#but we were young and stupid and still learning how we feel and process everything | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ev-pierce-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Doll

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier) x F!Reader

Words: 7.7K

Rating: Very much 18+

Warnings: P in V, oral (fem receiving), light (consensual) choking, praise, James Buchanan Barnes is a sad boy and only you can make him happy, mutual therapy over past trauma, a couple light spanks, and some sexy sparring

Note: Reader had a run-in with Hydra that gave you invisibility powers. Bucky is tasked with training you. Totally not canon, I just kept the parts I liked. Got the idea from a tiktok but I can't find it anymore oops. I'm thinking of turning it into a series of all the places you can fuck Bucky Barnes at Avengers HQ. Enjoyyyyyy....

---

"Alright, so I'm thinking absolutely the first thing you need is a suit. Because we can't have you sneaking around in clothes that give you away."

Tony Stark and Peter Parker stand before you at Avengers HQ, furiously tossing ideas back and forth, trying to come up with ways to build you the best possible suit. Last night had been...interesting, to say the least.

"Who's that?" Stark had said when you appeared all of a sudden from your room. "Come on Agent Hill, don't tell me you're taking in lost kids nowadays."

Your mother had only laughed, slightly inebriated and feeling loose because of all the drinking that was going on in your penthouse apartment. She was hosting one of those parties where too many superpowers drank too much alcohol and got a little too rowdy. "That's my daughter."

Usually, you stay away from such events, go out with friends, and avoid the house until it's all over. For the past four years, you hadn't even been in the house to need to avoid it. But now you're 22 and a recent college graduate and something about the party was drawing you in so you had emerged from your hideaway to join in the fun.

"Alright, Maria, how'd you manage to keep that one a secret?" Romanov spoke up.

Until this point, you'd remained silent, in shock at the sudden attention a group of superheroes had focused onto you. But you couldn't help yourself from responding now. You'd managed to hide away long enough. It was time to come into the open.

"I'm a ghost," you said jokingly, approaching the couch and stealing the drink your mother had been drinking to take a sip. It was strong and burned on the way down. The group laughed at your words, unaware of how true they really were.

It was then that you'd performed your little trick, the one that only a few of your closest friends had ever seen. You became invisible.

The laughter had immediately stopped. The girl who suddenly appeared out of thin air had disappeared right back into it. They could still tell where you were of course. The glass in your hand remained visible, floating in mid-air, giving away your position. And your clothes were still perceptible, not being able to change with you. But your features were otherwise undetectable, not even a shimmer revealing your face. You took another sip of the drink, liquid disappearing into an invisible mouth.

"I want her. On the team," Stark had said.

And that was it. The start of your superhero career.

"Explain again exactly how this works?" Parker asks.

You sigh and start from the beginning, again. "I can distort the absorption wavelengths of my cells so that the reflected light is in the invisible range, usually infrared."

"And how long can you hold it for?"

"About seven minutes now," you explain. "It's sort of like holding your breath. You can go underwater for a while, and you can practice holding your breath longer and longer, but eventually, you need to come up for air. Eventually, I have to 'recharge.' But I've been working on extending it."

Stark turns to one of the many holograms of his supercomputer, working with Friday to design a brand new suit to accommodate your skills. You're so engrossed in watching his process you don't even notice the shadowy figure appear in the doorway that leads to the training facilities.

"How'd you get these powers? Agent Hill isn't lacking in skill but it certainly isn't supernatural."

You knew Stark's question would come up eventually. It always did. Over time, it became easier to tell the story, but now you really don't feel like explaining fully, so you tell the short version.

"Hydra. When I was seventeen. They used me as a bargaining chip against my mom in a mission gone wrong and decided to experiment on me in the process. Left me with a lot of scars and a lot of therapy. Almost dropped out of school."

You don't remember much from the experience. But enough for it to leave lasting damage.

"Hydra?" a familiar voice asks behind you. Only now do you notice that Barnes is behind you. How long has he been watching?

You remain silent, just like you did the night before when he'd arrived late to the party, unable to speak under his gaze.

You had planned to leave not long after you joined the festivities. But when the elevator doors opened, a pair of blue eyes halted you in your path. James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. You'd recognize those eyes anywhere. Crystal clear and icy, freezing you under their gaze. He wore a leather jacket and leather gloves, concealing his metal arm, but you knew it was there, hiding behind the layers.

Barnes had always been the one that caught your eye during your mother's briefings. His transition from the greatest warrior Hydra had to offer, and thus S.H.I.E.L.D.'s greatest enemy, to the trusted companion of Captain America and official Avengers member intrigued you. At first, he had been more of a schoolgirl crush, the little girl grappling with her new powers seeking guidance in someone who didn't even know she existed. But age had not reduced your admiration of him. Barnes' face was hard set in serious determination and his glance barely grazed over you before turning to the rest of the group. He paid you not a single ounce of attention, yet you felt dumbstruck in his presence.

But Bucky had noticed you that night. Noticed you in a way he wanted desperately to hide, so he disallowed his eyes from lingering on you. Who were you and why were you wearing pajamas at a party and how did you make them actually look good?

And not only did he notice you, but he recognized you. He wasn't sure how, but something at the back of his head buried beneath decades of blurred half-memories told him he knew you. It was a stupid thought, though. How could he know you?

From the doorway, his eyes narrow in concern, making you feel smaller than ever beneath him. How is that 5 o'clock shadow so enticing? You just want to run your fingers across--

Stark gestures at Barnes, completely ignoring his comment. "Good, you're here. Our young Agent Hill needs to get started with her training immediately. I want her in the field but she can't be going in inexperienced. Teach her the works."

It's rather bold of Stark to assume you have no combat skills. And to assume you even want to go into the field. But you follow behind Barnes in silence anyway toward the training facilities. It doesn't matter what you know and don't know. He's going to kick your ass anyway.

"Feet wider," he says, coaching you on your swing. His blue eyes have somehow darkened, and along with the faint beard, he looks positively dangerous. "Not too wide."

"I know how to punch, Barnes," you whisper under your breath. He's not meant to hear your words, but he does anyway.

"Oh yeah? Punch me then. Go for it." His voice is challenging in the way that reveals he knows he could block any swing that comes at him. But he wants to see what will happen. Your mention of Hydra loosened a memory in his brain somewhere, and though he can't quite place his finger on it, the memory told him you're anything but the kid he's treating you like. He wants to know what you really have inside you.

Your annoyance gets the best of you. You aim for his face, the way your mother taught you. And she taught you well, teaching you all the self-defense skills you might need moving through the world as a woman. But she did not teach you how to fight super soldiers. That's an entirely different world.

Unsurprisingly, Barnes predicts your move and his metal arm comes up to meet your human one, halting your punch mid-swing. His palm fully engulfs your fist, your knuckles slamming into the metal with a ringing sound.

"Fuck, that hurt," you seethe through your teeth, gripping your hand in pain. And yet, you still smile. You mean for your words to sound irritated, but they betray how much you enjoy getting a swing in. "Didn't have to do me like that, Barnes."

He ignores your pain, though secretly it pleases him to find how much force is truly behind your punch. Nothing, of course, his metal arm can't take, but strong enough. "Language, kid. Go again. And this time, try not to be so obvious."

Despite his advice, it's impossible. He predicts every one of your strikes and counters them with four times as much strength as you possess. You give him everything you have, and nothing lands.

"This would be a lot easier if you let me use my powers."

So far, Barnes has refused to let you fight invisible, not that it would have done you much good without a proper suit. But you're tired and sweaty, your hair falling from its ponytail and sticking to your face, your muscles aching and your heart beating fast. Barnes hasn't even broken a sweat.

"Unless you learn to fight without your powers, they'll do nothing more than level the playing field. You need to be at an advantage if you're going to survive."

Survive. You've done plenty of that already. You want better than survival. Barnes recognizes the look on your face, the one that expresses the desire plainly. He knows the feeling, drifting from one day to the next and wanting more than that.

His voice softens a bit. "We can call it quits for the day. Get some rest. We'll go again tomorrow."

He didn't intend to be so kind. It just sort of happened, drawn out of him by the not-so-innocent girl who still has a lot to learn but can hold her own better than most.

---

Tomorrow. Tomorrow's8 like the day before, 9 am at HQ, wait for Parker to get his ass up the elevator so Stark can begin, get sidetracked by coffee, and then finally return to the task at hand.

"Give this a shot," Stark says, handing you what looks like nothing more than a vaguely human-shaped paper suit. "Not exactly protective, but it's a new technology. Should conform to your abilities."

"You did this overnight?"

"Of course. Get changed."

The suit has little support and definitely no protection. You feel like a fingernail could rip a hole through it if you pull on it wrong, let alone a knife coming at you from an angry enemy. But it's a start. An impressive start. You stare at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom as you shift, the suit shifting along with you.

Back in the training facilities, where you know Stark and Parker will be waiting, you remain in your shifted form. They don't look up as you enter, somehow having not heard you, and instead are engaged in a heated discussion with Barnes about something you don't understand. So you creep up behind Parker, lean in, and whisper into his ear.

"I think it works."

You feel a little bad, but only for a moment. Parker jumps straight out of his skin, screaming a scream you didn't know was possible from the kid. Stark lets out a laugh as you rematerialize, and Barnes even cracks a smile at your prank.

"Yeah, yeah, I'd say so." Parker's voice quivers.

"Well, what do you think?" Stark asks.

"Very thin," you say, aware that much more is visible than you really want. "I feel like it's going to rip at any moment. And there's not a whole lot of support in this area."

You gesture vaguely at your chest, not knowing how best to explain to a group of men that a sports bra is a necessity for fighting, but knowing you have to make them aware all the same. You can feel Barnes' eyes on you, a little less polite than the others, and you find you like the way he eyes you up, a bit like a puzzle to be solved or a strategy to be devised.

"Right, right, I'll get on that. Only a prototype anyway," Stark responds nervously. "Back to work, Parker. Hill, Barnes, back to training."

Bucky tries his best not to picture what you might look like without that suit, but it leaves little to the imagination as you saunter away to change again.

And so the days move forward. You've never before been so busy or exhausted in your life. You just graduated college, which is a feat in itself, but all the training, all the work, keeps you on your toes so that by the end of the day, both your brain and your body are tired.

Still, you improve and get better at sparring Barnes, even taking him down a couple of times on your own, though you suspect he's going easy on you.

"Again." Barnes is already on his feet and helping you to yours. Today the sparring room is particularly warm, and you've long forgone your sweats for shorts and a sports bra. Barnes has lost the shirt as well, and his chest glistens with sweat beneath the fluorescent lights. Maybe it's the heat or maybe it's him, but the whole thing feels a bit dreamlike. Here you are, sparring with a man who could take you to the ground with one arm alone, and he's letting you kick his ass every once in a while.

But there's no way you can do it again. You feel destroyed by all the slamming onto the mat.

Barnes is doing his best not to be distracted as well, but those tight shorts and the top that reveals your midriff have to be on purpose. It's easy to admit to himself that he likes you, might even be attracted to you. You fight hard and relentlessly, rising to every one of his challenges and not backing down even when you're tired. You've already come a long way since that first encounter, and Barnes has come to look forward to the two hours a day you spend together in the gym. He had tried to tell himself it was the fun of having a new sparring partner, but in truth, he knows it's the determined glint in your eyes, the way you bounce on your feet in excited anticipation of the fight, the way you collapse on the mat after a hard session, chest heaving deep breaths in and out. But what he likes most is your heated gaze when he pins you to the ground, or even better, you pin him.

"Knock me down one more time and you can be done," he challenges. The familiar determination returns, though a flicker of doubt remains behind your eyes. He can tell you need encouragement. "Remember to use your size to your advantage. Don't let me get ahead of you. Keep me guessing."

You do your best. You really do. You hold your own for almost two minutes, but it's obvious you're only barely staying ahead of him. As soon as you falter, Barnes has you flat on your back on the mat without much resistance, immobilized by a knee on your thighs and his metal arm trapping your hands over your head. His free hand plants by your head and holds him up to prevent him from actually hurting you.

You gasp underneath him, trying to disguise the weird flicker of desire with breathlessness. He looks good from down here, all sweaty and dark and serious. But you're also a bit too tired to care. "I'm out, Barnes. Let me go."

Let me go. Please.

And that's when the memory returns. The full, real memory, the one that has been tickling the edges of his brain since he first saw you. You, a kid, his mission. Kidnap, don't kill. A small voice, your voice, begging. Please, let me go. What has he done?

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, standing up quickly.

"Language, Barnes," you say teasingly. But he doesn't laugh, simply exits the sparring room, abruptly leaving you, speechless and alone on the floor. What just happened?

After a moment of confused silence on the mat, you brush it off and stand, heading to your room for a shower. Stark offered you a place to stay at HQ, and you happily agreed. Though you loved being back with your mother after four years away at college, you cherish your independence. A room at HQ offered you just that.

A nice shower would certainly make you feel better after that confusing interaction. You pull on your robe and shower shoes, leaving your clothes behind so as to carry one less thing. But as you pass down the hall toward the showers, you can hear Barnes' voice drift through the slightly open door to his room.

"I remembered," he says. "It was her. I'm the reason she's--" He cuts off, appearing to be interrupted by whoever he's talking to on the phone. You pause by the open door.

"I know that's not me anymore but I'm still responsible," he continues. "I have to tell her."

Again a pause. By now it's apparent he's talking about you.

"No, Steve, we aren't a team. We aren't partners. I'm helping Tony out. I don't care if she doesn't want to work with me anymore, this is part of my redemption. I have to tell her."

The conversation seems over. You rush to the showers, not wanting Barnes to realize you were listening the whole time. Apologize, he said. Apologize for what? You've known him for a whole of four days and he's been nothing but polite to you. Cold, at first, but he warms upon acquaintance. And then he's downright sweet.

So sweet, you realize, for someone so damaged. He has every right to hate the world, and though he walks through it with a healthy dose of cynicism, he never lets that cynicism touch you. If anything, he's outright positive around you, an undeserving brat. A kid, really, though you don't like when he calls you that. You know you can be naive, positive on the verge of artificiality, and yet he never tries to burst your bubble. In fact, he seems to relish it.

The shower feels nice, but it does nothing to assuage your fears. Maybe it's you who has done something wrong? Now you're spiraling. You have to find out what's going on or it's going to drive you crazy.

You know what you have to do. You have just about seven minutes of invisibility before your shifting gives out. In those seven minutes, you can duck from the showers, sneak into Barnes' room, snoop around, and make it back to the showers unseen. Plenty of time. But you have to go nude. Now would be a great time for the suit, but no such luck. Naked it is.

Out in the hallway, all is quiet. Barnes' door is still ajar, but when you peek your head in, the room is empty.

Easy.

Where to start? His phone is a dead end, being one of those ancient flipping kinds rather than a new, high-tech smartphone. He has few personal belongings, the bed is made perfectly, and his closet contains only clothes.

The drawers of the nightstand are empty. Or nearly empty. At the back of the top drawer is unceremoniously shoved a small booklet with a pen stuck between the pages. It's worn and supple, as though held a thousand times and read a thousand more. You flip through, finding a list of names, some crossed out, others not. Your name does not appear, but something about the list tells you these are not ordinary names. These are the names of his victims, people Barnes hurt as the Winter Soldier. Your heart aches and your stomach clenches, the reminder of his past jarring against the kind demeanor you've come to know. But deep down, you know this isn't him, know he's a good man, despite it all.

