#this is probably more a subconscious attempt to not do work than anything else let's be honest

[marvanne111]

it's so hard to be a decent adult on the internet because i have to just endure wildly terrible takes comparing two of my favourite fandoms in silence since starting a fight with someone who is most likely a child over a tiktok with 1100 likes and 17 comments would be insanely inappropriate

[spookie-bitch]

Perfect To Me

Pairings: Lady Lesso x Fem!Reader Contains: Comfort, fluff TW: Age gap (legal ofc), perfectionism AN: Requests are open <3

You would've never considered yourself a perfectionist, or even an overachiever. You knew that nothing was perfect and that people made mistakes. Despite this, your subconscious seems to exclude you from said people, and your school work from said nothing.

Staring at the bird pecking in rankings, you’d usually be surprised that you went down a rank. However, today was different. You absolutely flunked the challenge in Professor Castor's class. You were so tired you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but stare in despair.

Your name next to the 2 felt like a punch to the gut. The first to lose. The longer you stared at the rank, the more it sunk in, and the worse you started to feel. Anxiety started to wrack its way through your mind.

“Did everyone know?” “They probably thought I was pathetic.”

You ran your fingers through your messy hair, your hands shaking. The sleepless nights spent studying are shown in your disheveled appearance. You might have normally cared, but right now, you had bigger problems.

As you walk to your dorm room, every hushed voice and whisper felt personal. They were talking about you. They thought you were a failure. You felt like a failure.

Closing the wooden door behind yourself, you feel tears of shame and irritation build in your eyes. You refused to let them fall—crying wouldn't fix it.You leaned your back against the door, sliding down until you were sitting on the cold floor. The room was silent, but your mind was anything but. A million thoughts raced through your head, each one louder than the last.

You buried your face in your hands, trying to steady your breathing. You couldn’t let this break you. You had to get up, keep going, prove that you weren’t a failure.

Pushing yourself up and off the floor, you grab one of the textbooks on your bedside dresser. As you plop down on the bed, you open the textbook to the page marked by your notes. You spend the whole night going over them. Hours tick by and the pages start to blur together into a heap of meaningless words. Despite your best efforts, you can't seem to retain a single thing you've read.

Your eyes grow heavy and begin to burn as the first rays of morning light shine through the window. You hear the soft hum of activity outside your dorm room as the campus starts to wake up. You shut your eyes tightly, rubbing your forehead in a worthless attempt to soothe your oncoming headache.

You get up with a groan, putting your books back into your bag. You change into a fresh pair of clothes, not bothering to brush your hair or really do anything else. You were so drained that you didn't care how disheveled you looked.

“At least now I look how I feel,” you thought to yourself, glancing into the mirror.

A few minutes later, you make your way to your first class of the day, your mood only worsening by the looks cast in your direction. The day only got worse from there, if that was even possible at this point. By your fourth class, you were ready to quit.

“Let them turn me into a tea kettle,” you thought, “at least nobody would expect anything of me.”

You found the corner of the dimly lit hallway, your shoes clicking on the stone of the floor. You did not want to deal with Lesso today. You always felt weird around her and you didn't like it.

Sitting in your seat near the front of the class, you were almost sure she would comment on your appearance. She was blunt, and spoke her mind, but to your surprise, she said nothing. She merely glanced at you, something you couldn't recognize flickering behind her emotionless eyes.

“Probably disgust,” you thought to yourself, your eyes lingering on her for a moment longer.

Five minutes into the lesson you zoned out so hard you could no longer hear the clicking of Lesso’s cane as she paced around the front of the room. What you did hear, was the loud thwack of the cane hitting your desk, pulling you out of your daze.

“Pay attention, Miss y/n,” scolded Lesso, the only noticeable emotion detectable in her voice being mild annoyance. And then she went on with the lesson. You’d expected her to send you to the doom room or something, but you were let off with a gentle scolding.

You zoned out again, wondering why you hadn't gotten in more trouble. Lesso wasn't exactly known to be nice, or even lenient. You were more than sure she saw that you still weren't paying any attention, but she didn't acknowledge it.

You didn't hear when the wolves howled, signaling the start of your trek to your next class, too busy in your own head.

A quiet voice broke through the fog. “Shouldn’t you be heading to your next class?” You looked up, blinking as Professor Lesso stood before you, her gaze sharp yet strangely soft.

“Oh, I’m- I'm sorry professor, I-”

“Are you okay?” She cut your stuttered out sentence off with three words you never thought you'd hear from her lips. You could hear something alien in her voice—concern. It was faint, but it was there. You started to feel weird, her presence starting to fully register.

You swallowed, feeling the weight of the question press down on you. Your chest tightened.

“I'm- I'm fine,” You finally said, your voice barely a whisper. It didn't sound believable, not even to your own ears.

“You don’t look fine.” Her tone wasn't harsh, but it was firm. You could tell by the way she said it that she wasn't looking at you, but rather in you. It made your face flush, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable.

“I just…” you started, your voice wavering as you tried to find the right words. “I’m tired. I messed up. She knelt slightly, bringing herself closer to your level, her posture uncharacteristically open.

“You push yourself so hard, y/n. Too hard,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. The way she spoke your name made your breath hitch. There was an unexpected protective edge in her tone that made your heart skip a beat.

She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. You found yourself wanting to lean into the touch, but you resisted the urge. Lesso’s thumb grazed your skin, and you could feel your pulse quicken. She was so close, closer than she’d ever been, and you could feel the tension between you, thick and electric.

Her touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as though she was unsure if you’d let her in. The contact was soft, but charged with something unspoken.

“You don't have to be perfect,” she murmured, her thumb tracing gentle patterns along your cheek. You found yourself learning closer, pulled in by the intoxicating blend of strength and gentleness that made you feel both safe and unsteady all at once.

Her breath fanned softly against your skin, your heart pounding.

“Lesso…” you whispered. You weren't exactly sure what you were asking for, but the way she looked at you—like you were something precious and fragile—made you want it more. She didn't respond with words. Instead, she closed the distance between you, her lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss.

You melted into her, your hands finding their way to her collar, pulling her closer. With her hand still on your cheek, she cups your jaw and tilts your head back ever so slightly, deepening the kiss. Her touch was gentle and soothing, so much so it brought tears to your eyes.

As Lesso's lips left yours, the warmth of the kiss still lingering on your lips, you felt a tear trickle down your face. Then another, and another. Lesso gently wiped the tears with her thumb, her face softening. With her other hand, she gently grabs your wrist and tenderly tugs you out of your seat, standing up straight.

She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into her chest.

“It’s okay,” she whispered into your hair, her voice gentle and reassuring. You let your tears fall, silently sobbing into her chest. After what felt like forever, but you were sure it was no longer than five minutes You sniffled, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

“You’re perfect to me,” Lesso whispered, her thumb grazing your cheek again. Her arms tightened around you, as if trying to shield you from everything. “You're enough, sweet girl.”

[the-s1lly-corner]

Sending this because I think Tumblr might’ve eaten it, but did you ever receive a request for the TADC crew with a small, but EXTREMELY feisty S/O? Tumblr has a bad habit of eating my asks when I’m on anon I’ve found. 😭

TADC crew w/ a short and feisty reader!

hello hello anon! im so so so sorry for not seeing this sooner :( i truly did not mean to take so long to answer this! rechecking through my inbox, i dont see the original request :( but ill be answering it here so not to worry! getting silly by hopping onto my laptop/computer since its in the dining room rn and this way i can keep an eye on my macarons (literally not baking them, drying them out before i do and i wanna make sure no one touches them)

CAINE:

honestly in the most blunt way possible i think he might actually be into it. he always liked him someone who has a little bite in them (and by always he means like, when he first met you because its highly likely youre his first partner)

if you get all riled up trying to defend him he might comically tug on the collar of his shirt, of which steam will stream out of... doesnt have much of a preference for height, but with you being on the shorter side it makes carrying you around a little less awkward!

POMNI:

absolutely taken aback when you just let it rip one day and you go off on someone (most likely jax lets all be real here for a minute), just stands there appalled before you eventually calm yourself down and turn your attention to her

not to yell at her, she hasnt done anything wrong

honestly... nervous anxious ball x angry defender is probably another trope of mine that i think about every so often, but honestly i love it so so much. thats literally just the embodiment of you and pomni's dynamic

not much to say here unfortunately </3 just that you tend to defend her when things get ugly and you dont tend to stop until the issue is resolved

RAGATHA:

honestly maybe im biased for ragatha because ive grown on her since ive opened requests, but i think that she would be the queen of getting you to chill out when something has you all riled up! is so so kind and doesnt make fun of your height, i mean its not like you or anyone can change it. very good at not making you feel less than for being shorter than nearly everyone else

holds

if you get angry on her behalf and attempt to defend her she would be so so touched, but really most things probably roll right off her back, so she just takes you and walks you away from the scene

JAX:

honestly he thinks its a little funny that you get so worked up over things! probably calls you an ankle biter as a joke, which might make you a little mad. definitely picks you up by the scruff or the back of your shirt or whatever! really any equivalent of that works! jax has an entire arsenal of nicknames for you, all based on your height and energy. he loves seeing the way your face scrunches up a little in disdain when he calls you one of those names. all in good fun, for the most part, but he might let up if its something that makes you genuinely upset...

KINGER:

okokokokok so we dont know anything about queenie (i think, i must admit i dont keep up with gooseworx at all and am only relying off of the pilot) but i hc her to also be more on the feisty side

is this relevant? really it depends, because i think kinger would be comforted by the familiarity of your attitude, but also this could be a gateway for angst because it makes him think and dwell on the loss of queenie.... up to you!

subconsciously kneels down to your height to talk to you; he doesnt mean to be rude! it just sort of happens! thinks your fierceness is endearing in its own silly way!

ZOOBLE:

probably thinks that you can get a little overwhelming sometimes. i mean yeah sure its nice to have someone in your corner whos ready to help you out but zooble seems to be the type to not seek that help out; and in fact i can easily see them getting annoyed by someone constantly speaking for them. so you guys are going to need to communicate and work on this together lest there be a build of resentment

remember guys resentment is a real thing and it can ruin so much !! communicate!!!

that aside, i dont think they would comment much on your height, they really could not give less of a flying fuck

GANGLE:

torn between having her be intimidated by you or having her also find it endearing (and perhaps even attractive? shy person liking the one who always speaks their mind, you know?) while im not writing these to be explicitly romantic, i dont quite totally comfy with the idea of intimidation in a relationship.. though this can be applied to platonic relationships too... hmm... mayhaps a mix of it all? not quite sure! probably goes to you for tips to be more bold, love the idea of someone teaching gangle to grow a backbone

similar to zooble, no comments on your height!

[onehundredandeleventropicalfish]

Hello, I'm quite a big fan of your blog and your sandman posts. I had a little question for you. According to the comics, more than half of Dream's relationships never work out because of communication on Dream's part, right. So well do you think it's because he does not realise that some things need to be said out loud like because of dream logic where things go straight from A to B, so it would make sense he follows the same logic? Sorry if I am not making much sense.

hello, and thank you!

well, for starters, i have a feeling you're here from the adhd post, but in case you're not or other people are reading this who haven't seen it, i talked about one aspect of this already

but do you have a specific source on the communication line? i am entirely willing to believe it, but i don't have a perfect memory of every single comic and i don't remember that in particular, so i'm curious if there's further analysis to this that i missed

that said, i can absolutely analyse just dream's communication problems in general, because there's a lot in there

1) pride/ego/defensiveness. as much as dream cares about everyone, he is an extremely prideful being, and therefore easy to offend. if something strikes a nerve, he's not really the type to talk it out, his reactions tend to be more... dramatic. our extremes are cases like nada, or calliope (who he essentially locked out of the dreaming for several millenia after she blamed him for what happened with orpheus), but like. we saw how the 1889 hob scene went down. and as much as he's quick to advise anyone else that revenge is a poison, he's a big fan of taking it himself (or on behalf of others, see: not letting the madoc thing go). dream, just in general, never lets shit go, he doesn't know how to. which is gonna be A Problem in a relationship if you have to avoid stepping on his ego for the sake of your own wellbeing

2) he knows everyone. like, i think a lot about the library of dreams. the show just describes it as every book ever written (including books yet unwritten), but it's more than that. nightmare country in particular goes into this, it's a repository of every story ever told in anyone's subconscious. so yes, those are the books and compositions and other artworks that were planned but never finished - but it's also that daydream you had in the car home, something you thought idly in the shower, the book you planned in your head before falling asleep that you never intended to turn into anything real. a couple people in the fandom have already used this as a fic concept of hob writing unsent letters to dream, which will end up in the library. and sure, dream isn't thinking of all of that all the time, that would drive you insane, it's why he has the library, to organise it. but he is the dreaming, the entire place is just an extension of his mind, if it's in the library it's in his head and accessible

and like, he may not mean anything by it, he may even attempt not to look at that stuff with a partner out of respect for them (i've seen a couple fics take that path), but so much of how humans communicate is based on the fact that we can't mind read, we choose the information we give to one another, and most of those subconscious stories are private. not to dream. as soon as you think it, it's in his head. and no matter how good his intentions, that's gonna fuck with the usual rules of communication

2.5) this does feed into what you were saying - when the rules are all fucked up and dream has access to so much information about any potential partner, it's probably easy to forget they can't do the same. and yeah, his thoughts do skip around a lot, he is a dream, he may not realise how many vital communication steps he's skipping over until it's pointed out to him

3) he overthinks everything. this may seem like it's contradicting the previous points, but no they just compound into a huge bad communication bubble

there's one i think it's a tom interview, i don't know if it was about ep 11, i just remember someone posting a quote from it on a gifset with calliope, where he talks about the purposeful way dream talks, there's no ums or similar, because he's the prince of stories, he has every word and phrase ever thought or spoken or written down in his head all of the time, there's no hesitation in his phrasing. i think the phrase used was "etched in stone". while dream may not always realise certain things need saying, when it comes to the things he does choose to say, he is extremely deliberate in his word choice. there's no mistakes, he means what he says (even if he may later regret saying it)

and i think that's another piece of this, because for most people conversation is just a game of improv they've gotten really good at, they may mangle words or say things they didn't mean. and if dream takes them at their word, then we're back to problem 1 of him taking things extremely personally and never being able to let it go

(and then there's all the other reasons his relationships rarely work out, like him being extremely committed to his work, he can't be what a lot of his partners might want him to be, because he considers himself dream of the endless first and foremost and a person second)

(and his relationships are kinda the biggest representation of that inner struggle, because like. he keeps dating people despite the fact that it never works out because he doesn't want to do this alone, to the point that his mother, who didn't even know their brother had left, called him out for it. but then at the same time he literally says to destiny that the word 'life' does not describe the existence of the endless, they exist to fulfil their purpose, not to want anything for themselves. which, is wrong, but it's an extremely strong belief of his)

(so it is just a constant snowball of trying but self sabotaging)

[electricbluebutterflies]

JessLeto + intertwining fingers

Late-era, PG-ish, also on ao3.

She knows all the signals perfectly.

Be with someone long enough and you know everything, spend the amount of time she has just coexisting and-

Jessica is distinctly tired of any impression that she has done anything a normal woman would not. She was supposed to, once, but she hasn’t. She hasn’t needed to. Let that innocence protect them.

She knows her partner’s signals, every little physical habit, subconscious tendencies he may not even know he has, and she knows how to react to all of them. This is what seventeen years has gotten her, this is what deliberate attempts at proximity have gotten, this is-

Tense and exhausted, his movements say on the evening of a lesser dinner, the kind she almost talked her way out of but decided she might as well be seen at even though her presence will not change the circumstances, or at least she didn’t think it would when she’d decided it wouldn’t kill her to put on a good dress and be politely quiet on the sidelines as usual. Not normal patterns. Normally her partner enjoys these things – he has a capacity for human interaction that she will never understand – but tonight he is not quite-

The rumors burden him too, she suspects. There are always rumors surrounding them like a fog, but lately bigger than usual, lately planned upheaval, lately-

It is bad form to clear the distance between them and remind everyone in this room that she has power beyond measure; it would be worse form, she decides, to simply ignore the potential problem.

