#what the fuck do i say without letting this goddamn anger effect me?

[ravencincaide]

Blurred lines 

Summary:  Having grown up together there were few lines you and Chuuya hadn’t crossed. But maybe that was a naive way of thinking OR the time your familiar banter was replaced with a ‘caring’ threat, which hid an almost carnal need.  

Pairing: Best friends! Fem reader x Chuuya Nakahara

Inspired by sweetober prompt 21: Bathing 

Warnings: Cursing & alcohol, nudity, banter, inappropriate behavior/ very light sexual content.

Enjoy?

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” 

You held back a smirk as you studied the glass of wine in your hand and purposefully twirled the red liquid an extra time to bring out more of its sweet notes. Satisfied that you aerated it enough, you finally raised it to your lips. Then; “ haven’t you heard of never entering a lady’s bathroom, especially when she’s taking a bath?” you asked, obviously faking anger. As if to hammer your point across you half-heartedly shifted the thick sea of bubbles over yourself. In reality neither shy nor bothered by being naked in front of him, but you did need to keep appearances if you intended to get away with your scolding. 

This time it was Chuuya who rolled his eyes at you.“ I see no lady, just a goddamn brat who made me freeze in soaked, icy clothes while she leisured about in a hot bath sipping on wine” he snapped, stormy blue eyes narrowed dangerously at you.   

Clearly, you did not get away with your scolding. 

“ Hey! I said you can shower in the spare bathroom.” You defended yourself. Neither of you bothered to point out that said shower was shoe-sized, with broken tiles and barely any water pressure. Good enough for cleaning off blood and gore without dragging it everywhere, but that was about all it was good for. 

Definitely far below a sophisticated creature like Chuuya.  

“ Whatever, move over so I can have some space” Chuuya sighed as he began prying off the wet clothes which stuck to him like second skin. He managed to get his coat, hat and vest off in one go before the struggle began. After a few moments he let out a curse as his frozen fingers couldn’t quite get the buttons of his dress-shirt off. 

“  You know it might go better if you take your drenched gloves off, right?” you suggested, earning yourself a dark glare. 

“ A Lady should avert her eyes when a man is stripping” Chuuya’s voice was something between teasing and annoyed; typical banter that made up the majority of your conversations. Still he threw off his gloves to the side, clearly following your advice. 

Unsurprisingly, stripping went much better for him after that. 

“ Please, I've seen your micro penis already. There’s not much else to see” you waved your hand dismissively. Despite your words you leaned against the bathtub, your gaze on the wall as you took another large sip of wine. You were going to give him privacy; but only for the sake of your sanity. 

“ We were children!” Chuuya growled as he finally wrestled out of the shirt. “ Anyway look at yourself, idiot” 

“ I don’t have a penis, dumbass!” you scoffed.

“ No, thank fuck for that or you’d ruin it somehow with your idiocy; you’ve got any mans and womans dream- big boobs, and you still manage to make them look like deflated baloons!” 

You gaped at him, eyes wide. “ How fucking dare you?!” you growled before you slapped your arm against the water, splashing him with warmth and bubbles. Effectively soaking his socks before he managed to move out of the way of the soap-water attack.   

“ Hey stop that” Chuuya pointed a warning finger at you. “ These pants cost more than your yearly wages and they don’t do well with bath-water” 

You rolled your eyes and slapped your arm down into the water once more, this time  you made sure to drench at least one of the pant legs: “ Well what do they say? The uglier you are, the more expensive clothes you need to hide that?” 

“ No one says that besides you, you dimwit,” Chuuya stated as he came over and flickered your forehead with a little too much force. 

You wailed, dropping your head into your hand. You clutched it in pain; eyes tightly shut. You waited until the stars in your eyes subsided before you fixed him with a dark glare; “ Ow what the fuck? That hurt!”  

By then Chuuya had slipped into the bathtub and leaned against the opposite side, one arm laid against the edge, the second one twirled the bottle in his hand, salvaging the fragrance for a moment. He deemed it satisfactory and flashed you the look.“ Hey, give me that!”  Chuuya stretched his hand out towards you, clearly expecting you to hand over your wine glass. After all, he wasn’t a barbarian who’d drink straight from a wine bottle. 

“ I’m still drinking from that glass, Hey–!” you called out as he yoinked the glass right out of your grasp, filled it up as he flashed you a grin as if to say ‘which glass? This one?’ before he took a sip from it. You noticed that his lips landed on the same spot you drank from- the place where the reminisce of your lipgloss stained the rim.  

You could have sworn something shifted in his gaze as he stared at you; something which matched the soft pinkness of his cheeks. The pinkness which came from the heat of the bathroom and bathwater- right? You shook your head at your own pathetic thoughts. This was Chuuya of all people; of course he’d do something like that just to spite you. To get a rise out of you for his own amusement. The fact that you thought something else even for a second indicated that you must be more tipsy than you first thought. Especially if you even toyed with the idea that there may be a hidden meaning in his stare besides a threat of payback for his ruined pants. 

You rolled your eyes then looked away from him, breaking eye contact first. 

“Whatever, you’re still just a stupid jerk” You sighed before you turned your back to him and pressed yourself up against the corner of the bathtub. You rested your arms on the edge, and leaned your head on top of them. You closed your eyes, salvaging the warmth of the water against your skin and the natural lull in the conversation. With no wine, and no banter, just resting was the best way to prevent overthinking. 

“ Oj don’t fall asleep on me; I’m not saving you if you drown out of your own stupidity” Chuuya said, as he was finally finished with your wine glass. You heard the gentle cling of it against the bathtub as he set it on the edge on his side instead of giving it back to you. Jerk. 

You showed exactly what you thought of him by reaching up and flipping him the bird. 

This earned you a heavy sigh; “ God you’re unbearable at times, you know that?” his voice sounded different in your ears, a tone you didn’t quite recognize. You shrugged it off, no doubt it was your drunken mind playing tricks on you again. Or maybe he was just trying to coax a reaction out of you which he could hold over your head for later teasing. You were not gonna fall for that old trick. Even as you heard the shift of water and sensed him come closer, you remained calm, relaxed, eyes firmly shut. 

Until you felt his chest hit your back, his arms caged you on either side, hot breath in your ear. You froze at the proximity; was it his leg that brushed against yours beneath the surface of the water or..? If possible Chuuya came closer, his breath a hot whisper in your ear; “ You’re still so naive, leaving yourself all defenseless and vulnerable, letting a man into the bathtub with you; Don’t do it again- or next time things might not end so innocently.” 

You gaped, then shook your head not believing what you just heard. “ W-What are you–?!” you spun around to face him but by then Chuuya had already stepped out of the bathtub, wrapped a towel around his waist and was half way out of the door. He did not spare you a second glance. 

“ Chuu?” You called out carefully, still in shock. 

Instead of answering, Chuuya took the last step out of the bathroom and closed the door firmly yet gently behind himself. He left you completely alone in the half cold bath waters. The action made you wonder if all that had actually happened, or if this was another one of those times when your drunk mind decided to play tricks on you, when it tempted you with something you knew would never be..

Authors note: Don't ask me what the hell this is and I'll not ask you why you're reading such questionable Chuuya content, deal? And for those of you wondering how the hell this could even begin to be "normal behaviour", mixed onsen is all I'm going to say..

[mongrel-mage]

A Spoiler-free review of Edge of Sleep

Fucking incredible. Like...9/10 and the only reason I say so is because there were only 6 20-ish minute episodes and I wanted the show to be longer and give us more backstory on the characters and such. It'll be a bit longer of a post, but rest assured that there are no spoilers under the link.

Main differences from the podcast, but still minor: the character of The Trespasser does not feature in the show, nor do Dave's story about the Moobles and the ensuing hallucinations he describes. However, I was satisfied with how they used the information from The Trespasser's subplot in the actual TV show, and there was a little reference to him at the beginning of Episode 5 that made me smile, so I'm really not that fussed about those things being missing.

I'm going to take a minute to rave about Eve Harlow, who plays Linda. What a goddamn POWERHOUSE of an actress, honestly. Perfect casting. She nailed a character who is tough as iron, focused, determined, and intelligent without making Linda come across as unnecessarily cold or unlikeable--I'll go so far to say that Linda was my favorite character (by a slim margin, but still there). Eve Harlow has an incredibly expressive face and eyes that convey complex emotions without relying on the same few expressions or overacting what she's feeling. I really want to see her get some sort of awards or accolades for her performance because she carried damn near all of her scenes.

Let's talk about Mark. I already knew that he could act well because I'd watched his other projects, but most/if not all of them have at least some level of comedy, humor, or character who lightens the mental load at least a little bit. We all know that he's a giggly bitch and likes to have fun, and there's nothing wrong with that. That said, I'm comfortable saying that Edge of Sleep is easily his most ambitiously dramatic project--there was a lot of raw stress, grief, anger, and pain that Dave Torres went through, and I was impressed at how well Mark portrayed it. It's obvious how much he tries and how hard he cares; it's so clear that this wasn't some celebrity vanity project. You can really feel the love and the energy and the care that he put into this, and I was, like I said, impressed at his range as a drama/horror actor. There were some moments and expressions he had in the show (namely in the first episode, when the people at the party are giving Dave a hard time about his sleep disorder and past episodes) that hit me unexpectedly hard. Amazing performance, Mark. I'm proud of you.

I also want to take another moment to rave about the makeup and hair department. Standing ovation. The gradual increase of the characters' exhaustion and general levels of dishevelment (the thing that stuck with me the most was Linda's makeup and hair, SO good) looked very real and read well on camera. Anyone who knows me irl knows what a freak I am for good practical effects/makeup, and I want to make sure that those artists are acknowledged and appreciated. I'm also going to throw in some kudos for whoever was behind the Elephant Monster--that thing was FUCKED UP (/pos). I love a Creature and it was sufficiently more disturbing than I had expected it to be, since The Elephant isn't given much of a description in the podcast. I'm not sure if it was practical effects or something computer generated, but whatever it was it was amazing. Hats off to the Creature Crew!

Lastly: I WANT SEASON TWO. GIVE IT TO ME. I WANT TO RIP IT APART WITH MY TEETH. I HAVE BEEN GOOD AND COHERENT FOR THIS LONG NOW GIVE ME MORE.

Also. I promised no spoilers and there shall be none. But that last shot of the last episode? fucking HAUNTING. Here's hoping that us catapulting Edge of Sleep to the TOP FIVE, BEFORE THE OFFICIAL LAUNCH, will seriously throw some weight to whoever can decide to give us a second season.

[undercut-mcqueer]

i am. honestly at a loss of what to do atm. regarding this whole discord situation. anyway.

cos. my rsd is bad. its probably at its WORST honestly. just. seeing them online atm hurts and i tried to get away from discord, and just appear offline or whatever thinking it would hurt less. but it didnt. it still fucking hurt. it still fucking HURTS.

and im just. so mad at them for no reason?? like. they dont know im feeling this way. its not their fault i’ve got a fucked up brain. 

but like fuck man. is it that hard to drop in and say hi?? especially since.. im p fucking sure they’re still talking to each other a ton.

i kinda dont wanna just. give in and message first. but im p sure if i dont at this rate im just gonna end up hurting myself more. but what the fuck do i even say? i cant just fuckin act like things are fine cos theyre not. but i dont wanna be depressing af, as usual.

like. im so tempted to just. drop a “what am i doing wrong”. but idek at this point. just wish i had a normal fucking brain so this shit wouldnt bother me. and im so fucking scared of just reaching out cos the piece of shit from my old server would just SHIT on me whenever i expressed how things were making me feel. sure i wasnt diagnosed with adhd at the time, and i didnt know it was rsd making me feel so bad. but does that make that shit any less valid? no it fucking doesnt. and FUCK YOU to the cunt that now makes me afraid to speak up about my feelings, in fear of being shit on.

anyways. sorry for the long ass vent i guess. things just. arent getting better atm. and im prolly gonna end up needing to try new meds, cos the higher dose doesnt seem to be effective hhhh

just wish that it wasnt always that whenever i need people the most, theyre just never fucking there.

[aecassie]

🍮 ׄ ִ ᰍ キティ ۪ ᰱ . ♡. ៹  痛み  ˒ 11:11  ⸼  ૮₍꜆꜄ ˃ ³ ˂ ₎ა    ૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ꒳ `⸝⸝ ૮₍⑅˶•▿•˶

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑣𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑎𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘺, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 (𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵), 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘺 𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 <3

𝑣𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑚! 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

໒ྀིっ˕ -｡ྀི১⠀ᨦʕ •̥ ˕ ก ʔᨩ 💗 ꒱⠀_(:3 」∠)_🍰₊˚.༄ ೃ -- ,,🍥 ·˚ ༘ ꒱🍧 .˚ ᵎ┊͙◟

Nasty, Arrogant, Violent, Impulsive, Scary, Selfish…

In Denver, that's how they referred to Vance.