You know better than most the first-hand horrors of Hydra's super-soldier experiments. Of anyone, you can relate best to the experience Barnes has been through. Your memories of that long week are blurry, but the pain remains, forever seared into your mind. You can only imagine a lifetime of that pain.

The sound of the door opening jolts you from your reverie and you close the drawer quickly. But you soon realize your mistake. Barnes would know he left the door open, would know exactly how he placed his book in the drawer, would recognize something was off. Unfortunately, you're right.

"Hello?" he calls into the darkening room. The evening is coming on fast and the sun dims to barely glimmer, casting the space in shadow despite the large windows on the south wall.

Bucky knows something is off the moment he finds your room unoccupied, having gone there with the express purpose of confronting you about his actions earlier in the afternoon. And though he has no way of truly knowing, he suspects you are now here, in this room with him, invisible to his gaze. Bucky shuts the door behind him and waits.

You're trapped. You don't have long before your powers give out; already the suffocating feeling that begs you to take a breath is coming on. And Barnes has closed the door, effectively sealing you in, as you can't open it without him knowing for sure that you're here. On top of that, you're clothingless. You've run out of options and Barnes seems to sense this. So, he waits, drawing out the moment of tension, building the suspense.

"I know you're here," he says finally, his voice soft and barely audible. "You can't hide that well. Next time, dry your feet off before you go leaving wet footprints all over the place."

Oops.

"I--" you begin, and immediately Barnes' eyes snap to where your voice originates from. "I'm sorry. I overheard your conversation with Rogers. I shouldn't have but I know it was about me."

Barnes sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, you're right. I have some things to explain. Though I'd much prefer talking to you if I could see you."

You hesitate. "Only a slight problem there. I'm not wearing any clothes."

If it had been any lighter in the room you would have seen Barnes blush. Instead, you watch him pull his shirt over his head. He hands it to you blindly, the shirt off his own back, soft with wear and long enough to cover the tops of your thighs. It smells of him, salty with sweat and sweet with the scent you've come to recognize only as him. You shrug it on and shift back.

"I'm sorry," you say again, having trouble concentrating with Barnes' bare chest at your eye level. Is that an old bullet wound on his shoulder? The reminder of a knife across his stomach? You can't look away, even at the seam where man meets metal.

Barnes shakes his head. "No, I should be the one apologizing."

He pauses for a moment and tries to begin several times before finally forming a complete sentence.

"It's my fault you're like this, that Hydra tested on you. It was me who kidnapped you, it was me who followed orders, it was me who completed the mission and got you hurt. And I'm so sorry."

You're so frozen in shock that the absurdity of the situation doesn't even register. There's nothing under this shirt, no underwear, no pants, no bra. And here you are standing in the bedroom of your greatest inspiration, listening to him apologize for being the one that facilitated your kidnapping, for being responsible for all the injury, the pain, the nightmares, the isolation, the...

It all comes flooding back, the things you had forgotten, or simply chose to not remember, and one of those things is his face.

You thought you'd dealt with impact. So many hours with a therapist, and you realize all you did was suppress the feelings, not confront them. And then you break, all the anger and sadness and frustration flowing from you at once.

"You piece of shit." Your voice begins as a whisper but soon amplifies nearly to a shout. "You monster, you bastard, how could you? How could you?"

All this time you forgave him for the damage he'd done, excused it as brainwashing and manipulation from Hydra. But now that it's you he's involved, you have somewhere to direct your anger, and you take it out as a shove straight to his chest.

He didn't expect that one. The words he understood. He accepted those, accepted that you would hate him forever. But then you're pushing and hitting him with all your force. Barnes could fight back, could hold his ground. But you need this, so he lets you shove him into the wall with a newfound strength. Finally against the wall, with nowhere left to go, you turn to pummelling his chest with your fists, repeating the words over and over, how could you, how could you, how could you.

For a moment, he lets it happen. But eventually, Barnes reacts, grabbing your wrists and holding them to his chest in an attempt to calm the fury that rages inside you. Surprisingly, at his touch, you still, slumping against him once the anger is replaced with nothing but sadness. That anger, one you never truly realized you'd harbored since your capture, bled from you all at once, leaving you exhausted.

You don't notice you're crying until a soft thumb wipes a tear from your cheek. Barnes releases your hands and wraps his arms around your sobbing body, pulling you close. "I'm so sorry," he repeats in your ear, his words a whisper against the rage inside your head.

Is it hours, or only minutes, standing like that, wrapped up in him, his skin so soft against your cheek? Time has ceased to exist, melting into the nighttime that encompasses the room in near pitch-black darkness. Your breath calms, your heart rate slows, the tears dry. He's only a man, a broken, misplaced, lost man. But he's also impossibly kind to you, caring enough to train you day after day, to pick you up when you fall down, to ensure you're happy here at all times. That's the man you know and rest your cheek against and seek out for comfort in this moment, despite him being the reason for your anger. But he's not truly the reason for your anger, only an easy outlet standing right before you.

This is not how Bucky had expected this to go. Perhaps to never see you again, yes. But to hold you in his arms, certainly not. And not just hold you, but comfort you. It surprises him how much he finds he likes it. And he can't ignore the fact that you're here in his room, wearing his shirt and only his shirt. He doesn't try anything improprietous, just wraps his arms around your waist, but it's not lost on him that your supple chest is pressed against him and the delicious scent from your still wet hair is filling his brain with a flowery cloud. His stomach clenches at the thought of burying his face in that smell for the rest of the night but he pushes it aside. That's not why you're here. That's not what you want.

But your next words surprise him. You pull slightly away, tilting your splotchy face upward towards his to look him in the eye. You take a ragged breath and speak.

"I forgive you."

Bucky is taken aback. That's not why he made this confession, not to seek your forgiveness. "You don't have to do that."

"I know. But I do. And I know you think I'm just a kid--"

Barnes lets out a short laugh, cutting you off immediately. "Jesus Christ, that's not true. You're not a kid. You're smart and strong and capable. And you've seen the ugly world for its true self and choose to remain good and happy all the same. I'm not like that and that makes you wiser than I'll ever be."

He takes a deep breath, unsure if he should admit to the feelings he desperately wants to express to you. The way you're looking at him, with a mixture of hesitation and admiration, makes the words tumble from his mouth without a second thought.

"But somehow being around you makes me want to be good again. Not for my sake, but for yours."

"James, I--" You've never used his first name before, but it falls deliciously from your lips, the sound of it nearly distracting him from the finger you run across the stubble on the cleft of his chin. Nearly. He captures that hand in his own, holding it there against his face.

"You don't have to forgive me. I don't deserve it," he repeats, eyes falling shut to the feeling of your thumb pressed to the corner of his lips. He still holds you close, the other arm wrapping tight around you, and though verbally he rejected the comfort your warmth offered, his body says otherwise, desperate for the acceptance his brain refuses to give into.

"Stop punishing yourself," you whisper. For a moment, he almost feels that he could.

And when your lips find his, soft and delicate, he forgets why you're even here in the first place, forgets his guilt and your anger, forgets even to react.

His lack of response has you pulling away, worried you've done something wrong, but then he's chasing your lips with his own, leaning forward to meet you halfway, gathering you impossibly tighter to his chest. He pauses, mouth mere centimeters from yours, eyes still shut, a deep breath heaving from his chest. He wants more, wants to kiss you again in all the places that count, but he can't quite yet.

"What was that for?" The question's not an accusatory one but simply curious. Have you always looked at him in this light since day one? Has he just not noticed?

"Are you blind, Barnes?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "None of that last name shit, doll, we've moved on to a first-name basis."

But your words are enough to surge him forward, this time capturing your lips in a dominating kiss that leaves you gasping for air. He takes advantage of your open mouth and presses his tongue to yours, seeking to fill his soul with your all-consuming warmth, to wrap it around him like a cocoon of your scent. His fingers slide down your back and slip under the shirt you wear, his shirt, grasping at the bare skin of your ass, filling his hands with your supple flesh.

You moan softly under his touch, relishing in the feeling of being encompassed by someone so large and so strong. The vibranium arm, which you expected to be harshly indelicate against your relative fragility, caresses you with the same gentility of the other. The intense contact sends your heart racing like it did all the times you were pinned below him on the sparring mat. Will he pin you like that in bed? Hold you down while he fucks you within an inch of your life?

The thought rouses a heat between your legs and stirs butterflies in your tummy. You don't even know if that's where this is going, but it invades your brain anyways. You're sure Barnes can feel your racing pulse beneath his lips when he kisses your neck, sending your nerves haywire as he creeps toward the neckline of your shirt. He inhales your scent, the hot air of his breath fanning your cool skin.

Everything about this is sloppy, the wet kisses dragged across your skin, his tongue tangled with yours, your fingers tugging at the hair that brushes the nape of his neck. Even his hips against yours are messy and rough, the heat of him leaving your core feeling slick, the wetness of it rubbing between your naked thighs. And then Barnes is sliding his hands back up your body, this time under your shirt, and tugging it over your head, his lips leaving your skin just long enough to toss the item to the ground.

You expect him to keep surging forward, to lift you in his arms and take you to bed like you want him to. But he pauses instead, hands cradling the back of your head, his eyes staring intensely into yours. Or you think he's staring into your eyes.

"Are you okay? Is this okay?" His voice is full of concern but raspy with arousal all the same.

"Yes, James, yes, I need more."

"Well, I would, it's just that you've disappeared on me again." One look at your hands and you know he was looking right through you, not at you. The swirl of emotions--pleasure, arousal, timidity even--sent you shifting without your knowledge. You can't help but laugh.

"Let me see you, doll," he groans, sounding exasperated that he can't rake his gaze across your naked flesh or find all the places he wants to touch you because they're invisible.

"You first."

A heated understanding lights up his eyes, still vibrant in the darkness of the room. Slowly, he releases his grip on you, relenting to not knowing where you are in space. You take an invisible step back to get a better view of the specimen before you. With one hand, he unbuckles his belt, sliding the leather from his pants and dropping it to the floor with a thunk. And then his pants are gone and he's left in his boxers, tight against the bulging muscles of his thighs.

And other bulging things. He doesn't hide his attraction to you. But still, you do not reappear.

Bucky begins to worry you're never going to, that maybe he's taken things too for. But then, a soft finger trails across his neck and he jerks in surprise. You're tracing the plain of his chest with a feather-light touch, dipping into the indent between his collarbones, feeling along the puckered scar of a bullet wound and the long slice of a knife. He feels healed beneath your touch, but it's not enough to satisfy the insatiable hunger building in the tightness of his groin. This entire evening has been a long, drawn-out, build-up of tension, and if he doesn't release it soon, it will snap like an overstretched rubber band.

He makes his move.

Apparently, Bucky's senses are just as perceptive here as they are on the sparring mat. His metal hand shoots up and wraps around the wrist of the hand on his chest, despite being unable to see it. The other reaches out and grapples at your invisible body in the dark, somehow finding your waist. He doesn't need to see you to manage to flip you around and press your back against his chest. In your surprise, your invisibility falters, and you flicker out of your shifted form with a flustered squeak, one hand suddenly pinned between your back and Bucky's rock-hard chest.

He holds on with an iron grip and walks you toward the bed, holding you up to prevent you from tripping in your ruffled state.

"You're taking too long, doll," he mumbles into your ear, and you feel his chest rumble with the vibrations. Your free hand flies to the one around your waist, which is slowly creeping upward toward your breast to twist at the sensitive nipple. "I know you like it when I pin you on the sparring floor. I can see it in your eyes. I'll take you like that right now if you give me the word."

Fuck, you want nothing more but you can't breathe enough to get the words out, opting for nodding vigorously instead. But Bucky wants words, gently prodding you forward to get a verbal commitment out of you. He will never take you against your will again. So you manage a long, drawn-out please and suddenly you're face-first in the sheets, bent halfway at the waist, your ass grinding against the delicious bulge pressed against your aching cunt. It pleases you that he has been thinking the same wicked thoughts as you when he slams you to the mat over and over again in training.

Bucky pulls your arm out from underneath you, joining it with the other and holding them together with his metal fist at your lower back, forcing your chest further into the mattress and your ass higher in the air. There's no way for you to move, no matter how hard you try. But you don't try, won't try. Bucky has you right where you want to be.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs in your ear and you breathe an affirmation. His teeth nibble suddenly at your ear lobe and you squirm, the sensation of his breath fanning your skin sending goosebumps along the trail of kisses he leaves down your spine. Somehow, you know this is only the calm before the storm, the gentle caresses of a man who's about to rearrange every organ in your body, all the way up to your heart if you aren't careful.

It doesn't matter to you that it's pitch black in the room; you wouldn't have been able to see anything with your face shoved into the comforter, even if the lights were on. But Bucky's starting to regret having left the lights off, wishing he could better see the curve of your hips, the swell of your thighs, or the bloom of his handprint on your ass when his hand comes down with a smack. He resigns to being satisfied by the mewling gasp that escapes your lips and your soft pleas to Do it again, harder.

So he does. Smack.

And then he's sinking to his knees and you can tell because he leaves a wet stripe of skin with his tongue over the globe of your ass and blows a shock of cool air across the rawness of your skin. He replaces the sting of his hand with the bite of his teeth and then a kiss to soothe you again. The rollercoaster of sensations has you moaning against the mattress and rocking your hips toward his face and Barnes chuckles at your movement, your actions giving away the desperation you feel to have his tongue move to more sensitive places.

He is happy to oblige. You hadn't even noticed you'd been squeezing your thighs together until he slid a hand up between them, forcing them apart. It's a blessing your legs aren't doing any work to keep you up anymore because they feel like jelly under his touch. The hand between your thighs moves higher still until you feel his thumb pressed to your sensitive clit, warm and twitching with anticipation, desire coursing through your veins and dripping from your wet cunt. Your ears barely register that he's speaking, the blood is pumping so hard in your ears, but his words are exalting.

"Look at you, so wet for me." The hand around your wrists tightens just slightly. You are surprised by the extreme control he has over the cool metal fingers, and you almost wish he'd use those on you instead. And then he says, "you like it, don't you, doll, being at my mercy," and you forget all about the arm and decide it doesn't matter what hand presses down with a gentle strength on your clit as long as he doesn't stop. And he doesn't. Doesn't move, doesn't flinch or twitch or falter, just holds steady until your gasping mewls die down just enough for you to say, "yes, all for you, all for you, all..."

With those words, his thumb slips, between your slick folds into your pussy, finding the soft spongy flesh and pressing down again and you cry out with a careening moan that tapers off into a silent sob. He's taking his time, picking you apart, pulling at the laces that bind you together, and undoing them to release the tension he knows you harbor. But what about him? Is it not torture for him?

You breathe in a rough gasp, enough to squeak out a few more words. "I thought we were going too slow for you."

He laughs, he actually laughs, at your words, but relents.

"I hear you, doll."

I hear you. Oh wow. His tongue replaces his finger and you lose all coherence, able only to blubber some iteration of his name as the smooth muscle traces circles around your clit, finally allowing your orgasm to build with a steady contraction in your pelvis. Barnes moans between your legs like he's never tasted chocolate or buttercream or any of those other wondrous flavors and there's only you. And that moan sends you overboard, the vibrations diffusing down your legs and you tremble into your first orgasm. Your first orgasm.