“May I have a moment?” she says, voice on the edge of lacing with persuasion but she doesn’t need that just yet. “Privately?”

Her partner understands this, her partner who is well aware she does not ask for attention unless she has good reason. This is not a scene, Jessica reminds herself, this is as subtle as she can manage and-

She does not hear whatever formalities it takes to separate him from what looked like a pointless conversation anyways; she does not care, hyper-focused until they make it out to the hallway, always a goal in mind or else she is lost, always-

“What troubles you so much?”

Always a decency in that man, always the belief that she might be more self-interested than… well, there are things that should probably never see daylight in her personality, but…

“I only mean to ask you the same. You do not appear… yourself tonight. Is there something I have not handled, or-“

“If it were that simple, I would offer it to you and you would poison it in the dark. It is…”

She moves to face him, moves to take his hands in hers so her fingertips find pressure points. Just to calm, she thinks and does not say as she presses her nails to leave just the slightest indent, just to-

“I would do anything. You know that. We move as one.”

“Your loyalty is not in question,” he murmurs. “Even if…”

“It is only rumors, my love. Nothing that can be confirmed for some time.”

“Off-planet rumors, for once, and-“

“Do you doubt our status now?”

“No more than usual.”

“If we are unmoored, it will be a shock. Let it be. Our surprise will be real enough and-“

“You do not even fear fate itself.”

“I have already defied it to. What is there to fear?”

“And will you stand, if-“

“By your side, always. I have bound myself in ways you will never understand, and-“

Jessica shifts the placement of her fingertips just slightly, earlier movements clearly not working. She wants to calm, she reminds herself, she wants-

“You speak of this as if it will blow away.”

“And will it not? Frivolous talk from unknown sources is barely-“

“Something will change. It would make an amount of sense if-“

“Don’t tell me you want this.”

“When has desire guided anything at all?”

In a different mood such a comment would sound like the opening of a fight, an unbalanced accusation, but-

“It gave you me,” she says, cold as she can even as her frustration burns. “Do not think for a moment that the state of your heart can be ignored so easily by those around you.”

“We will accept what circumstances we are presented with,” her partner murmurs, ignoring the bait. “And it would not be a bad move to prepare for-“

“Prepare, yes. Not take on burdens that are not yet ours.”

“You would assume-“

“I do know you, and I do trust you, and I do-“

“It is unlike you to be less concerned than I am about something so significant.”

“Only significant if it’s real, and it would take years, and-“

“Still.”

“I will not see you undone by something so far out of reach. Am I understood?”

“Completely.”

“Is this…”

“I wonder sometimes if I am immune to you.”

Jessica rolls her eyes. “It’s just pressure points, nothing-“

“I’m aware. I did let you.”

As if permission means a damned thing to her, she thinks but doesn’t say, but-

“Is it working?” she repeats. “I could check myself, but-“

“Your presence may be more helpful than the movements of your hands. You do know how to rescue me from-“

“You were that bored?”

“If I say yes…”

“I know my timing wasn’t ideal, but-“

“Your consistency is still-“

“What will they assume I wanted?”

“The same as always. The same…”

She takes a kiss because she can, because she will not do what she is accused of – that will come later, behind a door that locks, when she is in a better mood for it – but nor will she deny it entirely, and-

“Will that do?”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you adore it.”

[dragon-in-the-watery-bowl]

Saudade

More stuff for the Ghost AU, this time about Akane and Utsuro.

Has been some days since she found Utsuro, both of them having become ghosts still tethered to the mortal realm through means unknown to them, and she had been brought up to speed on what had happened in the time she was brain-dead somewhere in Japan.

By the time she had woken up as a ghost, the Tragedy as she knew it had finished months ago, with so many things having happened in the meantime without her knowing it.

She knew that Junko had died, beaten in a Killing Game of her own design by the six survivors of her class. She had heard that history a lot of times on the Kisaragi Foundation's headquarters, told by the mouths of its employees.

But there was much more than that, and she had just starting to process it.

Right now, she was on Makoto Naegi's residence, the place still being strange and unknown, even with the days she spent there.

She couldn't avoid having confusing feelings every time she saw Master Utsuro talking with Makoto. She was happy that he was finally able to smile and laugh like everyone else, after years of numbness caused by the Divine Luck giving him everything he wanted, but she spent so much time doing everything she could think, even joining Ultimate Despair and getting her hands dirty with the blood of innocents, just to see him smile at least a little, but she wasn't able to do it.

What was the reason she failed but Makoto succeeded in that endeavor?

She was lost in her thoughts, and almost didn't heard Makoto's voice calling her.

"Taira?"

She jumped when she realized that the luckster was at her side, haven't registered his movements until now, leaving her trying to look calm, and probably failing, looking at his expression.

"Are you ok? You went really quiet and still all of a sudden" With the boy's words, she looked at the ghostly form of her master, looking at her with his usual stoic expression, but she could see a glint of concern on his eyes.

She smiled, even though the claw marks in her gut were starting to ache, to calm them down. "Sorry for worrying you, I got a bit distracted, that all". Makoto and Utsuro's expressions still showed concern for her, but, thankfully, they didn't say anything.

She floated away from the room, trying to clear her mind away from them.

---

Makoto was fast asleep, having fallen asleep in the couch after Kyoko told him that she was going to arrive late, thanks to a problem in the Future Foundation's headquarters. Utsuro was floating around the couch when he noticed the white-haired maid sitting at his side.

He hated to admit it, but, after seeing her spirit that day on Hope's Peak, and discovering that his attempt to save her didn't work, a part of him was happy she died.

There was a part of him that couldn't let her go, that hated the idea of someone else stealing her of him.

He hated it.

He felt her head rest over his shoulder, something she always did, even before they infiltrated into Hope's Peak, and he always let her do it.

Both of them stayed like that, neither of them saying anything, until Akane talked.

"How he did it?"

He raised his eyebrow, confused at her words.

"How was Naegi able to make you feel again?"

Oh.

"What was he able to do that I wasn't?" Her hand had curled into a fist, trembling "I tried everything, and it didn't work. What was wrong? What I did wrong?"

He couldn't look at her face, but he knew she was crying. He knew why all her attempts to make him feel never worked, and he felt that she knew it too, even if it was subconsciously.

The Divine Luck.

And how she was connected to it.

He let her cry until she calmed down, before starting wiping her tears with his thumb.

He didn't realized how close they were until he saw her face, red in embarrassment.

In that moment, he felt his face heat up and tried his best to put some distance between their faces without it looking too awkward.

He was sure he failed to do that.

An awkward silence covered the room, neither ghost knowing what to say, with only the luckster's snores breaking the silence.

Without any of them saying anything, Akane, her face still red, opened her mouth.

"I'm... really glad that I met you, Utsuro" She smiled a bit, without looking at him "There's a lot of things that i regret doing, but being with you isn't one of them"

He didn't say anything, but his expression said it all.

It took some time, but he finally understood.

How ironic is that being separated was what made him understand what she meant to him.

The future was uncertain, it was impossible for them to know what would happen the day they finally arrive to the afterlife, but one thing was certain.

They changed.

And whatever it broke between them could be repaired without the weight of the Luck keeping them away.

It was a overly optimistic thought, but they already abandoned despair time ago.

And what they had in front of them was a bright road ahead.

She already had gotten close to him again, him feeling her head against his shoulder again. She was still a bit flustered, but he was ok with that.

He put a hand over her shoulders, that made her hug him tight. If he were still alive, her hug would had knocked the air of his lungs, but in his actual state, it only made him feel a little ache on the bones he broke when he hit the water.

The night was going to be long, but they were happy.

And that was the only thing that mattered to them.

[cabiba]

1. Closing Your Mind

I know way too many people who still operate with the same beliefs, patterns, and styles of thinking that they did when they were 18.

They blindly listened to authority, accepted whatever beliefs their family, friends, and society instilled in them…and never bothered to challenge any of it as they grew up.

The simple truth is that life is complicated. Infinitely so.

And no matter how fervently you believe something, there is someone else somewhere in the world with an antithetical viewpoint that is often just as valid as your own.

When you operate with a closed mind in your 20s, you never have the opportunity to formulate your own ideas. To create your own code for living and find your own answers to life’s hard questions.

And, if you create this habit in your 20s, it is MUCH harder to break later on.

Your 20s should be a time to question everything…religion, politics, life advice, your own goals, your own beliefs about the world, your own identity as a man or woman…EVERYTHING.

If you were told that “success” is getting married, having a 9–5 job with a good pension, raising a few kids and then retiring and you chose to believe that (even if, subconsciously this sounds like hell), you are setting yourself up for a life of misery.

Question everything and don’t accept anything you were told simply because mommy, daddy, a teacher, or the government told it to you.

2. Fearing Failure

Let’s just get this out of the way.

You’re going to fail. A lot. Way more than you can even imagine.

This is true of everyone.

Failure is an inevitable part of life. But most people fear it as if it’s the end of life. And, as a result, they play it safe and refuse to take bold risks or chart their own path.

The way you live in your 20s will, for better or worse, determine how you live later in life.

While it’s true that people can and do change, the chains of habit tighten with time, making it harder for you to break out of your old patterns, behaviors, and beliefs.

In your 20s you shouldn’t fear failure…you should seek it out.

The time to fail is now.

Start your business. Travel the world. Write your book. Backpack around the country.

Do whatever you truly want to do and trust that if you do fail (and you probably will) you can recover.

If I’d allowed my fear of failure to paralyze me in my 20s, I would be in a miserable marriage, working a job I don’t like, and stuck in my own personal hell.

Because I was willing to stare failure in the face, I have the dating life of my dreams, built a 7-figure business, and enjoy a life I honestly never thought was possible.

3. Refusing to Work on Yourself

If you don’t work on yourself in your 20s…if you don’t address childhood trauma, forge your own identity, look at your strengths and weaknesses objectively, and attempt to improve who you are and how you live…you will create a pattern of tolerance.

You will tolerate a shitty life because it’s all you’ve ever known.

You’ll tolerate shitty relationships, jobs, friends, and health because you weren’t willing to do the hard work when you were younger.

And it is MUCH harder to build a business, get in great shape, or create an abundant dating and social life when you’re in your 30s and 40s than it is in your 20s.

Take this decade to work on yourself.

Build a bulletproof body that allows you to do the things you want to do and that you feel confident in.

Master social dynamics and learn how to make friends, find great partners, and experience authentic love and connection (and how to keep it around).

Learn about finances and your respective career so that you can compound your skills and accumulate real wealth.

PUT IN THE WORK to become the person you want to be and everything will fall into place later.

4. Abusing Your Health

Listen…It’s normal to party in your 20s, experiment with drugs, drink a little (ok a lot) too much on the weekends, and order late-night pizzas to cure your hangover.

But sooner or later, you need to start taking your health seriously.

Again, if you become overweight or injure yourself in your 20s, it’s a LOT harder to recover from this in your 30s.

Have fun, but don’t abuse your health.

Prioritize sleep (7 hours minimum every night). Eat clean foods (ideally things that grew in the ground or had a face). Make a habit of going to the gym. Take supplements that are proven to improve performance.

Take care of your body and it will take care of you.Abuse your body and life will abuse you.

5. Allowing Other People to Determine Your Identity

The MOST detrimental thing you can do in your 20s is to allow other people to determine who you should be.

To let society, your parents, your friends, and the media dictate your goals, actions, and ambitions.

I know too many guys who got into a job or relationship because it was what everyone else thought they should do…who now hate their lives and want nothing more than to turn back the clock and make a different decision (but of course, they can’t…because they have 2 kids, a mortgage, and an unhappy marriage they can’t end).

Don’t be like most people.You and only you are responsible for your life and future.And you and only you know what will make you happy, fulfilled, and alive.

You only have one shot at life.

And it’s up to you to make it count.Just because your family wants what is best for you doesn’t mean they know what’s best for you.

And just because society says you should be a rich, handsome billionaire with 6-pack abs doesn’t mean that’s what you should actually do.

Figure out who you really are and who you really want to be and then put in the work to make your goals a reality.

Everything else is bullshit.

[sofiadragon]

OK I'm gonna get a little controversial. There are books worth of fannon discourse litigating this one, but I will attempt to be brief.

Depending on the interpretation of her powers as they were shown in Age of Ultron, this may not be the first "autopilot magic" Wanda used. Now many people say she showed Tony Stark a hellscape vision of his fears and his PTSD did the rest, but it was also possible and even suggested by [some cut, some canon] dialog that a suggestion was implanted and now Stark would run along and self-destruct without her controlling any of the details. Not a puppet on strings with every action chosen, but a trall of sorts left to figure out how to complete the task. A subconscious suggestion style of influence rather than control.

Very similar to how many fans view the way Loki was influenced but not controlled by the Scepter and the Other, but let's not add another debate to the table. This is about Stark.

Is Stark out of character after she gives him the vision?

He pulls a bad idea out of the trash for a weapon to defend the planet - he doesn't make weapons that big anymore and those he does make are carefully controlled by himself or a trusted ally. JARVIS doesn't have control of anything like this at this point, though JARVIS can pilot the suits with permission under limited parameters he blew up the iron legion in IM3, and he doesn't make EDITH until/after the snap or when Morgan is born. (Continuity issues with the other films muddy this one.)

He hooks the scepter up to scan while also working on getting an interface running for a baby AI - a bit more reckless than usual since he had his character arc in IM2 and IM3 already. This is probably the strongest evidence that he's acting strange. He is very loving toward his sentient creations, more than he is with many humans, and being reckless with a new AI just doesn't fit well. When asked: He is confused and appalled by the accusation of intentionally making a murder bot, his bots are his babies. He was only scanning the scepter, to learn from it, while the new Ultron AI with no interface was compiling. He thinks it would be stupid to do that, so of course he didn't connect the scepter directly to his newborn son. [Says who? Tony, this is what he says and how he acts in the movie. Yes it is biased it's his take.] Was that something he did because of Wanda's influence, or did he not actually connect them and the sentient scepter did that? I think they kept this too vague because they knew Civil War was coming and Stark would have to go a bit villain like in the comics [and then they didn't, but I'm already on a tangent so let's reel it in.]

He tells not a single soul that he had a nightmare vision. Doesn't even acknowledge it to JARVIS. Is his PTSD so bad that visions like this are that normal for him? If so, then Wanda probably didn't bewitch him in an ongoing fashion. If not... that's sus. He doesn't seem to remember it and doesn't bring it up when everyone else gets a taste of the red mist. Notably she doesn't dictate the specifics she just compelled the person's mind to create a nightmare scenario. She did not know each of their weak spots prior and construct these images meticulously. Steve's brain made the details of Steve's nightmare, Thor's mind made Thor's vision, etc. Again, there is very little explicit in the movie's text about this so it depends on how you personally view MCU Tony Stark.

He tells Bruce but not the rest of the team about the project (debatable if this was normal or not, we don't know how much the Avengers socialize outside of relatively rare missions and the afterparty, we don't know how much Tony shares about his tech experiments on a normal day.) Steve certainly acts like this is something Tony should have shared with [or aggressively infodumped onto] the team, but this could just be hindsight. Obviously, given what just happened, this should have been workshopped with the whole team, but prior to this it is entirely possible that Tony does risky experiments without telling them anything. We just... don't know for sure because we never got everyone at Avengers Tower with Clint in the vents - calling it Avengers Tower is pretty much just a PR stunt for Stark Industries in the MCU. They neither live, work, nor train there.

So if you are, for a lack of better fannon terms, a pro-tony person then Wanda has always been able to plant suggestions that persist after she has stopped forming her spell. The difference here is that she doesn't remember casting it, she doesn't know that she programmed all these people all at once in this way until she talks with Agatha in the second to last episode. In this case it is a matter of scale - she finds it hard to believe she has that much power on her own, but the mechanics are familiar and instinctual as we would expect from an uncontrollable outburst.