If they only knew, if they only knew him as much as you know him, they would know that he is not quite like that, they would know that behind all that violence and anger there was a sensitive and insecure boy.

You were his safe haven, the one he trusted, the person he turned to every time he fought and left minimally hurt, the person he leaned on his lap like a little child and slept peacefully. It was you. It has always been you.

It was 1978, a gray, rainy afternoon, you and Vance snuggled together on top of the old white mattress.

He had his face resting on your torso and warm hands on your hips. It was like it was the first time he'd slept, he was so relaxed and peaceful.

Until thunder echoes, and he soon wakes up.

"Nature sucks, what the fuck" -- Vance grumbles rubbing his eyes not fully conscious

Thanks to Vance's displeasure and thanks to nature's goodwill, you stir a little and wake up.

"Han? What hears love?" -- You question with a humor totally opposite to Vance's, placing your delicate hands in the gold locks of Vance as he reposition your hands on your waist and sink your head into your neck, hair tickling your rosy cheek

"Goddamn thunder, now I can't sleep." - Vance answers with a muffled voice because of the position of his face.

"Calm down, blondie. You'll be able to sleep fast, trust me!" -- You place a kiss on the blonde's forehead, who raises his head and looks at you confused

"How can you be in a good mood at a time like this? With a climate like this? Fuck! And other, how the hell are you going to make me sleep like this, all of a sudden?" -- Vance sits on the bed fingering your waist

"First: because I'm an angel of person, and second: it's simple, come here" -- You respond leaning on the headboard, opening your arms to Vance, who just shrugs and lies between your legs with the head on your neck again

"What are you going to do, savior of homelands?" -- Vance raises the doubt and comforts himself more and more in your embrace

"Let's see, arcade fairy" -- You say, laughing softly

"Arcade fairy? Really?" -- Vance gives you mortal look, what gives you freedom to laugh even more, he keeps looking at you, leans and kisses you calmly, holding your chin with one hand and with the other free caressing your waist

Soon you start patting Vance's back, patting his hair, playing with his fingers, whispering nonsense in his ear, etc.

"I don't think it's going to work, Paraguay Barbie" -- Vance says laughing at you, who cover his mouth lightly with your right hand

Without even realizing it, Vance had already passed out in your arms, not even a stone dropped on top of him would wake him up. You looked at the scene hastily, chuckled and tucked him into bed. Vance grumbled a little when you took him off your lap to lay he on the fine white sheets, something like: "let me sleep 3 more fucking minutes"

Lying down next to Vance, you felt strong arms around you. Looking back, saw him clinging to your waist, hot breath hitting the back of your neck, which shivered from the contact.

"Thank you for loving me." -- He surprisingly sayed

"Don't thank me for the effect you owe yourself, Hopper"

"I must, since you did the same to me."

Yeah, that got you. Hearing the boy stronger and "evil" of Denver saying that, left you in ecstasy, blushed you and you felt your heart speed in a matter of seconds, your reaction was kissing Vance, who hugs you with more force

That was the last hug between you two.

˖ ࣪ 𓂂 ˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ 🦷 ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ ˖◡̈˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ*･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦ 💘 ✧.*..⃗.🕊•̩̩͙⁺゜ ⤾·˚ ༘◡̈˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ

@ahzysauce, 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛, ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡! <3

🍙 ⌒ 。ﾟ๑* ♡ 𓏲🍋◌𐨿ʚ ї ɞ ː͡  ꜜ   ͙🍚♡ ⃞ ׅ ࣪  𓂃   ꒰ 🥞 ꒱𖦹  ִ  ֺ 🧸 • 🍯 ✿𝅼 (੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ 

! 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐏𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌, 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐒!

◡̈⍣ ೋ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡﹋꒰ 🥥 ꒱ؘ ࿐*:･ﾟ༊*࿐ ࿔*:*:･ﾟ༊*࿐ ࿔**:･ﾟ༊*࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ✧˖*💌 ꒱

[dmc-tings]

The four Lord's accidentally hurting their s/o during an argument

Alcina Dimitrescu

She was BEYOND PISSED

You had gone to hangout with her brutish brother, Heisenberg

Again

Without her knowing

She didn't mind, as long as you told her

But it seemed like you made it a POINT to leave without doing so

"Alcina, I'm a grown (man/woman/person) I can go as I please!"

"Oh forgive me for treating you like a child! As your behavior has shown me!"

She stood tall and stiff, arguing with you

And you stood (as tall as you could), glaring at her with defiance

Alcina was sheathing and unsheathing her long claws behind her back

Trying not to slice her beloved's head off

But when you got like this, it was rather difficult

You threw your hands up, in anger

"This is the shit, Heisenberg, is talking about!! You use your height to talk down on everyone!! And it-"

She swung her hand to shut you up

And.... well it did shut you up

Her claws had been out

Slicing your midsection open, effectively gutting you

Before you could hit the ground, the Draculina caught you

And rushed you to her chambers, where the maids started to care for you

She never left your side, holding your hand

Once cleaned, sewn up and bandaged, the chambermaids left your both alone

There she sat for days, for her it felt like months, years... and eternity even

You finally woke up and looked at her

For the first time in almost a century, Alcina let herself be human

Large, fat tears where streaming down her face

Though she made no sound and you couldn't see her eyes

You knew by how hard she tightened her grip on your hand

That she was relieved and desperately sorry

"Im sorry too, you know... I should be more careful about your feelings. And-"

She cut you off

This time with her lips, forgiving you with no words

Angie and Donna Beneviento

On very, very, very rare occasions would you and Donna argue

And this was such a time

You had wanted to go into the village

But Donna, insisted you stay home, just for a bit

This, for whatever reason, pissed you off

"Your so goddamned controlling, Donna! Is it a big fucking problem for me to want to be alone, just for a few hours!?"

She never would say anything back, she didn't have to

The pollen would do it for her

Through narrowed eyes, she made you see the worst

Your angry ranting stopped

You saw your family's deaths replaying

Right. In. Front. Of. You.

Your mother crashing in to a dark river, your brother slashing his arms, bleeding out, and your father going mad, setting the family home on fire, letting himself burn alive

You knew none of this was true, but.... it felt so real...

You fell to your knees, weeping, but making no noise

Letting the tears fall, you sat back pulling your knees to your chest

Donna and Angie both knew it was going a bit too far

"Great!! Now (he/she/they're) broken!" Angie fussed

Donna made the illusion dissappear, feeling bad about what she had done

You were curled up, holding yourself

Angie, was already at your side, uncharacteristically, trying to soothe you

Donna kneeled on front of you, wiping your tears

You all sat like this for hours

Finally, you calmed down

"Donna-"

She shushed you, pulling you into her arms

You hugged her and Angie

This is how you all forgave one another

And it always worked

Salvatore Moreau

He never liked it when you got like this...

You could be come so rageful

And it scared and confused him

All he asked was "Darling? Will you help me decide which experiment to send to Mother?"

And you exploded, throwing things and yelling at him

"EVERYTHING YOU DO IS FOR MIRANDA!! WHAT ABOUT ME!? IM TIRED OF THIS SHIT!!"

This continued, until you threw a knife in his direction

It just barely missed hitting him

This caused him to explode as well

Like Donna, he rarely argues but that was the last straw

You stopped your rampage to watch his

He finally turned into his MASSIVE other form

And rushed off

You realized that you were to blame for this

So you followed him to the Reservoir

Watching him let out his anger out in the water and surrounding area

Him, not knowing you followed, bashed into some of the rocks

Causing them to fall, on top of you

Luckily, you jumped far enough away, not to get completely covered

You screamed as your leg got caught in the rockfall

Moreau hear it, transformed back and rushed to you

Uncovering the rocks, and pulled you to him

Quickly he made a tourniquet and gently pulled you to safety

"Im sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were there, my Precious..."

He continued to whimper apologies to you

You cut him off, "No... im sorry, I shouldn't explode like that..."

You both sat in comfortable silence, knowing that this would happen again

Probaly

Karl Heisenberg

You both were HEATED

You simply asked him to help you out a bit with some chores

To which he exploded

Throwing harsh and colorful words at you

"Ungrateful lazy bitch." Was hastily thrown at you

To which you retaliated with, "Piece of shit garbage."

Not caring about the floating debris, you tried to leave

Which Heisenberg blocked your way, a bit too aggressive

Not bothering to look at what he did

One of the flying slabs of metal sliced open your arm

Almost cutting it off

Though Karl didn't look at you, but your screech made him whirl around

Anger gone, when he saw your blood pouring out on to the floor

He rushed to your side, ripping his shirt into makeshift bandages

As he was wrapping you up, you started to pass out due to bloodloss

For the first time, in the longest time, Heisenberg felt himself panic

"Y/N! Stay with me, please!! Dont-"

You lost consciousness

He stood up and pulled you into his arms and rushed to Dimitrescu Castle

Kicking the large door in, he demanded that Lady D help

She was about to refuse, but saw the tears streaming down his face

And an eyeful of you bleeding out

She quickly snapped at her chambermaid's to help you

A few hours passed, with Heisenberg pacing outside of the room where you were being cared for

When the door opened he pushed past the maid, to your side

You looked at him, wanting to hit him

But softened up seeing this rugged man crying and apologizing for his outburst

You couldn't get him to shut up

And he held your hand like a life line

You petted his head with your other hand

Once he calmed down, you started to laugh

Karl looked at you like you lost your mind

"What the FUCK are you laughing at!? I almost took your gotdamn arm off!! I-"

"I... i..." You wheezed, " I forgot why we were arguing."

Karl looked up thoughtfully, "Damn. So did i."

He leaned forward and gave you a kiss

"Still... im sorry."

[aithorin]

A Lesson in Possession - All Smite x Reader (18+)

Summary: When you make the mistake of revealing that you find one of the top ten heroes attractive, Smite wastes no time in reminding you that you belong to him.

Warnings: Villain AU, Villain!All Might, Possessive behavior, Dominance, Vaginal fingering, Possessive sex, Unhealthy relationships, Degradation

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30772664

Very much NSFW!

All Might was ignoring you. Intentionally ignoring you. And you didn’t like it. Not one bit. For the last 20 minutes, you’d tried in vain to get him to finally sit down on the couch with you yet to no avail. He just continued to rustle around in the kitchen, seeming to clang together every goddamn pan in existence while looking for who knows what. At any rate, it was clear your attempts weren’t working at all.

Letting out a huff, you turned away from the kitchen to face the television. Raising the volume to drown out all the fucking noise he was making, the newsreporter babbled on about a battle that had happened earlier in the day. The fight in question was between none other than All Might and a horde of the top heroes. But what else was new?

‘Boooooorrrrring’ You droned out in your head. Picking up the remote, you flicked to the next channel only to be met with the same regurgitated garbage from the last. Sitting up straight, a spark of irritation fired through you as you began cycling through all the channels, going through them faster with each disappointment.

“All Might-” Next

“Earlier today, Symbol of Discord, All Might-” Next

“Top hero Endeavor and All Might faced off-” Next

God, was there nothing else to fucking watch? Huffing in frustration, you hit mute before tossing the remote onto the cushion beside you. Crossing your arms, you settled further into the sofa as a small pout crept onto your face. Glaring at the TV, you gave it a scowl that rivaled All Might’s. However, as you kept your eyes trained on the now silent news report, your glower slowly faded into a wicked grin as an inkling of an idea began to take form. You knew exactly what to do. All Might wouldn’t be ignoring you for much longer.

Sitting up, you swung your legs up onto the couch and schooled your features into the epitome of relaxed and unbothered. Slinging one arm over the back, you kept your gaze glued to the TV and called out, “Your fight from today is all over the news.”

A particularly loud clang was all you got in response. That was okay. It was to be expected. On to phase two.

“They’re saying you destroyed half of Kamino Ward. And with five of the top heroes there too! That’s pretty impressive you managed to make it here without a scratch. I guess even the best have nothing on you.”

This time you got a clang followed by a grunt. Okay, so flattery was a no go. Time to change tactics. But no matter, you had saved the best for last.

“Although…” you began, dragging the word out, “While they may not be a match for you when it comes to power, I do have to say that some of them rival you quite well in the looks department. Personally, I think Hawks comes pretty damn close.”

Bringing a finger up, you tapped it against your lips. Amending your previous statement, you said, “Hmmm, wait. On second thought, I think he might actually be hotter than you. He is pretty attractive, you know.”

At your words, all clanging came to an abrupt halt. This time all that greeted you was deathly silence. Reveling in it, your smirk grew tenfold. Checkmate.  

Slow footsteps rumbled across the ground, sending tremors through the floors of your apartment. But you wouldn’t let yourself be intimidated. Keeping your eyes trailed on the screen, you refused to look at him, knowing it would anger him more. With the sole intention of pretending not to notice you had just pissed off the number one villain, you nonchalantly picked at invisible dirt in your nails.