He keeps going, riding out the waves of your high until you're crying that it's too much, James, too much and he pulls his tongue away from your oversensitized clit only to move down your legs. He's working you up again, teasing the smooth skin of your inner thigh with gentle nips and kisses until your body is craving release again, your cunt clenching around nothing but the memory of his mouth. He is deliberate in his ministrations, methodical in the way he must be with his missions. The flood of your first orgasm has dripped steadily down your thigh and he cleans you with his tongue, dragging upward along the sticky trail of your musky release until his tongue makes contact again and he pulls an orgasm from your desperate body once more.

He still hasn't released your arms.

"You know how long I've wanted to do this?" he groans, as you shudder again into the pleasure of his touch. He kisses back up the length of your spine while you twitch under him, his free hand dragging shock wave after shock wave from your cunt. It strikes you that this man is truly 106, not 26 like his body suggests, and you absentmindedly wonder if that's why he's so good at it, that he's had years to practice. And then his cock is pressing against your folds and you forget the notion halfway through thinking it. "You're so good to me doll, so good for opening up for me. Wanna feel your tight pussy around me."

You push backward, or do your best to without the employment of your arms, wanting desperately to feel him inside you. He is warm and all-encompassing and part of you thinks his cock spilling his seed inside of you would complete you like nothing else. But you know that's a bad idea and you can hear him already unwrapping a condom (where did he get that from?) and your body trembles with the anticipation. You haven't even seen him yet but you know he must be big, the way he grunts when the tip of his erection teases your entrance.

When he enters you it isn't gentle like the stroke of his tongue. It splits you open with a rough thrust, the laces of your heart fully undone and releasing you from their confinement. You choke on your own air.

And then he's releasing your arms, and before you can react, Barnes has you lifted, your back to his chest, your knees shoved roughly into the mattress so he can stand and fuck you from behind. The metal arm finds your neck and forces your head back, his lips dragging hot against your soft skin and muttering filthy praise into your ear, his hand gently on your throat to hold you there. Your hands fly to his, not to pull him away, but to convince him to squeeze, just a little bit harder. The pressure is grounding, and then the hand around your waist is trailing toward the bud of your clit and rubbing in urgent circles and you let out a silent gasp as he thrusts into you at a pace astounding for the position you're in.

You come hard, over his hand, around his cock, and for the first time Barnes falters, stunned by the intensity with which you clamp around him and if he hadn't made you come two times already he might have held out a bit longer to pull another one of those stunning orgasms from your slick cunt. But you're sagging, using him to hold you up against the exhaustion of repeated abuse so he releases, riding the wave of pleasure you started. Bucky groans out your name, surprising you with the gentleness of it on his tongue despite the rough hand around your neck.

When he releases you softly back onto the bed, you sink heavily into the mattress, feeling high on pleasure and drunk on his hands. He pulls away and shuffles around the room, and if you had had any energy left you might have complained at the loss of him but as it sits nothing will rouse you from the intense desire to simply fall asleep.

He continues to move about and then... the lights go on? You groan at the harsh treatment of your eyes as they adjust. But Barnes returns and pulls you against him and apologizes for the rude awakening.

"Sorry, doll," he mutters. "Wanted to get a better look at you." His fingers glide along your back and his face nuzzles into the top of your head, breathing into your hair as you press your forehead into his chest. Despite being exhausted himself he trails his hands all over your body, exploring the side of you that has been shoved into the sheets for the better part of the evening. You let him, although your nerves feel fried and oversensitive to touch.

"Watch what you do with those hands," you giggle as his fingertips brush over a nipple, "unless you're ready to go again."

"Already looking forward to next time?"

"You wish," you tease, but already you know for certain that there will be a next time.

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes #winter solider fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #winter solider smut #definitely not canon #i refuse to believe steve went back in time for some 1940s kitty kat and left his best friend behind #tony and nat are alive bc they are the only truly valuable characters #sebastian stan #also youre the daughter of agent hill #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #winter soldier #wEiNeR sOlDiEr

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radioactivepeasant · 3 years ago

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Fic Prompts: Star Wars Wednesday

(This is an excerpt from my unfinished but fully outlined Reign of Vader fic, in which Darth Vader assassinates Palpatine and then finds out that unfortunately this means he actually has to rule. After Luke is captured by the Empire, Vader reveals both his heritage and a desire to fix things in the galaxy. Luke is wary, but it's not like he has anywhere to go)

Darth Vader was not a man of infinite patience, and the Ruling Council was growing ever nearer to discovering the limits of his tolerance.

"Day-to-day procedures are a delicate matter, Majesty," Greejatus was saying, "It would be an unprecedented disaster to force change upon all offices all at once. May I recommend a gradual shift as your reign takes root?"

"Yes yes," Sate Pesage agreed. His eyes glittered out of his gaunt face with ambition. "This proposal to outlaw slavery, for instance-"

"-Is non-negotiable," Vader interrupted. "It was an idiot's decision to legalize it in the first place. My empire will have no need of slave labor."

"Of course!" Pesage bowed. He was beginning to sweat under that ridiculous hat of his. "We are eager to begin this journey into the future your reign promises, Majesty. But the galaxy is vast. Perhaps it is best to...phase the law in slowly? It takes time to bring new ordinances all the way to the Outer Rim."

Vader had heard quite enough for one day.

"Enough. The decree goes into effect tonight."

He stood, and all five members of the Council jumped a little.

"You have until then to review the revised legal codes I have provided for you."

[[MORE]]

With a sardonic lilt to his voice, he added, "The rule of the Grand Vizier through the Moffs has ended, gentlemen. If you do not feel that you are adequately prepared for the task ahead, I will accept your resignation and begin the process of finding your successor."

He waved a hand. "In the next week, we begin hearings for the Alderaanian Massacre. You are dismissed."

There was a certain satisfaction in watching Palpatine's five advisers bowing and trembling on their way out. After decades of putting up with their snide comments and inane commands, it was nice to see the shoe on the other foot for a change.

Of course, they hadn't covered much. Just an overview of what the Imperial Ruling Council actually did. Once Vader mentioned that he intended to sell his secondary residence in the district and distribute the funds as reparations, the meeting had devolved into excuses and protests for the next two hours. Luckily, he was far too stubborn to pay any attention to their complaints.

While he had no strong feelings about most of his actions in the last nineteen years, neither hatred nor regret, he was willing to acknowledge that not all of his targets had been legitimate in a military sense. For Padme's sake, he would make amends if possible.

Naturally, it was uncomfortable to try putting a price on life. But the sale of that ridiculous "castle" Palpatine insisted on him staying in would provide a good starting place.

It took about fifteen minutes of calculating, but ultimately Vader decided there was more than enough in Palpatine's personal accounts to cover about 17,000 wrongful death settlements, with additional funds in the cases of recurring medical bills.

Arranging reparations for Alderaan would take more work. Vader quickly decided he was going to delegate that to the department of finances.

(They...did have a department of finances, didn't they? Surely Sidious hadn't done his own bookkeeping.)

With that settled, Vader's itinerary consisted primarily of a meeting with the Hands to make sure they knew their boundaries. After that, a remote consultation with a newly-renowned surgeon living in one of the lower districts. It would, unfortunately, take up the majority of the day. But for now, at least, he had two hours to himself.

The emperor closed his eyes and stretched out with his senses. It took several seconds before he was able to pinpoint his son's location. Luke's presence was dimmed, slightly. Muffled.

The reason for this became apparent the moment Vader found him.

Inside the library, on the lower level, Luke was sprawled across one of the ridiculous armchairs the nobles had favored. A book lay open on his chest, rising and falling gently. A small stack of texts encompassing everything from speeder repair to adventure novels sat on the floor, just next to where one of Luke's hands dangled off the edge of the arm rest. Clearly, he had been in the library for several hours before falling asleep.

Sleep had softened the boy's features, painting him in a far more vulnerable light. The fear and caution of the previous night had been wiped away, leaving someone who seemed far too young, and far too small. How could he be twenty? How could Padme's baby already be twenty?

It was tempting to leave him there. To let him sleep. But the chair was not the most supportive frame, nor was the library the most secure chamber of the palace. Reluctantly, Vader bent to touch Luke's cheek.

"Luke," he said quietly, "This is hardly an appropriate place to sleep."

Luke's eyelids fluttered, but he did not fully awaken at once. Carefully, ever so carefully, Vader took hold of Luke's shoulders and guided him back into an upright position.

"Your spine will thank me later," he said.

Luke shifted, then opened his eyes with a groan. He didn’t seem to register Vader’s presence at first. One arm stretched up over his head, and the other came up to rub at his eyes.

“What time is it?” he yawned.

“Nearly noon,” answered Vader. The meeting with the Council had taken far longer than he would’ve liked. “Are you hungry?”

With a garbled sound, Luke waved a hand from side to side. “Don’t know yet?” he said in a still sleep-slurred voice.

After a few more seconds, he finally noticed just who had woken him. Instinctively, he straightened his spine, and looked a little bit nervous.

“Oh,” he said, very quietly. “H-hello, Father.”

“Hello, son.” Vader sounded amused. “Was your choice of reading that dull?”

After a moment, Luke nodded. He made a face. "I know there's supposed to be a famous musical made from this or something. But a whole chapter on how the sewer system of Ryloth's capital city works doesn't seem like good song material."

He jumped when Vader laughed. It was a warm, rich sound, utterly at odds with his austere appearance.

"Poor boy!" He gently took the book from his son. "That was required reading for our literature studies when I was a boy. I loathed it. Very few of my peers sought it out voluntarily."

"I guess I can see why," Luke admitted. "But it seemed like it was going to be a good story."

"Then you are better served finding an abridged copy, I think," Vader chuckled. "Come. You should eat something."

Luke pushed himself up out of the chair. “Do I...need to put the books back?”

Vader leaned back on his heels. He looked at the books, then at the shelves. “I...will leave that to your best judgement. I do not know where you got them from.”

It was such a normal sounding conversation! Why?!

Why did you have to be like...like this?! Luke fought a surprising burst of frustration. I have no idea how to talk to you!

Serious and formal one moment, then laughing the next? Vader? Laughing?! It was as if the man he’d met on Cymoon and the man idly examining his stack of books were two completely different people.

Luke set the books on the console with the Holonet terminal eventually. Vader had suggested that he learn the cataloguing system of the room at a later time. At least that seemed to mean that he would be allowed to go back to the library again. Luke thought about his conversation with Artoo. Perhaps his father was trying to be kind to him. Whether that kindness would extend to anyone else was a different matter.

“I thought you were still meeting with dignitaries or something,” Luke said.

He trailed along behind Vader up an ornate staircase with his hands in his pockets. He was still uncomfortable walking too closely to the man. For all that he acknowledged that the new emperor was, indeed, his father, he was still a force to be reckoned with.

Luke took a moment to internally groan at his unintended pun. Han would probably have elbowed him in the ribs for saying something like that. Chewie would think it was hilarious.

Luke’s attempt to stay safely out of range failed quite suddenly. Vader deliberately slowed his steps so that Luke couldn’t hang back without being extremely obvious about it. He didn’t want to offend the emperor, so he tried to ignore his fight or flight instincts shaking his insides and kept pace with his father.

“I have several more meetings to endure today,” Vader said casually. “But the most onerous of those has been dealt with.”

This was not quite true. The Ruling Council was too full of Palpatine loyalists. Just intimidating them into compliance would only work for so long. They had connections, and they had money, and that could prove to be a headache if not dealt with sooner. Vader needed to replace at least three of them.

He had almost considered appointing Luke as Vizier in Amedda’s place, but had quickly thought better of it. Such a position would almost guarantee that Luke would never have time to fly again. Cutting a Skywalker off from the stars for good seemed too cruel.

His son had not had the childhood he could have had if his mother had lived. If Palpatine had died much sooner. Let him enjoy his youth while he could.

But the problem of finding a Ruling Council that Vader could trust would still be waiting.

“The stupid hat club, right?” Luke asked.

He was unsettled by Vader’s proximity. Vader could sense that. He understood: the armor had been made to terrify. Perhaps one day he would have the option of seeing his son with his own eyes, but for now the boy would have to acclimate himself to the sight.

It was not often that Vader found himself cursing the cold, impersonal nature of his mask. He would have liked to smile at his son.

“Yes. The...stupid hat club.” He settled for letting his amusement be clearly heard in his voice. “That is not an inaccurate description. They run the day-to-day matters of ruling an Empire. But as they were all close to the former ruler, I find that I’d rather not trust them in matters of delegating governance.”

Luke grimaced. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea,” he agreed.

#star wars #star wars wednesday #fic prompts #writing prompts #Reign of Vader #luke skywalker #darth vader #ooc vader because Palpatine is dead and he's trying to decide what that means for his personality #luke is very uncomfortable but seeing Vader and Artoo arguing over upgrades helps #palpatine did not give vader any indication that ruling an empire meant actually working #he's operating on the bits and pieces he remembers from Padme's work and hating every minute of it #guess how long the empire is going to last when it turns out the emperor hates being in charge of that much minutiae #dad vader #he's actually making an effort

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barbarianprncess · 3 years ago

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did you mean it?

read on ao3.

It’s a total of 3 significant events that led to this, her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts bleeding.

The first event isn’t really an event at all. It’s a prologue, necessary context to truly understand the monumentalism of this moment. It’s the memory of her eyes, piercing and reproachful, being the first thing that he saw after losing his mother. It’s shared trauma and oreos while they’re young and naive. It’s truces and training and growing up too soon together. It’s stargazing and stupid jokes saving eachother in every possible way. It's the culmination of the years Percy spent growing, learning, and being with Annabeth, and the unknown and therefore repressed feelings that came with it. Feelings are like the sea in that way, they don’t take well to being restrained. Percy has found that you cannot box in oceans or sentiments, they always find a way to spill over and out, with no regard for the destruction left in its wake.

The second event is Dionysus deciding on a whim that the inhabitants of his camp are ‘uncultured pests’ and taking it upon himself to set up a field trip for campers to the Ancient Greek Cultural Center in New York. (Percy thinks it’s really just to distract kids that were still shaken up about the battle at camp and the losses it caused. But, Dionysus would never say so. He’s far too proud to admit to caring for the children he’s been assigned to look after.) Argus loaded all the kids he could fit into the strawberry vans, as Chiron listed all the reasons this was a terrible idea. As it turns out, his worries were in vain as miraculously, no monsters attacked, and no mortal asked too many questions. No, instead, the only hitch in his plan was the glaring inaccuracies of the Center sending Dionysus into a fit of rage. He ranted for so long, their 2 hour long field trip ended up lasting until the place closed.

Event the third is the ridiculously long line leading to the mens room at the rundown gas station they’ve stopped at, causing Percy to traipse into the woods, deep enough to know that no one other than the squirrels were watching, and pee there. Unbeknownst to him, Annabeth had decided to take a quick walk in the forest as well, (in the opposite direction of his peeing endeavor) with the purpose of clearing her head. Both returned to the parking lot after 10 minutes, with no truck in sight. The gas station lights are turned off on the inside and the door sign has switched decidedly to closed. They look at each other in disbelief.