If you are, again for lack of a better way to phrase it, anti-tony in inclination, then Wanda has never done any of this before. It is all novel. Her grief pushed her to find a depth of power that was not only deeper and richer than she had ever experienced, but also fundamentally different from how she has ever used her power before. This makes her complete denial of what is happening more honest, because why would she develop a brand new ability out of pure desperation? [Ask the writers of MoM they gave her new abilities in just about every scene she appears in that you shouldn't think too much about or they break everything about the plot.🧂Shoot I dropped some salt on this post.]

While I admit I am in the former category, I think the writers of WandaVision intend the latter to be true. In either case, she aggressively prevents herself and others from examining why Westview is like this. She wants this so bad she refuses to wonder where this wonderful gift came from, how it was made, or at what cost her happiness comes long - long - after she is fully aware that it is tied to her magic. Even when she knows, she does not want to know so strongly that she is willing to grasp at anything, even a Pietro that is obviously not her brother, that supports her decision to keep it.

So. This scene. Let’s talk about it.

This confrontation is easily the most damning piece of evidence against Wanda. If you actually listen to what Vision is saying, he spells out very clearly that Wanda is puppeting and torturing the people of Westview, and she completely brushes it off, denying everything.

Now I am aware that Wanda is still more or less in the dark about what is going on in Westview; at this point, all she knows for certain is that the Hex exists, and that it has given her everything she could possibly want (I don’t think she accepted that she could have created it until Fake Pietro tells her that), and she does not know that she is capable of doing what Vision says. But even if she really was unaware of the fact that the people of Westview were in pain, you would think that she would at least want to hear Vision out instead of just pretending the whole argument didn’t happen. It’s not so much her denial of his accusations that’s bothering me as it is her negligence. One could make the argument that her not doing anything after this point could be considered criminal negligence.

Something similar happens in the next episode too, but I can’t put two videos in one post: Fake Pietro straight-up explains the mind control to her. I get that she might not believe what he says because he is an impostor, but you would think that she could put two and two together with what Vision told her and realize she was hurting people.

I really want to find a way to rationalize this, but the best excuse I can think of is that Wanda was still in the middle of a mental breakdown, even though there isn’t really any concrete evidence of that in the show.

I wish I wasn’t thinking about this at all, but I feel like it’s a point that needs to be dissected.

[pinkcherrybombs]

Oh My Lucifer | Teaser

*Image credit: Pinterest

♡ Summary: In hopes of achieving a high mark in your final exam you're willing to give up anything, including your soul. However when your drunken joke of a ritual suddenly comes true, how do you even begin to explain your logic to the seven demon lords seated in front of you.

♡ Genre: Demon Au/ Poly Au.

♡Pairing:OT7 x Female Reader

♡Word Count for Teaser: 700

♡TW: Swearing - each chapter will have an individual TW that fits the chapter best.

♡Chapter One

_______________________________

"Wait, I thought the devil was only one dude," you huff, eyes continuing to look anywhere but at those sitting in front of you. Maybe it's because you refuse to look at them that they feel more intrigued to take in your appearance. Eyes wandering from the lace straps of your sheer nightgown down to the bare legs underneath. Subconsciously, your arms began to cover your chest as you swayed softly waiting for someone else in the room to finally speak.

"The devil is one-person dumbass." The man furthest spoke, fingertips sliding against the round table, allowing for his inked knuckles and rings to shine against the harsh boardroom lights.

Your breath hitches at the sudden response to your initially planned rhetorical question, but not out of fear. Though you usually know it's never a good idea to get snappy in the middle of an unknown situation, your mouth tends to have a habit of moving faster than your brain, especially when you feel offended. Quickly your eyes now meet his gaze as you open your mouth to fire back, asking who the fuck he was, calling you a dumbass. However, your words become silenced as the man continues.

"I swear you kids these days do no fucking research before you try and sell your souls. Do you even know how much paperwork goes into these things?" With an exasperated sigh, his lips begin to curl at the edge forming a smirk, clearly remembering to mention his after thought. Running his hands through his dark almost grey silver hair, he winked before continuing, "Oh, and I'll call you whatever I want, sweetheart. Your thoughts aren't as secret as you think." the last part rang in your head as you watched his mouth remain closed. Great assholes and mind readers fucking perfect for you.

"Oh, I'm so sorry I didn't research the proper way to sell your soul; obviously, I didn't think it would work." Pulling out the chair closest to you, you plopped down, unable to mentally process the situation at hand. A cluster of low chuckles began as you heard footsteps now approaching your seated form, fingers harshly gripping around your chin to force your eyes up. As much as you hate to admit it, he's beautiful, no, ethereal. Raven black curls hanging loosely over the face, eyes hypnotizing you in. Lips slightly parted as he starred with a soft boxy smile. His hand moves downwards, fingernails trailing the sides of your neck before wrapping them around softly, feeling each breath you attempt to swallow. In any other situation, you would have probably thought this was a heavenly sent angel now looking at you. Still, his harsh tone quickly brought you back to reality.

"Listen, brat, we got shit to do, and you're currently in the way of that. So let's get a fucking move on and figure out how your ass ended up here, so we can get your soul, and you can leave." Pulling his fingers away from your neck, he slid his arm under yours and forced you up quickly, letting go, not before giving you a pissed-off glare. One by one, the men lazily got up and began walking towards the exit, not saying a word to your halted form. "If you guys still get my soul, does that mean I get my end of the bargain?" You remained standing, not moving without receiving an answer.

"And what was that?" a voice huffed, clearly getting more and more hostile by the second.

"An A+ on my history final." The words stuttered out, causing you to now realize how stupid the whole idea may have been. But in your defence, most ideas are stupid when you're six vodka shots in, alone on Halloween night and studying for a final worth 45%.

Slowly the men stopped, simultaneously turning their heads to look at you with dumbfounded expressions. Sure they've heard of people selling their souls for money, fame, or love. But never for something like a university final fucking exam. Not even being able to come up with a response, they simply scoffed, walking into the dimly lit hallway, barley even checking if you were following them or not. As you quickly shuffled behind, a hand slithered around your shoulders, pressing you firmly to their side. Leaning down, the dark silver-haired man pressed his lips to your outer ear. You could feel the smirk on his lips heating against your neck before the words even came out. "Dumbass."

------------------------------------

A/n : And Cut! This will be my first series (sorry for saying that so much, I’m just super excited!!) so I really hope you guys will enjoy it. I plan on updating about once a week, just for reference, oh and if you'd like to be added to the tag-list you can just reply below. As usual thank you for reading, have a safe and Happy Halloween, Love Y'all bye <3. (also if anyone feels uncomfortable by the title, I do whole heartily apologize in advance. I just found it to be fun play on words.)

[starks-hero]

Right a Wrong

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You, Sam and Bucky get to work repairing Sam’s family boat. Turns out the boat isn’t the only thing in need of fixing. But with help from you and Sam, Bucky figures some stuff out.

Word Count: 3,745

Warnings: a bit of a make-out session but not enough to be classed as smut, tfatws spoilers! 1x05

a/n: This is a direct result of watching episode 5 too many times. Spoilers below!

|| Part Two ||

Small waves lapped gently against the dock and the afternoon sun warmed your back as you worked on the old boat.

You were standing side by side with Bucky, crowbar in hand as you attempted to pry off the old metal cleats from the boats side, whilst he expertly pulled rusted pipes apart and threw them into a pile. As if on queue, one of the pipes on the opposite side of the ship burst, hissing and spurting out white clouds of steam. You marvelled at how quickly Bucky reacted, quickly crossing the deck and sealing the leak with an abrupt upward turn of the pipe with his metal arm.

"Where did you learn so much about fixing boats?" You teased, motioning to the now fixed pipe with your crowbar. Bucky dusted off his hands.

"I used to work on the docks in Brooklyn before the war." He shrugged, rolling up his sleeves to the elbow and taking a seat on a crate next to you. "I picked up a few things."

He furthered his point by leaning over and pulling at the cleat you'd been grappling with. It came away from where it was attached to the boat's side with ease in Buckys iron grip. He smirked as he tossed the scrap aside and you rolled your eyes.

"Show off."

Bucky chuckled, sitting back as Sam stepped onto the boat. He was carrying a crate in one hand and shook his head when he noticed Bucky's smirk and your dismissive smile.

"Alright, you two." He placed the crate down and pulled out two green bottles, throwing one to Bucky and handing you the other. "Beer break."

Sam took a seat across from you both and you sighed as you opened your beer, raising it up to Bucky.

His annoyance was discredited by the fond smile that broke through his expression as he begrudgingly clinked his bottle with yours. You reached over and did the same with Sam as the three of you relaxed under the heat of the Louisiana sun.

"It's starting to look good," you noted as you glanced around the boat and Sam smiled.

"Yeah, it's coming together." He took a swig of his beer. "You know, Sarah and I were talking." He started and both you and Bucky glanced up at him. "And we could use the help. Don't suppose you two would consider staying around a while? Just till we get a lead on Karli."

The offer caused a noticeable smile to pull at your lips whilst Bucky shifted beside you at Sam's words. His agitation grew and he stood.

"I've got my plane to catch tomorrow, a hotel room for the night," he said, raising his bottle to his lips to hide his doubt. He really didn't have that much of a plan beyond that.

"You're just gonna set me up like that, huh?" Sam asked and Bucky shrugged.

"Well, I don't want to make it weird for your family."

"Just stay here," Sam said and you couldn't help but nod subconsciously. The truth was you really didn't really want to leave. There was something about staying with the Wilson's and spending the day fixing up an old run-down family boat that made everything seem so normal. It gave you a sense of home, a sense of normality that you hadn't had in a long time. For a while, it even made you forget about the flag smashers, Walker, all of it. It was a much-needed break.

"The people in this town are the most welcoming in the world. They don't care if you wear small t-shirts or if you've got six toes or if your mom is your aunt-"

You laughed and Bucky barely hid a chuckle behind a huff of breath and a bright smile.

"Okay, I get it. The people are nice."

You placed your bottle aside and turned to Sam.

"You're sure Sarah doesn't mind?" you asked and Sam's smile only widened.

"She's the one that offered."

Grinning, you sat back and nodded. "Then I don't see why not."

"See?" Sam pointed to you and then Bucky. "Just stay, man."

Bucky shuffled his feet for a moment before finally answering with a begrudging, "Okay. Alright." He didn't say anything else as he turned and walked down the boat.

"He'll come around. He probably just wants his space." You said, picking up your beer. Sam nodded, taking a swig of his own drink.

"I hope you're right."

You woke up feeling more refreshed than you had in a while. Your hands and back hurt slightly from the tiring work on the boat, but it was a dull ache compared to the constant throbbing that came after a mission. Your cheeks were warm, surely as a result of the hours spent out in the sun the day before.

Both you and Bucky stayed the night. Sarah had offered you the spare room and after a solid fifteen minutes of bickering, you finally conceded to Bucky and agreed to sleep in the guest bed. He took the couch.

The sun was just beginning to rise up over the water when you and Bucky both headed back out to the boat. Sam joined you not long after. You worked until mid-afternoon, reluctantly taking short breaks. You fell into a quick rhythm as you worked around the boat. Surprisingly, the three of you seemed to make a pretty decent team off of the battlefield.

"Hey, can you pass me a 12-300?" Sam asked from under the boat's control panel. Bucky reached into the toolbox and placed the wrench in Sam's outstretched hand. A few seconds later Sam was rolling out from under the controls and glaring disapprovingly at Bucky.

"What?"

"I asked for a 12-300," Sam stated plainly. "This is a 10-250."

"No, it's not." Bucky bit back.

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not!"

"Hey, geniuses." You cut their bickering short as both men turned to look at you. You held up the grease-slick wrench that had been misplaced and tossed it to Sam. "You left it below deck when you were working on the engine."

Sam muttered a quiet 'thanks' as he got back to work. Silence settled over the three of you for a few minutes until Sam decided it was getting awkward.

"So, are you still planning on leaving tonight?" He asked from under the station and Bucky nodded, before realising Sam couldn't see him.

"Yeah," he said loud enough for Sam to hear. "I'll be out of your way soon."

You could hear Sam's sigh from beneath you as he clambered back to his feet and stood between you and the super-soldier leaning against the wall of the cabin.

"Well, there's no hurry."

Sam didn't say anything else as he cleaned the oil and grease from his hands with a cloth and stepped off the boat. Bucky sighed and let his head fall back behind him.

"Go," you ordered plainly and he looked up at you.

"What?"

"Go," you said again, nodding your head towards where Sam was walking away. "You both need to talk. Bucky, whatever you're not saying, it's getting to you. So go talk to him."

Bucky hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He glared at nothing in particular but his gaze softened when it found you and he muttered a quiet, 'fine.' You stepped aside as he made his way past you and stepped up onto the dock, heading after Sam.

"And don't be a smart ass!" You called after him. He didn't reply, but you could only hope that Sam and Bucky's conversation would be somewhat constructive.

"Nice shot!" You retrieved the football from the back of the goal as Cass, Sam's eldest nephew, celebrated his score.

Once Sam and Bucky had left the boat, you had headed back to the house, helping Sarah with any errands or chores, doing anything you could to help out. Sam and Bucky had been gone a little over an hour and you didn't know if that meant their talk was going very well or very not. You'd been sitting rather uselessly on the couch, waiting in anticipation, when Sam's nephews had invited you to play a game of football. And how could you refuse?

You tossed the ball back to the boys who eagerly pounced at it. You were stood in the small goal, allowing both boys to take as many shots as they wanted. AJ stepped forward and kicked the ball, groaning when it flew off to the left, a few meters away from where you were standing and missed the net entirely. He glanced down at the ground, disheartened.

“Hey, it's alright, AJ.” You smiled as you ran to grab the ball and passed it back to him. “Come on, try again.”

With encouragement from his brother, he took the shot and this time the ball planted itself in the top corner of the goal. Both boys cheered as they celebrated and you smiled. You dusted yourself off, your knees and hands covered in dust from the football game as you turned to head back inside the house. Both boys protested as you left but you promised them you'd be back. The more time you spent with AJ, Cass, Sam and Sarah, the more you didn't want to leave. There was something about staying with the Wilson's that made you feel content. It was homely and offered a sense of normality that the last few weeks had caused you to miss.

You entered the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of water. Sarah had told you over and over again to help yourself to anything in the kitchen. You leaned against the counter, glass in hand and just basked in the feeling of not having to worry about donning a suit and risking your life at a moments notice. It was something you could get used to.

“That was adorable.”

Your head snapped up at the sound of a voice and you found Bucky joining you in the kitchen. He was smirking fondly.

“You and the boys.”

You chuckled softly and shrugged. “They're sweet kids.”

Bucky nodded, pulling a glass of his own from the shelf and filling it with water from the tap. It furthered the sense of domesticity that you were really starting to love. He took a seat at the table across from you.

“So,” you started as you placed your own glass aside. “How did it go? You and Sam.”

Bucky chuckled and you couldn't tell if it was sarcastic or genuine, but something about the grin that lingered on his lips had you banking on the latter.

‘‘Not bad,” he admitted eventually with a shrug. He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “We talked. He said if I'm going to fix anything, if I'm going to get what's left of him out of my mind.” Bucky subconsciously ran his hand across his temple. “I'm going to have to put in the work. Help the people I wronged instead of just saying sorry.”

You nodded, silently making a note to thank Sam later on. He always had a way with words, he could always get through to people. That's why he was given the shield.

“He's got a point.”

Bucky scoffed and hung his head at your words. “I should have known you'd be on his side.” There was no hostility in his words. He just sounded amused, and maybe a little tired.

“I don't think this comes down to whose side I'm on, Bucky. We both want what's best for you.” You answered honestly and Bucky glimpsed up at you. He anxiously toyed with his hands as you spoke, looking vulnerable, and slightly lost despite how hard he tried to hide it. You knew Sam had already spoken to him, but it couldn't hurt for you to say something as well.

“Look Bucky, telling yourself that you're okay and that everything that happened doesn't matter anymore because you've made 'amends' isn't going to help.”

He sighed, shuffling his feet against the tiles of the kitchen floor. “I know,” he admitted quietly.