Standing in the doorway that separated the living room from the kitchen, you could feel his glare burning holes into the back of your head, but you held steady to the charade.

“What,” All Might growled, “Did you just say?”

Giving a noncommittal hum and schooling your features, you threw a cursory glance at him over your shoulder before turning back to the TV, feigning disinterest. Once you were out of his line of sight though, you couldn’t help letting the devilish grin return. It was all going according to plan. He was absolutely pissed. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him so angry before. Just a couple of words and his aura had darkened so much it cast a shadow over the whole room. With his eyes blazing and his lips curled back in a snarl, his fists were clenched at his sides, trembling ever so slightly in an attempt to keep his anger in check. At any rate, it was clear your comment had gotten his blood boiling.

“Hmmm, what was that?” you finally replied. Looking at the TV, you continued, “Oh, I was just saying that I think Hawks is way hotter than you. No offense.”

Letting out a snarl, he began to stalk towards you. “You’re playing a dangerous game doll. Are you trying to make me mad?”

“No,” you said, giving a small pout, “I’m trying to get your attention. You’ve been ignoring me the whole time you’ve been here!”

“Insolent girl!” All Might growled, “And you thought insulting me was the way to do it?”

“Well nothing else was working!” you said haughtily, crossing your arms, “Besides, from my view, it worked perfectly. You’re certainly not ignoring me now, which is all I wanted in the first place.” Letting the irritation slide off your back, you gave him a cheeky grin and waggled your eyebrows.

Yet your words seemed to have the opposite effect on All Might as his expression grew impossibly darker. Giving you a derisive smile, he sneered. “Fine,” He said, voice sinister yet full of promise, “Have it your way then.”

The change in the air was palpable. Grin fading from your face, you realized that with nothing more than a few words from him, you’d lost all control over the situation. The knowledge sent a wave of nervousness down your spine. There was no denying it. The tables had turned, and while you may have won the battle, you were most certainly about to lose the war. God, you should have just kept your mouth shut. Why did your impatience always land you in such deep shit? Would it really have been so bad to wait another 15 minutes?

You’d played with fire and now you were about to be burned. From the look of All Might’s heated gaze, it seemed you were in for a world of painful pleasure. He’d give you what you want alright, but the bastard would be sure to reduce you to a writhing, sobbing mess beforehand. Yet despite the fact that your head was screaming at you to get away, your body seemed to have other thoughts. To your horror, you realized that the idea of being so completely at his mercy was actually turning you on. Just thinking about it had you shifting uncomfortably in your seat as a dull throb of need began to build in your abdomen.

In a flash, his looming form hovered over you, encasing you with his shadow, and the glow of his blazing blue eyes burned with a smug self-satisfaction at the sound of your breath hitching. Somehow, he’d gotten ahold of your arms, and they lay trapped in one of his hands held high above your head. His actions had caused your shirt to ride up ever so slightly, a fact which had not escaped All Might’s attention. Taking a moment to rake his eyes over your form, you could feel your body heat under his appreciative gaze, tendrils of want slithering through you.

Leaning over you, All Might trapped you with his body, your chests touching. His nearness created a warmth, and with it your heart began to beat ever so slightly faster. Tongue darting out to nervously lick your lips, you waited to see what he would do. With his free hand, All Might came up to swipe his thumb across your bottom lip, getting rid of the moisture you’d just laid there, before tilting your chin up and somehow getting impossibly closer. It was more than enough to unnerve you, and it was obvious he was doing it on purpose. The damn bastard knew you were helpless to resist when he was that close.

Bending down, he pressed his face toward your ear. “You want attention?” He snarled, his hot breath fanning the shell of your ear and sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine, “I’ll give you attention.”

Pulling back, he made sure his eyes met yours. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget that bird brained freak even exists. But first, I’m gonna teach you a lesson, doll. Mark my words, you’re gonna regret opening that pretty little mouth of yours.”

And that was all the warning you got. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a bruising kiss, demanding entrance. But the brat in you couldn’t help resisting. You met him full force, refusing to give him what he wanted, goading him. In response, he growled against your lips before biting down on your bottom one, not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough to surprise you. Releasing a tiny yelp at the shock, he seized the moment to push his way through. In an instant, he had his tongue tangled around yours. And there was nothing loving about the embrace. Rough and bruising, it was pure punishment and you were helpless to do anything about it.

As your need for air began to become overwhelming, All Might started to pull away, leaving a trail of saliva connected to your lips, thinning ever so slowly before finally splitting in half to land against your chin. Chest heaving and yearning to feel his lips against yours again, you sought his touch the only way you knew how.

By baiting him.

Sitting up ever so slightly by wiggling one arm out of his embrace, you propped yourself up on it and gave him a roguish grin. “Is that all you got, big guy?” You asked.

At the jab, he let out a growl. “I’m not anywhere close to done with you, girl.”

Leaning down, he grabbed hold of your T-shirt and tore it straight in half in one fell swoop before doing the exact same with your bra. Letting out a gasp, your exposed nipples began to harden in wake of the cold air, and All Might smirked as you rushed to cover yourself.

“Uh Uh Uh” He tutted, waggling his finger at you, “You know better than that.”

Slowly you began to lower your hand, and All Might let out an appreciative hum. “Good girl.” He purred.

Leaning down, he latched onto one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around the tip before taking it between his teeth and giving it an experimental tug. Your body, desperate for the slightest touch now, responded immediately. Letting out a breathy moan, you arched into his touch, silently begging for more as the sensation sent jolts of pleasure dancing across your chest that headed straight to your core. Smirking in satisfaction, All Might chose to ignore your plea. Grabbing onto your hips, he began trailing his lips down to the waistline of your pants, leaving warm wet kisses with his tongue across your belly while his thumbs stroked the sides of your waist. Arriving at the top of your pants, he reached one hand over to flick them open before sliding them over the curve of your ass, taking your panties with them and leaving your glistening pussy fully exposed.

“Look at you. You’re positively drenched, and I’ve barely even touched you. What an eager little slut you are.” He said, dragging one long finger along your slit.

Gasping at his touch, you watched, entranced, as he pulled his finger away, your juices dripping off of it. Bending down, he held it up to your mouth.

“Suck.” He commanded. Looking down at it, you hesitated just a moment too long, and his face twisted into a snarl.

“I’m not gonna ask you twice, girl. When I tell you to suck, you suck. ” He growled, squeezing your jaw open with one large hand wrapped around your cheeks and pushing his index finger into your mouth.

Tentatively you took the length of his finger into your mouth, wrapping your lips around the base of it. As the back of your tongue touched the pad of his fingertip, the warm, slightly salty taste of yourself met it. Swirling your tongue around the digit, you slowly began to bob up and down on it, thoroughly lubricating it with your saliva.

Letting out a satisfied smirk, All Might purred, “Good girl.” Shoving his finger back in as far back into your throat as he could, you gagged trying to catch your breath as he finally removed the digit, bringing your bottom lip down with it.

“That was for earlier.” He sneered, “Don’t disobey me again.”

And then, beginning from your mouth, he traced a path down your chin with his wet finger, going between the valley of your breasts and the soft curve of your belly. As the wet trail he made quickly dried, you shivered as the dampness met the cold air. Arriving at your pussy, he began to prod at your entrance, easily slipping the digit in.

You couldn’t stop from letting out an immediate moan at the stretch. From one finger, he had already managed to make you feel deliciously full. The mind numbing emptiness your body had been begging for him to satiate was finally being remedied.

Beginning to pump, All Might turned his attention toward your clit. As his fingers thrust inside you, his thumb began to rub slow circles over your clit, pulling all sorts of gasps out of you. Working you open, his pace began to quicken and before you knew it he was slipping a second finger in.

Dissolving into putty at his hands, you could feel your climax fast approaching.

Yes!” you moaned, “Just like that.” You were so close. With one more thrust, you’d be gone. You could feel his fingers pulling out, preparing to send you over the edge, when suddenly they were completely gone, leaving you painfully empty.

Choking from the force of being denied so suddenly, your eyes flashed open just in time to see him climbing off of you. Face sweaty and cheeks flushed, you were an absolute mess. Lost in a haze of need, you could barely even comprehend what was happening. All you could see was that damn smirk on his face.

Unbuckling his pants painfully slow, he seemed to revel in your agony. As he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his pants, a distinct clink floated through the air as his loose belt buckle hit the metal of his pant button. And then in one swift motion, he took his pants off, his cock springing free. Painfully hard and red, it seemed to almost pulsate. Following the line of one thick vein, you saw that the tip was already oozing pre-cum.

Licking your lips in anticipation, you waited for All Might to approach you once more, but he remained standing. In fact, he moved farther away from you, making you want to cry.

Stroking himself, he seemed to completely ignore you as he lifted his other hand to rest on his chin, a thoughtful expression came over his face. “You know, I’ve already been quite lenient with you. Maybe it’d be better to just take care of myself.”

At that you wanted to sob. Nothing in the world mattered more to you than having his cock balls deep inside you at the moment. “Please please don’t do that!” you said, wanting nothing more than to pull him close, but he was just out of reach, and by then, you were too out of it to do anything else but stretch a weak hand toward him.

“Ple-please touch me.” You whined, legs rubbing together, desperately trying to regain even the slightest amount of friction.

Letting out a snort, he taunted, “And give me one good reason why I should. You haven’t exactly been on your best behavior today. Need I remind you that this is supposed to be your punishment?”

“I-I know you want to though.” You said, breathless. Raising your head to look at him through hooded eyes, you purred, “It-It’ll be so good.”

Taking a few steps toward you, he looked down into your eyes. Face becoming almost pleasant, he questioned, “You want this? You want my cock?” As you watched him stroke himself, you eagerly nodded. You wanted nothing more.

In an instant, his face turned dark once more as he growled, “Then beg for it.”

At that, a look of confusion spread over your face. “Wh-What?” You questioned.

“You heard me. If you want my cock beg. for. it.” He said.

Under normal circumstances, you would’ve laughed in his face, but, well, being incredibly horny does make a difference. Swallowing your pride, you whispered, “Please. I want your cock. I want you to fuck me.”

And yet, true to the utter asshole that he was, All Might pretended not to hear you. “Hmmm. What was that?” He said, lifting a hand up to cup his ear, “I didn’t hear you.”

“I want your cock!” You shouted, looking up to glare at him, “I want you to fuck me.”

“No need to be so mean kitten,” He said, a mock pout coming over his face, “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

Before you could even register that he’d moved, All Might was back over you again, one last self-satisfied smirk being the only warning you got before he buried his cock in you. Moaning from the sensation, tears sprung at your eyes from how far he was stretching you. God, he was so big, yet you couldn’t even find it in yourself to care because it felt so good.

Fully inside, he gave you the small mercy of allowing but a single moment for you to adjust. Before you knew it, he was pulling out only to thrust back into you again, setting an absolutely brutal pace. Eyes rolling into the back of your head from the force, you briefly registered him attaching onto your neck, sucking hard enough to leave teeth indentations.

Grabbing hold of his neck, you wrapped your legs around his waist to give him better access as breathy groans escaped your lips. Already you could feel the coil inside beginning to wind again.

“You filthy slut. You like this, don’t you? Me using you for the whore you are.” He said, wrapping a hand around your throat and grunting as he bucked into you.

“I’m the only one who’s ever gonna be able to fuck you this good. I’m the only one who can make you feel like this. You got that. You’re mine.” He growled, reaching hand down to flick at your clit, never once slowing down.

Lost in pleasure, you barely even processed his words. That is until he leaned down to snarl in your ear, “Say it.”

“I-I’m yours, All Might. You’re the only one who can fuck me this good.” you groaned.

Coming in close, he caught your lips in a bruising kiss, before thrusting in once more, going so deep you were sent flying off the edge. Gasping, you saw stars in your eyes as white hot pleasure wracked its way down your spine sending tremors throughout your body. As you came, your pussy clenched around him, causing All Might to climax as well. Hot seed coated the insides of your walls as you both fought to recover. As your heavy pants gradually became more controlled, he slowly slid out of you.

With sweat coating his brow and his breathing ragged, All Might looked down at you, blue eyes blazing,  “Nobody makes you feel the way that I do. Nobody. And you’d do well to remember that, doll.”

Climbing off of you, he began to make his way down the hall, throwing your pitiful form still sprawled out on the couch one last glance.  “The next time you want to try something like what you just pulled, I’d suggest you remember our little lesson today.”

[mypoisonedvine]

While You Were Sleeping... | dark!Stucky x reader

warnings: noncon, somnophilia, dp, slight breeding kink, kidnapping, bondage, drugging, pain kink, choking, spanking, slapping, degradation, mention of blood

word count: 3.3k

Thunk.            Thunk.            Thunk.