“Percy?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh...did they…”

“They didn’t. They wouldn’t.”

“I think they would.”

“They would never-”

“I have pretty solid evidence to the contrary.” Annabeth deadpans, casually letting her hair loose and hopping on top of the miniature gas machine for motorcycles.

“But, how did-”

“No Argus.” Which means, no all-seeing eyes to double check the headcount. Percy begins to pace.

“Okay, but-”

“Two trucks.” Both of which are probably assuming Percy and Annabeth are on the other.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, gods.”

“Leave them out of this.”

“Those fuckers.”

“Which ones?” She asks. He looks up and she’s fighting a smile. He pointedly doesn’t notice the way her mouth curls up, or the way her hair falls around her shoulders and down her back, or how pretty she looks lit up by the neon red lights of the gas stations prices, which apparently doesn’t turn off when they close.

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“I know lots of things you don’t.”

“Ha-ha. I mean about how to get out of here.”

“Ohhhhh, let me think.” She wrinkles her nose in faux concentration, tilting her chin up towards the sky. Percy is too annoyed to think it’s adorable. “Nope, not a clue.”

“Your phone?”

“Left it on the truck.”

“Iris message?”

“Percy, it’s dark as shit.” The laughter she’s been holding in comes pouring out. Nevermind that he feels his chest sigh in relief at hearing it for the first time since their quest, this is serious.

“You’re laughing.”

“Just a little.”

“You’re telling me, you don’t have a brilliant plan to get us on a truck.”

“Yes.”

“So, we’re stuck here.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re laughing?”

“You’re just really funny when you’re stressed.” She giggles. He can’t remember the last time she giggled. He missed it. He hates her.

“Oh my gods.”

“Okay, okay, look, I’m sorry. We’re halfway to camp right?” He nods. “I’m sure they’ll figure out we’re missing before they get all the way back to camp, but let's say, worst case scenario, they don’t-”

“Not helping-”

“And they make it the rest of the way back to camp. It took us four hours to get to the center, which means camp is two hours away, so if they make it the two hours back to camp before they realize we’re missing, and they drive back up-”

“C’mon ‘Beth, you know I suck at math.”

“We’re stuck here for five hours at most.”

“Five hours?”

“And that's if no passing cars let us use their phones to hurry the process up.”

“Five hours.”

She’s laughing again. “Seriously, what is so funny?”

“It’s just-” Her cheeks are red and she’s very poorly attempting to suppress her smile. “You’ve been calm in so many life or death situations, and being stuck at a gas station is what finally breaks through.”

“It’s nighttime.” She stares at him for a moment and then she’s laughing again, full bodied real laughter, and he's laughing too.

And it’s as if this gas station became their own personal Ogygia, an oasis, a resting place for them to be stupid kids again. And they don’t talk about the battle, or Rachel, or the volcano, or any of the million things set on tearing them apart. They talked about his mom getting serious about his new boyfriend, about Tyson’s underwater adventures and Grover’s searching shenanigans.

They smack talk with no real heat about who the better fighter is (Oh please, Seaweed Brain, I've been training since before you could tie your own shoes.), and argue about which ancient hero had the greatest journey (Hercules, are you kidding? Did you even read the myth?). They break into the gas station for snacks (What the fuck, Annabeth, where’d you learn to pick a lock? No, I wouldn’t prefer you break the glass, you psycho. Oh my gods, can you really break the glass?), and dissolve into giggles as they try to fit five drachma into the cash register.

They end up back outside sitting on the gas machines facing one another from three feet away.

“Your mom called me the other day.”

Percy, who’d been lazily squinting up at the murky sky, searching for any sign of stars, whipped his head to look at her. “What?”

“She called me on the phone. We talked for a bit. She said she wanted to make sure I was alright.”

“That sounds like something she would do.” He sighs and hops down from the machine, turning away from her, hoping to hide his blush from the dim light. “She cornered me on one of my off weekends, asked what was going on with us.”

“Oh.” He hears the shifting of fabric and assumes she followed him in sliding off the gas machine.

“Yeah.” It’s silent for a long time before she responds.

“What did you say?” She asks, her voice smaller than it was moments ago. He hears her scratching at the flat metal top of the machine. “When she asked, what did you say?”

He runs his finger through his hair, and one gets caught in a particularly large snarl. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.” She whispers and gods he’s terrified but he really doesn’t have a choice when her voice wavers like that. Her words shake and every ounce of his being tells him to do whatever it takes to soothe it.

“I said we were fighting. That there wasn’t one sole reason for it, just a bunch of little reasons. I told her that I scared you when I….went away for two weeks last summer. And that you didn’t like bringing Rachel on your quest. I told her that we….. disagree about how to best handle Luke. That I probably wanted to protect you more than I wanted to listen to you.” She laughs softly and he blames what he says next on her laugh. It is the catalyst for everything that follows.

“I told her that we’d be okay. Because no matter what happens I’m always gonna love you.”

He hears her breath catch. He doesn’t have to look back to know she’s turned to face him fully. “Did you mean it?” She calls. He doesn’t answer. The words haven’t caught in his throat, they’ve spontaneously combusted in his vocal chords and he doesn’t think he’ll ever speak again.

The sound of gravel crunching gets closer until suddenly she's beside him, and he didn’t tell his torso to twist toward her, he thinks she might just be his center of gravity.

“Did you mean it?”

She’s looking up at him, and her hair smells like lemons, and her cheeks are pink, and her eyelashes go on for miles, and her sunspots are better than stars. And it’s as if she pulls the words right out of him, he’s hypnotized by everything about her.

“Of course I meant it.”

She exhales and closes her eyes and while he mourns the loss of the sight, his body moves on it’s own accord again and he’s edging closer and closer and she opens her eyes and here they are.

Their noses brush, and this time he closes his eyes, and their noses brush just so, and…

Whoa.

He was wrong, it wasn't just those three significant events that to her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts positively bleeding. It’s clear he’s been waiting his entire life for this moment at this shitty gas station.

Waiting for this. Waiting for her.

They kiss for a moment or an eternity, and they fit. His hands are on her hips and hers clutch at his shirt before sliding up to his throat, and it’s like his soul is whispering, oh there you are.

And then she’s pulling back, so she has just enough space to shake her head without disconnecting from his forehead.

She's breathless when she whispers, “This is a bad idea.”

His hands trail up and down her forearm of their own accord, and when he whispers back he’s breathless too. “Yeah, really bad idea.”

Her hands slide up from his chest to his shoulders, and then she’s kissing him again, with purpose, and he’s kissing back like his life depends on it because he thinks it might, thinks if he lets go of her he’d die on the spot.

It seems his theory might get tested when she pulls back again just far enough to whisper against his lips, “Is it always like that?”

He kisses her again, once, twice, because he can’t help it and whispers back, “I don’t know, you were my first kiss.”

He’d released any serious hold he had on her the moment she hesitated, but then she’s rocking back up to meet him halfway and his entire body thinks thank the gods. He actually sighs his relief into her mouth, as his hands desperately reach for her face, some fingers tangling in her hair, and their lips are magnets, opposites that don’t have a choice but to pull together. Despite how much he wants to keep doing this forever, he has to tell her.

“I don’t wanna lose you, again.” He means not ever, but he figures she understands the severity in his voice. She’s running her hand through his hair, and his slide up and down her back, and she knocks her nose against his as she answers, “I know, me either. I’m confused, this is confusing me.” And she tilts her chin just so, like she did a million years ago, and this time he kisses her.

They kiss for an infinity, he gets to taste her laughter when she giggles at the absurdness of it all, and it’s better than ambrosia. He kisses her until he doesn’t know anything else, until his entire universe is Annabeth Chase, with her cheeks and her curls and her lips. She is everything.

And then headlights penetrate their universe, voices bring an end to their infinity, and Chiron is speaking but it’s nothing, it’s all white noise because she’s no longer in his arms, and his center of gravity is being ripped away and he hears someone ask, “What’d you guys do?”

He’s still looking at her face when she answers, “You know, tried not to strangle each other mostly.”

But, she looks back before she turns all the way around and her gaze is charged and her lips quirk with the secret they share.

He is so screwed.

#so i wrote this in like two hours and its probably a mess but. here you go ig.#aoah ch 3 will be out soon but in the meantime #heres this lol #percabeth #percabeth fic #my fic #my writing #if you comment or rb i will die for you

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scandalsavagefanfic · 4 years ago

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Hello! I am a huge fan of ur writing. I've loved everything I've read of yours. I've read alot of what you've posted, except for a couple of the tags that are squicky for me (so I'm very thankful you tag very thoroughly). No judgement for the squick, it's just not for me. & when I'm having a bad day, I usually just go thru ur ao3 and find something to reread. I think about Therapy's Bruce & Jason every damn day. While I obvs appreciate ur darker more "problematic" content (I really vibe with some of the themes you write about bc of my own trauma, & so it's very cathartic to read about in a fictional setting), I am truly a sucker for ur more happy content. The Happily Ever After verse also lives in my head rent free. Idk more wholesome stuff just seems more special when you write it. Anyways. I would die for you. But the point of this ask is cause I'm curious as to why you don't like Urban Legends? I'm sorry if you already talked about it here or on twitter and I missed it. I was just wondering because I really enjoy your take on things and would love to hear why you dislike it. I've been enjoying it so far personally, but I am always open to DC comics criticism.

Aw thank you so much! I'm so flattered by everything you just said. You're so sweet ❤❤❤❤❤

I haven't talked about Urban Legends here or twitter (I haven't been very active in either place lately. Just a lot going on and no energy 😔) but I'm happy to do it here.

Before I start though, I just want to add a standard disclaimer and make it clear that if you like it, there's nothing wrong with that and you don't have to let me ruin it for you lol. Like what you like.

That said, since you asked...

I said this when I was talking about it on discord, that there is a difference between hope and expectation. I always hope that a new story centered on Jason (or anyone really, but things have been especially egregious for Jay for 15 years) will be good or at least treat the character with a minimal level of respect (to be honest, the bar is super fucking low). But my expectations always temper my hope, to keep it from getting unrealistic. Because my expectations are based on experience.

The long history of Jason Todd, since even before his resurrection, has been one of retroactively trying to make him "a bad seed" in order to absolve Bruce of any responsibility in his death.

I don't even expect DC or their writers to start honoring the fact that Jason was not an angry, reckless Robin (and less of the later than Dick or Tim and definitely Damian). There plenty of ways that retcon can be folded into his history and be compelling and sympathetic. And if they're going to stick with that retcon, I'm only asking that they do it in one of those compelling and sympathetic ways because Jason was 15 when he died, heroically, in one of the most selfless acts in comics, to save a woman who literally handed him over to be brutally murdered. He was 12 when Bruce plucked him off the streets, he'd been homeless and fending for himself for at least two years. I personally think that Jason's story hits harder for him and Bruce if their original, canon relationship, of Jason as starry-eyed and eager to learn and absolutely devoted to Bruce and Bruce to Jason, is preserved. But Jason's origins does leave room for a meaningful interpretation of him as angry and frustrated at the lack of meaningful results of Bruce's methods.

And that's really where my irritation at stories like Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer and Batman The Adventure Continues has it's roots.

Every time one of these stories comes out, I think (or hope, rather) that this will be the one that remembers and respects the origins of the Jason and the Red Hood, that takes into account the changed sensibilities of comics readers in the 30 years since Jason's death and the subtle, 20 year, retroactive campaign to make him the "bad Robin". The "born bad" trope is played out and literally no one likes the message it implies. That some kids are just bad eggs and there's nothing parents or the adults around them can do. Especially when it's played as the kid's fault. If Jason's time as Robin is going to be characterized by anger, then it should be rooted in anger at the social injustices he witnessed as he grew up in an impoverished, crime-ridden, area and the horrors he faced raising himself when every day was a battle for survival. There are topical, meaningful, stories to tell with that backdrop.

But those are never the stories we get.

⚠⚠ Spoilers for Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer ⚠⚠

I'm particularly disappointed in Urban Legends because for the first issue, it looked like that was the kind of story we were going to get. I was put off by the first flashback of Jason being mesmerized by Bruce's guns, and I got that feeling in my gut that it was a bad sign. Jason depicted as impatient and overconfident and the scene with the guns is heavy-handed foreshadowing that got my spidey-sense tingling. I had a inkling then (in the first three pages) of how this story was going to play out, but it was early and I could still see many narrative paths that could lead to a satisfying story. My concerns were soothed somewhat and the little flame of my hope fanned, with the flashback of Alfred scolding Bruce, with Barbara's concern for Jason. A bit of worry returned with the way Jason ruthlessly pursued an addict who didn't appear to be a dealer and with the ending of the issue. The stuff with the addict sat wrong with me but the ending was tempered some by how despicable Tyler's dad was written. The scene was clearly set so that the reader could sympathize with Jason's decision and the scene with the addict could be brushed aside as a side-effect of comics over-the-top need for constant action, so I still held hope.

Issue 2 made me uncomfortable and it's where my hope starts to take a backseat to my expectations. I can dismiss Jason's self-deprecating internal monologue as unreliable narration, except that the flashback reinforces his thought process to explicitly show that it's not unreliable narration, and should be taken at face value. Jason faces physical abuse at the hands of his mother's drug dealer and when the flashback continues later, Jason kills the drug dealer. To be clear, this is a pre-Bruce Jason. His mom is still alive. He's like... 10. He kills this guy for shoving his head into a wall and implying Jason's mother paid for her drugs with sex. This is a scene that serves a single purpose. To show that Jason has always been prone to violence.

In the spirit of full disclosure, there is the small chance the drug dealer might not be dead. But the story obviously wants the reader to think he is, and it hasn't done anything to change that yet.

Starlin already did this story with The Diplomat’s Son in 1988 and he did it infinitely better. AND that’s still technically canon. So now I’m supposed to believe that Jason lost his cool bad enough to kill two douche bags before his sweet 16? Like it’s totally normal for abused kids raised in poverty, who’ve led hard and heartbreaking lives to just... haul off and kill people? That’s bullshit, and when taken with the Jason in the third issue, who is little more than an idiot thug, this story is really doubling down on some fucked up stereotypes.

Which brings us to the most recent issue. I went into this installment with very low expectations. I thought this story was going to be about Jason, through this experience with Tyler, a young boy with a similar background to Jason's, coming to the realization that Bruce's way is the best way and that Bruce did his best by Jason.

That would be annoying (in no small part because it takes increasingly absurd levels of plot armor to keep Bruce's no kill rule relevant, let alone irrefutably right). But I can probably live with that, if only because maybe if Jason officially falls back into line with the Bats crusade, maybe I'll get stories that treat him with respect, stories that don't relegate him to comic relief, dumb brute, or a background body with no lines in a story about the Joker burning Gotham (like Jason would just fucking stand there quietly for that).

And that may still be where the story is going, Jason realizing Bruce is right.

But holy shit do I not have the right words to describe how fucking insulting and gross issue three is.

From start to finish--including the flashback--Jason is written as cruel and fucking stupid. Like straight up dumb.

