to be ignored.

He watched Leo as he patted down his jacket searching for his lighter. Comte rolled his eyes in resignation and pulled out some matches from his own jacket, striking one to offer his friend alight. Leo grinned with his cigarillo perched in his lips, leaning forward into the flame guarded in Comte’s hands.

“Which is why I’m out here. Just me having a quiet smoke.” Leo spoke through a half-closed mouth, taking a long drag.

Leo wedged one hand in his pocket and leaned back against the supporting pillar to the side of the balcony, blowing smoke rings into the night air. The silence that flowed between them wasn’t uncomfortable but it was obvious that there was more to this meeting than simple coincidence.

“Say it.” Comte muttered a barely audible command.

“What?” Leo asked innocently adjusting his jacket on his shoulders.

In all the centuries they had known each other it seemed there were some things that never changed. It didn’t matter what time of day it was Leo always seemed to look like he was shot out of a canon. Comte admired his friend’s ability to shrug off social conventions and judgemental gazes. If he could have done similar, he wondered what kind of a man he would be today?

A familiar emptiness settled at the back of Comte’s memory, a bottomless solitary sensation that was as endless as his own immortality. Leo had once said he left the world they were born into because he wanted to find something greater, to nurture it and help people smile.

There were other reasons for his departure from the main royal court but his core ideal remained the same. It was a simple wish and dazzling prospect for one born as Comte had been to the endless night. Perhaps it was in understanding the inventor’s passion and kind heart that Comte had wished to harbour him for all this time. Allowing someone else's light to flourish where he felt his never could.

“I’m a fool. You know that’s what you want to say.” Comte mirrored his friend allowing his shoulders to fall back on the opposite pillar, their bodies becoming the frame for the view beyond them.

“No need Mio Amico, you are doing a fine job of that yourself.” Leo’s words stung with truth more than they did because he was being critical.

There was sympathy laying there under the thin veil of friendly banter. Comte knew he had caused Leo to become concerned and it seemed to add to the weight on his own shoulders. The events of the day remained indelible no matter how much he tried to stop thinking about them they were always there.

“I hurt her Leo. I forgot my own plan for trying to explain an impossible situation and I hurt her.” Comte’s voice didn’t seem to hold any of the resolve or certainty it usually did. His voice was stripped back to the man he was a long time ago, before the fame, the names and titles.  

“I dare say you did.” Leo nodded. He had felt it, the turbulent wash of emotions crashing within him that were not his own, and realised something was wrong. He could sense clearly the two combining forces as they sparked and flashed against each other. It was a painfully beautiful resonating feeling that held both ends of the spectrum of love firmly in its grip. “La signorina has not shown herself since your return. I sense it as much as you do but I think I noticed something different.”

“Different?” Comte looked at Leo’s face studying him wondering what he could have picked up that would prove to be any different to the reality he felt. He didn’t wish to be told something so trite as words of reassurance when that would only give false hope and pay lip service to an ego that deserved to take this particular hit.

“I don’t think it’s hurt that she feels. She is frightened, it’s a torment that isn’t easy to explain but it is there all the same.” Leo blew out another cloud of smoke watching it as if he were looking into a crystal ball.

The smoke swirled between them and Comte wondered if Leo was looking at the image his own mind conjured. Her smiling face turned to tears, he felt his heart lurch uncomfortably in his chest.

“I know she is frightened. I had planned to handle this differently and hope that she would be… ach!”  Comte groaned in frustration and lightly bumped the back of his own head off the stone pillar.

The sensations he had tried to block from before were running rampant through his system freely like a forest fire. Emotions that weren’t his blended with his own but he was unable to find that needle in a haystack his friend was so ardently pointing out existed.

Leo couldn’t bring himself to smile for a few minutes, finding his theory that his friend had missed that which might have relieved some of his burdens confirmed. Comte had not seen her actions as something other than a rejection of him, punishment for him. Comte was too close to the situation or perhaps to shaded in denial to see the light in the darkness.

“No amount of planning can prepare someone for something they don’t wish to know. Even if they had begun to suspect something themselves, to have their fears confirmed is never where it all ends. You cannot change the past, my friend. You do still have a say in how the future plays out though.” Leo smiled that all-knowing smile that repeatedly stirred a desire to slap him from time to time. 