The sound was the first thing you became aware of.  Your eyes were heavy, so heavy you couldn’t open them, as hard as you fought.  All your effort led to one brief sliver of light, but it was gone so fast you couldn’t process what it was.

Thunk.            Thunk.            Thunk.

You heard yourself moan softly as you tried to stir, but your whole body was half-numb and as dense as lead.

Thunk.  Thunk.  Thunk.  Thunk.  Thunk.  Thunk.

It was faster, and louder, until it suddenly stopped.  Something shifted after that… something outside you, and something inside you.

“Your turn.”

Hearing words tore one more layer of your sleep away, and you managed to open your eyes for just a moment longer, long enough finally to see your surroundings for a second.

You were face-down on a bed; no sheets, just a mattress.  It shifted again, and you realized another weight was settling onto it.  

Something warm ran down your spine.  Fingers?  Was someone touching you?  And not through clothes, but straight onto your skin.

...am I naked?

You fought through the static tingling your tired limbs, and wiggled your arm a bit.  A jingling noise, a tightness on your wrist; a shackle and chain.

“Are you wakin’ up now, doll?”

Bucky? you tried to speak, but your lips wouldn’t move.  You were nearly paralyzed, but conscious enough to move your arm again, shaking the chain louder this time.

“Good,” you heard him reply.  “I’ll be honest, the drugs were a compromise for me.  I want you to be awake for this.”

Your legs were pushed wider apart.  Something hot was pushing against your— no, that can’t be right.  This can’t be happening.  This isn’t happening.

A shift inside you.  He was inside you.  You tried to kick him away but all that came of it was a twitch in your calf.

“That all the fight you got, sweetheart?” Bucky chuckled.  You could feel his hands on your hips, pulling you into him each time he thrusted forward.  You were thankful for the numbness, because you knew this would be painful without it; you could feel how far his intrusion was stretching you, how deep he was inside you.  So deep that you could feel it in your stomach.

Thunk.            Thunk.            Thunk.

The headboard slammed into the concrete wall with every thrust, the sound marking each time he buried himself as deep as he could go.  He was so impressed that you could take all of him, even though it would probably be challenging for a version of you that was fully lucid.  There had been a little blood after Steve was finished with you, so he knew you were being pushed beyond your limits.  But he also knew you could take it.

Well, he knew you had no choice but to take it.  So maybe not so much that you could, but that you would.

“So tight, doll, especially when you try to fight it,” he praised, groaning when your walls pulsed around him again.  “You came when you were knocked out— twice.  Wanna see how many times I can make you come when you’re awake?”

You fought the instinct to writhe in protest, knowing now that it only egged him on.  

“There’s a good girl,” he groaned, “just lay there and take it, honey.  I’m just sorry you can’t feel all of me like you know you want to.  The last of the tranquilizer should wear off soon…”

No, no, that’s the only thing making this tolerable, you realized.  “No…” you managed to mumble aloud, though it was broken and nearly inaudible.

A harsh slap landed on your ass and your body jerked with the pain.

“What’s that, doll?  Can’t hear you,” he mocked.  

“Bucky…” you murmured, still barely able to believe that he was doing this.  He’d acted weird around you a few times, Steve had told you it wasn’t a big deal—

Steve… Steve would help you.

“Steve?” you slurred.

“What is it, pet?” his voice echoed from behind you.

He’s already here?

The realization made your gut sink.  He was already here.  Your turn, you remembered someone saying; it was him.  He’d been here a long time, hadn’t he?

“Want me instead, huh?  Buck’s not doin’ it for ya?” Steve laughed.

“Shut up, punk,” Bucky groaned.  “She’s gonna cream on my cock any second, I can tell.”

“Go ahead then,” Steve encouraged you, “come for him if you like it so much.”

“No…” you managed to sigh again, but it wasn’t to them this time; it was to yourself.  You needed to stop this, because Bucky was right and you weren’t ready to cope with that in this moment.  You needed to hate this, it needed to hurt.  And both of those things were true… but you were going to come in spite of it.  Or, perhaps, because of it.  

You started to sob as your mind warred with your body, as pleasure and fear and dread and disgust were all overshadowed by a deep primal need.

Bucky leaned down, his body crushing yours as his teeth nipped at your neck.  “You’re drooling all over the mattress, sweetheart; our brainless little fuckdoll, so stuffed with cock you can’t think.”

A tingle ran up your spine so strongly that your back arched involuntarily, pushing his cock even deeper into you.  Bucky grinned and you would’ve grimaced if you could move your face that much.  “Oh, you like that, don’t you?  We knew you needed to let go, but you would never do it on your own.  That’s what the drugs were for, to loosen you up a bit.  But you’re awake now, and you’re finally realizing how good it is to be owned, aren’t you?  Nobody’s here but us, baby, we won’t tell anyone how much you love it.  It’ll be our little secret.”

Out of nowhere, you came.  It was dulled and distant as it fought against the effects of the drugs, but undeniable.  You felt hot all of a sudden, like you would burn up, as you shivered and tightened involuntarily.  You could really feel him now, every ridge and vein, every detail sliding along your insides and stretching you impossibly wide.  It felt like it wouldn’t stop so long as he didn’t stop fucking you; your skin erupted into goosebumps, even though you felt anything but cold.

“Just like that, doll… so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through your bones.  “Squeezin’ me so goddamn tight, I could come right now—”

“No!” you yelped.

“Is that the only word you know?” he hissed.

“Not… not inside…” you murmured.  

“Not inside?  Doll, Stevie already filled this filthy little cunt,” Bucky informed you with a purr.  “You couldn’t even tell, huh?  Don’t worry, you’re gonna feel it this time.”

You whimpered but couldn’t put a sentence together, focusing most on not moaning every time he thrusted into you; his balls slapping into your clit was just enough sensation to keep you on the edge, but his thick head massaging your g-spot was too intense to ignore.

When you opened your eyes, you could see Bucky’s long hair falling in front of your face, and his hand reaching out to interlace his fingers with yours.  How could he do something so intimate, like he couldn’t feel the restraint around your wrist as he did it?

“I’m close, sweetheart, you’re gonna make me come,” he grinned, and it was weirdly prideful.  Like he knew that some part of you craved for his approval.  Of course you did; he was your superior, your Sergeant, your boss.  You just didn’t intend for this to be the way you got it.  

Thunk.  Thunk.  Thunk.  Thunk.

You bit down on your lip to keep quiet, hoping you could give no reaction at all.  It didn’t work, because just as he’d promised, you could feel his cock flexing and pulsing, you could feel his seed pumping into you.  A groan of protest slipped from your lips, louder than you’d expected.  It seemed to go on forever, or maybe it was just because you knew the potential this had… he’d said Steve had come inside you, too.  You just hoped they’d let you go in time to get a Plan B.  Surely they were going to let you go soon, now that he was done and they’d both had their turn.

The idea of them taking turns with your body made you feel sick.  So did the rush of hot liquid that oozed out of you as Bucky pulled his cock out.

“Can you go again, Buck?” Steve asked gruffly.

“Sure,” Bucky answered, seemingly just as curious as you were as to why he would ask that.

“Get under her,” he demanded.

“Wh… what…?” you moaned sleepily, trying to understand what was happening.  You were being lifted and manhandled, limp in his arms, as Bucky slipped under your body and wrapped his arms around you.  Your head laid against his chest as you pulled at your restraints again, more determined than before but just as fruitless.

Another weight moved in behind you; Steve, of course.  You could tell by the little laugh he made as his rough hands moved up the backs of your legs.

“Your pussy looks completely ruined,” Steve informed you, “like it was meant to be.”

He reached down and gathered some of the come that had leaked out of you— yours, Bucky’s and his own all mixed together— on two of his fingers and pushed it back into you.  You winced and struggled, even just his fingers big enough to stretch you.  Then again, anything was big enough to reignite the pain in your sore channel by this point.

“But this hole is still untouched,” he added, his fingers slipping out of you and trailing up to— oh.

“N-no,” you moaned quietly, “not there…”

“Not where, honey?” Steve taunted, his wet fingers drawing circles over your puckered opening.

“Not… not in my ass,” you pleaded weakly.  You could hear Bucky’s heartbeat get faster next to your ear.  “You can use my pussy again just… not there, please.”

“Oh, so generous,” Steve grinned, but his amusement turned to anger as he slapped the inside of your thigh.  You squealed with the pain, jerking inside Bucky’s embrace, and Steve hit you a few more times.  “Bargaining with your body as if it’s yours in the first place.  Stupid whore.  Both these holes are mine, you understand?”

You cried out when he hit you again, the telltale burning of oncoming tears starting to sting the backs of your eyes.  But you refused to cry.

“Do you understand?” he repeated, firmer.

“Yes, Captain!” you blurted out, an old habit from when you were at work.  You felt your face burn with shame as both of them laughed at your obedience.

“Such a good soldier,” Steve praised.  “I know you can take it, baby, if you just relax and let it feel good.  I’ll make it good for you.  Buck’s gonna keep that greedy little cunt full, too; won’t you, Sarge?”

“Yes, Cap,” Bucky grinned, rubbing his cock through your swollen folds again.  You hadn’t anticipated that their stamina would apply to this. They’re going to keep me here for a while, aren’t they?

As Bucky teased your clit with his fat and leaking head, Steve pushed his fingers into your hole.  You tried to relax through the burn, gasping and groaning in spite of yourself.

“Ever been touched here before?” Steve asked, curling his fingers inside you until you let out a little moan.  “Doesn’t seem like it.  You were always hard at work, never had time for a boyfriend did you?  Not one that knew how to treat you right, at least.”

“Is this your idea… of treating me right?” you hissed through heavy breaths.  “Knocking me out?  Chaining me up?”

“That was just the only way to get you to let us take care of you,” Bucky explained.  “This is treating you right.”

Before you could ask what he was referring to, both of them pressed their cocks into your holes.  Bucky’s cock slid in with a hint of pain, but Steve’s hit more resistance— not that that stopped him.

You screamed, knocked out of the last of your drug-induced haze and thrown head-first into reality.  Sick, stinging, sharp reality.  Your arms pulled at the chains as your legs kicked wildly.  Steve grabbed your ankles as they swung by, pushing your legs up and holding them down until you were forced to straddle Bucky.  The new angle made you feel somehow more exposed to both of them.

“Shut up and take it,” Steve groaned darkly.  They both pushed in deeper, their cocks getting thicker the further down you got, and your eyes rolled back into your head.  

“That’s it, just let go, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered.  “You can take it, you were made for us, you can take it…”

You were too overwhelmed to process his words, though, as they kept filling you and you wondered if it would ever stop.  You wondered if you wanted it to stop, even though it was painful and degrading and beyond twisted.

“Almost done, honey, you’re takin’ us so well,” Steve cooed.

“She might pass out, Steve,” Bucky realized as he examined your face, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Maybe then she’ll stop fighting,” he shrugged in reply.

Bucky was buried all the way into you, but there was still some of Steve left to take and you were sure it wouldn’t fit.  You already felt so full that you could barely breathe.  Just to rub it in, Steve slammed that last inch into you, knocking the wind out of your lungs.

“Fuck,” Steve sighed, “you feel so good, babygirl.  The others call you a tightass behind your back, did you know that?  They don’t know how right they are…”

“Talk to me, soldier; are you still with us?” Bucky asked, slapping your cheek lightly to get your attention.  You nodded quickly.  “Feel how full you are, doll?”  You nodded again.  “You like it, don’t you?”

You stayed silent this time.  

“No need to pretend, honey, we can tell,” Steve groaned.  “You’re dripping all over the both of us, and your cute little ass is clenching around me.”

“Just say it,” Bucky moaned.  “Say you love it.”

“I… I love it,” you stammered, hoping that it was just to appease them.

“Then ride our cocks, like the little slut you are,” Steve demanded, smacking your ass one more time.  You tried to lift your hips, shuddering with the way it moved both of them inside you, but it was so difficult with your weak and aching muscles.  When you did it again, you fell suddenly with a wavering groan.

“Too weak, baby?  You’re so pathetic; let me show you how,” Steve offered, grabbing your hips tightly and lifting them with almost no effort.  You moaned, properly, as he used your body and dropped you up and down on his and Bucky’s cocks roughly.  “The least you could do is sit up; go on, put your hands on Buck’s shoulders and arch that back, show me how bad you want it.”

The chains were long enough that you could do it, though looking down at Bucky and the metal cuffs on your wrist was a lot to take in.  With a groan of pain, your wobbling arms lifted you up.

“I knew you could be a good girl,” Steve sighed, moving your body faster against his as his grip left bruises in the shape of his fingertips on your skin.

Bucky reached up and wrapped his cold metal hand around your neck, choking you suddenly.  Both men groaned as the loss of air made you flutter around them.  “Fuck, you like that, huh?  You like getting choked, doll?  Dirty slut.”