The entire issue is Bruce explaining the fucking basics to Jason like it's his first day. And Jason flies off the fucking handle and terrorizes a doctor he knows isn't a part of making the Cheerdrops, beats the shit out of some random addicts, and finally, when he can't accomplish anything on his own because he's a dumb brute he calls Barbara for help and rushes in with no information where he's promptly incapacitated and must now wait to be rescued by Batman.

This panel is the least of the issues sins but I can’t screenshot the entire story but it’s representative of the tone for the whole issue (and retroactively tainted the prior two issues).

This is beyond insulting. The only conclusions Jason comes to in this issue are the ones Bruce leads him to by talking to him like he can’t make the simplest connections. And like... in this story Jason can’t make the simplest connections.

This (and the Jason throughout the entirety of this issue) is a far cry from the Jason we fell in love with in Under the Red Hood, who was competent and strategic and intelligent enough to seize control of Gotham’s underworld from Black Mask (who’s no fucking slouch, he’s the first and only person to unify organized crime in Gotham) AND elude and manipulate Bruce until the time and place of his choosing.

This is a far cry from even the Red Hood and the Outlaws Jason who is competent enough to fight the League of Shadows and Ra’s al Ghul (among very dangerous and skilled others) and smart enough to create antidotes for mind control nanotech viruses.

As he should be, by the way. Jason Todd is one of the best, most comprehensively trained fighters in DC’s stable of non powered vigilantes. He’s not irrational or hot headed. He’s pragmatic, tactically minded, and patient. He’s a detective. Right now. Has been since he was 12. Bruce doesn’t have to make him one because he already is.

Jason is not a stupid thug who uses his fists because his brain doesn’t work. And I can’t tell you how so very exhausted I am by this narrative.

This is actually the most egregious example of Jason’s skills and intelligence being not just undermined but dismissed entirely. Even Morrison’s Jason had some degree of competency.

The one, single redeeming factor of this story is the art. It’s beautiful. And Marcus To is a godsend he seems to be one of only a couple of artists who remember that Jason was a child when he was Robin and I’m literally only buying this book because of him.

Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to come out so... um... passionately lol. I’m just very very tired. My intention with this isn’t to ruin it for you, if you like it, that’s fine.

But this issue shot this story to the top of my "Vehemently Despise” list. 1) Batman: Urban Legends (Cheer), 2) Battle for the Cowl/Morrison’s Batman and Robin, 3) Batman The Adventure Continues.

I hope the next issues somehow salvage this dumpster fire. But I’m not expecting it.

(Damnit. That sounded harsh again. To reiterate, I’m not trying to judge anyone who enjoys it, I just personally hate it and you asked me why lol 😅)

#Batman #red hood #batman: urban legends #nice art #shit story #or at least shit characterization #jason todd deserves better #this response got long and I didn't edit it #please forgive any errors #and/or unclear spots #spoilers

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basic-otaku · 4 years ago

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My thoughts on Xue Yang's character (based on the drama and novel)

Xue Yang is a character I didn’t fully understand until I finished The Untamed. I looked back on him with a bit of pity but little understanding. It wasn’t until I listened to his character song that I truly began to dissect his character. Reading those lyrics completely flipped my perspective on him, and I went back to watch the Yi City arc again. I was shocked by how much I had missed. Xue Yang has since become one of my favorite characters of the series. I’ve spent so much time thinking about him and his motives that I finally decided to write down my thoughts. This analysis comes mostly from what I perceived, so it may differ from other people’s opinions. You are free to disagree with me.

Let’s start with what we know: Xue Yang was a street kid with a hard childhood. We know he was abandoned at a young age, but we don’t know how young. However, he must have been old enough to survive, so he couldn’t have been younger than four when he started fending for himself. We don’t know who his parents are because he doesn’t remember them, nor does he remember anyone else who had potentially taken care of him. His parents could be dead for all we know, or they could have dumped him somewhere when they no longer wanted to take care of him. It’s all up to speculation. He also has a very high pain tolerance, probably due to constant beatings as a child.

When you’re all alone in the world, you have to learn to put yourself first. There’s no one to care for you, so only you can care for yourself. I believe that Xue Yang wasn’t always a bad person because no one is inherently evil. However, because he was alone, there was no one to nurture him and teach him right from wrong. When all you experience is violence and hatred, that becomes your response to similar situations; you don’t expect kindness or want to give it in return.

One of Xue Yang’s flaws as a child was his naivety — he was much too quick to trust. That’s how he got himself into such a bad situation. He was eager to have something he was never able to have (candy), so he immediately trusted that shopkeeper when he said he could have some as a reward for running an errand. What he got in return wasn’t candy, but a brutal beating and a severed pinky. If Xue Yang had still had any faith left in humanity, this is the point where it would have left him. The remaining childhood innocence in him was gone. This brings me to an interesting piece of dialogue. In Yi City, when Xue Yang confronts Song Lan and tells him what he’s been up to, Song Lan curses at him, calling him an animal. Xue Yang laughs at him and says, “I quit using those words when I was seven.” And what happened to Xue Yang’s finger? “One finger was ground into battered flesh on the spot. The child was seven.” Even Xue Yang himself knows that moment was when everything changed, and he still carries the resentment with him now.

Back to the cart incident. This event scarred him for life and was the primary reason he became a sociopath. Now he’s bent on revenge. He was powerless as a child; just another street rat who shouldn’t be treated like a human being nor spared any pity. So, when he realizes he can do the same to those that hurt him, he takes it much further. When he was old enough and strong enough, he exacts his revenge. He wanted to make the Chang Clan feel his pain — not only for the finger he had lost but for his whole miserable life up to that point. If no one deigned to understand him, then he’d make them understand in the only way he knew how. With violence.

Xue Yang was only fifteen or sixteen when he slaughtered the Chang Clan, killing more than fifty people. This is where he meets Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan. From the first moment, Xue Yang hates Xiao Xingchen. He’s so righteous, so full of light. He thinks he makes the world better just by doing a little good. What a hypocrite. Where was he when he was needed? Where was he when Xue Yang was a seven-year-old boy left crying in the streets after having his finger ground to a pulp? No, nobody can be that good.

When Xue Yang is captured by Wei Wuxian and the others, Xiao Xingchen takes him back to Qinghe to be apprehended, and Xue Yang vows to get his revenge on Xiao Xingchen for it. It isn’t long after he escapes from Qinghe that Xue Yang slaughters Baixue Temple, blinding Song Lan in the process. According to Xue Yang’s logic, hurting Xiao Xingchen’s friend is just as bad as hurting Xiao Xingchen himself. This is what causes the rift between Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan. Without this incident, Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen may never have met again.

A few years have likely passed while Xue Yang was working for Jin Guangyao. He is probably closer to eighteen or nineteen when Jin Guangyao injures him and throws him out, which is how Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing find him. Xiao Xingchen doesn’t hesitate in bringing Xue Yang back to Yi City with him and A-Qing and caring for his wounds. Xue Yang wakes up pained and disoriented, but he immediately tries to back away when he realizes who is tending to him. He doesn’t know Xiao Xingchen is unaware of his identity, and probably thinks that Xiao Xingchen is getting ready to take him to face justice or something. But Xiao Xingchen insists that he doesn’t need to know who Xue Yang is and that he’s only doing what’s right. Xue Yang is clearly shocked by this admission. He truly cannot comprehend kindness, and this is the first time he’s ever experienced it.

This is also the first time we get to see his genuine smile. It’s shocked and incredulous, like he can’t believe this is happening, but it’s there. Throughout the series, Xue Yang’s snarky words and sly smirk are a token of his character, but now we know they are just a mask he uses to hide the small, broken child inside of him. If no one can see the hurt he hides, then no one can hurt him further. But with just one kind gesture, Xiao Xingchen was able to bring out the young boy who just wanted love and comfort.

This kindness is such a foreign concept to Xue Yang that he doesn’t think it’s genuine for a long time. But as the years pass, Xue Yang comes to realize that Xiao Xingchen isn’t a threat. This is something he scoffs at. Xiao Xingchen is ridiculously naïve; so stupid. If he knew who he was living with, who he was eating with, he wouldn’t act like this. He would treat Xue Yang the same way everyone else had. So, Xue Yang decides to trick Xiao Xingchen into murdering innocent people for revenge. Xue Yang can’t wait for Xiao Xingchen to find out what Xue Yang has made him do because it’ll break him. What this revenge is for is up to interpretation. Maybe he’s still angry about being captured and sent to Qinghe. Maybe he’s angry at the world for treating him so badly. Maybe Xue Yang wants to show Xiao Xingchen that his worldview is stupid and that there are no good or pure people in the world. I choose to believe that it’s the last one.

At least, this is his motivation at first — he slowly loses the will to harm Xiao Xingchen. This brings me to another interesting point. In episode three, Xue Yang says he doesn’t fear death, he fears boredom. But isn’t this domestic life he’s living with Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing considered boring by his standards? I think the boredom he speaks of is really the fear of being alone and having nothing at all. Now he’s happy, however reluctantly he’s willing to admit it. He wouldn’t have put up with A-Qing’s petulant behavior if he didn’t enjoy the time they spent together. Although they didn’t get along at first, Xue Yang protects A-Qing and takes care of her like an annoying older brother. He teases her, sure, but he also cuts her apple slices in the shape of rabbits and gives her advice on how to scare away the people who bully her (even though killing them isn’t great advice). Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing were the family he never had. Now he would do anything to preserve the life he is living.

After about a year, Xue Yang’s plan stopped being about revenge. I’m not completely sure how he justified this change of heart, but I like to think he told himself he was still biding his time and that he’d get back to it eventually (even if he had stopped thinking about hurting Xiao Xingchen). Based on what A-Qing told Song Lan when he arrived at Yi City, Xue Yang hadn’t taken Xiao Xingchen out on one of those night hunts in a long time. And most of the people that Xue Yang made Xiao Xingchen kill were the merchants that made fun of his blindness and cheated him with bad vegetables and high prices. It was a messed-up way to get revenge for Xiao Xingchen. Xue Yang hates being looked down on, so shouldn’t Xiao Xingchen feel the same way?

Nevertheless, the time they spent in Yi City was probably the only time Xue Yang had been happy in his entire life. Xiao Xingchen was so in tune with what Xue Yang needed that Xue Yang came to care for him deeply. Whether those feelings were romantic or platonic in nature is up to the viewer, but I believe Xue Yang had fallen in love with Xiao Xingchen in the only sick and twisted way he could. Xiao Xingchen understood him more than anyone ever had, going so far as to listen to his idle ramblings and bring him a piece of candy every day after hearing that he had loved sweets as a child but could never have any. He managed to tame the savage beast in Xue Yang’s heart with only his presence and basic human decency. Xue Yang’s bloodlust was satiated as long as he had Xiao Xingchen to take care of him. At this point, I don’t think he would ever actually kill Xiao Xingchen. He had stopped wanting to hurt him a long time ago. A-Qing? Sure. She’s expendable, but Xiao Xingchen is irreplaceable. Even if Xue Yang reluctantly came to care about her, it wasn’t the same kind of bond. She had never shown him the same kindness that Xiao Xingchen had. He wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her if she betrayed him, but she was important to Xiao Xingchen, which meant he couldn’t do her any harm if he didn’t want to disrupt their happy life.

If Song Lan hadn’t found them, how long would Xue Yang have stayed? I don’t even think he knew. He just knew that he didn’t want to leave anymore. Xiao Xingchen gave him too much for him to want that. The viewer can easily see the happiness in his eyes when he looks at Xiao Xingchen. Xue Yang acts like a kid around him — playing games, joking around, making him laugh with childish remarks. Even in the quiet moments, he’s happy. This was especially noticeable in the campfire scene. It wasn’t shown in the original drama, but in the special edition, Xue Yang smiled at Xiao Xingchen from across the fire, and the look in his eyes as he gazed at his daozhang was so tender that it honestly caught me off guard. It seemed to catch Xue Yang off guard too because he caught himself, and the smile slowly fell. It’s like he realized what he’s doing and remembered that this should be about revenge.

Where in the past, Xue Yang hated Xiao Xingchen for his righteousness, he now loves him for his naivety. Without it, Xue Yang knows that Xiao Xingchen would be disgusted with himself. There would be no more laughs, no more games, and no more smiles. Then Xue Yang would lose the one person who didn’t treat him like dirt. So, when Song Lan finds them, Xue Yang immediately perceives it as a threat to their domestic life. He knows how important Song Lan is to Xiao Xingchen, and there’s no doubt in his mind that Xiao Xingchen won’t hesitate to leave with Song Lan when he discovers Xue Yang’s identity.

Furthermore, Xue Yang resents Song Lan for taking Xiao Xingchen’s eyes (even though it was voluntary on Xiao Xingchen’s part and was essentially Xue Yang’s fault). His logic tells him that having Xiao Xingchen kill Song Lan would be the perfect way for Xiao Xingchen to get his revenge. What Xue Yang doesn’t understand is that not everyone thinks about things in the context of revenge. I don’t believe Xiao Xingchen ever truly regretted giving up his sight. But Xue Yang can’t comprehend how someone could be that selfless.

This is where it all falls apart. A-Qing sees what happened to Song Lan, and she runs to Xiao Xingchen and tells him everything. When Xiao Xingchen comes back to confront him, Xue Yang spills it all. There’s nothing left for him to lose. His mask falls again, and he basically bares his soul to Xiao Xingchen. This is probably the first time he’s told the story about his finger, and I think he genuinely thought Xiao Xingchen was going to understand him; that if he knew what Xue Yang went through, he’d sympathize with him and justify his action (thereby justifying his feelings). Instead of that, however, Xiao Xingchen calls him disgusting, and it flips a switch inside of Xue Yang. How can Xiao Xingchen call him disgusting when he’s killed people too?

I think one of the reasons Xue Yang led Xiao Xingchen to kill those people was to bring Xiao Xingchen down to his level. Xue Yang doesn’t think that anyone can be as good as Xiao Xingchen claimed to be, so he had to taint his perfect record. Maybe if he killed people, Xiao Xingchen would understand him. Xue Yang thought that when Xiao Xingchen found out, he’d stay with him. Now he’s not the same righteous person he used to be, so how could he be good enough to travel the world with Song Lan? No, he should stay with Xue Yang instead and live a happy life together.

So, when Xiao Xingchen calls him disgusting, Xue Yang was probably confused and upset, which made him instinctively put his mask back up. Being vulnerable only hurt him again, so he’s back to harsh words and smirks, telling Xiao Xingchen that this is why he’s always hated him and that all of this was fun. Fun in every sense of the word: the killing and the happiness.

Xiao Xingchen finding out that he killed Song Lan was the last straw. Xue Yang is still laughing as Xiao Xingchen slits his own throat. It takes a moment for the realization to set in, but as it does, the smile falls from Xue Yang’s lips, and his hands begin to shake. This is the third time his mask has fallen. His eyes begin to well with tears, but he tries to keep up his act, saying that dead ones are easier to control, but the only one he’s acting for is himself.

The next scene is the one that really solidified Xue Yang’s feelings for me. He cleans the blood from Xiao Xingchen’s skin with the same care that Xiao Xingchen had shown him when he first found Xue Yang in that ditch. Xue Yang clearly thinks that Xiao Xingchen is going to come back and that the ritual will work, that he staves off his tears and sets out food for both of them. He considers eating his candy but then decides he should wait until Xiao Xingchen comes back. If he’s back, then Xue Yang is sure to get another piece.