“And I know you're probably tired of hearing this but, you're not him anymore, Bucky. You're not the winter soldier. Everything you did whilst you were him wasn't your choice. Just because you remember it doesn't mean that it was your fault. It's not your responsibility to fix it.”

Bucky sighed but didn't interrupt. He was listening. This wasn't like the therapist that he was forced to sit in front of and lie to every other week. This was someone he trusted, someone whose words he valued. Someone he honestly believed could help. He sighed but nodded to show that he was still listening.

“I think Sam’s right,” you said. “It might not be your responsibility to fix everything that went wrong but trying could help. It could give you that closure that you keep chasing after. You need to let go, Bucky. You need to forgive yourself. Maybe you just need the people who are hurting to forgive you first. Then you can learn how to do the same.”

Bucky's expression was unreadable. So many emotions flashed across his eyes you found it difficult to pinpoint just one.

“How do I start?” he asked quietly. It just seemed impossible. There were so many people he'd hurt, so many people he'd wronged. He'd left children as orphans, wives as widows and parents childless. How could he possibly start trying to fix or make all those people feel in any way better?

You smiled softly at his question. “Small. One at a time,” you said simply. “Then just keep putting one in front of the other.”

Bucky considered your words, glancing down at his hands as he thought. Before long, a small smirk pulled at his lips.

“I can't decide who'd make a better therapist. You or Sam,” he joked and you laughed, shaking your head dismissively.

“Well, Sam did council veterans so I think he takes that title.”

“I'd say it's pretty tied,” Bucky said, walking across the kitchen and standing next to you as he washed his glass, drying it off and placing it back on the shelf. The room fell into a comfortable silence.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He said after a moment, his tone sincere and his expression genuine as he looked at you. You nodded, gently placing your hand against his shoulder.

“Don't mention it. You know I'm always here if you need to talk.”

The sound of a football colliding with the wall dangerously close to the window followed by two voice's loudly shouting, 'sorry!' in unison drew a quaint laugh from you both.

“Duty calls.” You grinned, patting Bucky on the back as you passed him. “Team Wilson is missing its goalkeeper.”

Bucky chuckled, watching you go. You crossed the kitchen but his voice stopped you just as your hand reached the doors handle.

“Y/N?”

You turned back around to face him and couldn't help but notice that he seemed a little more apprehensive than he had before.

“Yeah?”

He exhaled slowly, willing himself to tell you what was on his mind.

“I was just thinking things over and you know, I’m leaving today,” he hesitated slightly before glancing up at you. “And I guess I was wondering if you’d come with me?”

Your hand slipped from where it was still holding the brass handle of the door. You tilted your head as your mind fully processed his question. The shock must have been evident in your expression as Bucky rushed to continue.

“I know you're planning on staying here and I get why.” He pulled a tattered red book from his pocket which you immediately recognized as Steve’s. He began absentmindedly turning the pages, running his fingers over the paper. “I want to try and start fixing things, making things right. But truth is I have no idea where to start. I thought that maybe you could help me with that?”

“I thought you wanted your space," you admitted after a moment.

“No.” He shook his head. “That's the last thing I want.”

You thought it over, resting your back against the door. Bucky trusted you, evidently a lot more than you thought he did. Not only was he comfortable enough telling you how he felt and admitting he didn't know what to do next. But he also wanted you with him. It was clear he was holding back, not wanting to overwhelm you by admitting just how badly he wanted you to go with him. But the way he eagerly watched you as he waited patiently for your answer was a dead give away.

You wanted to help Bucky, you wanted to be there for him. If that meant helping him right his wrongs and staying with him during that trying time, at least until Sam got a lead on Karli and the Flag Smashers, then you were more than happy to comply.

“You're sure about this?” you asked and Bucky pushed off the counter and crossed the room, stopping just in front of you.

“Absolutely.” His voice dropped down to a hushed whisper. “Come with me.” His hand gently caught your wrist, his fingers running up your arm. His face was inches from yours now, your breaths mingling. “Please?”

His lips pressed to yours before you could answer and you immediately kissed back. Your hand fell against his shoulder, the other laying gently against the nape of his neck. He groaned quietly against you, his arms finding your waist as he gently guided you backwards till your back met the wall. He pressed into you, his hands roaming up your body and you moaned as he deepened the kiss.

“Yes.” You answered when he pulled away slightly and he smiled against you, relieved. Neither of you said anything else as Bucky sighed and pulled you closer, his thigh slipping between your legs as he pinned you to the wall.

God, he'd wanted to do this for so long. Wanted to kiss you, to feel you against him. He wanted you. Your hand slipped into his hair and you pulled him closer, smirking against him. You'd wanted this just as bad. And you both only had your own stubbornness to blame for taking so damn long. It didn't matter now though. Not as he gently bit down on your lower lip and you slipped your hand under his shirt and felt up his chest. It all felt so natural, so right.

“Ten minutes.”

Both your eyes flew open at the all too familiar voice, Bucky pulling away from you so quickly he only barely avoided falling over a nearby chair.

“I left you two alone to talk for ten minutes,” Sam repeated from where he was standing on the other side of the room, his arms crossed. You tried to subtly smoothen out your clothes whilst Bucky ran his hand through his tangled hair.

“We were,” Bucky said, clearing his throat. “We were talking. We...talked.”

Sam nodded, entirely unconvinced, and smirked. He reclined against the counter, showing no sign of leaving anytime soon. A painfully awkward silence settled over the kitchen as Sam continued to shift his knowing stare from you to Bucky.

The humiliation of the entire situation seemed to get to Bucky first as he clasped his hands together after less than a minute.

“You know, what? I'm leaving in a few hours and I've got to pack so I better just go-” Bucky rambled as he shot you a subtle apologetic look before turning to Sam, who was nodding along in faux agreement to his pathetic attempt of an excuse.

Bucky quickly crossed the kitchen, Sam harshly patting him on the back as he passed him and left the room. Leaving just you and Sam alone. You turned to your friend and found that he was still grinning at you with that same mischievous look in his eyes. You felt like a deer in headlights. In an attempt to act as though Sam hadn't just walked in on you and Bucky making out, you tried making normal conversation.

“Sam, there was actually something I wanted to tell you. I know I said I was going to stay for a while but I guess there's been a change of plan. I-”

“I know.” He cut you off and his smile only widened when you looked at him in utter confusion. “You honestly think he would have asked you to go with him if I didn't tell him to get his shit together first?”

Your confusion slowly melted away and was replaced with a look of disbelief. You laughed despite yourself. You should have known Sam had something to do with it. ‘‘How long have you been playing cupid?” you asked jokingly and Sam chuckled.

“He needs you, Y/N. More than he wants to admit,” Sam said, tone now more serious than before. “Things will be fine here, I'll call you as soon as Torres finds us something to work with. But right now, he needs your help before that hole he's stuck in gets too deep for him to climb out of.”

You sighed as the weight of Sam's words set in. He was right, Bucky really did need you. That wasn't a responsibility you could afford to take lightly. Not that you planned to.

“Thanks, Sam,” you said genuinely and Sam smirked as he crossed the room and pulled you into a hug. He could tell you needed it.

“Anytime.” He pulled away and offered you a warning glare. “But I swear, if you two making out the minute I turn my back becomes a regular thing I'm going to kick both your asses.”

“Got it,” you nodded, barely stifling a laugh.

Sam's scowl melted into a smile and he motioned towards the stairs. “Go on, get your things together. You've got a plane to catch in a few hours.”

You smiled and headed upstairs after Bucky. Sam leaned against the counter with his arms crossed and a satisfied smile. Getting you two together had taken more work than he'd thought. But he knew it would be worth it, you both needed each other. Whether you were willing to admit it or not. And Sam was confident that if there was anyone that could help Bucky and offer him that sense of home and peace that he was so desperately craving, it was you.

tag list: @bakerstreethound​ @miraclesoflove​ @doozywoozy​ @kealohilani-tepise

[yanban-san]

Hello! Quick question a out your Demon au. You mentioned in the last post that the twins had pretty much disappeared all porn for you. So you are getting frustrated enough to attempt to booty call a friend, and uou work at Gear Station too? So there's probably an overlap in friends and coworkers. And some of those coworkers were created by the twins, right? Gear station is basically a melting pot of human workers, imp workers, and workers created by the twins. What is, since the reader feel like the Subway Bosses are unobtainable, they subconsciously go for the next best thing and booty call one of the agents that got created by the twins. Do the agents that were created by the twins even have their own will? Or are they just puppets? Both ways are amusing in their own ways. If the agent has its own will it is probably just internally screaming as soon as it realises what's going on. It got created by the twins but it doesn't want to get smited by the twins, thank you very much. And if it's just an empty puppet I feel like Emmet would get insanely jealous and frustrated. It's already an empty puppet, not like he can punish it for being the object of the reader's desires. Although, I feel like if they realise that the reader thought they couldn't have the Subway Bosses then went on to choose something similar/close to them (one of the Depot Agents they created) would they feel a little touched?

Also, the twins are, like, constantly looking at Darling to find out their likes/dislikes, right? What if they found out that the reader has a slight Monster Fucker Fetish? Would they subtly encourage the reader to read amut of more inhumane monsters similar to their ture form to gage how the reader would potentially like their true forms? Or would it all still fall under the porn ban?

Last thing, I swear. "They’ll terrorize you in more ways than just making you run around a subway for a few hours- And come to your rescue. You won’t think of being horny- Of looking for someone else, if you’re too busy thanking the stars that you’re alive, and safely in the embrace of the wonderful Station Masters who saved you." Bold of the Station Masters to not assume that getting scared just makes you even hornier. It's funny actually, when I first started watching horror movies, I got over my fear by looking up porn/porn parodies of the horror whatever. Now, I don't really get scared when confronted with horror stuff, my mind just goes 'great, now how can I fuck it?' How would they react to a reader who thought like that? And tends to just get proverbial 'fear boners' when they attempt to scare the reader from going on dates/booty calls?

Sorry if this is kinda long/rambly. I had a bunch of questions come to mind all at once. Let me know if you want me to spilt up the questions into different asks so it's easier to answer, if you want to answer my asks. Love your Demon AU! Its been giving me delicious brain rot.

Thank you for the ask, Terror! I love all these questions- And don’t worry about breaking it up or anything, you’re all good lol

Do the agents that were created by the twins even have their own will? Or are they just puppets?

I like the idea of them giving the servitor agents free will out of sheer laziness. It's harder to manage puppets because they have to manage all their responses and ensure they're working like functioning humans should all the time- It's much easier if they're just autonomous beings that obey the twin's orders either out of fear or reverence. Plus they can keep the demon-imp coworkers in line, since if the imps are present they may try to sabotage Ingo and Emmet if they are feeling particularly bold. Of course, if they get caught, a fate worse than death awaits them. The twins might not be familiar with human customs, but demonic/eldritch customs and behaviors? They're as hateful against their own kind as they can be, and they know how self-centered and vile literal demons and imps can be- and they have zero sympathy for them.

If the agent has its own will it is probably just internally screaming as soon as it realises what's going on.

Darling asks one of her very nice coworkers to go out with her to eat at her favorite grill n' pub one day, and the servitor, knowing one of the big rules they're supposed to follow is keeping you happy, accepts! They're quite curious as to why you've taken an interest in them, as well- It’s almost flattering, being asked to accompany the soulmate of their creators!

Until you have a margarita or two and then... confess... you're hoping they'll come home with you tonight. That you find them kinda cute, and- well, it wouldn't be like you'd start dating, or anything- but if they'd like... to have a little fun... you'd be more than happy to oblige.

Servitor picks up on what you're saying- And immediately starts sweating bullets.

You are their creator's beloved soulmate. They can't- Holy fuck, either Emmet is going to smite them into an ash pile or Ingo is going to eeby deeby them straight to the Void- and they're panicking, because there's a high chance they will be eeby deebied the moment you look away from them- It depends on the servitor specifically, but each having free will, and thus developing unique personalities, will respond differently. The responses will range from either trying to direct the conversation to how you feel about Emmet and Ingo, or saying they're flattered, but absolutely not- And also how do you feel about your bosses, Ingo and Emmet

Honestly this idea probably deserves a drabble at some point- I am loving the idea of the servitor depot agents having panic attacks over Darling liking them a little too much-

And if it's just an empty puppet I feel like Emmet would get insanely jealous and frustrated. It's already an empty puppet, not like he can punish it for being the object of the reader's desires. Although, I feel like if they realise that the reader thought they couldn't have the Subway Bosses then went on to choose something similar/close to them (one of the Depot Agents they created) would they feel a little touched?

If the servitors were just empty puppets, and reader either fell in love with one of them, or tried to booty call them, both the twins would be upset- You picked a literal hollow casket of a person over them? :( Now if there's a depot agent that looks vaguely like Ingo or Emmet... or perhaps reminds reader of the twins- And Reader happens to be a lightweight who can't handle a single margarita, and drunkenly confesses they want a no-strings attached one-night stand because the depot agent looks like the Subway Bosses, and Reader just feels like... they can't approach Emmet and Ingo that way-

The servitor is going to be flattered that you think them so close to their masters- and Ingo and Emmet are certainly touched in a strange way- You want them, but then why do you consider them unapproachable? They've made themselves the most approachable beings in existence to you! They've made sure you enter their office at least five times a day! You literally have to approach them daily! What do you mean unapproachable??

Also, the twins are, like, constantly looking at Darling to find out their likes/dislikes, right? What if they found out that the reader has a slight Monster Fucker Fetish?

They’re incorporating that straight into their plans to seduce you. 100%. There’s rumors of two monsters that lurk the subway tunnels at night and now your coworkers are daring you to go looking for them. :) You should. The monsters- they’re in the tunnel go get em tiger

Bold of the Station Masters to not assume that getting scared just makes you even hornier.

I'm sorry this idea has me dying because I have had this problem as well-

They lock their darling in the Scary Subway Station again, except this time, darling isn't... as afraid. In fact, yes, darling is nervous, that can be seen, but... also excited?

"Oh dang, I hope no big, scary monsters show up and ravage me while I'm totally defenseless down here. ;)"

And the two are horribly confused?? Why??? Darling is turned on???

Darling sits down, and they’re loosening the buttons on their work uniform, ya know- It's so hot in the subway tunnels, especially these weird scary ones where the vents aren't turning on-

Before turning over and seeing a beautiful, (but also terrifying because what the hell is that thing) shambling mass of wings and claws with a massive, impossibly long tail trailing behind it- slowly walking towards them- hissing in a cacophony of voices and none of them are speaking in a language she understands.

It lifts itself up, wings unfurling and holding a set over it's face- and it looks weirdly familiar- and it's radiating a beautiful, ethereal light...

Darling's thoughts are, in order, 1) that's not a pokemon, 2) that doesn't look like it belongs in the subway, 3) will it fuck me if I let it and 4) I should probably back away

Before telling the shambling mass of wings "...You're kinda hot"

And it just. Stops.

W̶̛̥̾h̴̤̞́ͅa̷̙̅t̸͙̣̖̐.̷̡͔̃̿ ̵̣̮̥̓̈́D̵̗̈́̉͜ͅì̸͚ḏ̴̗̭̀̚͝ ̵͉͖͔̈́̓y̵̧̭͇͆͠ṑ̷̧̗̳u̶̼̲̽ͅ.̸̨̯͓͗̈́̆ ̶͓̐̽̋J̵͚͝ű̴͓̭ș̵̤̈́́͜͠t̴̟̋̓͘ ̷̘͔̐̎̆͜ś̵̩̦̠a̶͙͎̓́̀y̶̡͌.̸̯̐̄

You can barely make out what it's trying to say to you, though you think it’s asking you to clarify-

"You're kinda ho-"

And then Ingo has to pin his brother down before he just absolutely wrecks you- because if he does fuck you like this you're probably going to have your brain melted at the very least from being so close to him- and heaven forbid you look into the source of his light-

But hey, now you know there’s a weirdly beautiful angelic-horrifying-dragon- thing living in the annex tunnels that... might be down to fuck. Who knows?