When he finally let go, it was like all the sounds that had been caught in your throat came out at once.  A groan, a sigh, a moan, and a sob churned together to make something inhuman and debasing.  They were fucking you like animals, you were shackled and bound like an animal, and now you sounded like an animal.

“Do you wanna breathe, doll?  Or do you wanna come?” Bucky growled.  

“I wanna… I wanna come,” you moaned.  The hand on your neck tightened again, and the tingles of lost sensation spread over your body quickly.  You were so close to coming again that you could barely imagine how it happened so fast.  They were reaching every sensitive spot inside you— rather, they were turning every spot inside you into a sensitive one.  The loss of air only pushed you closer, and you wanted to scream but all you could do was dig your fingernails into Bucky’s shoulders as it hit you hard.  You went completely limp in their arms, only Bucky’s hand holding you upright.  He relaxed his grip, still tight enough to keep you completely aware of his power over you, but loose enough that you could breathe.

“Don’t stop coming, sweetheart, I love seeing you do it,” Steve beamed.  “You can give us a few more before we’re done— right, Buck?”

“I don’t know man, she feels really good,” Bucky moaned, choking you again so you wouldn’t interrupt their conversation.

“Get it together, man,” Steve teased, “you can’t get all sentimental on me again.”

“I can’t help it, okay?  Been waiting for this for so long…”  Bucky trailed off, or maybe it was just that your hearing was fading out as the loss of air pushed you towards the beckoning darkness.

You gasped when he let go again, your moans turning into sobs and tears finally rolling down your cheeks.  You’d sworn you wouldn’t let them see you cry, but you couldn’t even remember that now.

“Such a cute little crybaby,” Steve purred, slamming into you faster.  “Can’t take it anymore, huh?  It’s too much for you?”

“Please…” you whispered, so hoarse that you couldn’t recognize it as yourself.

“‘Please’ what, doll?” Bucky pressed, massaging your neck in his palm.

You didn’t know what you were begging for, truly.  Bucky choked you again, grinning up at you and fucking you rougher than before.

“I know what you want: you wanna come again, yeah?  So needy… this’ll be, what, the fifth today?  Go ahead, princess, show us how bad you need us.”

They all started to blend together after that.  Just one big haze, interlaced with so much sensation that you couldn’t parse any of it into separate incidents.  Steve leaned forward to suck a mark on the back of your neck; Bucky used his free hand to twist your nipples and slap your tits, before moving down to roughly rub your aching clit with his thumb.  Bucky came first but stayed inside while Steve roughly pumped into your ass.  Without the distraction of Bucky’s movement inside you, you became more aware of how far Steve’s cock was stretching you.  He came with a cry and Bucky’s fingers pulled another orgasm from you, too.  He never stopped rubbing you there, not even when they’d both stopped moving and you were too exhausted to do anything but take it.  It made your body jolt even though your muscles ached and begged for rest.  You vaguely remembered begging for rest, too, but you didn’t get it until Bucky was satisfied.

When they both pulled out, you could feel the hot sticky mess gush from your holes; it was disgusting, and yet you felt a weak pang of arousal run up your spine.  Bucky slipped out from under you with an exhausted groan of his own, leaving you to flop down onto the bed lifelessly.  

“Get some rest, honey,” Steve encouraged.  “We’ll help you shower when you wake up.”

Any other day and you would’ve needed to shower first before you could fall asleep again, not to mention having your wrists freed from the chains.  But you were already nearly gone by this point, your eyes heavy again as your mind went blank.

The last thing you heard was a heavy steel door slamming shut: thunk.

[sweetbitterimpossiblecreature]

A Brief And Concise Summary Of Is Wrong With The ACOTAR Series

I think we can agree that a lot of ACOTAR is pretty iffy. Consider this a very brief refresher.

What's Wrong With Feyre/Rhysand (juxtaposed against Feyre/Tamlin)

Rhysand drugs and sexually assaults her in Book 1

This is "for her own good". Because he "has no choice". Despite the fact that, from what we know of the plot, Amarantha thinks that Clare Beddor was the one Rhysand was diddling, and is only interested in Feyre because Rhysand, "her" man male, has taken an interest in her.

If we extrapolate from this we can figure that Rhysand is the one directly putting her into danger.

Now, let's be clear: drugging someone is bad. Sexually assaulting someone is bad. One could argue there were extenuating circumstances. But if, in such a situation, what your mind goes to is "I know, I should assault this person... for their safety" I have questions about your moral qualities. There were a million things he could have done. He could have done whatever he did to Clare - that is, remove her ability to feel any pain - easily. He could have helped her escape. Under The Mountain, he - while still there unwillingly - has a lot of power, as Amarantha's side piece. Maybe this would have resulted in him being punished- however, he is hundreds of years old and a badass motherfucker, and she is a nineteen year old human girl.

Now, onto Tamlin. Obviously not a lot of people really ship F/T anymore after ACOMAF, because compared to F/R, it's boring. I read another person's post about it, which was very enlightening: they said that Feyre's personality is essentially a mirror. When she is with Rhysand, she's snarky and malicious- because she is "bouncing off" his energy. When she's with Mor she's super feminist and "in awe of her strength". On the other hand, Tamlin is kind of an empty character. He's a pretty boy with anger issues, which should be more interesting than it is. SJM manages to make him bland. Because Feyre has nothing to bounce off of, (a lot of this is from the person's post), she and Tamlin together is mainly just him introducing her to his world.

What Tamlin Does: prevents a skinny twenty year old from going on dangerous missions with him and combat-trained soldiers, accidentally blows up a room with her in it, and, at the end, prevents her from leaving the house.

This is not a Tamlin apologist post. Obviously it was really fucking gross of him to do that, and their relationship was toxic. However, a lot of his abuse stems from their inability to communicate, as well as own negligence. He does not knowingly and purposefully sexually assault her or rape her mind. And tbh, leaving a girl without combat training at home while he goes on missions with a bunch of muscled sentries is... kind of reasonable?

Again: not a Tamlin apologist post. It was abuse. However, if Rhysand is "allowed" to sexually assault, mind-rape, and drug Feyre "for her own safety", why is Tamlin demonized for preventing her from leaving his mansion "for her own safety"?

Another pertinent point: Rhys is never punished for sexually assaulting her. It is brushed off as part of his "mask" or that his hand was forced. Jesus Christ my dudes, his hand was not forced under her skirt. If he has to maintain his gross rapist abuser tyrant oppressor mask... why? Who did that benefit beside him? None of his actions remotely helped Prythian. They were done solely for his buddies - five people safe in a rich hidden city - and no one else, which is explicitly stated.

Finally, the power dynamic is fucked up. Feyre is less than twenty five years old. Rhysand is 500. There is a tendency in fantasy romance to romanticize a centuries year old man with a young girl, because the man does not show symptoms of age, and so it is easily ignorable. However, can we just briefly acknowledge how fucked up it is? Rhys is over five times older than Donald Trump, Harvey Weinstein, Jeffrey Epstein, and other known predators/abusers. She is twenty. That is really fucking gross. She is in a vulnerable position and he takes rampant advantage of that.

If he had wrinkles, liver problems, and erectile dysfunction, more people would acknowledge it.

Let's be clear: I'm not saying writing a book with an uneven power dynamic is automatically bad. For example, in The Locked Tomb series, which is in my opinion THE BEST FANTASY SERIES THAT HAS GRACED THIS EARTH (lol i'm starting fires), one main character Harrowhark Nonagesimus is in a position of power over Gideon Nav, the other main character. However, this is not glossed over or romanticized. Gideon resents Harrow for this- there is a relationship of mutual antagonism, fraught with unwilling familiarity and intimacy from growing up together. They are roughly the same age. While there is a certain power dynamic (in that world, there is a dynamic of necromancer and cavalier, i.e. sorcerer and sword) the "empowered" character (Harrow) emphatically respects her and does not abuse this power, although both would of course deny this, and she does make a show of threatening and being aloof. In short, while Gideon obeys her, Gideon also has power over Harrow, and the idea of what is essentially slavery is not romanticized.

Feyre Doesn't Face Any Consequences For Her Own Actions

Let me present a radical notion: a guy preventing you from leaving his house does not justify completely fucking ruining his country and harming the people inside it.

In other words: Tamlin does not deserve what she did to him.

I know that sounds iffy. We're conditioned to think that if someone is an abuser, then they are the scum of the earth, they deserve to die, torturing/murdering/doing anything to them is completely A-OK. However, here's another radical notion: someone harming you does not justify you doing worse.

Obviously, the effects of psychological abuse can cause you to hurt other people (see: Nesta), but Feyre deliberately and maliciously (oh, God, that insufferable POV of her in Spring Court; she reads like a cartoonish Disney villain) dismantles his country. She uses sexual manipulation (Lucien), torture (causing the sentry to be whipped), and mind-rape (who didn't she do this to? lol).

A summary of the entire first half of ACOWAR: "It smelled like roses. I hated roses. For this capital offense against my olfactory system, Tamlin and the entire Spring Court deserved to burn in hell. I knew exactly what I was doing. I smiled at him sweetly: no longer a doe, but a wolf. He didn't see my fangs.............." *aesthetic noises*

Man. I'm starting to think SJM had a horrible experience at a Bath & Body Works and took it out on the rest of us. Don't do it, Sarah!! I know Pink Chiffon and Triple Berry Martini are way too strong, but don't take it out on an innocent population!!

She steals from Summer Court (there are, yk, other solutions to theft. Like maybe asking politely) and ruins Spring Court. Her boyfriend - yeesh sorry, MATE - does nothing while a dozen Winter Court children are murdered.

Now: moral ambiguity is not automatically bad. Again using The Locked Tomb as an example, in the second book (spoiler alert), Harrowhark has a sort of moral ambiguity. She was raised from the beginning to worship the King Undying as God, and so she obeys him without question. Because of this, she commits a lot of crimes in His name: she "flips" - i.e. kills - the life force of planets, and she plots murder (albeit the murder of someone who tried to kill her first). There is no attempt to justify this. There is also no attempt to paint her as a virtuous and yet also badass Madonna figure. She is desperate, plagued with the "wreck of herself", and the book clearly displays her moral pitfalls. While her POV is of course colored by her mindset, it also is limited by her lack of information, and we as readers can acknowledge that.

BACK TO ACOTAR: Feyre is seen by everyone as gorgeous, formidable, and essentially perfect. Rhys sees her as flawless, "made for him", wonderful, beautiful, blah blah blah. (THEY ARE SO BAD FOR EACH OTHER; THEY EXCUSE AND GLORIFY EACH OTHER'S CRIMES, IT'S SO BAD, GUYYYS). Tamlin is insanely batshit in love with her, or whatever. To the Night Court she's the High Lady. In this way she personifies the Mary Sue character. (Excerpt from the TV Tropes page on Mary Sues: "She's exotically beautiful, often having an unusual hair or eye color, and has a similarly cool and exotic name. She's exceptionally talented in an implausibly wide variety of areas, and may possess skills that are rare or nonexistent in the canon setting. She also lacks any realistic, or at least story-relevant, character flaws — either that or her "flaws" are obviously meant to be endearing. She has an unusual and dramatic Back Story. The canon protagonists are all overwhelmed with admiration for her beauty, wit, courage and other virtues, and are quick to adopt her as one of their True Companions, even characters who are usually antisocial and untrusting; if any character doesn't love her, that character gets an extremely unsympathetic portrayal." Sound familiar?)

There is the Ourobous scene. And yet, paradoxically, while presented as an acknowledgment of her flaws, it is in fact a rejection of them. She sees her own brutality... and instead of recognizing that she has these deep, deep moral flaws and realizing that she needs to grow and be better, she in fact "accepts" them.

Guys: Self love means: "I'm important to me, so I'm going to get a massage today after work", or "heck, why not splurge on some expensive lotion, you only live once" or "you know what? I had a tough day today. I'm going to get that strawberry cupcake". SELF LOVE DOES NOT MEAN "oh, I accept all the war crimes I have done, I love myself". LOVING YOURSELF DOES NOT MEAN ABSOLVING YOURSELF OF ALL WRONGDOING.

It's this refusal to acknowledge wrongdoing that is so grating about ACOTAR. It's so goddamn one-sided. And you can tell that after Book 1, SJM decided to completely change the trajectory simply because of how jarring Book 2 reads compared to the first one.

Also: Feyre is a very, very young girl (compared to the other ruling fey) who did not know how to read for the majority of her life. She has no experience whatsoever in politics. Her being High Lady is not a win for feminism.

Rhysand: He Sucks

First, he is 500 years old. He should be written as such, not as some 20 year old virile frat boy feminist. Fantasy is all the more compelling for its elements of realism, which is a concept that SJM does not appear to grasp.