When he realizes that the ritual isn’t working and Xiao Xingchen isn’t coming back, he breaks down. The tantrum he throws is so full of rage and anguish that it really shows the depth of his feelings for Xiao Xingchen. Again, he goes back to acting, trying to guilt Xiao Xingchen’s dead body into coming back to life by telling him all the terrible things he’ll do to Song Lan and A-Qing if he doesn’t reawaken. Obviously, Xiao Xingchen can’t hear him, and Xue Yang knows this, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. He finally dissolves into tears, screaming and crying over Xiao Xingchen’s corpse. This may have been the first time he’s cried since he lost his finger. Crying is for innocent, naïve children, and it doesn’t help anybody. But now Xue Yang has had a taste of pure sweetness and doesn’t want to go back to the bitter life he has known, so he finally lets himself weep for all the things he could have had.

Xue Yang spent the next seven years trying to bring Xiao Xingchen back to life with no success. We don’t know much about his activities after Yi City, but we have gotten information through rumors that Shuanghua was being used to kill innocents. It seems like Xue Yang wanted to keep a part of Xiao Xingchen with him. He even continued his sick revenge plot after Xiao Xingchen’s death by gouging out the eyes of and killing the remains of the Chang Clan, including their leader, Chang Ping, by lingchi. Xue Yang doesn’t blame himself in the slightest; he just thinks that Xiao Xingchen’s death was an unfortunate consequence of the situation. He will put the blame on anyone and everyone other than himself. Thus, instead of performing lingchi on himself like Wei Wuxian suggested, he takes out his anger on the remains of the Chang Clan.

Everything Xue Yang does in the present is tied to Xiao Xingchen, yet he still can’t bring him back. So, when he heard that the Yiling Patriarch had suddenly come back to life, Xue Yang knew it was his last chance. The sword ghost/ghost arm is what led Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji to Yi City. It was pointing to its murderer. I’m sure Xue Yang could have avoided a confrontation if he wanted, but this was intentional. As for the juniors, I have a feeling that Xue Yang was behind the cat corpses that led them to meet up with Wei Wuxian. This is still unclear though because Xue Yang doesn’t have a real reason to get them involved. The only person he needs is Wei Wuxian.

Xue Yang has tried everything at this point. So, when Wei Wuxian finds him in Yi City, pretending to be Xiao Xingchen, he is completely desperate. I do wonder if that is something he has done more than once. Did he often go around dressed as Xiao Xingchen? Was he playing with the life they had in Yi City? Pretending he was still there? Or was it a one-time thing to trick Wei Wuxian into dropping his guard? I also wonder how often he used his own sword because only after Lan Zhan took Shuanghua from him did he pull out Jiangzai. That could be because he was acting as Xiao Xingchen, but we can’t be sure. However, that isn’t the point. Right now, Wei Wuxian was Xue Yang’s only option because the Yiling Patriarch surely knew things he didn’t. Xue Yang had lived with Xiao Xingchen’s corpse for those seven years, keeping him in pristine condition. I’m pretty sure the only way Xue Yang could have done this was by giving him spiritual energy every day, which would be incredibly draining. I don’t think Xue Yang had an exceptionally strong golden core to begin with either. He is primarily a demonic cultivator, which means he doesn’t use his golden core often. It must have taken most of his strength to keep Xiao Xingchen’s body in such good condition. But anything for daozhang, right? Xue Yang needed Xiao Xingchen’s body to be perfect when he returned. He also put aside his pride and used Song Lan for protection all those years. He kept the one person he continued to hate with a burning passion around him for so long.

When Wei Wuxian tells Xue Yang he can’t bring Xiao Xingchen back to life because his soul is too broken, Xue Yang refuses to believe it. It’s been seven years already; he can’t give up now. Deep down, I believe Xue Yang knows Xiao Xingchen wouldn’t want anything to do with him even if he did come back, but he can’t figure out why. Because nothing was his fault, of course.

Something Wei Wuxian said really struck me as I went back to rewatch episode 39. Before the fight, Wei Wuxian turns to Xue Yang and says, “you disgust him to the core, yet you still want to pull him back to play this stupid game.” Xue Yang responds with “I want nothing of the kind.” And he’s being honest. He doesn’t want a stupid game — he wants something real. He wants a life where Xiao Xingchen knows his identity and stays with him in spite of it. He just wants one person to accept him as he is, but that will never, nor could ever, happen —not with all the crimes he has committed.

When Lan Wangji cut off his arm, leaving Xue Yang bleeding on the ground, I think he knew it was over. There was nothing left for him now. He was never getting Xiao Xingchen back. He never had him in the first place, not in any way that counted. So he laughs, blood spilling from his lips, to cover up the tears he wishes he could cry.

He’s ready when Song Lan stabs him, dying with a smile on his face as he gazes at the last piece of candy Xiao Xingchen had ever given him. It’s blackened and inedible, yet Xue Yang held on to it for so long; it was a reminder of his daozhang and of why he was fighting so hard. Like his character song said, he was “too determined to let go.”

It’s kind of sad that even in death, he was never respected by anyone other than Xiao Xingchen, and all of that was built on a lie. He didn’t even get a proper burial, although I suppose he kind of deserved it. Xue Yang is the character I pity the most in this series. He isn’t a good person, nowhere near it, and he deserved the end he got, but I wish things could have been different. What hurts is that it just as easily could have been Wei Wuxian. If Xue Yang had been taken in as a child; if he’d had his own Jiang Fengmian, his own Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, he could have been happier. Maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe he would have met Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan and started a sect with them. Realistically, he and Xiao Xingchen would never be lovers because Xiao Xingchen was so strongly connected to Song Lan, but I think they could have been friends.

However, one question I still have is did Xue Yang fall in love with Xiao Xingchen because of how he treated him or because of the person Xiao Xingchen really was? If they had met under different circumstances (and if Xue Yang had had a support system when he was young), would Xue Yang have still fallen in love with him? I guess that’s up to the viewer to decide.

Ultimately, Xue Yang is still a sociopath who can’t understand empathy or feel remorse, so I don’t think he regretted any of his crimes. However, I do believe that Xue Yang regretted the consequences of his actions in Yi City. He didn’t want Xiao Xingchen to die, but his actions were what caused his death. It’s more of a dissatisfaction with where things ended up than feeling guilty for his death. Although I don’t think Xue Yang felt remorseful, that doesn’t mean he wasn’t grieving, nor does it mean his feelings for Xiao Xingchen weren’t as genuine as they could have been.

I don’t know where Xue Yang or Xiao Xingchen will end up now, but I hope they’ll both be happy in their next lives. The same goes for A-Qing and Song Lan (when he finally meets his true end). There are so many things that contributed to Xue Yang’s unstable mind, but I think the moral of the story is that it pays to be kind. If just one person had taken pity on him as a child — had shown him that there was good in the world — I wonder what kind of person he would have become.

I already know how cruel fate is

Not looking, not asking, not grieving, not hating

Waiting to relive my life just for a single person

Ups and downs in life

I would leave no regrets

I tried searching in the darkness of night

When I am trapped in the past

I still hope that a flicker of light will appear in my heart

The legend of this lonely city

Who came here before?

And gifted to me my karma

I am waiting for this karma to liberate spirits, liberate souls, and liberate me

Even though I am already too determined to let go

If I get rid of these inner demons

Would you forgive me?

Gaining freedom from destiny, starting all over again

217 notes · View notes

127-mile · 3 years ago

Text

Let’s pretend we’re in love.

Pairing: Doyoung x gender neutral reader.

Genre: Fake dating, unrequited love, bff to strangers | Angst.

Warnings: strong language.

Plot: Doyoung is beautiful, he is also kind, attentive, affectionate, smart and funny. He is charismatic, and well-spoken. His voice could be mistaken with that of an angel, whether he is speaking, or singing. Doyoung is everyone's dream, the one person you would never hesitate to introduce to your parent. Doyoung is also...mean. Doyoung has the face and the voice of an angel, in the body of a demon.

Doyoung tells his mother he is dating you after lying about his relationship. Doyoung knows about your feelings, but he doesn’t care.

Word count: +4.2k.

A/n: this is part of the Mad about the boy collab hosted by @slightlymore.

Doyoung is beautiful, he is also kind, attentive, affectionate, smart and funny. He is charismatic, and well-spoken. His voice could be mistaken with that one of an angel, whether he is speaking, or singing. Doyoung is everyone's dream, the one person you would never hesitate to introduce to your parents. Doyoung is also..

"Y/n are you listening to me?" you are pulled away from your thoughts when Doyoung nudges you. He has been talking for over five minutes now, but all you could think about was how perfect he is. Yes, you saw his lips move, but you did not hear a sound that come out of his mouth. Now that you think about it, Doyoung does have pretty lips, and you wonder how it would feel to kiss him.

"Oh, what is wrong with you today?" he stops and grabs your wrist when you are about to run into a pole. "Are you alright? Are you sick? Do you need me to drive you back home? I can call my parents, and tell them I'll be late, it's fine. You look awfully lost today." you have a long sigh, why is he like this, always so caring.

"I'm fine Doyoung, don't worry about me, I guess I'm just a bit tired." you answer, and he does not look convinced but he shrugs. "Are you sure? My parents will not be mad if you decide to skip dinner." you shake your head as you start walking again, pulling Doyoung with you as he was still holding your wrist. "It's fine. What were you saying?"

"I was talking about my parents, and the reason they invited us." well, technically, they invited Doyoung to eat with them, but Doyoung answered one of your calls, and upon hearing your name, his parents decided to invite you too. A free meal in a nice restaurant is always pleasant, so you had to say yes. Maybe you shouldn't have, with how hard it is for you to focus on anything else than Doyoung's face.

"This weekend is the weekend where the whole family gets together in our grandparents' country house. I told them I would not come because of work, so they are going to try and convince me to join them." this time, you are the one stopping in your tracks. "If you knew what they were going to talk about, why did pretty much beg me to come? I do not want to be in the middle of an argument with your parents."

You met Doyoung when him and his family moved in the neighoroud, you were still young, so you have known each other for a very long time, and he got into the habit of having you by his side during arguments, because you are what he calls a neutral zone, or whatever is reasoning is. "Oh come on, you know they can't refuse me anything when you are here!"

"Doyoung, you are 25 year old! You should know how to settle an argument with your parents, you should know how to make them listen to you and accept whatever you have to say." he tilts his head to the side, and his eyes meet yours. It's enough for your heart to skip a beat, or two. Stupid heart. "Please?"

"Why don't you want to go by the way? The house is really cool, there is a lake, and your family is really sweet. Don't you miss them?" he looks around, and he notices how close he is from the restaurant. If he tries hard enough, he is pretty sure he can see his parents near a bay window, laughing together. "Because, I may have told my mother I had a partner, and she expects me to bring them."

"You are a dumbass, Kim Doyoung." you say in a sigh. "Why would you tell her that? If you do not have time to brush your hair, you definitely do not have time to date someone." he looks offended, but then he remembers the mess on his head, and he decides to stay quiet on the subject. "I don't know! My mom's been on my back about finding someone for months now, I guess I got tired of hearing her and I decided to lie."

"Why don't you find someone? Don't you have a cute coworker you wanted to ask on a date once? Ask them to play your partner." you hate how bright his smile becomes when you mention said coworker. You try not to think about what they have, that you do not have. This is not the time to mope. You'll cry about it later. "That's a great idea! You are the best."

Yes, yes, you are.

Doyoung crosses the road, and he pushes open the door to the restaurant. "After you." he says, and you step inside, smiling at the sudden warmth that invades your body. "Good evening, do you have a reservation?" the young man asks, and Doyoung nods. "My parents are waiting for us, they made a reservation under the name of Kim."

"Yes!" he exclaims, and he walks you to the table. The couple stands up when they see you, and you let Doyoung's mother embrace you for a second. "Y/n, it's been a while, how are you doing sweetheart?" she asks, and you sit down in front of her. "I am doing just fine, how are you?"

"Same old, same old." she starts, head tilted to the side. "we are trying to organize the family weekend, and as usual, it's stressful." you understand. You participated in a few of these gathering, and you know how stressfull everything is. You never regretted anything more than the time you offered to help.

"Yes, Doyoung told me, I'm sure it's going to be amazing, and you'll have a wonderful time with your family." the woman smiles warmly, and she puts her hand on Doyoung's. "Tell me baby, did you ask your partner to come with you?" you nibble on your lower lip, you are excited to hear his arguments.

"Mom, I told you, I have too much work, I can't come." she shakes her head, and you share a look with his father. He knows he is lying, but he keeps his mouth shut, he knows better than to intervene. "Come on Doyoung, don't be silly, I'm sure whatever you have to do can wait for the weekend to be over."

Before he can open his mouth, she raises her hand to shut him up. "I have an idea. Why don't you take your work with you, and I'll give you a couple of hours to work in your grandfather's office, how does that sound?" Doyoung's mother is tenacious, she knows what she wants, and she is ready to do everything in order to get it.

"You know, my darling, that I'm not getting younger by the day, and my dream is to meet the person who makes you so so happy." oh, she went there, you think. Doyoung looks at you, and you smirk, you are not going to help him. "I have something to tell you first."

"I'm listening." but before Doyoung can say anything, the waitress gives you the menu, and comes back to take the orders. And when she leaves, Doyoung's mother prompts him to speak. "Go on, my love, is something wrong?"

"Everything is fine, mother." he plays with his fingers, and you wonder what he is going to say. His mouth opens, and closes for a second, you wonder if he said anything, or if you blacked out because of what he said. All you hear is his mother squeal with delight, and when you look up, she is absolutely beaming.

"Oh my god! I told you it would happen eventually!" she says, hitting her husband on the shoulder. "You did say that." he mumbles, rubbing the aching spot. "I am so happy! And the family loves you, they are going to be thrilled to hear that!"

The rest of the dinner is a blur, you hear and say things, but your brain can't quite process whatever is happening. You must look odd to the Kim's eyes, but you can't even find it in yourself to care.

"See you on Saturday sweetheart." Doyoung's mother says, cupping your cheeks to kiss your forehead. "Yes, Saturday."

When the car disappears from your sight, you turn on your heels to face Doyoung. At least he has the decency to look ashamed, and he doesn't say anything when you hit him in the chest. "What the fuck, Doyoung?" you yell, and he knows people are looking at the scene, even if it's already dark outside.

"I'm sorry, I panicked." he answers, and you shake your head. "Couldn't you admit that you lied, instead of luring me into your lies without asking first!" he takes your hand, and he sighs. "I know, I know. But you were there, and my mom was so excited, I don't know what happened. And look how happy she was when I said it."

"Imagine how sad she is going to be when she'll learn it was a lie, Doyoung!" he knows he should have thought before opening his mouth in the restaurant, but it was his only solution, or so you thought. "She doesn't have to know it was a lit, we can just... I don't know, break up?"

This is a bad idea, you think. For you, who have been madly in love with Doyoung ever since you were kids, it's going to hurt. Because you know Doyoung does not reciprocate your feelings, and never will, and he will play the perfect boyfriend you wish you had.

The break up is going to hurt like a bitch, even if it's fake, and yet, you open your mouth. "We are breaking up at the end of the weekend."