How would they react to a reader who thought like that? And tends to just get proverbial 'fear boners' when they attempt to scare the reader from going on dates/booty calls?

They'd probably change up their tactics- Rather than scare you with the supernatural, they'll scare you with the mundane. How terrifying it would be if you were trying to go out and suddenly a bus nearly runs you over- or a fire nearly breaks out in the bar you go to- Or there's an electrical malfunction at the amusement park-

But they’re also 100% playing up your fear boners/monster fetish- They’re suddenly okay with you reading and jerking it to monsters, especially if the involved monsters sound like their appearances. :) Also PLEASE go check out the subway tunnels on a dare- Please please please you might see some really cool monsters so please-

Also:

when I first started watching horror movies, I got over my fear by looking up porn/porn parodies of the horror whatever.

I just wanna say this is like. Beyond 4D chess levels of planning. To get over fears. I'm like. genuinely impressed. Why be scared of the rabbit from donnie darko when you can want to fuck the rabbit from donnie darko. The horrors are scared of you now.

Sorry if this is kinda long/rambly. I had a bunch of questions come to mind all at once. Let me know if you want me to spilt up the questions into different asks so it's easier to answer, if you want to answer my asks. Love your Demon AU! Its been giving me delicious brain rot.

Is all good! I really love asks and all the asks I’ve been getting about the eldritch boys have been amazing- I don’t mind however they come in, I just type up the replies as I have free time, lol. And thank you very much! They’ve been giving me terrible brainrot as well :,D

[sweettodo]

we're your best friends.

jean kirstein x freader x eren jaeger.

includes : smut, threesome, swearing, innocent / naive y/n, taking virginity.

word count : 3,4k

a / n , thank you for 400 ( 450 as of 3 / 8 / 21 ) , i love you all <3 you're all so special to me and i’m grateful for you. i hope we can grow together as a big ole’ happy family !

"Do you guys ever stop?!" you bellow, your bedroom filled with the shouting amongst the two men in front of you, their rough voices which completely washed away any interjections you gave.

Sighing, you grab one of your notebooks from your desk, winding up your shoulder, and throwing it at Eren. The book slaps him in the face and he shouts, his hand rubbing his face.

"The fuck y/n!" He screeches, Jean, shutting up right after Eren, hair messy from tugging at it out of frustration. You wondered why a simple conversation about who would be the better gentleman; the better man. We had commenced in the formal meeting area- your room- hours ago, to study; hence the notebook used to bonk Eren's pitiful face, "you don't get it." He huffs.

"You two better stop acting childish before I kick you out." Walking between them and plopping down on your bed, pleased to see that the battle had now dwindled from your -very- empty threat. You couldn't kick them out even if you wanted to.

Everyone at school was very well acquainted with the fact that Jean and Eren both had a persistent problem of rivalry, they fought about everything; from who had the better penmanship, better wardrobes, better walk, to who was prettier.... yes, prettier.

Eren stubbornly sits on one corner of the bed, traversing his legs with his back pressed against the wall, Kerstein made himself relaxed in your desk chair, "as I was saying, before I was so impolitely interrupted-" you snort, glancing at the two men, "you both are gentleman, but it's more than just how you talk to a girl."

"Yeah don't be ridiculous, I'm good at more than you think y/n." Jean boasts, smirking and tauntingly glaring at Eren who returns the glare, hair seeping down his shoulders as he rolls his eyes at the cocky Kerstein.

"I'm a sex god, I can sex anyone up, anytime- anywhere." Jean lunging to his feet and stupidly rocking his hips side to side like the fuck-boy he knows he is, virtually wearing it like a badge. Eren and you snickered at him.

Jean grunts, finger in the air tauntingly, "alright! It's not that funny anymore! Quit laughing!" tears brimming your eyes, chest aching from laughing, the blonde now taking into account that you two were more laughing at him, rather than with him.

Defensively, he shouts, "Keep laughing, virgin." Jean grins, squatting back down in the chair dramatically.

"I can name plenty of girls who want to get with me." Eren retorts. Laying your back against the headboard, listening as Eren spews stories about the 'countless sexcapades' he has with girls every week and the 'countless' girls who plead to fuck him on the daily.

"So childish, especially for a couple of university students."

You're dismissed again, "Y/n, who do you think would be better in bed, be honest!" you evaluate the question as much as you could, not to mention how hard it was to even imagine.

Simply putting it, you were a prude.

They wait hastily for your reply, curious to what you had to say, the silence provoking them to shuffle in their seats.

"I think... hm, Jean." Eren groans out in defeat, Jean cackling and throwing his head back, Eren pouts and crosses his arms, huffing out.

"You know what, how the fuck would you know anyway, huh?" rolling your eyes, Jean who is taking his sweatshirt off and hanging it off your chair, heeding to Eren, who is still weeping, "Jean, that doesn't count, she's never gotten with either of us, to begin with, her judgment doesn't count." Declaring matter-of-factly, Jean rubs his chin with his thumb and index, looking into the distance like he was contemplating to speak.

You watched as Eren stands in annoyance, his arms still crossed, "I mean, we could show her, but-"

"-We should, then it'll be fair."

Left in utter shock, were they insinuating you do something so delusional and sinful with your two closest friends? wouldn't that ruin years of friendship? Have they no morals? And to think Eren would have a little more decency.

"No, no way, don't be ridiculous."

Jean sucks his teeth, leaning in his chair so his elbows sat on his knees, the energy in the room had drastically changed, they were now watching you, making your hands anxiously tremble, their eyes scanning yours, while you tried to look at anything but them, heart out of your chest and now in your throat, they sat so relaxed, so casual like the proposition of sex didn't even phase them.

"C'mon, I want you to tell us who's better, you're our best friend, you're the best one to determine who's best." Jean pouts, this was a very clear-detectable manipulation, and you were not inept.

"Are you trying to manipulate me, Kirstein?" he shakes his head, leisurely stretching back into the chair, "because if you are it won't work on me." Jean peeks over to Eren, looking to be affirmed.

Eren plays with the hem of his shirt, a smug look on his lips, looking down to attempt to hide it.

Both men have talked about getting you to become their little toy, countless times at dinner with all the other cadets to embarrass you- or during the summer when you wore shorts to practice with your gear, sparring with a tank top, they both imagined unholy things, things you would believe to be appalling. "How about- better kisser?" tilting your head, that wasn't so much worse.

"Yeah, we've nearly kissed before too," Jean interjects, he saw your eyebrows scrunch, looking mindless, eyes so naive, his head full of vile thoughts, ways he and Eren could corrupt you, tear you open, and leave you begging for more. But they clearly couldn't let you know what they talked about.

So innocent.

"Sharing drinks," nodding slowly, the boys internally prayed you would loosen up only just a little, just a foot in the door so they could kick the fucking door down and break you in- they both figured it was about time anyways; you were a college student and hadn't done anything?

But you had not even a clue, that dumb little head of yours, how could you not comprehend their tactics. This was their way to get your legs open? This was laughable to them; too easy.

Dragging your ass across the bed, not leaning on the wall anymore; you sat criss-cross in the middle of the mattress, center of their attention, "I guess you're right." Mind racing, Jean would never talk to you again if you had said no to at least kissing, and Eren would probably get upset with you, not eager in being your friend, most likely following in his friend's lead.

Jean rolls closer to the side of the bed in your chair, not even a foot away from you.

"I can go first, Eren?" Eren nods, he was beyond delighted, this was fucking crazy. Truth was, Eren, who was seldom nervous over this type of thing; yet he was envious that Jean could be so... persistent; wishing he could be the same. With Jean grabbing your chin, such a pretty face you had, especially when you were anxious.

Easy to mold, easy to manipulate you; to do whatever he wanted with a bat of his eyelashes and a polite smile.

And here he was- in the back of his head - telling himself that he needed to teach you not to be so susceptible from now on.

He squanders no time, capturing your lips with his own, moving in a swift and low action, you kiss him back. He was incredible, it was at the perfect pace, the residing taste of mint gum that filled your mouth.

No wonder the girls loved Jean so much.

His thumb caressing your cheek which sent little cringes of anxiety throughout your body- realizing you had to kiss Eren after this, this was going to make you so dirty, but how could you kiss Jean and leave your other friend out? How unreasonable that would be.

Eren's abrupt words make you jump, "alright horse face, stop hogging and share." Jean pulls back, lips light rosy pink, even a little swollen, he rolls backward in the chair, the other young man sits up in front of you while still comfortable on the bed.

Instead of Jean's approach, Eren tilts your head, kissing your jawline first, tensing up from the ticklish feeling, soft lips establishing morale towards your choice in agreeing to do what they asserted; it wasn't that terrible after all.

He kisses up to the corner of your mouth and then slowly kisses you on the lips, eyes fluttering closed, drunk off his smell, stomach doing backflips.

Gradually pulling back, he's smiling like a fool before scooching backward back to his spot.

"Who do you think was better?" Jean rushes, blushing and looking to your lap, thumbs playing with each other, subconsciously hoping they would do a little more.  You didn't know who was better, they both were so good, too good.

"I don't know, you both are really good,"

Jean was going mad, you tasted so fucking good, and he didn't know how much longer he could contain himself, trying to remain relaxed.

Eren's dick twitching in his pants when he heard you finally say his name instead of Kerstein's, he was ecstatic...

Jean stands and scoffs, "alright I'll give him that, but I'm good at everything else. Eren s' a fucking virgin boy." biting your tongue, you felt guilty, Jean was really good, telling yourself 'maybe I should stop being so uptight, they would never actually hurt me.' Eren sees you ponder, looking into space while you stewed on your sentiments, Jean with no awareness as he rambles on and on about how experienced he is.

Gnawing on your bottom lip, anxious, you needed to make the first move- you needed to make this right.

Slowly, making sure they're both watching, you begin to unbutton your blouse, bottom-up.

"What are you doing?"

"You two wanted to show me who was better?"

Jean's eyes bug out of his head, smile growing across his face, Eren stands, embarrassed from your suggestion, they were nearly jumping for joy, "but I don't know ho-"

Jean jerked your shoulders, "relax," He whispers, out comes a shaky breath when his hands waste no time to finish unbuttoning your top. "You trust us, you wanna' feel good, right?"

The room was silent besides the pounding of your heart; could it have been any louder?

Blouse wide open for both of them to see your chest. Eren, who sat inches from you tugged at the fabric on your right shoulder, "so pretty- look at these Eren," Jean's large hands cupping your tits, sitting pretty in your bra, your throat grows increasingly dry, the feeling in between your legs tingling, though, you had no idea how to interpret it.

Eren stands back up, standing shoulder to shoulder with his friend, his hand caressing down your back and gripping at the flesh of your skin.

Looking at them as they stare at your chest, their hands all over you. "Do you know how to do anything at all?" Eren asks, shaking his head, he looks at Jean and pulls his hand back, "Jean and I are gonna ake care of you."

"Yeah, okay." Jean pushing you on your back, legs barely open, unbuttoned your pants, tugging them off hungrily. Both looking at you with lust-filled eyes, they had never seen you like this; so bare. Your legs are propped up so Jean and Eren can both stand before them. Their hands trailing up your jittery thighs.

"I'll get you ready, yeah? I don't want to hurt you." Responding with a simple nod, Jean is crouching down so his head is leveled to your clothed cunt, Eren sits back on the bed and slides his hand under your back; with one hand, he's unclasping your bra and peeling it off your body, his soft hands massaging your tits, nipples sensitive when his thumbs spend extra time on them.

Nerves doubling over when Jean's hands now pulling down your matching panties, head snapping up, legs shutting to deter them, Eren pushing you back down. "Calm down, you'll be fine." He reassures.

Eren feeling the soft skin, under his hands, rolling your nipple in between his fingers, Jean dragging his large hands in between your thighs, "have you ever fingered yourself y/n? Made yourself cum?" beyond embarrassed, the way they were taking their time on you, slowly feeling you up, you were almost becoming frustrated. Shaking your head, Jean clicks his tongue, "this might feel weird, but you trust us, right?" An audible gasp is shot out of your mouth when his middle finger is raking up between your folds.

Hissing out as he adds another finger, both of them running up and down your slick pussy, pressing down on a bundle of nerves, "feels- weird!" the more he played around with your sensitive clit, the more your leg twitched, the ticking feeling filling up your stomach, core flexing as he repeated his offense, the same sensitive rubs as his two fingers curled and fucked into you.

"Jean-” He was going so slow, making sure he didn't stretch you out too much, he needed to save that for later.

"Here, come taste."

Eren's grabbing Jean's hand, your tongue lolling out, his coated fingers dragging down your tongue, lips wrapping around his digits, tasting the juices from your cunt.

"Tastes good, right?" fingers still deep in your mouth, you're nodding like a fool, Jean smiling at the sight of the reaction bestowed on your face, the taste of your cum tainting your tastebuds; "of course she likes it, look at her, she wants more."

Eren nods in return, he leans down over you, soft hair falling on your chest as he leaves wet little kisses down your chest, peppering you with his lips down to your belly button.

Watching Jean, who is getting on the bed beside you, his knees next to your head, Eren jumping into action to take his best friends place, his sweats falling low just blow his v- line, he pushes them down, craning your neck to look up at Jean who his also pulling down his pants.

Your throat squeezes shut, lifting your head, "I don't you think that I-" Jean's hand grabbing your hair to silence you, jerking your neck up.

"Don't worry, I told you we'll help you."

"Jean, chill out a little." Eren mumbles, your head getting dropped back onto the bed, eyes fixated on Eren's wide torso, the tent in his boxers which made your mouth water, "I'll go slow, okay?" Palming his cock through his boxers, he holds your legs from under your knees, his boxers just under his cock, sliding his hand down and removes the little bit of coverage he had left. Your eyes widening, he spits in his hand, stroking his throbbing tip a few times with his thumb before adjusting forward and rubbing his raw cock up against your slicked pussy.

The feeling of Eren's thick tip squeezing inside of you makes you cry out in pain, the stinging pain of Eren taking his time to slide into you, fitting into you as much as he can.

Jean pinning your arms up above your head, tears spilling from your eyes, "h-hurts!" you whine, Jean beside you pumping his cock in his fist.

"So fuckin' tight, no wonder it hurts so bad." His hands pinning your legs open and up, he pulls out.

Without warning, he picks up speed, your body curling up from the pressure.

“I forgot what virgin pussy feels like, so tight-” he mumbled, his eyes rolling to the back of his head from the way he could feel his heartbeat in his cock, he needed this so bad.

The pressure soon becomes desirable, wanting to feel it everything he thrusts into you, your complaints soon turn to moans, looking at jean through your eyelashes while he's fixated on the way your boobs bounce while Eren dives deeper into you.

"Don't forget to help Jean out, remember?"

You're situating yourself up on your elbows, turning your body so your head is between Jean's thighs, he's pushing your hair back and holding it in a loose but sufficient grip, "let me guide you."

His thumb swipes down your bottom lip, opening your jaw, tongue sliding past your lips to wrap around his cock like it's instinct.

"Good, just like that," he groans, his hand on the back of your head guiding you further down the base of his cock, Eren fucking you slowly, savoring the feeling of your walls clench around him, sucking him in, he could stay like this forever.

Your neck uncomfortably stretched to pleasure Jean made it all the more painful when he started pushing down the back of your throat; harder to catch your breath, harder to swallow the saliva that was seeping up the back of your throat, trying not to cough around his length.

"Been waitin’ too long for this,” Eren grunts, the lewd noises of his hits snapping against yours on one end while your nose is barely brushing against Jean’s hair around his stomach.

Jean slowly pulls out of your throat, drool following, giving you the chance to speak, “Eren, h-hot!” you cried, your stomach twisting, pussy squelching around his wide cock, head dizzy as you begin to feel like your floating.

Jean sees your body shake from beside him, while he pumps his cock in his free hand, his other hand is kneading your tit in his hand. “Oi, I think she's gonna cum- c’mon it's gonna feel so good, you're so close, pretty girl.” Eren drilling into you with your legs pinned open, moaning and gasping for air as you feel your hole spasm, body tingling as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“C- I'm cumming!” your hand on Eren’s pec, pushing against him to ease the pressure of his cock buried fully inside of you, “f-fuck! Fuck, Eren!” his body sticky on top of yours, thighs uncomfortably stuck to his waist.