Second of all, his morals are absurd. He is written as the Second Coming of Christ, as someone who can do no wrong, ever, and his flaws only serve to make Feyre love him more. Anything shitty he does is written as part of his "mask" and she can See Beneath It and knows that it "hurts" him to maintain this "mask".

Fellas, WHY DOES HE HAVE TO MAINTAIN THIS MASK???? There is no reason for it. If A) he does not give a shit about Court of Nightmares (we'll get back to that), only about Velaris, and B) Velaris is hidden/protected from the world, what is he pretending for?

It would not hurt him politically to be seen as someone who cares about his country.

"Pretending" to be "Amarantha's whore" does not in any way shape or form benefit the macro-world that is Prythian. In Amarantha's name, he commits atrocities. He commits war crimes; he systemically oppresses entire societies. It doesn't even really benefit Velaris, because Velaris is already hidden.

Let me put this in a real-world perspective. This would be like if Donald Trump was suddenly like: "I know I was a shitty president but IT WAS ALL PART OF MY MASK, WHICH WAS TO PROTECT THIS MICROCOSM OF PRIVILEGED PEOPLE THAT I CARE ABOUT". Like: okay? Sorry, or whatever, but I don't actually give a shit. What about the parents of the children who died? What about Clare Beddor? What about the people who were held in slavery, murdered, tortured?

Rhysand: omg it sucks that my cousin Mor was oppressed by this toxic misogynistic culture from the Court of Nightmares.

Also Rhysand: lol whatever, who gives a shit about Court of Nightmares. They all suck. They meanie. Lol what did you say? That there might be other girls just like Mor who are oppressed by this system? Lol whatever. I can't do anything, I gotta maintain my Mask. I gotta sit on this throne and show the entire Court that not respecting women is completely okay.

In summary: by parading Feyre around as his "whore" (!!) he demonstrates by example that it is completely okay for the Court of Nightmares to abuse their women.

A good ruler cares about all his people. Rhysand cares about a tiny tiny fraction of his people: those who were fortunate enough to be born into Velaris.

God, I'm exhausted. Onto Nesta:

The only character who successfully breaks the Mary Sue effect Feyre exerts on her people is Nesta. Her POV for the first half is a joy to read.

Obviously it sucks that Nesta was a huge bitch to Feyre for the beginning of her childhood. However, it was wrong for Rhysand to threaten her- he is a man male with a huge insane amount of power, and it is not okay for him to threaten to bring the brunt of it down on a young girl because she was a bitch to his girlfriend.

I've seen a lot of discourse on the morality of F/R sending her out of Velaris. Here is my two cents:

It was okay for them to cut her off of their money. If they don't want to enable her self-harm, that is their choice. Again, it's their money, even if it wasn't fairly earned (Rhysand born into an enormous fortune).

It was not okay for them to banish her from Velaris with the implication that she was an embarrassment. Let me explain.

If Rhysand and Feyre are talking to her as sister/brother-in-law, then that is that. They have the complete right to express disapproval and try to help. However, they should not be using their royal privilege against her.

If they are talking to her as ruler to subject, then they have the power to banish her from the city. However, a ruler would not give a shit about a random subject getting drunk and having sex. So, they should not be talking her about her problems as a ruler to subject.

I've heard it compared to her being sent to rehab. However, rehab is a system designed to help people with certain problems. It has specialized medical centers and involves therapy. Nesta gets her life threatened multiple times. It is not rehab.

In summary: why did SJM inflict this upon us. Throne of Glass was actually good! GAHHH! After the first few books she completely whipped around and introduced the idea of males and mates and fey and that C is actually A and the quality took a huge nosedive. Sigh.

Final horrible but unmistakable truth: The entire ACOTAR series reads like a bad A/B/O fic. I hate to say it but it's true. We're lucky there were no heat cycles. OH WAIT

[cdroloisms]

haha your snippit abt the dispenser got me thinking.

Dream gets let out of prison and he talks constantly, whatever is on his mind. And he's positive all the time. To a fault where people walk over him. And it doesn't make sense because he was tortured right???? But after an incident they find out it's because he hates the sound of silence and needs constant reminders that other people are there. Also he was punished for any negative emotions in the prison so his default is happy now,,,

hi anon !! this concept makes me SO goddamn sad ,, the idea that he Has to be happy bc anything else would mean punishment im so *punches the walls*

this ,, ficlet is honestly. pretty ooc, not really related to the ask at all, and mostly an excuse for me to cry abt c!dream and c!punz for an excessive amount of time (technically the vote on twitter was supposed to have this as c!sapnap pov, but i just wrote one for him so i went for c!punz instead. mostly bc i wanted to write him LMAO). hopefully someone enjoys it despite *gestures vaguely* all of that mess

tw: trauma, disordered eating, implied torture/abuse, blood, injuries, unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional distress, thoughts of murder/mercy killing, mentioned animal death, dark content

In the end, it’s all rather anticlimactic, the complete opposite of Dream’s vault and the whole fiasco of adrenaline and theatrics that had made up that day. Quackity ended up having one too many drinks, bragged about the wrong thing to the wrong person - Punz doesn’t know the specifics, only knows that one thing has led to another and suddenly Sapnap was screaming at his ex-fiancé, sword pointed at his chest and tears streaming down his eyes in the middle of the Community House floor, everyone else stood around and watching. A look into Quackity’s office said everything he didn’t - the chests and chests of used and new tools, shiny and sharpened and completely rusted over with blood and everything in between. There’s been a balled up shirt in the wastebasket, completely unsalvageable from how saturated it was with blood, more red than white, and perhaps most chilling of all the calendar, marked with X after X in red pen, going back months and speaking to their utter failure to see what had been happening all but right in front of them.

With Quackity down, Sam caved not too long after, and with his input getting into the prison was no challenge at all. The only thing holding them back were bad memories and the tense, worried edge to Sam’s jaw as he led the small group of them - himself and Sapnap, actually entering the facility, Bad and Puffy waiting outside - carrying them through winding corridor after winding corridor and lava pit after lava pit, until they’d come to stand before a chasm filled with flowing lava, slowly draining before the main cell.

“I- I have to warn you,” Sam had muttered, uncharacteristically hesitant, “it looks…pretty bad,” and Punz would’ve questioned him further, but the lava had fallen far enough to reveal the topmost edge of the cell, so they let Sapnap hound the Warden for information as they directed their full attention on the cell itself and holy shit.

Nothing Sam said could’ve possibly have prepared them for the sight - it was a complete fucking bloodbath, crimson painting the walls and smeared over the floor and splattered over every visible surface like some abstract art experiment gone wrong. The stench of iron and burning flesh and viscera was awful, even over the gap marked by the still-draining lava. Punz strained his eyes; at the very back of the cell, huddled, unmoving, was a similarly bloodstained shape that must’ve been Dream. They remember the crack of Sapnap’s knuckles meeting Sam’s face and breaking his nose, remember themselves chucking a pearl and feeling along Dream’s neck desperately for a pulse - everything beyond that became a swirl of voices and panic and crying that makes their head hurt to think about, so they don’t.

Recovery is…messy. The physical side had been bad enough - pulling Dream out of the cell, barely breathing, limp in his arms and far too light, all Punz could think about was a sheep he’d found a year ago, frail and struggling to breathe, one he’d ended up killing - quick and painless - with a sword through the skull because it seemed kinder than letting it suffer. Watching Dream struggle on the bed, laid up in Bad’s mansion because none of them knew if he’d survive going any further, body resisting the potions they’d slowly forced down his throat after being so over-saturated on them, temperature spiking and heat baking into his skin like the lava from the prison had been imprinted onto his body, Punz feels the same strange mixture of pity and unease, wonders if it’d be a hell of a lot kinder if they just put him out of his fucking misery.

Still, because Dream is a stubborn bastard, against all odds, he ends up surviving - his fever breaks, the potions begin taking effect, and a few tireless, aching days later his eyes flutter open, lucid for the first time in a week. Punz isn’t even in the room when he wakes, only knows that it happens because the too-quiet room suddenly erupts in noise and activity, muffled thumps and sounds of a struggle undercutting Bad’s frantic calls for someone to help, anyone, and they run into the room to find Dream thrashing on the bed, wounds reopened and blood dripping onto the sheets, eyes wild and wide as his head whips from side to side so hard Punz is half-afraid that he’ll straight up break his neck. Somehow, worst of all, not a single scream falls from his lips, nothing but muffled whines squeezing past his mouth, clenched shut, and for a singular, awful second they wonder how long it took before he realized that screaming was useless.

Fortunately enough for them, or unfortunately, it’s not like he can tell the fucking difference anymore, the panic and strain end up with Dream passing out altogether, and they trade uneasy glances with Bad before going to clean off the worst of his wounds. If everything they’re doing feels hopeless, dressing up wounds that’ll be torn open hours later when Dream is awake enough to feel fear but not much else because he’s forgotten what it’s like to not be afraid - well, that’s for them to think and everyone else to pretend not to agree with.

Weeks pass along the same vein - Dream wakes up, panics; they try to calm him down, fails; he falls back into unconsciousness, and they move on and pretend that they’re cleaning up wounds from battle and not from someone that’s literally been tortured for months on end. People stop by, occasionally; Puffy spends more time than not inside the mansion, but hardly ever enters the door into Dream’s room, Sapnap and George drop by occasionally with potion brewing supplies that the rest of them can’t go out to get; once, he’d gone out to the front door to find a chest with an enchanted golden apple, sender nowhere in sight. He knows that the server is busy; Quackity’s admission had brought more than a few secrets to light, and from what they understand, the political fallout has been pretty damn messy. Still, he stays in the mansion, and watches.

He doesn’t exactly know why he stays. They’re not a stellar healer, not beyond what they know to dress their own wounds, and spend most of their time doing odd-and-ends tasks for Bad, who looks more tired than ever. Maybe it’s because he’s seen Dream at his worst more than the rest of them, had been there through his entire fall from grace, watched as his eyes became clouded with anger and madness and a single, desperate hope that he’d chased at the cost of his world and himself. Maybe it’s because they have no ties to the rest of the server - not to Las Nevadas, falling apart under the scrutiny of the eyes that now fall upon it, not Snowchester, caught up in the chaos, not the Badlands, half-dissolved after the fiasco of the Egg and with Sam’s actions having just come to light. Maybe it’s because above everything else, he feels guilty.

They’d thought the prison was the answer. It’d seemed too simple, back in that Vault - a perfect answer, because everyone else was perfectly happy to watch Dream die another time and some part of them had clenched painfully at the thought even thought they knew it was for the best. The prison meant that he’d be alive, if angry, and at some point when he had the time or the nerve or the guts he could go and visit, and they would talk, and Dream would be angry but with time maybe he could even understand.

They hadn’t wanted this. He can’t imagine anyone wanting this.

“Punz?” They don’t jump at the voice at their back, they don’t, but Bad still has a tiny, tight-lipped smile when they turn around anyway, eyes creased in the corners and still not as bright as they’d been before the Egg. Bad looks at him knowingly, setting a bowl of soup into his hands. “For Dream, if you can get him to eat.” He shifts a pointed gaze towards the door. “Maybe you two could talk.”

“About what?” The words come out harsher than they intend, and they take a moment to bite back the mostly self-directed anger that Bad doesn’t deserve to receive the brunt of. “I just-” he waves his hand in the air, trying to articulate the mess that is his relationship with Dream without the words to explain it. “I don’t know, man.”

“You don’t have to talk about everything,” Bad says, calm as always, eyes flicking down to the bowl of soup in his hands. “Just start with the soup.”

Punz sighs. “I’ll try.”

He enters the room in a single, fluid motion, mostly because he knows that if he were to stop at the door then he’d never actually make his way in. Dream flinches back when they enter, eyes going wide and stance going rigid, and the familiarity doesn’t make the sight any easier to bear as they wait, as always, for Dream’s eyes to clear enough for him to realize he’s in the mansion and not stuck in that same obsidian hellhole.

“I brought soup,” they say, finally, when Dream looks up. Dream’s lips twitch up in what he probably means as a smile; between the still-healing gashes on his face and the fear that flashes over his expression, still, it comes out as more of a grimace.

“Thanks.” Dream looks away. “I’ll eat it later.”

Liar, Punz thinks tiredly, moving closer to set the bowl down on the nightstand by the bed. They frown as Dream’s expression goes slack and distanced, again, eyes fixed to stare blankly at the wall once again.

“You should have some now,” he tries, careful to keep his words even. “You need the calories.”

“I’m good,” Dream says, automatic, just shy of sincere. “Thank you.”

“Dream,” they don’t quite succeed at keeping a displeased sigh from falling from their lungs, and bite back a curse at themselves when Dream pulls back with a silent flinch. It’s so goddamn hard, to talk to this version of Dream, both of them feeling around the edges of their relationship like walking on goddamn eggshells. A few months ago, he would’ve straight up called Dream out on his bullshit, get it through his thick skull that the whole ‘I’m fine and don’t need anyone’ act was stupid and completely failing to convince him. Here, they bite back another sigh, look forlornly at the bowl of the soup on the nightstand, sure to go uneaten once again, and force themselves to sound completely neutral when they speak again. “Alright. You’ll have to eat at some point, though.”