There was more than one occasion between them where Leo also felt the same level of frustration towards Comte during one of their tête-à-têtes. Oh, how the tables turn. Long-life tended to provide a lot of experiences that meant conversations like this felt a little like being placed in a swirling vortex. You could easily lose sight of your position only to have the other point out how close you are to chasing your own tail over something that should basically have a simple solution.

In this case, as least the reason why Comte was so reluctant to argue was that he felt Leo held an unmistakable truth in what he surmised. Comte knew all too well the passage of time did not flow backwards, no matter how much you wished for a second chance. It was a long winding road with no clear trajectory and strewn with obstacles that were both obvious and well hidden.

You had choices at every bump in the road. Each one offering up a different direction for you to follow. Give up or keep moving? Neither provided a guarantee of a better future but his choice was clear enough, he was not ready to simply give up.

Leo crushed his cigarillo under his boot as he pushed his body off the stone and began walking back towards the mansion. His hand fell on the handle of the French doors before Comte called out to him.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“I told you I was only out here to have a smoke.” Leo shrugged, entering the mansion and disappearing into the empty warmth of it.

Comte remained on the balcony his eyes returning to the landscape but this time he was able to see the life in it.

---

Evie groaned at the sound of knocking on her door. At some point, she had drifted back off to sleep and slumped on her side still tangled in the bedding that was on the floor.

She was well aware she had failed to open it the previous day and was thankful for Sebastian’s consideration that he didn’t press the topic of trying to gain access. He had simply left the tray he had brought outside her door and returned later to remove it. She felt guilty for the bother it caused him to do so but she was neither in the mood to eat or see anyone.

The knocking on the door occurred again this time with a muffled conversation attached.

“Look she clearly isn’t awake yet let’s just go already.” The disgruntled impatient voice was one she had only heard briefly before but she could hardly forget the abrupt Theo.

“Sebas said she didn’t eat yesterday and I’m worried about her.” The softer and much warmer voice of Vincent was like a soothing balm even through the wooden obstacle of the door.

Evie sleepily unravelled herself from the knot of bedding and moved to stand, regretting it almost immediately as her head swam. Her broken sleep had created a sluggishness in her that was hard to shift. She leaned against one of the posts on her bed as the conversations beyond her door continued.

“Look there is no point in worrying over that little mutt. She is Comte’s problem, not yours Brother.” Theo was sounding impatient and as much as she hated to feel like she was eavesdropping on a private conversation Evie disliked the fact that Theo was referring to her as a dog just as much.

“Schei uit, Theo. You should try to be nicer to girls.” Vincent sounded stern even though he didn’t raise his voice. She thought this must be a common conversation between the brothers. She remembered Vincent apologising for his brother’s attitude before and shook her head smiling.

“I still don’t see why…”

“I like her.” Vincent cut off Theo with words that caused a very audible gasp from the abrupt younger sibling.

“You--? Broer… what?”

“She’s nice and kind and I like her just as I like everyone else here. I’d like us all to be friends, there can’t be anything worse than feeling all alone.” Vincent’s reply was so earnest it was like a ray of sunshine. She was a little thankful that no one was around to witness how rosy her face had become.

“Brother… fine.” Theo seemed to locate his composure before the knocking sound returned. This one much louder than the last. “Hey, Hondje! You better open up or I’m just gonna open it myself.”

---

[angstalottle]

Please Drink Up

Part 1:

Keith used to believe that torture was simply inflicting pain on someone. That it involved knives or electricity to make someone suffer until they gave in.

Before recently, he never believed that being left alone in a room with food and water would have counted.

Him and Lance had been scouting out an asteroid belt for a possible coalition hideout. However, they had no way of knowing that the Galra had the same idea.

The two paladins were blindsided, blasted at until their lions floated dead in space easy for the pickings.

Keith woke up in a small cell with Lance laying over his legs.

They had both been stripped of their armour and weapons leaving them in nothing but the thin white suits they wore underneath the thick black protective rubber.

Keith tried to shift Lance off him but lacked the room to get the leverage he needed. The room was so small that despite being half slouched against the wall he could still hit the opposite wall with the flat of his feet.

He couldn't help but feel sorry for the taller paladin with him, no way he would be able to stretch out comfortably.

Then again considering their current situation being able to lie down was the least of their worries.

Bringing his attention back to Lance, Keith looked him over for any sign of injury. Other than a couple bruises that always tended to litter his lanky limbs he seemed fine.