“God, can stay like this all day.” You panted like a dog, blinking the blurred vision out of your eyes from the blinding orgasm.

Jean’s getting off the bed, slapping your thigh to sign for Eren to get off of you, “I hope you can take it, pretty girl.” The brunette pulling up his boxers and sitting on the bed where Jean was just seated.

A panting mess, Jeans tearing you from your spot and pushing you on your hands and knees, Jean presses against the small of your back, pushing you into a deeper arch, abused pussy mere inches away from another cock.

Eren picks your head up by your hair, an evil smile growing on his face as he sees your face twist with pleasure, Jean pushing into your cunt, a mixture of his best friends’ cum already leaking out of your cunt, “gonna fill you some more, just stay still for me, okay?”

He holds your hips in place, the further his cock sunk into you, the more it hurt, the more he stretched you out, the more you were split open by the intimidating of him.

“If you keep squeezin’ me like that, ” he spits, unable to finish his sentence.

He thrusts into you from behind, held grounded in place as Jean ruts into your pussy mercilessly, Eren watching you cry and beg for stupid little nothings.

Cream covering his cock, feeling your walls tighten around him, he snakes his hand over your thigh, and to your clit, rubbing lose and light circles around the bud, your legs quivering, back jolting up from the overstimulation, “hm, what did I say about stating still?” ripping away from your clit, you whine and your back is pushed back down.

Jean mere inches away from climax, hips sputtering against your backside as you feel your juices drip down your thigh, sticking to his stomach.

Your head drops into the mattress.

“Pretty girl, we're far from done with you,” Eren’s purring into your ear, “dont give up now, we haven't gotten to the best part.”

The pad of Jean’s thumb is pressing against the rim of your tight, pretty virgin ass, “you can trust us, we haven't hurt you yet, have we?”

Nodding, this was only the beginning of a very- very long night. One of many, actually.

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?

askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like

(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)

i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads

which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter

it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272

it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all

and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to

i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet

rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare

(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)

(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)

probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them

like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy

(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)

(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)

even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to

i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident

and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection

‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!

another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing

other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could

this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor

something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins

and...

first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more

(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)

more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left

(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)

(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)

which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them

there’s just so little of him left but the weapon

he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins

not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once

and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps

... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here

just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either

no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?

the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -

it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat

they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope

but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one

yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction

the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...

that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice

like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds

... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger

what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?

don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear

some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all

and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain

(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)

(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)

i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond

he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him

but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’

(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)

(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)

more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror

in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them

that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands

as for maglor...

i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad

but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge

it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons

horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!

it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve

and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me

so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them

an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects

maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin

seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me

the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them

there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay

they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain

he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can

(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)

(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)

however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this

but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created

and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable

look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat

but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?

that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian

we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence

(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)

like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them

(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)

elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home

... right?

it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice

then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them

the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him

instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through

... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most

i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives

they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t

speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations

because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke

that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain

(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)

(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)

(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)

(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)

not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past

i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy

no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer

compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea

and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic

honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way

but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me

which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage

it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently

i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist

in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing

they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification

they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world

and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood

nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams

there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer

as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor

(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)

but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves

they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage

he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less

and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be

... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out

the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of

and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -

i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can

they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light

and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality

it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved

even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor

not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands

it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one

that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other

and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness

but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out

well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell

it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial

still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away

[spinster-sisters]

Arrangement. psh

TW: Oral, fingering, corruption, unprotected sex, public sex, reader is kinda selfish but in the oblivious way not the malicious way, seonghwa is seonghwa. Honestly I was going for something kinda specific here and i dont think i succeded, its not bad or anything just not what i was going for but i dont think yall will be able to tell hopefully.

The first thing i write in probably well over 2 weeks and its something that nobody but @deja-vux wanted. what can i say? this idea gave me brain rot.

One last thing, this is kind of a part 2 to the corruption kink blurby thing I wrote for Seonghwa (can be found in my master list) but it’s not a direct continuation or anything and you don’t have to read that to get this.

-

Your jaw ached in strain as you held your mouth open, trying to keep your throat relaxed. Seonghwa’s grip was tight in your hair as he thrust his dick shallowly past your lips. The position was altogether uncomfortable. Seonghwa laid across the back seat of his vintage car, back propped up against the door with one knee raised. You were knelt between his thighs, bent over in a painful arch trying to keep still in the tight space. But all of that was inconsequential, the breathy groans and crooked smirk of the man in front of you were enough to drown out the pain.

As his hips pushed into your mouth again, dick sliding further down your throat than before, in a desperate attempt to please the man you did your best to swallow around the long length of his cock although tears pricked in your eyes. His grip on your hair tightened and you looked up just in time to see his head thump back against the glass window followed by another low groan and a face screwed up in pleasure, his normally perfectly styled black hair now tousled and falling into his eyes. Deep satisfaction ran through you.

To your surprise, the hand in your hair yanked you back and off him. You whined at the roughness, despite the way it sent shocks down to your core. Seonghwa’s eyes cracked open to peer down at you with a grin.

“You're getting good at this, princess.” He compliments in his velvet voice. His words elated you and a smile crept onto your lips.

“You’ve come so far in so little time, you could barely take me in your mouth without gagging a month ago, now look at you. You should be proud.” Seonghwa continued, running his hand through your hair once before regaining his grip on it. You practically purred. While you looked back on those first few times with Seonghwa fondly, you much preferred his smooth praises to the harsh words and instructions he gave you before. But you were still glad for them, there was no way you would have come this far this quickly if he hadn’t been hard on you.

Seonghwa’s hand was pulling you back down again before you could voice anything, “come on princess, show me how much you’ve learned.”

Back to work you went. He gave you a tad bit more freedom this time around, not making any move to thrust into your mouth, instead, allowing you to show your newfound mastery of dick sucking. But you kept his preferences in mind, he always wanted to draw things out, to take his time with you. So you began by kissing gently along the red tip, then lapping at the precum that spilled from it. The taste was definitely an acquired one, your face had screwed up in disgust the first time I touched your tongue, but now you sought it out as it meant you were doing well.

Taking the tip completely in your mouth, you hummed as you swirled your tongue around it for a moment before popping off and caressing the underside with a flick of the tongue. Seonghwa hummed in approval, nudging your head forward again in gentle encouragement. You took him into your mouth again, this time hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head in a firm rhythm. You kept your tongue pressed into the underside of his dick, running along the most prominent vein. Each time you took more and more of his impressive length into your mouth, moaning in satisfaction as you went.

You couldn’t help the way your legs pressed together as more wetness pooled in your underwear. Your mind flashed with the first time Seonghwa had taken you completely. Your body had shuddered as he eased his cock between your legs and into your cunt. It had been uncomfortable sure, and the sensation had been unfamiliar, but Seonghwa had taken care to prepare you enough before ruining you in that way. Your first time had been exceptional needless to say.

You were drawn back to the present by the low growl rumbling out of Seonghwa’s chest as his dick hit the back of your throat, all of him save for the part you had your hand wrapped around for support was now gracefully sliding past your lips. You ventured another look up to his face. He was watching you intently with fire behind his dark eyes. You looked up at him with wide eyes, barely able to meet his strong gaze. His elbow rested on his bent knee and his head was leaning against his hand. If it weren’t for the low sounds he released from time to time you would never be able to tell what you were up to between his legs from his face.

The sudden desire to break his composure overtook you, to make him feel as desperate as the ache between your legs. So as you removed your hand to take his length all the way down into your throat your hips began rocking back and forth, rutting into nothing as your legs pressed tightly together.

“Keeping going like that, and I’ll cum down your throat.” His voice rumbled.

You doubted that. Another thing you had learned about him was that he was unbelievably composed. The kind of restraint that came from much experience. He wouldn’t cum unless he wanted to, his words were only to encourage you. But regardless you took them with glee. Seonghwa had long since discovered that nothing encouraged you more than the thought of his cum, the very reward for your efforts.

Despite his promise, it was several more minutes before he spilled into your mouth, having finally decided that you had sufficiently proven your knowledge. His head had fallen back against the window and he let out a trail of deep groans as he spilled against your tongue. You swallowed it appreciatively, beaming up at him from between his legs, awaiting the praise for your efforts.

When he looked at you again it was with a crooked smile and a gentle hand stroking your hair.

“Well done princess,” he spoke far too casually for having just cum down your throat. His free hand took your hip between his fingers and hoisted you up to straddle his lap. He adjusted to sit normally in the seat and he took a moment to size you up. His gaze burned as his eyes trailed over your body and your legs tried to squeeze together again as another bout of wetness spilled out of you, but Seonghwa’s hips kept them apart. He noticed the attempt, however.

With a smirk, Seonghwa slid his hand into the waistband of your shorts and into your panties. You sucked in air only to release it with a whine as his cold fingers slipped between your folds, releasing the slick into his palm. He chuckled at you.

“Oh what have I done to you,” he started with mock remorse, a small pout painting his features, “only a true slut could get his wet from sucking dick, I suppose I have truly ruined you,” he finished with a wild smirk. Your hips ground into his palm subconsciously.

“Mmmhmmm” you sighed in agreement, absolutely loving when he spoke to you like that, only Seonghwa’s words could ever affect you like that. If anyone else said them it would sound vile.

“Yours,” you added with a hoarse voice, rocking your hips into his still hand again.

“Mine?” He asked, pretending to be confused, tilling his head to the side as if asking for clarification. Though the next words to leave your lips were no surprise to him, as he had taught you them.

“Your slut.”

-

It was getting harder to avoid Seonghwa at school. Not because either of your schedules changed, not because he stopped ditching as much as he did. In fact, those things hadn’t happened at all, it just seemed like they had. It seemed like everywhere you went you saw him. Either sauntering his way through the hallways, gathered with his like-minded friends in the courtyard, or even sitting in the far back of the single class you shared flipping his pen between two fingers as he stared absently out the window.

Once upon a time, before you had seen him as anything more than trouble making pretty boy, it had confused you how he had even managed to be in the same advanced literature class as you and it hard infuriated you when you discovered that Park Seonghwa had the audacity to be smart. Your one-track mind had seen it as a waste for him to have even a shred of intelligence behind his starry eyes when it was clear school was the last thing ever on his mind. But at the time you had pushed the thought aside, thinking that as long as you still stood at the top of the class it didn’t matter.

But when you found it most difficult to avoid Park Seonghwa was when he was leaned against the locker of some pretty face showing that crooked half-smirk that you had become so familiar with. And it caused quite a few unnamed emotions to stir in your stomach each time. Each time you shoved those emotions away before they had the chance to manifest. You had no right to feel them. It was your reputation at stake if the student body discovered that you were Park Seonghwa’s latest pass time, not his. In fact, it would probably gain him a feather in his cap from his crowd if they knew. You and Seonghwa had never discussed the exclusivity of your arrangement, you hardly had the clarity of mind to do so at any moment his gaze was focused on you, so you could never be sure if his velvet words had led him between the legs of any of the pretty faces you saw him with. And you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on it, even though very deeply wanted to know. Once again, you pushed the thoughts from your mind, as long as you still to be with him the most, it didn’t matter what those other people did with him.

But as the school slowly emptied at the end of the day, and you were making your way to the student council room once again (trying your hardest to not remember when he had taken you against a table in there as well) you found Seonghwa loitering in the hallway with a girl leaned against his chest inches away from his face.

You came to a dead stop. The gears of your brain are either unable or unwilling to comprehend what you saw. Why this particular time bothered you so much was a question you could not answer, it was not the first time, nor would it be the last. Normally you would simply turn your head and keep walking as though you had seen nothing, and you had almost convinced yourself to do exactly that when the girl noticed your presence.

“Do you need something?” She spat, clearly from the crowd that thought the student council was all prissy know it all’s, and you had to remind yourself that until very recently that is exactly what you were. But you were also stubborn. You composed yourself quickly and kept your eyes on the girl.

“Unless you have somewhere to be, I suggest you move your groping elsewhere. Somewhere off school grounds preferably.” You called in an even tone, thankfully your voice had not betrayed the way your stomach was churning.

“Come on, don’t be such a prude,” the nameless girl countered. Her choice of words temped you to glance at Seonghwa, but you had a feeling he would be looking at you, which you don’t know if you could handle.

“Trust me, the rest of the student body would be just as grossed out as I am, whatever is going on here is not as ‘hot as you think it is,” you added air quotes around the word for good measure. The girl smirked at you.

“I don’t know, I think they would be lucked to see such a sexy couple.” She retorted, her arms curling around Seonghwas middle. At the word “couple” you couldn’t help it, your eyes flashed to Seonghwa. He had the audacity to look amused as if the back and forth was the best entertainment he had seen all week.

You didn’t like that she used that word. You had absolutely no desire to be in a relationship with Seonghwa, quite the opposite, in fact, it would ruin you. But your mind flashed with the one word you heard him use perhaps most often, “mine.” Granted, you had never called him ‘yours,’ but the experiences he gave you seemed somehow cheapened if he was giving everyone else the same ones. You felt spiteful, what was the point in teaching you all those wonderful things if he could get them elsewhere. Those were the thoughts that spurred on your words.

“I’ll let them know when I find one then.” You deadpanned. It took her a moment to realize what you meant, then her mouth hung open. She looked ready to retort before Seonghwa cut her off.

“Why don’t you go home, leave this conversation to the big kids.” He said, looking at her for the first time since the conversation started. Once again, it took her a moment to realize it was her he was talking to, and then she gapped like a fish. Seonghwa had turned his eyes back to you, not bothering to entertain her shock. Finally, with a huff she stormed off, leaving you and Seonghwa alone in the hallway, locked in a stare-off.

“Kinda slow isn’t she? You can do better than that.” You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh I know I can,” he replied without missing a beat, but the less than subtle once over and the knowing smile he gave you only served to tick you off, rather than flatter you.

“Then why waste your time with her?” As soon as the words came out of your mouth you regretted them. They sounded far too much like jealousy for your taste, and based on the look in his eyes; an invitation as well. Seonghwa’s lean body pushed from the wall and took several long strides towards you, till he stood over you. His hand came to rest all too familiarly on your hip.

“Why? Have something better I can do with my time?” He said, not at all trying to hide his suggestive undertone. You scoffed, in an attempt to keep the burn of his stare away from your mind.

“Your disgusting,” you said, though it came out far less convincing than it sounded in your head. You took a step back from the all-to-magnetic boy. If someone came across you two now, you needed as much distance between him and you as possible.

“Are you going to report me? Madam President?” He replied in a moc disappointed tone.

“As if I adding today onto your record would change a thing. We have a filling cabinet for just you and your friends, Seonghwa. I don’t want to overflow it.” You threw back.

“I didn’t know the student council was such fans of my work.” He replied casually without missing a beat. You opened your mouth to retort but he cut you off.

“Come find me tomorrow night if you're still looking to help me waste time, princess,” he began, turning to grab his bag from the floor, “I think you have a council meeting to get from, wouldn’t want to get in your way of upholding the high standards of the school.” As he spoke he began walking away, only to throw a smirk over his shoulder at his last four words. Leaving you alone in the hallway.

-

You did not find him the next day. You had decided you were upset with him, not because of the girl, you told yourself, but because of the patronizing way he spoke to you. Not that that was different from normal. It just seemed to be the best way to allow yourself to be mad at him without those unwanted feelings worming their way into your brain.

Whether Seonghwa had even noticed your boycott was impossible to tell. He would never come to you, he wanted you to come to him. He never seemed even the slightest bit bothered in the few times you had glanced at him from the corner of your eye. He laughed with his friends without a care in the world and his blank face during class held no emotion besides boredom. You on the other hand, now that was a different story. You had become used to meeting up with him once or even twice a week in various places around town for your “lessons” and you had become “insatiable.” (his word not yours)

Your resolve to be mad at him was cracking as the days went on and was replaced with the need for him. Him and only him. No one else would do.