“Mmhm,” Dream hums noncommittally, once again staring at the wall. Punz stares at his hands. This is so fucking pointless.

“So,” they say after a few seconds, Bad’s words echoing in their head - they can try to make an effort to talk, sure. It’s just that Dream’s not going to cooperate. “How are you, man?”

The words come out stilted, awkward. He looks up to watch Dream’s expression, as the other man begins to gnaw on the inside of his cheek.

“I’m good,” he says, words deliberately light. “You?”

“Dream…”

“I’m fine.” Dream’s voice sharpens suddenly, breath hitching, before he shakes his head and turns his head away. “I’m fine.”

Punz looks at him incredulously. “Are you serious? Do we need to get into exactly how not-fine you are?” They wave a hand in his direction, jaw clenching when he rears back. “Do ‘fine’ people lose their minds from someone waving at them, now?”

“I-” For a second, Dream glares at him, eyes burning with a familiar, irritated fire that Punz knows all-too-well from having it directed at him a few too many times, before it suddenly dies and Dream is swinging his head back to the bedsheets, hands tightening on the cloth as he stammers. “I- What do you want?”

Punz breathes a soft sigh, regret blooming in the center of their chest. “Sorry,” he mumbles, careful to keep their gestures overly-telegraphed and away from the other man’s face. “I’m just- you’re not okay, man. No one’s expecting you to be okay after...all of that.”

“But why?”

Dream’s voice is small, nearly a sob, and Punz directs wide, alarmed eyes to where he’s hunched in over himself, knees pulled to his chest, hands staring at the sheets pulled over them. “Why?” he says, again, quieter, lip trembling slightly.

“Because you were tortured,” Punz begins, words slow as they watch Dream’s expression, trying to pull out the thoughts behind his averted eyes, “Because the cell was inhumane, and nobody deserves to be treated like that. Because you were hurt very, very badly because of what we did, and none of us are expecting you to be fine right after going through months of trauma.” He pauses. “You know that, right?”

“But I’m out,” Dream says, quiet, disbelieving, instead of answering their question. “I’m out of there. It’s over. It’s- everything’s good,” he whispers, more to himself than to them, hands curling into fists and then uncurling. “I’m- they said I would never get out. And I’m outside, and it’s not- not the cell, and I get real food, and Quackity doesn’t visit anymore,” he shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut as his breath catches in his throat. “I’m happy- I should be happy. Right?”

“Oh Dream,” the other man flinches back, breath quickening, and Punz’s hand stops short from where he’d almost let it fall onto the other’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be happy, man. Not- not after all of that. Not if you’re not ready yet.” Dream’s eyes, wide and wet, rise to look at their own, and they feel more than hear the soft, wounded noise that leaves their lips. “It’s ok to be hurt. It’s ok to be scared. No one’s blaming you, alright? No one’s gonna hurt you anymore.”

This, more than anything, seems to be the breaking point, because Dream collapses forward, hands flying up to pull at his tangled hair before Punz manages to ease them away and into his own hands, watching as he grips onto them until his knuckles go white. His breathing shudders, quiet, even his sobs muffled as to make as little noise as possible, and they murmur meaningless croons and hums as he cries into their chest.

“I wanna- I wanna be okay,” he hiccups, and Punz smooths his hair back behind their hand.

“I know,” he swallows around the lump that has risen in his own throat. “I’m sorry.”

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Ch. Twelve

⚠WARNING: Swearing, arguments, mention of past character's death

• ────── ✾ ────── •

“So, you’re the Osamu Y/N won’t stop talking about?”

You shove Makki’s face away from it’s imagined perch between yours and Osamu’s shoulders.

“Ouch! So mean~~~”

“You’re fine,” you reply with an eye roll. You knew your friends would want to tease you about Osamu’s appearance at group therapy, which just wrapped up. At least they waited until the five of you were outside and away from the other group session attendees. But that doesn’t mean that you welcome their inquisition.

“I apologize for my boyfriend.” Mattsun steps up. He offers his hand to Osamu. “Matsukawa Issei. The strawberry idiot is Hanamaki Takahiro.”

Osamu, still mute, reaches forward and grabs Mattsun’s hand. “Miya Osamu, but it looks like you know that already.”

You blush furiously as Mattsun grins at Osamu. “Yeah, we do.” Mattsun shoots you an evil look. “We all went to high school together, so we have all the dirt on Y/N whenever you want it.”

“Okay, that’s enough of that.” You interject and step between Mattsun and Osamu. You feel your face is burning with embarrassment so you turn your back to Osamu and give Mattsun a glare. He returns it with his own lecherous grin, with Makki perched on his shoulder with a shit-eating smile of his own.

A laugh behind you makes you crane your neck over your shoulder and you send another glare to Osamu.

“I might have to take ya up on that offer.”

You now realize that it may have been a bad idea to have Osamu, your dry, sarcastic friend, meet Mattsun and Makki, your dry, sarcastic and just as prone to stirring the pot friends.

“There will be no sharing of any stories, by anyone.” You know Mattsun and Makki have enough to fill books upon books of your previous exploits, but you’re also addressing Osamu, who for sure has a few embarrassing moments he could share.

Osamu, Mattsun and Makki chuchle at your request, and while you silently lament at that budding friendship that will only cause you future headaches, you notice Oikawa standing off to the side looking bored.

“Osamu, this is Oikawa Tooru,” you introduce him, knowing that he’s not jumping up to dazzle and charm. “Oikawa, this is Osamu.”

Oikawa turns his gaze to you, pausing to glare with all the contempt he can manage, before looking at Osamu. “I’ve just gone through an emotional and draining therapy session so I apologize for not being bright and unaffected like some of us.”

“Stop it,” you hiss at him. He’s not lying, as he always cries in group therapy (which you would never fault him for.) But you’re not sure if his jab at the end was directed at Osamu, who sat quiet and stoic for the entire meeting, or not.

Either way, Oikawa’s behavior right now is ridiculously inappropriate.

But Osamu just chuckles. “Nah, I get it. People have different emotional responses and cope differently.”

Oikawa doesn’t reply but his eyes narrowing means he’s not happy with Osamu’s mature response.

“Well after our sessions we usually go grab some dinner,” Makki says, trying to diffuse the tension. “You’re more than welcome to come with, Osamu.”

Bless your sweet heart, Makki, you think. He’s always nice and polite and you knew you could count on him to open the group to Osamu.

But of course Oikawa has to slam that door shut and lock it. “Oh, so sorry Osamu-kun but we actually have to discuss a gathering coming up soon.” He gives Osamu a simpering smile with no ounce of regret at all. “I’m sure you understand.”

Yet again, Osamu takes his rudeness in stride and nods. “Of course, I’m pretty tired anyway. But thanks for the invite.” He looks at you and smiles. “Coffee tomorrow?”

You nod, unable to speak around the rage bubbling in your gut. You don’t react when Osamu waves to your friends and walks away - you’re zeroed-in on Oikawa, who is expertly avoiding your gaze. You keep your anger reigned in as it threatens to explode.

“Oikawa,” you start in a low voice. Your teeth are grit together and your hands are shaking.

“I’m feeling dumplings for dinner.” Oikawa doesn’t even acknowledge you calling out to him before turning away and heading up the sidewalk. He also doesn’t bother checking to see if you guys are following him.

The arrogance and gall that Oikawa's showing to you guys, his friends, makes you see red. You open your mouth to scream when a hand rests on your arm.

“Not here,” Mattsun says. “Let’s talk like adults, c’mon.”

He pulls you forward, Makki flanking your other side. The three of you follow Oikawa's figure, now several yards ahead. You know your friends are close to you to try and keep you calm but your brain is supplying reason upon reason to pummel Oikawa into the ground.

He’s waiting for you all outside of a restaurant your group frequents, and when he spots you getting closer he goes inside.

He’s delusional if he thinks he’s safe there.

When you walk inside you catch him getting a table for four. Mattsun walks ahead and takes the empty seat next to Oikawa, leaving you and Makki to sit across from them. You’re glaring daggers at Oikawa, who still hasn’t looked your way.

The table is silent, even when a waiter comes by, fills the water glasses, and leaves. You don’t look away from Oikawa as he peruses the menu. The anger you feel is nearly boiling over, the contained fury making your hands shake again. The culmination of events from the past few weeks has brought you to this moment - it just took Oikawa being unnecessarily rude to Osamu, someone who does not deserve that kind of behavior, for you to finally address the issue.

“Oh, maybe we should do dumplings for Iwa-chan’s picnic celebration.”

Like a rubber band, you snap.

Your hand comes down on the table, hard. “I cannot believe how rude you were to Osamu. You had no right!”

Out of the corner of your eye you see other patrons glancing at your table, and Mattsun and Makki look ready to step in and intervene. But your eyes are trained on Oikawa, who has finally met your gaze. His eyes are sharp and his mouth pulled down.

“Well Osamu-kun wasn't the friendliest either.” Oikawa shoots back. “It wouldn’t have hurt him to be a bit more outgoing.”

“You said it yourself. It was an emotional and draining therapy session.” You smile meanly, relishing in throwing the words back in Oikawa’s face. “And it doesn’t help that you were being a total prick.”

“Hey guys, c’mon.” Makki speaks up but is ignored.

Oikawa replies to you scathingly. “Well excuse me for not wanting to be BFFS with the person that you’re replacing us with!”

“What are you talking about?” You ask, exasperated.

“You heard me.” Oikawa snaps. “You’ve barely been talking to us or hanging out with us since meeting Osamu, and it’s obvious that we’re being replaced.”

You laugh, tickled at Oikawa’s audacity. “I spent nearly every day with you last week, how can you say I’m replacing you?!”

“You’re only there because I asked you to be!” Neither if you are shouting yet but you know it’s not far off. “You’re not even there all the time, you’re texting Osamu when you’re supposed to be helping me!”

“Well maybe it’s because Osamu doesn’t make me feel like shit, and doesn’t constantly guilt me into being your friend.”

“Or maybe it’s because he’s giving you the kind of attention that we can’t give you.”

You freeze, a loud ringing echoing in your ears. “Excuse me?”

“Knock it off, guys.” Mattsun’s request falls on deaf ears. You’re both wading into dangerous territory, and some part of your brain is telling you to back off unless you want to ruin your friendship with Oikawa. But another, more feral part of your brain is telling you to ruin him.

“I don’t know what your fucking problem is Oikawa, but maybe you should take a look at how you’re treating your friends. And then realize that’s why no one wants to hang out with you.

“Maybe you’ll realize that monopolizing our time and punishing us for doing things without you isn’t the best way to keep us around.”

You don’t stop the sneer that comes across your face. “And you say that I’m a shit friend - you’ve haven’t been keeping up with me either. Makki and Mattsun are the only ones who have asked me how I’ve been. They’re the only ones who noticed that I’ve been losing weight and sleeping less. They’re the only ones who’ve asked if I’m okay when I’m clearly not, because they use their goddamn eyes and actually give a shit about someone other than themselves!

“I can barely get myself out of bed in the morning but somehow I still made time to wait on you hand and foot, and this is the thanks I get?” You're breathing heavily at the end of your rant, staring down your friend across the table.

Oikawa doesn’t give any indication that your words had any effect on him. “What do you want, Y/N?” He asks patronizingly. “You want a pass because you’re tired? We’re all fucking tired. You want sympathy because you miss Iwa-chan? We ALL miss him. What, do you think you’re special because you’re in love with him?”

A horrid silence settles on the table, more devastating than any barb you or Oikawa have flung at each other. You feel your heart jolt painfully in your chest and the air is pulled from your lungs in a whoosh.

“What?” Makki asks faintly.

You’re frozen still, staring at Oikawa who now has a matching look of horror on his face. His breathing picks up, and his eyes shimmer.

“What are you talking about?” Makki asks, his voice a bit stronger than before.

“Y/N.” You thaw enough to turn your head and meet Mattsun’s dark eyes boring into yours. “Do you love Iwaizumi?”

You glance back to Oikawa, who’s eyes have filled with tears. “Y/N-chan,” he gets out, audibly fighting through his tears.

Another beat passes before your flight instinct fully kicks in and you take off.

Your friends call after you, Oikawa’s distressed voice louder than the rest, but you don’t stop. You head out into the sidewalk, not bothering to stop the tears falling as you walk home alone.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: And there it is....Y/N's secret is out. Definitely not in the way that anyone wanted, let's hope things even out in the aftermath (😬😬😬) Thank you all for reading!