Keith grabbed him by the shoulder and shook roughly earning a groan in response as Lance woke up.

“Keith? Where are we?” Lance grumbled.

“I’m guessing a command ship being taken back to Haggar” Keith sighed looking around, there was nothing in the cell save for a door with a hatch at the bottom that slid open from the outside.

Lance nodded “wonder if this will be a ‘tell us where Voltron is or we hurt you’ kinda thing.”

Keith ran a hand through his hair, the thought had crossed his mind but honestly, he was more concerned with the fact they could be placed into the arena.

He knew he could handle himself but Lance was a sharpshooter. He wasn’t made for close combat and definitely not for the blow of killing another living creature with your own hands.

“Whatever comes we have to stay strong” Keith finally said after several tense minutes of silence.

Lance seemed satisfied with that answer as he nodded. His eyes widened as he realised he was practically sitting on Keith lap and quickly scrambled off muttering a quick “sorry” while he settled in next to the red paladin.

“It’s fine, I’m pretty sure they just tossed us in here” Keith shrugged.

“Remind me to give them a bad yelp review later”

Despite the situation, Keith found a small smile pulling at the edge of his lips.

Lance had that special kind of quality that allowed him to say exactly the right thing the cheer people up no matter how grim things seemed.

It was probably what Keith admires about him the most.

The two sat in a comfortable silence waiting for the inevitable opening of the door that would see one or perhaps both of them writhing in agony.

However as the minutes turned to hours nothing actually happened.

“Maybe they're like killing us into a false sense of security? Or they forgot we’re here?” Lance suggested shifting slightly. Hours sitting on a cold hard floor had left both their legs pretty much dead.

“Somehow I doubt that”

As Keith said that the hatch slid open and a tray containing two cups of water and two bowls of yellow food goo was pushed through.

“Well I guess we are VIP’s room service is to be expected” Lance chuckled as he picked up his water and thirstily drank.

Until that moment Keith hasn’t let himself think about the dryness to his throat. But now as he stared at the water it was all he could think about it.

Like Lance, he drank without a second thought.

They were a little more hesitant about the food but after sniffing it a few times their stomachs rumbled in demand for it and they gave in.

Once again they were returned to silence just waiting.

This silence eventually turned to sleep.

Keith woke up with an uncomfortable heat against his neck.

His first instinct was to toss it way and batted at it half asleep.

Then the heat let out a moan in protest and suddenly Keith wasn’t so sleepy anymore.

His eyes snapped open as he looked to Lance who at some point had rested his head against his shoulder and also spiked a fever.

A cold dread settled in Keith's stomach, before the mission Lance had not even seemed sick, certainly not to the point where his cheeks were flushed red.

Gently as to not wake him up, Keith manoeuvred Lance so that his face was resting against the cool metal. Keith placed a hand on his forehead and frowned.

The unmistakable heat of a fever was there… it wasn't too bad but who knew how long that could last especially in these conditions.

They didn't have any medicine and for all, they knew they would only get food and water once a day.

Keith bit his lip watching Lance sleep. He looked so peaceful as if he was completely unaware of the danger he was in. Keith wanted to let him sleep on but unfortunately, it was not in the cards and Lance ended waking himself up by coughing.

They were short barks that left him panting by the end of it and looking around for answers to his sudden discomfort.

“Keith?”

Keith swallowed the lump in his throat “Yeah, I'm here. How are you feeling?”

Lance shrugged as he rubbed his eyes clearly still tired “not too bad I guess, my throats a little dry.”

Keith hummed in response, he didn't believe him for an instant but without having a way to actually help him all he could do was play along and hope to avoid panicking the blue paladin.

The hatch slipped open and yet again food and water were pushed through. Keith managed to catch sight of a purple hand but not much else.

And certainly nothing useful.

Lance drank his water in one go before he leaned back against the wall “man my back's killing me” he mumbled twisting so that his spine cracked.

“I'm sure the others will come for us soon,” Keith mumbled into his cup draining half of it before offering the rest to lance.

Lance held up his hand in protest. “No way dude you need to drink too.” However, as Keith continued to push it towards him Lance realised he wouldn't give in so took the cup and pushed his food closer to Keith “fine but you take some of my food… I'm not really hungry.”

The worry grew within Keith but he accepted the small victory as Lance drank. He just wished he didn't leave just under a quarter of his food before falling back asleep.