But in an effort to keep your resolve you threw yourself in the opposite direction, instead, making plans with the Vice President of the student council, a lovely girl named Marie.

Marie was your friend. She chose to use the words “gal pals” from time to time. An airy upbeat girl who rarely let her soft smile fall from her face. And right now, the furthest possible thing from spending time with Park Seonghwa.

So on Wednesday, both you and Marie piled into her silver car and drove off to her house. You both stumbled into her orderly bedroom with a fit of quiet giggles at the expense of several other council members. You shrugged your bag off your shoulders and plopped down onto the plush carpet beside her bed as she did the same.

“Oh my gosh, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! Outside of council meetings obviously, I mean, I was starting to think you had found a different best friend and I was-“ Marie started rambling almost as soon as she sat down. You couldn’t help the small smile that found your lips. It’s true you had been neglecting her as your friend for the past month or so, instead of spending time with, well, him. But now that sat in her familiar room, seeing the pictures of the events you had planned together scattered on the walls, the sudden realization that you had indeed missed her was shocking.

“Sorry about that, there was some stuff going on at home, that needed my attention. But now I’m back!” You replied, trying to match her seemingly boundless energy. Her face screwed up in worry at your words.

“Oh no! Is everything ok? Do you want to talk about it?” She asked in her characteristic wide eyes. You shook your head.

“It’s not serious I promise. My parents were just redoing the garden and my mother insisted I be home every day to help planting and stuff.” You continued with the lie you had prepared. It was the same thing you had been telling everyone when they asked about your general absence.

She looked content with your answer, smiling and pulling her binder from her bag.

“So, the basketball game this Friday, I know we have the event mostly planned out but I think that we still need to-“ she started again, going right into her work. And you held up a hand to slow her.

“Woah hold on,” you started with a smile, “we have been planning this game for 2 weeks I think we can take a break tonight. You know? Just hang out a little?” You asked. She looked at you surprised.

“Since when have you ever wanted to take a break?” She asked with a curious glance but it broke into a smile, “come on, it’s the first game of the season and the coach asked us specifically to make sure that the whole school showed up and it runs smoothly. Besides if I do a good job I might just beat you out for president next year.” She said the last part with a low voice and a wiggle of the eyebrows.

But that wasn’t the part of her outburst that surprised you. She was right, when have you ever been the one to want to take a break? Surely you have been indulging yourself too much lately. You recovered your momentary lapse.

“Oh you wish,” you replied with a coy smirk that broke you both down into giggles once again.

The rest of your night was flung into a casual discussion with homework and planning galore.

-

Perhaps there are better places, and there are definitely better times. But since it came down to either the locker room showers or the back of Seonghwa car, at least the showers had more room.

Outside the door, the basketball game was raging on and I likely would be for the next hour. You could hear the school cheering along with the game, and the surprisingly loud squeaks of the player's shoes on the gym floor. Nobody would be coming in here till the game was over, you had until then.

You had been leaning against the sink when Seonghwa walked in. One look at him was all it took for you to be willing to break your streak, it’s hard to be mad at someone when you can’t glance at them without your mind flashing with every dirty thing they have done to you. So the moment he crossed over to you, you flung yourself at him. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck when your lips meet his. You could feel him smirking on your lips, but at the moment you couldn’t care less.

Seonghwa’s hands fell to your hips and to your utter dismay he used his grip to gently push your body away from him. A whine pulled from your lips as you looked up at him with pleading eyes. He looked amused.

“Hold on there princess, what’s the rush?” He asked head tiling to the side with a patronizing look. You huff at his words, tightening your arms around his neck you push yourself flush against him again.

“The rush is that I haven’t had time to see you all week and I’m going insane.” You convey in a tone that clearly says ‘shouldn’t this be obvious?’ Seonghwa’s eyebrow raised accusingly.

“Oh, is that what it was? That you didn’t have time?” He asked, though his tone suggested he knew the answer. You could feel yourself blushing, so he had noticed you had been avoiding him. Honestly, you didn’t think he would.

“Because I’m pretty sure I saw you and miss congeniality meeting up every day after school.” You wish now more than ever that you had more experience in the “relationship” field, even if this wasn’t one because you could not for the life of you decipher Seonghwa’s expression. His face was relaxed, showing no sign of anger or disappointment or any other emotion, but his eyes were staring you down with great intensity. But then again, he always seemed to do that.

“Council stuff.” You mumble in reply, trying with all your might to speak as casually as him. At this, Seonghwa gifted you with an expression you understood. Fake surprise.

“Oh, is that what it was?” He began, looking up at the ceiling as though pondering the idea, before looking back to you with that damned crooked smirk. His grip on your waist suddenly tightened. A moment later he had pushed you back against the sink, caging his arms around you.

“Or is it because you were jealous?” He was grinding madly now.

Jealousy. That was that emotion that you had been shoving down all week. How you had not realized it before was a mystery. But to hear it come from his mouth? It made you see red. Suddenly you were far angrier than you had any right to be. Your gaze hardened quickly and you did your best to put space between your bodies, though it was practically impossible with his arms changing you in and head leaning down into your face.

“Do you want to waste time talking, or are you going to fuck me?” You spat. He processed your words for a fraction of a second longer than necessary before he had the audacity to look amused.

“So you were jealous.” He practically giggles, shaking his head and looking down in amusement. The tips of his fluffy black hair brushed your nose and you almost swatted at it. How dare he? You pressed your hands into his shoulders and pushed against him, trying to move him away from you. He allowed you to move him, but not by much, just enough to give you a little room while you fume at him.

If you had the slightest bit of hindsight at this moment, you would have realized your anger was misplaced. You were angry at yourself for feeling that stupid emotion in the first place. But at present, blaming him seemed easiest. And the fact that your anger only served to amuse him made it feel a bit more justified.

“What’s so funny.” You spat, crossing your arms in front of your chest. He peered at you, and your clearly ticked-off demeanor before chuckling. His hands still gripped the porcelain sink behind you and for a brief moment, his hand flexed against the hard surface, holding some unseen emotion in the action.

“You are, princess. For someone so smart I forgot how absolutely clueless you can be about anyone who isn’t yourself.”

You almost stormed out of the room. And you probably would have if it wasn’t for the placement of his arms. But he continued speaking despite your livid expression.

“I was keeping up appearances.” He said in a flat tone. You could now add confusion into the storm of emotions brewing inside you.

“What does that mean?” You said the words with venom but there was a clear tone of lack of understanding in your voice. He, once again, found this amusing.

“Exactly what it sounds like. How would it look for me, if I suddenly started to ignore every advance made on me? Believe it or not sweetheart but I also have a reputation to uphold. Just the same as you. And since your the one who is so adamant that nobody knows about our ‘meetings’ it’s business as usual.”

Realization washed over you like water to a flame, all the rage dissipating just as quickly as it appeared, and your face softened. And then came the guilt. You just basically blew up on the man for doing exactly what you wanted him to, for doing exactly what you were doing by avoiding him. You had never before considered Seonghwa’s reputation in your musings. Your eyes glazed over a bit as you looked down, letting out a quiet “oh.”

You kept your gaze rooted to your shoes, unwilling to look at Seonghwa for fear of what you would see. You jumped when you felt his touch. One hand came to your waist and a gentle caress and the other took hold of your chin more firmly and tilted your head up to his eyes. And to your surprise, a coy smile lay across his features.

“It’s ok princess, your obliviousness was what drew me to you in the first place anyways. You were so caught up in your own little self-centered world you didn’t even notice how badly I wanted you till I had you pressed against the wall. I don’t think this would be as fun if I didn’t have to teach you a thing or two along the way,”

you blushed again at the memory and he slid his thumb against your lower lip. Your mouth parted automatically to wrap your lips around it, lulled into the submissive trace his silken words always put you in. He chuckled at you. “At least now I know you haven’t been messing around with anyone else. You’ve been too busy sulking over me to even notice if any other guys tried to seduce you.”

You hummed around his finger, slightly comforted by the fact he would have been jealous too. His words suggested that he wanted you to himself as much as you felt the same about him.

His thigh was suddenly pressing into your core and the hand on your waist dragged your hips across it. The skirt you wore did nothing to shield your panty-covered cunt from the rough denim of his jeans and your mouth hung open to mewl at him, his thumb still dangling from your lips. He leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“You wouldn’t let any other guys touch you, right princess?” He mumbles though he spoke like he already knew the answer.

You garbled put some kind of agreement as quick as you could. With a smirk, Seonghwa hiked up the fabric of your skirt to expose your damp underwear and lifted you ever so slightly by the waist onto the edge of the sink. There was a sliver of pride in his eyes at the way you spread your legs willing for him, presenting yourself as best you could, just as he had taught you. He pushed the fabric covering your pussy to the side and slide a fringed through the slick that gathered there. And you muffled a whine into his neck as your arms flung over his shoulder.

“I’m gonna have to be quick with you today sweetheart, the game is almost over, but wouldn’t want the whole basketball team to come piling in and see you like this would you.”

You shook your head as best as you could with your face nestled into his collar bones. Your eyes were screwed shut as his fingers continued to glide through your folds, sometimes barely slipping inside you before pulling out. He was working you up with well-practiced hands. He had learned his way around your body much faster than you had learned his, knowing all the ways to make you tick.

“No, this is for my eyes only, right sweetheart?” One of Seonghwa’s slim fingers caught your clit and you gasps, gripping the shirt covering his shoulders. He tutted at you.

“Don’t tell me you've forgotten what all I’ve taught you in just one week. Come on and use your words.” You could feel his words rumbling in his chest for how tight you held him. You were hesitant to pull away, but the edge in his voice urged on. Moving away just enough to let your voice carry.

“Only for you,” you mumble. Despite your quiet tone, you meant the words far more than you anticipated. Seonghwa pushed two long slim fingers inside you at your response, stretching your walls with ease. You gasped at the intrusion and buried your face in his chest again, trying to muffle any noises that may come out of you. There was still a game going on outside after all.

Seonghwa’s fingers arched inside you, brushing against the most sensitive place on your walls and your back arched. You could feel yourself getting louder and louder with every passing moment, but you were still unbearably on edge of being discovered.

“You especially responsive today, maybe leaving you alone for a while has its benefits.” Seonghwa mused into your hair as he worked, pulling even more sounds from you with every movement of his hand. His practiced fingers touched and toyed with you so well, it was impossible to keep quiet.

“No-“ you started in a shaky voice, not wanting to go so long without his touch like this again.

“Only joking sweetheart,” he giggles in your ear. But at that moment he pulled his skilled fingers away from your core and you choked on air. He ran his free hand up your spine in what was meant to be a gentle caress but it sent shivers through your body regardless. Your face stayed hidden against his body, at this point, his body heat seemed to be the only thing grounding you right now.

With your vision obscured there was a brief moment of heated silence where it seemed like nothing was happening, then the distinct sound of a belt clicking open and a zipper being pulled down echoed in the room. You pulled away from his chest and looked up at him with wide star eyes. He was already watching you with a smirk. Your mouth hung open with anticipation. He took in your face with a pleased expression, one hand coming down to cup your chin and tilt your head further up.

“I love it when you look at me like that,”

As soon as the words ended Seonghwa was crashing his lips onto yours and without missing a beat he thrust his length into your cunt in one quick movement. You were suddenly very thankful for the kiss, as it did well to muffle the cry ripping pst your lips. His grip on your hip was like iron as he began to set a pace. Each time pushing if possible even deeper inside you. You forced your legs to spread wider as your hands clawed down his back. Each time he filled you completely your body twitched as he brushed over your most sensitive spot.

Seonghwa still held your chin tightly in his palm, keeping your lips locked in a heated kiss. He seemed to be timing the kiss with his thrusts, which meant it was incredibly fast. He was kissing you as though he wished to devour you whole and at the moment you wanted nothing else but to allow him. Every few minutes the kiss would break as you both panted for air before it resumed with that same fervor.

Quite suddenly it became all too much, you were melting into him. Every stroke of his dick against your pulsing walls felt like fire shooting through your body in the best way, making you twitch uncontrollably. Your body acted of its own accord, hips bucking to meet his with every thrust and your hands grasping wildly against his back, trying to bring him impossibly closer. Several times you tried to break the kiss just to moan but his mouth chased yours and swallows up the sounds before they could escape.

And the kiss was something else entirely. You had kissed the man before but never like this. This felt so raw and unyielding. Every swipe of his tongue against your own felt like an invitation or a promise, for what you did not know. All of a sudden it felt entirely too intimate, too real. The kind of kiss reserved for true lovers in a moment of passion, not two teenagers fucking in a bathroom. But you couldn’t break away, not that you wanted to.

A gasp rang through the room. And in a moment that felt not unlike plunging into a freezing ocean, you realized that it had not come from you, or Seonghwa for that matter. Seonghwa had stilled to a halt inside you from the moment he heard it. He abruptly broke the kiss, sidestepping just enough that his broad back blocked the exposed parts of your body. But you couldn’t focus on the surprisingly chivalrous way he had protected you from sight, or the way he was mumbling under his breath as he righted himself and his clothes before doing the same to you.

No, your eyes were locked on the door. Where a mortified-looking Marie stood with her mouth hung open.

-

so can yall see what I was going for? or did I fail miserably lol.

[yandere--stuck]

Yandere!Hypnos x Reader Headcanons

❣ Hypnos didn't really understand mortals' fear of death. Well, partly. His brother could be quite intimidating, heh. (And Hypnos had the sinking feeling that Thanatos… Didn't really like him, anymore? Just like Mother…) But, otherwise, he didn't really see the problem. Everyone had to die sometime, right? Well, almost everyone. But, hey! Might as well make the best of it, right? The only part of dying that really bothered Hypnos was the stream of souls that he had to welcome into the realm. But, most were fine on their own, so he didn't see the problem with catching up on some sleep. It wasn't like he'd get in much trouble… Probably. Most of the time, it was only Zagreus who disturbed his slumber, and the prince never got upset over the god of sleep doing his thing. This time around, Hypnos hadn't actually intended to fall asleep, it just sort of… Happened. And when he awoke, it wasn't as usual, with a sudden burst of noise that awoke him, alerting him of Zagreus' return. No, this time it was slow, making him feel lethargic and calm, as though he was still in a dream. A cold touch of someone prodding softly at him. When he looked down, he saw you - and for a moment, he was sure he was still dreaming. After all, someone as gorgeous as you couldn't truly exist, could you?

💤 Hypnos finds himself speechless for a second, unable to focus on anything but your face, so much so that it takes him a moment to realize you were speaking. The god of sleep shakes himself off, asking you to repeat yourself. You tell him that you were confused, unsure where you were and why you were here and what had happened to you. It's then that Hypnos cheerily informs you that you were in the Underworld, specifically the house of Lord Hades. His smile fades as you come to terms with the fact that you were dead. You had died and hadn't even realized it, and now you were in the realm of Hades, where you would spend all of eternity. Something in Hypnos' chest twisted and clenched in pain, and he reached out to lay a hand on your shoulder. For some reason, he had the urge to comfort you.

"Hey, it's not all that bad," He reassured you, floating over to guide you to the Lord's station. "In fact, to help you, I'll give you a tour! And I don't do that for just anyone, you're special."