"We need to get the details right, when did we become official?"

Doyoung sits on the edge of the bed as you put your clothes in the dresser. "I don't know Doyoung. You are the one who brought me into this mess, so you should be the one thinking about it." he mumbles something you don't understand, and you turn on your heels to face him. "You are telling me that you did not think about the details at all?"

You did think about everything, of course you did. Not because you were excited about this situation, but because it is something you thought about a lot these past few years.

"I was busy!" he exclaims, and you sigh. "If you want it to be believable, you need to think. Right now. Because your family will be there in a few minutes." you are glad you arrived before everything else, it gives you the time to settle down, and to think about the things you could have talked about in the car.

"We can't tell them it's been a few months, because my mom will bet mad that I did not tell her sooner. So maybe two or three weeks?" you nod. "Yeah, okay. Who confessed?" Doyoung seems to think about it, and when he opens his mouth to answer, you wish you never asked the question. "You, you did it. It what you would have done if it really happened, uh?"

You do not say anything, you do not like the way he said it, like he knows something. He probably does to be honest, you are not the best at hiding your feelings.

"Kids, come say hello!" saved by the bells.

You get out of your bedroom, and you go down the stairs. A few of Doyoung's cousins just entered the house, and they smile when they see you both. "Oh, Y/n, I didn't know you would be here!" Jungwoo says and he puts you into a bone-crushing hug. "Yeah, last minute decision." you answer.

You greet the other members of the family, and before you can understand what is happening, someone grabs your hand to pull you into the living room. "Guys, you all know Y/n, right? Well, I would like to officially introduce Y/n as my partner!"

You try not to look uncomfortable when they all cooe, but you can't smile either. Doyoung is just dropping the bomb, when you thought he would tell the news to some members of the family if they ever asked about his love life. Well, you agreed to be here, so you have to go with the flow. Or rather with Doyoung's decisions.

"I never thought I would see the day where you would finally confess your feelings for our dear cousin." Jungwoo says, and you laugh but god do you want to punch him square in the face. He is the only one in the family to know about your true feelings, so with the little announcement, he feels allowed to say everything he knows.

"Yes, I was wondering if Y/n was ever going to do it. About time." Doyoung answers, and you roll your eyes, but fortunately, his mother calls everyone in the garden. She wants to celebrate the beginning of what she thinks will be a memorable weekend.

"They are gone, you can let go of my hand." you mumble, and he shakes his head. "We have to play the perfect little couple, so might as well do it fully." what is the point of playing when no one is around to see you, if not play with your heart. "You always wanted it, so don't be like that. Come on, let's not make them wait."

He leads you to the garden, and when he finally lets go of your hand to grab two glasses of wine, you feel yourself breathing again. Of course, you spent the last couple of days thinking about the weekend, and how it would turn out, but you thought it would be nice, you know, to be closer to your long-time crush, but no, it's unberable and it's been less than an hour.

"I would like to thank everyone for making the trip for the weekend, I am really glad to see you all, because I have to be honest with you, this year was not easy, and I missed each and every one of you. I am also really grateful to have Y/n with us, I always knew Y/n would be the one to make our sweet boy happy."

Doyoung looks proud, and he is beaming under the attention when you want nothing more than to burry yourself in the ground. "Thank you for accepting me." you say when you hear nothing but silence and feel way too many pairs of eyes on you. "Of course, my love. You were always part of the family, so it is even more normal to have you here with us today."

That's sweet, but what is not is the way Doyoung chuckles under his breath.

"Oh, here you are!" Jungwoo sits down next to you on the couch, and he puts his head on your shoulder. "I've been looking for you everywhere. You know the grandfather's office is off limit?" you shrug, eyes still closed. "I don't care, I needed some alone time."

Jungwoo straightens up, and he does what he does best, he pouts. "What's going on? Are you not happy to be here with us?" you heave a long sigh, opening your eyes to look at him. "I am. I'm always happy to see all of you, especially you Woo, but I don't know. I guess it's overwhelming this time."

"I bet it is. Everyone is all over you, asking you questions. I would dip too if I were you." he answers, and you stay quiet for a couple of minutes. "You and Doyoung, it's an hoax right?" you do not know if you like or hate the fact that Jungwoo is always quick to catch on. "It's that obvious?"

"Not really," he starts, standing up to stretch his long legs. "but you've been in love with him for ever, so seeing you here, when you should be glued to him is weird." that's definitely what you would be doing if Doyoung was not acting so.. you do not even know how to describe it. "I don't know Woo, Doyoung has been acting weird since we arrived."

"What do you mean?" you take the time to think about it, because Jungwoo is still Doyoung's cousin, and you do not want to upset him. "He is the one who told his parents that we were dating, without asking me first, and yet, he is acting like an asshole."

"He throws little comments about my feelings, my real feelings, each chance he gets, and every time, he has that nasty smile on his face." you explain, and Jungwoo hums. "I know it's been only a few hours, and he is probably acting out of nervousness, but it's like.. did he just trick me into coming here just to humiliate me in front of everyone?"

You expect Jungwoo to tell you that you are wrong, that you are imagining everything, but no. "I would not be surprise, to be honest with you." you narrow your eyes, and you don't know what to expect now. "We went on vacation last year, remember? And there, he met this person. It was obvious that they caught feelings for him, and he just played with them."

"He is not stupid, and he understood pretty quickly, but instead of being flattered or to let them down gently, he just decided to be an asshole about it." if Doyoung was not acting like that today, you would never have believed a word of what he said. This is not the Doyoung you know. "But why would he do that? He is not like that on the daily."

"Everyone things he is perfect, but I guess perfection does not extist, and he is the proof." you don't really know how to feel right now. You want to leave, because you are mad. You are mad at yourself, and you are mad at him. "But why me? I'm here to help him, and I'm his best friend, not some kind of summer fling. I never did anything to wrong him or anything, I don't understand."

"I wish I knew Y/n." he answers, putting his hand on your shoulder. "I know how much you love him, and I am sorry he is playing with you." you sigh, you are at loss for words right now. You want to leave but you can't, not this early. Maybe you can find an excuse to leave? No, you can't. Doyoung is the one who drove you here.

"Keep me from hurting him if he decides to act up again today." you say, and Jungwoo nods with a smile. "You know, I am not that strong, so if I can't hold you for long enough, and that you end up actually hurting him, I'm sorry." he winds, and he opens the door to let your out first.

"Well, that was a nice day!" Doyoung says as he lets himself fall on the bed. You have to move your arm to avoid it being stuck under his body. "Good for you." you answer, and he turns on his side to look at you, frowning. "Is something wrong?"

"Are you really asking me that?" you don't know if you should tell him everything you have in mind, or keep quiet and wait until you leave, but you are not sure you can hold for another day. All you know is that you don't want to snap in front of the entire family.

"I have a question, why are you such an asshole with me?" he straightens up, back against the bedframe and he crosses his arms against his chest. "What are you talking about? Wa barely talked today!" you scoff. "And for a reason. Every time we talked, you just made me look like an idiot."

"Why are you doing this? What was the point of asking me to come, if you were planning on being mean?" he bites the inside of his cheek. If you try to remain calm, it seems hard for him too. He has a lot to say, but everyone is asleep, and he knows how quick he gets angry, and he doesn't want anyone to eavesdrop.

"So we are really doing this, uh?" you don't know what he is referring to, but you nod either way. "I'm tired Y/n. I'm tired of you being in love with me." well, that's not what you were expecting, but you are not surprised, if this taught you anything is that you can't expect anything when it comes to Doyoung anymore.

"Hear me out. I know you love me, I always knew, and the attention is nice, but I never mentionned it because you are my best friend, and I never wanted our relationship to change. But I met someone." oh.

"It's my coworker, the one I wanted to ask of a date. Well, I did, last year, and we've been dating ever since. But they can't stand the way you look at me, and it weight a lot on our relationship." you shake your head. "Then why did you bring me? Why didn't you introduce them to your parents instead?"

"How do I say that.. I needed a reason for you to hate me. Not as your friend, but as a potential lover. I needed something to calm your feelings, because as much as I love you, as a friend, my relationship with them is way more important." it feels like someone is squeezing your heart, and you wouldn't be surprised if it came out of your ribcage, in pieces.

"They hate how you look at me, and I understand, I am to the point where I hate it too." you open your eyes wide, and you look up. You refuse to cry. Not in front of Doyoung, he does not deserve it. "So your only option was to break my heart, in front of your entire family? You could have told me the truth, I would have understood you know, I might be in love with you, but I am not stupid!"

"You say you love me as a friend, and yet, you are doing this. You decided to play with my heart to hurt me. And for what?" your voice is shaking, and it sounds a lot like a sob that escapes your pressed lips. "I'm sorry." he whispers, and you laugh as you get out of bed.

"You are not sorry, Doyoung. This is not your first time doing something like this. Is this what gets you going? Breaking people's hearts? Are you planning on doing the same with your current partner?" he shakes his head, and of course, he would never do something like that. Sweet sweet Doyoung.

"You know what? You don't have to worry about me looking at you some type of way, because starting from tomorrow, you will not have to see me again. It'll be so much easier for you." you grab your suitcase, and you stuff your clothes inside. "What are you doing?" Doyoung stands up and he follows you every move.

"I'm going to sleep on the couch, and I'll go home first thing in the morning. Don't worry about driving me back, you can stay here, enjoy and explain to your mother why she will never see me again. Maybe you should also tell her why her son is such a fucking asshole, I'm sure she's going to love it."

"Come on, don't be like that." he says in a sigh, and you open the bedroom door. "Don't be like what? Don't be like a fucking human being with feelings? Well I'm sorry, but I am!" if the family was not around you, you would have sloed the door hard enough for the sound to echoes against the walls, but instead, you close it softly.

Doyoung is beautiful, he is also kind, attentive, affectionate, smart and funny. He is charismatic, and well-spoken. His voice could be mistaken with that of an angel, whether he is speaking or singing. Doyoung is everyone's dream, the one person you would never hesitate to introduce to your parents. Doyoung is also mean.

Doyoung has the face and the voice of an angel, in the body of a demon.

So yes, you are mad about the boy, but you are also mad about yourself.

#nct #nct imagines #nct scenarios #doyoung imagines #doyoung scenarios

171 notes · View notes

hoe-doroki · 4 years ago

Text

ana’s bnha x reader masterlist

first updated 11.17.20 last updated 07.13.21 desktop version found here bkdk masterlist: desktop | mobile

fics [38] drabbles [13]

Thanks for dropping by! I want to note that I no longer write x reader and instead am writing bakudeku shipfic. So! By all means, read, like, comment on my fics here! But I can't recommend that you follow me unless you like bakudeku. Hope you enjoy your time here regardless! <3

legend:

character x character

Title w/ link | [rating] | word count | genre

Synopsis

ratings are bracketed: e.g. [g], [t], [m], [e]

[g] - appropriate for general audiences [t] - appropriate for audiences 13+ [m] - contains non-graphic adult themes [e] - explicit, 18+ readers only

🌸 = personal faves

characters x reader: no ship (1), aizawa (2), bakugou (12), endeavor (1), iida (2), kaminari (1), kirishima (4), midoriya (7), shinsou (2), todoroki (19)

Everything is in alphabetical order <3

no ship

2020 Election Night Comfort | [g] | 0.6k | hurt/comfort

The results are in and your class is all with you as you process the results

aizawa x reader

Stress Relief | [e] | 3k | smut

There's a new regulation that forces you to take an extra class before you can graduate college. When you learn that Eraserhead is teaching the class, you’re a little more interested.

2020 Election Night Comfort | [g] | 0.6k | hurt/comfort

Aizawa reminds that you were prepared for this and, together, you can handle it.

bakugou x reader

Can’t Find My Breath | [e] | 4.2k | smut 🌸

At the beginning of the day, Ground Zero was just another hero you wrote articles about. Now it’s nighttime and you’ve just left a bar together. Companion to The Rest with No Sound

Christmas Cold | [g] | 1k | fluff

You and Katsuki manage to make it to your parents' house for the holidays, but you've come down with a little cold.

Doing Something Right | [e] | 1.8k | smut

You’re pregnant and happily enjoying domestic bliss when Katsuki comes in, unable to resist you.

Frustration | [e] | 3.1k | smut

request. After a long day of work, Katsuki comes home frustrated and you, suffering from a different kind of frustration yourself, know exactly what will help you both.

Gorgeous | [e] | 1.5k | smut, hurt/comfort

ask. When you have a negative response to Katsuki touching you in a moment of insecurity, he intends to do whatever he can to alleviate your fears.

version 1: petite reader

version 2: curvy reader

Magic | [e] | 2.2k | smut

request. Katsuki comes home early and catches you...taking care of yourself.

Miniskirts | [e] | 0.8k | smut 🌸

After a long day, Katsuki takes a shower and his thoughts turn to you.

On the Job | [e] | 4.5k | smut 🌸

Super human society has a secret. Aphrodisiac quirks aren’t just of porn and fantasy--they’re common and too often fall into the wrong hands. When heroes get hit, someone has to be able to activate the quirk’s release condition. If they’re single, who might that someone be?

You.

The Rest with No Sound | [t] | 8.5k | slow burn, fluff 🌸

Bakugou thinks that people who wake up not remembering where they are are idiots. This is confirmed when it happens to him, head aching from a night of drinking. Idiot. But when he looks over, and sees you there, he realizes he doesn’t remember anything. So he has to gather the scattered pieces from the day before to figure out exactly how he ended up with you. Companion to Can’t Find My Breath

Stay | [g] | 2.2k | hurt/comfort 🌸

ask. The last thing you want to do on a rough day is worry Bakugou with your problems. So you try to hide it. You should have known better.

Steamy | [e] | 2.7k | smut

request. You're a pro hero, rising in the ranks and, happy though he is for you, Katsuki's old jealousy begins to roil. After you've been paraded around all evening as one of Japan's finest, Katsuki finds himself feeling more than a little possessive, and can't help himself from taking you as his.

Steel and Lace | [e] | 3.8k | smut

The only one who manages to get Bakugou’s birthday right is you.

endeavor x reader

When the Smoke Clears | [e] | 17.4k | slow burn, smut

Soulmate AU. After his battle with Hawks against Hood, Endeavor wakes up in the hospital to find that a young doctor saved his life, their quirk being able to counteract the negative effects of his own. His first thought is that he has to talk to you–you might be able to fix the drawbacks of his quirk. His second thought is oh no, not again.

iida x reader

Broken Glass | [g] | 1.8k | fluff, mild comfort

request. In a quirk-related accident you find yourself surrounded by shattered glass. Worst of all, most of that glass is from every single pair of your boyfriend’s glasses.

Flotsam, Jetsam, Lagan, and Derelict | [g] | 1.5k | hurt/comfort

ask. Trying to hide a panic attack from your boyfriend isn’t easy when he’s right next to you. But you’re determined to suffer alone.

kaminari x reader

2020 Election Night Comfort | [g] | 0.4k | hurt/comfort

You share your unsteady hope with Kaminari.

kirishima x reader

Silhouette | [e] | 1.8k | smut, hurt/comfort

ask. Before a gala, you’re stuck in the mirror, caught on all your old body insecurities. Kiri comes in and loves you regardless.

version 1: petite reader

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all works below are within the world of the a spare heart series:

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#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha #mha #todoroki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #deku x reader #iida x reader #ida x reader #kirishima x reader #aizawa x reader #shinsou x reader #endeavor x reader

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llamagoddessofficial · 4 years ago

Text

Got hit by my first wave of inspiration for a while, and decided to ride it out instead of fighting it. So, for anyone who wants it... have Mc’s first meeting with Zoo!Naga Skull. (Yes, the one that ended in kidnapping ;) )

Nervous was an understatement.