❣ It was surprising to him when you stuck by him after that. Apparently, his welcome had been so warm that it made quite the impression on you, thinking him far less intimidating than the other gods and shades within the House. Not that Hypnos minded - quite the opposite! It wasn't often that he was thought upon favorably, outside of the prince, maybe. And not many people talked to him outside of scolding him for his poor work and trying to get some shut-eye in the job, so it was a nice change of pace to talk with you. In all honesty, Hypnos couldn't really think of much to talk about himself, perfectly content with listening to you. The sound of your voice was almost like music to him, so soothing and comforting, almost like a lullaby. But, he fought to keep himself awake to listen - he learned of your life while alive, on the surface. Of your family and your friends, who you missed. Your likes, your interests, hobbies, how you passed the time, stories of different moments in your life. The god imagined what it would be like if he had been there with you…

💤 Believe it or not, shades can sleep. It's not really needed, but certainly is a viable way to pass the time. Eternity would probably be rather boring without the ability to sleep, to dream. When Hypnos is certain no one is looking, he floats away from his post, looking for you. He finds you exactly where he thought you were, sleeping in one of the soft, cushioned chairs that Zagreus had commissioned. Giddiness bubbles up and he grins, eyes half-lidded and glinting with adoration down at you. He feels so lucky that you had picked a spit so far away from the prying eyes of everyone else. He reaches out a hand, hesitantly. This… This is okay, right? You were friends, after all. You trusted him. He wasn't doing anything wrong. He cups your cheek, caressing it softly with his thumb. Oh, you were so perfect when you slept. But, then again, when did you not? Still, you were so gorgeous, but not even aware of it. Did you dream of him? He dreamt of you - it had started off innocent enough. Talking with him, exploring the Underworld together, of him being mortal and living a life with you, racing through fields and feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin and your hand in his. But, then it was of your lips on his, your arms around him, "I love you"'s traded, of introducing you to his brother and mother and them adoring you and being so proud of him. And whenever he awoke, he ached with loneliness.

❣It isn't long before you get him to open up to you. It's only fair, after all. You had vented to him about your fears and frustrations, of all the things you missed and had wanted to do, all cut short. It takes some coaxing, assuring him that it was okay to talk about what was bothering him, even if it may be "easier" to keep it inside. He's quiet when he finally admits his fears, his jealousy. Had his brother truly grown to hate him? He's sure he has, but even if he didn't, Mother certainly has. As much as he liked Zagreus, he felt it unfair that Nyx seemed to favor him over Hypnos. Zagreus already had a mother, why did he need to take Nyx's love, too? Did anyone truly like him, or just simply tolerate or secretly hate him? He wants it just roll off his back, to just sleep it off, but it's become harder and harder… You hold Hypnos as he softly cries, and feel how cool his skin is as he holds you back. You tell him that you could never hate him. You *love* him and he was your friend, your best friend in the whole House, in all of the Underworld, even. Even if everyone else hated him, you'd never leave his side. It's then that the god confesses, teary-eyed and smile wobbly, his feelings for you. He loved you, too, was in love with you. And in moments, his heart is crushed - as you attempt to let him down gently, squirming out of his hold, saying you love him as a friend. Nothing more.

💤 This is the right thing to do, Hypnos reassures himself. He couldn't lose you, too. Not you. Everyone else could leave him, but please, not you. You were his destined mate, certainly. Why else would he come to like you, love you so quickly? It had to be the work of The Fates. It had to be. He was just doing this as a precaution. After all, you couldn't leave him if you were asleep. He cupped your face, thumb dragging over your bottom lip as he watched you. He felt… So tired. He floated down to lay beside you. It would only be a short nap, he lied to himself. No one would miss him, anyway. As he felt himself drift off to sleep, he thought of how he would convince you that you were destined for one another. Visiting you in your dreams, whispering to you as you slept to influence your subconscious… You and he would be together forever in no time at all...

[sunfish-studies]

VS Umbrella

✄・・・ Feathery Ink [Karasuno Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Karasuno x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: none

➜ Notes: This is a separate series from Crisp Leaves. Similar to Crisp Leaves, manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall. This is just my appreciation towards tall girls, you guys are amazing.

Previous:  ‹ Illusionary Hero › | Next:  ‹ Cogs ›

↷ SUMMARY ↶

A new special move!

The third day of summer training camp and the temperature was still rising. Under the cool shade of the tree upon the hill, you, Shimizu, and Yachi were preparing cool electrolyte drinks for the team. Usually, you three done it in the gym but experiencing how hot the weather was, you three decided brought the bottles uphill so the team could drink immediately in order to avoid dehydration.

“That’s a different type of brand you use, [Name]-chan.” Shimizu commented, seeing a different colored package of electrolyte drink in your hand.

“Oh, Kageyama-kun usually used this particular brand,” you replied, pouring the powder into the bottle and turn the lid close, then you shook the bottle so it would mix thoroughly. Your upperclassman hummed in understanding from your answer.

While it was the third day of training, it’s also marked the three weeks of Kageyama and Hinata not talking to each other even though it didn’t hinder their practice. It worried you a bit, but you knew the two of them would talk eventually.

“Great work,” you said, offering the bottle to Kageyama when he and the rest of the boys arrived uphill. He rasped out a thank you before immediately downing the drink.

“Hinata-kun, this is yours!”

“Thank you!”

You purposely be the one to delivered the bottle straight to the person–Hinata was keeping a quite distance from Kageyama and you didn’t want to force the orange-haired boy to get closer with the raven-haired setter.

“Wuaah, it’s nice and cool,” Hinata sighed in content, placing the bottle upon his cheek–enjoying the coolness radiating from it. After satisfied in cooling down his face, he soon downed the drink. Now that you think, you rarely talk to Hinata these days with him busy with his practice.

“[Name]-san, is your arm okay?” ah, he must be referring to the long cut on your arm.

“It’s already a month, Hinata-kun, it’s healed but it does leave a scar,” you lifted your arm, showing a faint lighter line present on your skin where your wound previously at.

“Oh, sorry,” frowns don’t suit Hinata at all–he’s a bright ball of beaming energy, a warm figure who could lit your day in an instant. It’s his nature, and seeing him becoming dejected from the start of the day was worrying.

“It’s fine, Hinata-kun, it’s not your fault anyway. It was an accident,” you dismissed his apology. “And if you need anything, just call out for me, okay? I’ll do my best to help you.”

You didn’t know what force that made you say those words, but you know you couldn’t take it back–you didn’t intend too anyway. Hinata always worked hard by himself, so you want to support him as much as possible. The orange haired boy looked taken a back before a giving you that infamous wide, sunny grin.

“Okay! And call me Shoyo, then! I call you by your first name so it’s fair if you call me like that too!”

“Alright, then, Shoyo-kun.”

.

.

The temperature was still rising–the burning hot atmosphere exhausted your boys even further than before. It would get rough, both for their body and mind eventually. You could feel your skin prickling–the tension was rising faster than before, tiredness building up, and sooner or later it would get to them.

“Damn it!” you gripped on your hand a little tighter after hearing Hinata’s scream of frustration. He failed to get the ball over the net because he lost in terms of strength with Lev. For the past three days, he couldn’t hit any ball comfortably, and with the battle of height always looming over him he had nothing to fight it with.

The match continued–Nishinoya tossed the ball perfectly, and then Kageyama went up to made a toss. Hinata, noticing there was a chance for a quick immediately jumped. Even though the ball barely being hit, it still got over the net and fell on the opposite court.

“You held back, didn’t you!?” his upperclassmen’s praises went over his head as Hinata yelled in anger at Kageyama.

“Held back?” the raven-haired setter also didn’t like the approach, glaring back menacingly. “Me? With volleyball?”

Thankfully before a fight could break, Takeda-sensei already asked for a time-out–with that, at least the two could cool down for a bit and not causing ruckus on the court in the middle of a match.

“That wasn’t the falling toss!” Hinata’s next words, caught you off guard. He noticed something’s different with the toss? It looked the same to you.

“It wasn’t?” Takeda-sensei questioned.

“I mean, looking back, it technically may not have been.” Coach Ukai answered, a thumb under his chin. “I think what just happened is that the toss right now wasn’t like the falling tosses he’s been getting, but more of a parabola.”

It clicked in your mind–the abrupt change suddenly made sense. “Does that mean Kageyama-kun is trying to get Shoyo-kun to hit the ball no matter what?”

“It’s on purpose?” Yachi turned to look at you.

“But what for?” Shimizu’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Hinata hasn’t hit a spike comfortably for a while now,” Coach Ukai was the one who answered to their question. “That’s pretty stressful for a spiker. Kageyama might have subconsciously been worried that Hinata’s might not play as well because of that.”

You frowned in worry, seeing how Hinata still rooted on his spot despite Tanaka’s attempt to dragged him off the court. And it also worried you that Kageyama was looking utterly dejected–maybe he realized for a moment that he pulled his punches. Thankfully it was only a moment–everything was resolved rather quickly and practice resumed.

.

.

After practice at night, you found yourself helping Bokuto, Kuroo, and Akaashi in the third gym. The owl captain immediately dragged you away as soon as the last practice was over (you swore you could hear Tanaka and Nishinoya’s screams of fury), so here you were, throwing balls to Akaashi so he could toss it to Bokuto. Surprisingly, Tsukishima was present as well–now, he’s learning to block with Kuroo’s guidance.

“Oh? Tsukki, [Name]-chan, did you bring a friend today?” Bokuto suddenly asked, which confused the two of you.

“Pardon?” Tsukishima questioned.

When you threw a look over your shoulder, you immediately took a notice of an extremely familiar figure with orange hair by the door. Calling out, you gave him a smile. “Shoyo-kun!”

“[N-Name]-san!”

“What happened to your partner?” Tsukishima asked.

“Kageyama’s practicing on his own again,” Hinata answered. “I was trying to get Kenma to throw me tosses, but he ran away after the fifth one.”

“It’s amazing that you got Kenma to even give you five during practice,” Kuroo remarked.

“So, please let me practice with you!” another surprised for you because Lev showed up and asking the same thing.

“Lev!”

“Oh, Hinata,” the silver-haired boy then noticed you and immediately waved his hands enthusiastically. “Otohaku-chan!! You’re here too!!”

“Lev, quit flirting with the manager and I thought you were practicing receives with Yaku.” Kuroo said and of course, the mention of Nekoma’s libero, Lev stiffened.

“He said I was doing well today, so he let me go!”

From the looks of it, it was no doubt he ran away while Yaku was having a bathroom break or something else that required him for leaving the gym. But Kuroo, being the lenient and laid-back captain he is, dismissed it.

“Well, whatever,” he sighed. “Then, we have the right number of people, so let’s play three-on-three. [Name], you’re in charge of the score.”

Nodding in understanding, you pushed the score board closer and changed the names above–cats and owl, it reminded you of the two captain’s characteristics. You were fine in looking over the match, but this match was quite ridiculous. Thankfully, you’re not the only to think so.

“Um, isn’t this just a bit unbalanced?” Akaashi questioned. He was in the same team with Bokuto and Hinata, whereas the opposite team was clearly having more advantage in height–Kuroo, Lev, and Tsukishima are all above 185cm. Still with the disadvantage he got, Hinata was excited for sure.

The match was interesting to watch–even with the lack of extra height for Hinata’s team, they were still on par with Tsukishima’s team. But soon it was stopped by Yukie and Kaori’s appearance.

“If you don’t wrap soon, the cafeteria will close and you won’t get any dinner.” Yukie informed. “Oh? [Name]-chan, you’re here too? That explains why you don’t show up for dinner.”

Frustration was clear to Hinata because he clearly enjoyed the match and he didn’t want it to end, however, with Kuroo’s reassurance that they would continue this tomorrow, he was back bouncing on his feet. You couldn’t help but smile at the captain’s attentiveness.

“Thank you for cheering Shoyo-kun up,” you said, as the seven of you walked towards the cafeteria. Yukie and Kaori said they had to handle other things first so they couldn’t accompany you (it was hard for them to let you go with the boys). “Today’s not a good day for him so this match definitely cheers him up.”

“It’s nothing, and we probably have to apologize to you too,” Kuroo remarked. “Bokuto’s dragging you here, you stuck with us, and missed dinner. Bokuto, you have an apology to make!”

“That’s right, Bokuto-san, you made Otohaku-san missed dinner.” Akaashi piped up. “Tomorrow she has to wake up early to prepare breakfast, too.”

As if struck by lightning, Bokuto froze and turned stiffly to look at you before he went on a full apology-mode–as far as dropping on his knees, taking your hands in his, and begging for apology. You laughed nervously, but you knew he was sincere with it.

“I’m sorry, [Name]-chan!! I’ll make it up to you!! Do I need to replace you handling breakfast tomorrow!?”

“N-no, it’s alright, I will be fine and you don’t have to apologize, Bokuto-san. I don’t mind helping you practice.”

“Bokuto-san, you’re making Otohaku-san uncomfortable.”

“Have my back for once, Akaashi!!”

.

.

Now that you think of it, your after-practice time was automatically reserved for the third gym. Bokuto would bound towards you, asking for your help as soon as you’re done with your managerial duties. With your nod, he then reached out for your hand and pulled you to ran towards the third gym.

Akaashi already informed you to just dismissed his captain, but you found yourself couldn’t possibly rejected Bokuto’s invitation–especially when his eyes practically shining, you didn’t have a heart to ruin it. That goes for Daichi also, he even offered to talk to Bokuto about it if it bothers you. You were grateful for the two’s offer, still if you could help, you want to be helpful as possible.

It’s probably the third time you helped them practice by throwing balls and keeping an eye on the score board. Well you did your usual managerial duties as well–refilling the water bottles, giving them towels, sometimes wiping the floor when it became too slippery. Kuroo mentioned that you didn’t have to do it since your work hour was over and him, Bokuto, Akaashi, and Lev weren’t from your team.

Again, you dismissed it–it’s not a heavy duty, anyway. In between water break, Tsukishima asked about why on earth Kuroo wanted to help them when they would end up being rival in the end.

The captain cleared his throat. “I want to make the Battle at the Garbage Dump a reality. It’s what our coach wants more than anything. But who knows how much longer our coach is going to continue coaching? So, because of that, we need you guys to keep winning too.”

Overall, you understood Kuroo’s reason, but there was something that piqued your curiosity.

“Uhm, I know this question might sound strange, but, what is Battle at the Garbage Dump?” you asked.

“Oh, that’s right, we haven’t explained anything to Yachi-san and [Name]-san!” Hinata said.

“To put it simple, it’s like destined match between Karasuno and Nekoma.” Tsukishima explained. “It’s been going since the previous Coach Ukai’s time.”

“Karasuno and Nekoma will climb up until they could go to nationals and then will meet up on the orange court.” Kuroo grinned, reaching up to ruffle your hair lightly.

“That’s… so cool,” you muttered. You couldn’t find the exact words to express the awe you’re feeling. A match in the orange court between destined rivals, it’s almost like straight up from a manga or a movie. Other teams could research but playing against a team that knows you really well is going to be an absolute thrill–probably the best match Karasuno could get.

“Right, right!?” Hinata went up to you and asked excitedly.

“Come on. Let’s get back to practice!” Kuroo informed and all of you immediately went to your assigned place.

Practice went on–still between the Owl and Cat group. When Bokuto had to score against someone tall like Lev and Tsukishima, he didn’t kill the ball instead he hit it purposely against the block–returning it to the team for a more proper toss. Knowing how Hinata was hungry for development, surely he wouldn’t miss this.

After Bokuto managed to kill the ball with an intense straight towards the back line, he instantly approached him to ask about it. Soon, the game continued. This time, it was Lev who went for the score but managed to be soft-blocked by Akaashi. The last ball went to Hinata and you witnessed an absolutely underhanded way of blocking.

“Ah! Hey!” Bokuto screeched, also feeling the unfairness. “You guys are playing dirty!”

Hinata had to face three blockers above 185 cm with not a good toss.

“Nowhere to aim,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes in slight annoyance.

However, Hinata intended to face them–he hit the ball to Lev’s fingertips and it flew over before dropping to the inner-side of the opposite court. He jumped high enough and landed on his back instead.

“Shoyo-kun, you’re amazing!” running and kneeling beside him, you praised. Technically, you’re supposed to check on him but it flew over your mind for a second. “It’s an amazing block-out!”

“Did…you actually aim for that?” Kuroo questioned in disbelief. “That was an amazing wipe!”

“Well, I did aim for Lev’s fingertips.”

“What!?” Lev took a full offense in this.

Still, Bokuto was impressed by the lack of fear the younger had. The owl captain was showering him with praises as the rest of you watched from the sidelines. It went well until Bokuto proposed a ‘special move’–which made almost everyone dropped their beliefs, Hinata seemed to be excited by it though.