“Keep track of him at all times. Always make sure you can get to the door, never let him cut you off. Don’t underestimate him just because he’s blindfolded.”

You could feel your heart hammering in your chest so loudly it was getting hard to pay full attention to Maggie, the senior zoo staff member in front of you, hard to keep a grip on the large and heavy bucket of meat clenched tightly in one hand and the hooked feeding pole in the other. You weren’t even supposed to be doing this, you were too low down on the zoo staff ladder... you should’ve been feeding the little snakes or the herbivores, you should be years away from this level of care! The naga were already leagues above your pay grade, and now they wanted you to feed the biggest one of them all!?

I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be doing this. You cringed- but I can’t refuse, I need this job!

“Talk to him, move loudly, make sure he knows where you are because the last thing you want is to spook him. I know you’ve had good experiences with the other two naga but that doesn’t mean you should ever let your guard down, understand?”

“... Yes.” You said, voice barely above a whisper, grip sweaty on the feeding pole. You couldn’t help it, your eyes flicked down to her left hand- the one she didn’t have anymore, the one that had just a wrist stump remaining.

“... You’ll be fine. We’ll all be watching, if something does happen for some reason we can get in and help you.” She took on a slightly more comforting tone, noticing your line of sight. Her injury was the reason she wasn’t the one bringing the naga his food, given her senior position and superior experience. “I got this when I was young and cocky, and because I followed the safety protocol I lost a hand and not a neck. So long as you stick to the rules and don’t do anything stupid, you won’t have a problem with him. Ok?”

“A-are you sure I’m...”

“Yes, you’re ready. You’ve dealt with the other two.” She cut over you, turning you by the shoulder. “Now go, before Skull gets hungrier.”

And just like that, you were pushed through the door of the enclosure, that shut firmly behind you. The secondary door opened... and despite the fact that every part of you was cold and shaking, you had no choice but to go forward. As scared as you were, someone needed to get the naga fed... someone needed to go straight into the beast’s den.

... You stepped into the enclosure.

It was built to resemble a near-surface cave; the walls and floor were made of slightly uneven smoothed stone, with a few windowed ‘cracks’ in the fake stalactite ceiling providing enough daylight to see by. There were some interesting objects to provide a little enrichment, like ‘boulders’, patches of fake grass, a little filtered waterfall dribbling into a relatively shallow pool... and a small tunnel, leading to a den with no windows he could juuust about curl up in so he could have some privacy.

... Inside that den, you could see a hint of a steely blue-grey... scales.

... You sucked in a tiny breath through your nose, and stepped further forward, following the zoo protocol of tapping the metal end of the pole lightly against the bucket of food to let him know it was feeding time. It took a moment for there to be a reaction, but... slowly, surely, the mass of muscle resting inside the den began to shift.

Giant claws hooked over the stone edges of the den entrance, bone hands as big as your head... the thing about Red and Sans is they were very vocal naga, Sans regularly hissing and snarling and Red making curious rattling and purring sounds. But with Skull... there was nothing but the low sliding sound of scales against rock, that sounded long and oh-so heavy.

... He emerged, head moving into the light, vicious cranium crack and tight fitted black blindfold plain to see... with just his skeletal torso out he was already almost as big as you. A shot of panic doused your system and you had to clench your teeth together to stop yourself from crying, or dropping everything and bolting back through the door. The rest of him followed after; the long snake tail that made up over three quarters of his body length coiling behind him as he raised himself up, gathering like a loosened rope, thicker than you were wide... faded blue and littered with scars that just didn’t seem to catch the light in the same way the other two nagas did.

He was... huge. You knew this already, but there was something different about seeing him with nothing in the way.

... You had to swallow the terror again, no longer able to tap on the food bucket as your hands were shaking too much. I’m fine. I’m fine. The door is right behind me.

... He was keeping his distance from you, head turned downward slightly, facing in the direction of the bucket. A flash of blue around his mouth- his forked tongue flickering rapidly, which could either signal curiosity, hunger or both. The pounding in your chest became more intense.

“... H-hey, big guy.” You stammered, keeping your voice as gentle as possible, as low and soft as you could in order to not spook him. He reacted immediately, his head cocking a little, raising to face directly at you instead of the bucket as if making eye contact despite the blindfold- just get this over with, (y/n), just get this over with. “... I-I’m... supposed to talk to you, to let you know where I am... talking worked with the other two, I... h-hope it works with you, too.”

You put the bucket on the ground, sliding a decently heavy chunk of the special treated naga-friendly meat onto it. Skull had a unique feeding hook; it was much longer than usual, slightly difficult to handle, but reinforced along the inside to facilitate easier feeding from a distance. You raised the pole with the hung meat and slid it slowly closer to him, keeping careful watch of the way his tongue would flicker toward the food... you were so ready to bolt. You just needed to get this done.

“I’m, uhm...” You felt like an idiot. You could feel all the other staff members watching. “The food’s on the hook. You probably know that already, but...”

... He moved forward and caught the chunk straight off the hook, swallowing it without any chewing or pausing, then going immediately back to sitting there, patiently, watching. Waiting for more. You brought the hook back, putting on another piece, moving it toward him again... careful to keep hold on the pole despite your sweaty palms.

... He was eating as quickly as your unpractised snail-pace would allow, but most notably.. without issue. You finally felt a droplet of relief in the sea of fear; he was eating normally, he wasn’t being aggressive or trying to approach... this was going pretty well, for your first time feeding the moodiest naga in the zoo.

“... There we go. Good, this is going good. Please don’t eat me.” You half-joked, repeating the process. Retract pole, hook meat, offer it out. Starting to get into a rhythm. “... I hope you’re always this relaxed with me. That would be really helpful.”

He took the meat again, obediently. You let out a tiny sigh; the more he just did what he was supposed to, the calmer and more comfortable you felt. He’d probably learned by now that it was just best to get the food offered, instead of biting the hand that was feeding him.

... Or biting it off.

“... Everyone’s watching. I think they’re waiting for me to mess up. Do something dumb and get kicked out.” You mumbled. You felt... surprisingly not-awkward? Sometimes, when you spoke to the animals, you felt weird because they clearly didn’t care... but in this case, you got a strange feeling from the way his head would twitch and follow you despite the meat, how his tongue would flicker only when you’d stopped talking. It felt like he was... actually listening?

Besides. Nobody could fault you for talking to the naga to keep it calm and not-murderous as you passed him food from as large a distance as possible, right? If it worked, it worked, and you kept your limbs.

“... There we go.” You said, as you passed him the last piece- you then tapped the side of the empty bucket with the hook like you’d been told to, so he’d hear the hollow sound and understand there was no more food, before you picked it up again. You felt... a lot less terrified? Still nervous, but not like you were about to throw up.

“... Uhm... thank you.” Your voice was still pretty small. “For... being calm. I appreciate it.”

... He stayed where he was. You felt, again, like he was watching you, despite him having no vision.

...

You took a step back, ready to go back through the door and throw up... but as soon as your foot sounded against the stone floor...

Everything about him changed.

His lips and teeth parted... and the most powerful hiss you’d ever heard filtered out, filling the room, tearing through the air and right through your body. Like someone had set off a huge firework but it just kept hissing and hissing and hissing, deep and loud and intertwined with an open-mouthed growl, it echoed off the walls and shook everything inside. It was as if someone had flipped a switch in his head, something inside him had snapped; his shoulders rose, tail beginning to move across the floor and rearrange itself. It sounded like... a warning.

You froze, heart dropping into your stomach, all the warmth and colour draining from your face.

...Oh no.

... The hissing stopped, but he kept his new position. He’d stopped in a more aggressive, coiled posture like a tightened spring, tongue now flickering constantly.

...

“... Maggie.” You said, voice cracking, essentially calling for help. Your eyes were locked onto him, you couldn’t remember any of the safety protocols for aggressive naga, every part of you was petrified, you couldn’t feel your hands or toes you could only feel the pounding in your own head. You were afraid to blink- it was going TOO well, I’ve used up my luck, it’s all gonna go wrong now!

“... Okay, just relax.” You heard her voice over the exhibit speaker system but you daren’t turn your head away to look at where she was. “He probably just doesn’t trust you yet, and is getting possessive over food he thinks might still be in the bucket. Okay? Use the pole to push the bucket toward him.”

You swallowed, following her advice; you set the bucket down without taking your gaze off him as if your feet were glued to the earth, and then used the end of the pole to push the bucket across the floor. It made an ugly scraping/rattling sound as it moved.

... He wasn’t even turning toward it. He wasn’t paying attention to it. His attention seemed steadfastly on you, if his head direction was any way to tell. You were sweating, your neck hairs were prickling.

“Alright. Now back away slowly.”

... One step back.

He immediately started hissing again, even louder this time, with deafening aggravation... he lowered his head.

A strike position.

You didn’t hear Maggie’s shout over the speaker system, you could hear nothing but your heart and his hissing. The rabbit-like urge to RUN overtook your whole body, something in you shattered, and you staggered backward with the intent to turn and dive for the door.

... The speed at which he crossed the entire enclosure would’ve been incredible in any other circumstance.

He lurched with all the power readied in the wound muscles in his tail, striking forward so quickly it was like he vanished from his spot, and suddenly you were screaming as the pole was knocked out of your hands. Suddenly something huge and hard was gripping you and your clothes and your legs went out from under you, the world was dark and turning and you brought your hands up over your head in an instinctive defensive posture, you faintly heard the sound of dozens of voices shouting out in synchrony but everything was ringing, the heels of your boots were dragging so quickly across the floor it felt like the friction was going to burn through them and kicking your legs into nothingness as a pathetic attempt at attack/escape did genuinely nothing, you cried out...

... And then just like that, your body came to a halt; you’d stopped moving.

You opened your eyes, forcing in deep terrified breaths, finding yourself in almost total darkness and taking only a few milliseconds to realise you were inside his den. It was so cramped and the floor and walls were moving, why were they moving, you put out a hand to try and steady yourself or get to your feet...

...

That wasn’t the floor or walls. Your hand landed on smooth, hard scales.

You were on him. You were on his coiled tail.

You made a sound you could only describe as a broken whimper-cry of fear and tried to sit up and get some control, but it was almost impossible as he was still moving, his body shifting and writhing underneath you and forcing you to only sink deeper into his scales, deeper into his hold. Something wound around you, starting from your chest and moving down to your knees, binding your legs together- and the scariest part was that you could feel the power as he shifted, you could feel the strength behind the scales when they pressed against you. He was a living muscle, and with little more than a flex he could squeeze, and you’d go squish.

That’s what’s going to happen. He’s going to constrict me to death! Your breathing was getting so fast your chest was heaving, you tried to push the coils on your middle but it was like pushing the unmoving floor, you were getting dizzy with panic, you started to beat them with your fists, S-someone help me-!

His face came into view. Hovering over you, only just silhouetted by the light creeping into the entrance of the den.

... Once again, everything in your body just... stopped.

All thought, all movement, everything froze, as you stared up at him with wide eyes.

... He’d removed his own blindfold. A bright, blood red ring was gazing down at you... fuzzy around the edges, the hole in the centre nothing but a dot.

... His own movements were slowing, as he apparently settled on the position he was in. You were almost horizontal, your head lifted up ever-so-slightly, everything lower than your chest totally bound and covered and crushed under more of his body. He was so close.

...

He was warm. Like summer’s day. And he was... just staring.

...

You could hear absolute havoc breaking outside of his den. But even so, your breathing was slowing... you were calming, despite it all. Something about his eye... the way he was hanging his head... how his tongue just ever-so-slightly peeked out of his mouth, as if only curious...

... How he hadn’t killed you yet. He wasn’t squeezing. You felt so, so very tiny, trapped in the coils of a giant naga...

Why hasn’t he...?

...

A single, sharp phalange moved over to your face. You naturally flinched leaned away at the sight of such huge claws coming close, sucking in a breath... and as soon as you did, he... paused? He took a moment, with his your-head-sized hand just hanging there...

... Like he was giving you a second? He held your eye.

... When he started moving again, he moved so slowly. So gently... and he turned the hand over, brushing the back of his thick knuckle across your cheek with a feather-light touch. His hands were warm, too.

...

It was a like a cat, the way his eyelight widened, blowing to fill his whole socket.

He seemed to lose whatever self control was making him move slowly, and instead his massive head leant in, before you could so much as muster the energy or presence of mind to squeak he pressed his face flush against the side of yours with his teeth just under your ear. Instead you just let in another tiny breath of shock and felt a shiver travel across the whole length of your body- he was nuzzling, with an unmistakable joy, parts of his tail moving ever-so-slightly like he just couldn’t contain himself. In amongst the gleeful nuzzling he took a few inquisitive breaths in your hair, his tongue flickering out and surprising you with how ticklish it was- you brought your shoulder up in defence but he seemed to like that tiny reaction and did it again, chasing your sensitive spots.

“G- ah, stop!” You said, but less out of fear and more out of ticklishness- you couldn’t get away from him, it was like being fussed by a giant overly affectionate puppy. He was breathing right down your ear, and his breath and tongue made everything prickle, you tried to put your hands over your neck but he wasn’t having it. “... G-guys? Guys, are you out there?!”

You distinctly heard someone mutter ‘oh my God, she’s alive’, before a sharp “Play dead! We’re coming to get you!” sounded pretty close to the den.

... You saw Skull’s reaction- and by saw, you meant heard and felt. As soon as he seemed to realise they were approaching the entrance to his hide, he stopped nuzzling, face still against your neck... and a slow, upset snarl began to filter out of his chest, and seeing as you were surrounded by him it was deep and so close it was vibrating your insides. At the same time, his snake body shifted and started to tighten, slowly moving to cover you more, bring you in further into his coils... trap you underneath.

“N-no, no!” You said, panic at possibly being constricted to death rearing its head again. “Don’t come any closer without sedatives, please!”

“... What the hell’s going on in there?!”

“H-he’s just... he’s just got me wrapped up.” You stammered, swallowing, wishing you could see them instead of the den ceiling right now; your voice had a strange, echoing quality inside the small space. “I-I can’t move. When you come closer it agitates him and he squeezes. Don’t come closer. Please just go get sedatives.”

“... Are you sure you’re okay in there?” You could hear them backing up, thank fuck. And he could definitely hear them too, noticeably relaxing. “It’s gonna take us a while to get anything strong enough for him.”

... Skull let out a strange, deathly soft hiss, apparently really liking your hair... so quiet, only the two of you could hear it. His scales were warm, and although you were trapped, it almost felt like he’d deliberately trapped you in this reclined position in order to make sure you were comfortable in his grip.

...

“Y-yeah, I... I think I’m fine for now. Just please don’t take too long.”

#llamagines #llama writes #naga au #naga sanses #heeee #local monster just wants to kiss pretty face- please stop running

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