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @@bongofrito @babucrow @beidouluvr

[buckysgoldenheart]

The Reason You Cry

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: So, it’s just angst, I guess. Relationship issues and vulnerability and stuff like that. Personally, I don’t think it ends on a bad note, but some of you might. But basically, you’ve been closed off for too long and Henry can’t take it anymore.

Notes: relationship issues/vulnerability. Cursing. Yelling. I don’t know why i’ve done this...I just did.

Words: 1194

He was yelling, loudly. Perhaps rightfully so. This unspoken tension between you had been escalating and it was bound to hit a breaking point sooner or later. He’d been putting himself on the line for you, walking around with his heart out for everyone to see, while yours stayed locked up tight.

So, you couldn’t blame him, really. Not for being angry. Not for being hurt. And not for every word he threw that stung you until you began to feel like a human pin cushion. He’d bottled up everything you never gave him the chance to express. Every concern or subject of discussion he brought forth you shut down before the discomfort could set in. When it came to such relationship issues you had the tendency to want to crawl into a hole and pull the hole in after you, because if you never let yourself acknowledge issues with Henry, then you didn’t have to worry about their consequences.

But the balloon popped. The geyser burst. The bombs timer had ticked down to zero. Henry had been pushed, pulled and stretched to his limit. So now he yelled. And you let it happen because, truthfully, you felt it only fair. He wasn’t being unreasonable, and he wasn’t going to let you hide. It was time to face the damn music.

“Fuck,” He shouted, tugging the strands of his dark hair with all ten fingers as he paced around the room, only stopping when he spoke directly to you. He’d speak and then pace, speak and then pace, never breaking that wild look in his eyes. “Fuck,” he said again. “Why do you have to make such a goddamn idiot out of me?”

You winced but kept yourself as steady as possible. This was different. Henry didn’t yell at you, ever, and you had a hard time keeping yourself together. You hated the anger spewing from his lips, and the fire in his eyes, and the stomp to his step, but you needed to feel the full force of his hurt. The pain was in front of you now and you had to greet it.

“I’m walking around telling everyone I care about--hell, everyone I know--that you’re my girlfriend and I’m in love with you; that you’re the one I want forever, and this whole fucking time you’ve been unhappy!”

“I’m not unhappy,” You said back, calmly as you could without seeming meek.

He scoffed. “Right, no, of course not. You just tell your friends you’re miserable being with me for, what, fun?”

You watched as he pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan, as if saying the words aloud made him relive the moment he walked into your bedroom after coming home to hear you venting to whoever was on the other end of the phone.

“I’m not miserable with you,” You said.

“Then what are you, Y/N? Hmm?” His eyebrows rose in challenge. “Because you clearly aren’t in this with me. I try and try, but you keep me miles away! You don’t let me inside that head of yours! I mean, why the fuck haven’t you just broken up with me if you don’t want me?”

“Henry—”

“How is it that I am crazy about you, absolutely crazy, and you don’t feel anything even remotely close to that for me?” His voice was turning shaky. It was still powerful, still loud enough to command a room, but the ends of his sentences wobbled. “How the fuck did that happen?”

“Stop it, Henry.”

He began his pacing again; not watching where he was going but still evading the crowded furniture in your living room with ease. It was impressive, really. In his shoes, you would have been a mess, tripping over your own feet, blinded by the tears in your eyes as you pathetically crawled around on your hands and knees.

“God, I can’t believe this,” He mostly mumbled, but knew you could hear. “Have I really been so desperate for what I want that I didn’t even see—”

“I’m just scared.” You tried the truth, which you’d never dared to give him in the past. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Bullshit!”

Your body jerked back from the slap of his pure rage. “You don’t believe me?”

“No.”

“Fine then.” You crossed your arms. “Tell me, what is it? What’s wrong with me, Henry? What’s wrong with us?”

“You don’t love me!” He pointed a long finger at you. “You just like to play games! That’s what’s fucking wrong!”

“I do love you!” You finally bit back, but then you took a breath and quickly wiped the tears threatening to dribble down to your chin. You looked at him, and the stunned expression on his face unsettled you. But, of course, he would be surprised. You’d never told him before.

You shook your head to yourself. “I’m not used to this love. I’m not used to someone loving me the way you do,” You said, testing the waters to see if he’d make waves, but when he stayed silent, you continued. “I told my friend that I wasn’t sure if I could be with you because I didn’t want you to have to love someone who might never be able to fully love you in return. I figured it wasn’t fair. Because no matter how much I love you, I will always be guarded; and I don’t know how long it will take me to learn to love without being cripplingly afraid of the pain you would cause if you left me.” You sniffled and cursed yourself for the tears that finally fell, but you didn’t wipe them away. He needed to see them. He needed to see how deeply you felt. “Trust me, you don’t want that burden, Henry. No one does.”

He stepped towards you, tentatively as if approaching a skittish rabbit. “Y/N—”

You shook your head again, effectively cutting him off. “I need to…” Swallowing, you rubbed at your forehead with shaking hands. “I need to go. I’m sorry. I know that’s selfish, but I—”

His large, rough hand gripped yours firmly and he looked at you pleadingly. “Y/N…please don’t leave. Let’s just talk.”

You glanced from his eyes to the hand surrounding yours and back. “Let me go, Henry.” Your tone was even, somehow relaxed despite your every nerve quivering beneath your skin. “I will come back later, I promise, but let me go now.”

“How much later?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” You said, opting for the honest, up-front answer again. “But I’ll come back.”

A beat passed, but then his tight hold slowly slackened until you were able to slip your hand out of his grasp. Without a look back, you turned and let yourself out your own front door.

---

@moonlightimagination​ @xceafh​ @meganwinchester1999​ @agniavateira​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @summersong69​ @starlite13​ @mstgsmy​ @purplelove75​ @defffcc​ @the-soot-sprite​ @kissthatlifeaway @atomicpaperhairdouniversity​ @aquariuslavenderhoney​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @the-problem-of-leisure​ @amberlokabrenna​

[hyuckssunchip]

[8:55 pm] - Pt. 2 (happy)

Pairings: Taeyong x Reader

Words: 1.3K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), violence (hitting), angst

Synopsis:

‘when he hurts you’ boyfriend drabble

a misunderstanding escalates to something more, what will happen to their relationship??

(note: this is just a character, i trust that Taeyong would never use violence)

Tag list: @popsuhcle​ @ne0yong​

Part 1

It had been almost a week since Taeyong was able to get in touch with you, and although he was desperate to, he didn’t try very hard. He didn’t seem to have the time nor the will too. 

It had been almost a week when Doyoung showed up at your door.

By the look on his face he was more than drained by the constant work and practice he was putting into their next comeback. You couldn’t even imagine what Taeyong looked like. He always seemed to show his wear and tear the most. 

“Doyoung?”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Y/N, hi.” There was a pause, as if he was regretting coming here. “Can I come in?”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, not even realising that he was still standing in the doorway. Stepping away, you gestured for him to enter, taking notice of his heavy steps.

You offered him a glass of water and seat, which he gladly took, glancing with pitiful eyes in your direction. You weren’t dumb, you knew why he was here.

“Taeyong….” He started slowly, gauging your reaction, continuing only when he was sure that you weren’t going to kick him out. “I think you should talk to him, he’s not doing well.”

A frown flitted over your face, “What do you mean he’s not doing well?”

Doyoung just shook his head, “I don’t know much about what happened between you two, Taeyong wouldn’t tell me anything, but I know that whatever it is, it’s taking a toll on the both of you.”

He glanced at your appearance, and you tightened your jacket over your shirt. 

But any guilt or hurt quickly caved to anger, “Why should I be the one to reach out first? He was in the wrong and if he can’t talk to me… if he has to go through you… I don’t think that he’s really trying very hard.”

“I’m not going to defend him, because I don’t know what happened, but… he really does care about you. He’s just stressed and overwhelmed right now.” 

You cast your eyes downwards, fumbling with your sleeves. “That doesn’t make it okay.” You mumbled out.

Doyoung was silent for a while. 

“I know.”

He heaved a sigh, standing up from his seat with his hands in his pockets. “If you do want to talk it out, Taeyong’s been locked up in his studio for the past week. You’ll know where to find him.”

You shut your eyes tightly, jumping slightly as the soft slam of the door. A wave of guilt washed over you. Things had gotten out of hand then, it wasn’t like it was all his fault, you had egged him on. After all it takes two to tango.

You groaned, flopping onto the couch and throwing your arm over your face, heart already decided.

The familiar brown door stared back at you, as if testing you. You weren’t sure how long you had been standing there, hand growing tired with the bad full of food, dangling with a heavy presence. 

Was this a bad idea? Would things end up like they did last time?

Your thoughts teased you, caving into your irrational thoughts. 

“Y/N?”

Your breath caught in your throat as his familiar voice startled you from behind. 

“Oh.” 

Taeyong scratched the back of his head nervously, eyes unable to reach yours, not that you were trying.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long.”

A lie.

“Oh.” 

He gestured to the door and moved to open it for the two of you, standing beside it as you entered first.

The room was a mess. 

For someone as cleanly and perfectionist as Taeyong was, you couldn’t believe your eyes. There were empty take out containers, heaps of clothes from long nights stuck there, papers strewn over every possible surface. 

Your face scrunched in guilt. This wasn’t like him at all.

As if he realized, or had seen your expression, he quickly moved to shoved things off, making room for you to sit, which hesitantly took. 

A moment of awkward silence later you cleared your throat. “Here, uh.. I brought you breakfast. I didn’t think that you had eaten yet.”

There was a smile plastered on his face, but it wasn’t real. It didn’t reach his eyes the way that you were used to.

“Thanks, yeah I’m starving.” But all the while he took his food, his eyes never left yours.

Instinctively you gulped, pulling away. You wrung your hands at the awkward air that settled over the room.

“Can we talk?”

Taeyong tensed at the question as he played with the straps of the bag. 

“Yeah.” 

He sunk into the seat across from you, running his hand over his face in distress.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you first… about uh… the other day.”

Your mouth stayed shut, but your eyes begged him to continue.

“Look, I… I fucked up. Like really bad. First of all, I should never, never have laid a hand on you. If there’s one thing that I regret… ever is that. It was unwarranted and no one, especially you deserves to be treated like that. You have every right in the world to be upset and angry, and I would too, if I were you.”

He paused to breathe, weary of your reaction. You stayed silent to let him continue.

“If you would let me explain what you saw too… I promise you that it’s nothing like what you thought it was.”

He took a deep breath continuing when you let him. “That… She’s a sound producer that SM is using right now, and she’s been really trying to bounce ideas off of me. I promise that it’s nothing more than that. And the picture… it’s not like I chose it, apple does that stupid thing, you know, where it automatically updates the contact.”

Taeyong sighed, not willing to look back at you in case you didn’t agree with his excuses. 

Little did he know you were doing the same. Communication. That’s all that was needed and all of this could’ve been avoided. If you weren’t so stubborn and actually willing to listen to an explanation, your relationship would’ve never been in this mess. 

“No, I’m sorry.” Taeyong whipped his head to find your eyes. “I was stubborn and upset and… there were a lot of emotions going on. I handled it horribly, and it’s no wonder things went horribly wrong. Yes, what you did was wrong, but it would’ve never gotten that far if I just listened-”

“Stop it. You keep painting yourself in this way. Like you’re the cause of everything, like it was a domino effect. But let’s be real, it was both of our faults. If we can… learn and grow from this, as people and partners…”

You smiled at him, “I’m sorry.” He tried to interrupt. “No, just let me say that one more time. I am… really sorry. And… I love you so goddamn much.”

“Not more than I love you.”

You found yourself pressed against his chest, wrapped between his familiar arms. 

You let it last for a couple more moments before you pulled back. “Let’s get this place cleaned up, it literally looks like a dump, and that’s not an exaggeration.”

His face screwed up in agreement, “Yeah… I’ve uh been stressing a lot. You noticed?”

You smacked his chest playfully at the comment.

“Oh, and don’t think that I’m not gonna make up for our anniversary date. I’ve been working on my present for months now, you are not leaving without it.”

You didn’t think that your smile could get any wider.

Part 1

© Copyright 2021. hyuckssunchip. All rights reserved.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 21, part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Reunions

All together in The Unclean Realm, The Yunmeng trio find a spot inside where they can sit down and have a proper Yanli-Wuxian reunion, while Jiang Cheng sits across the table watching them. 

For years Jiang Cheng has been rejecting Wei Wuxian's free and easy affection; now Yanli might be the only person Wei Wuxian offers to hug until Wen Yuan comes into his life.

Jiang Cheng is really going through it. He'll do nearly anything for Yanli--except, uh, stay in the goddamn inn with her when she's sick and the Wens are hunting them--and what makes her happiest is Wei Wuxian. He's brought them together, and so he's happy, even though he's excluded from their dynamic. This absolutely fucking kills me.

Here Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian are sweetly pledging to always keep the trio together and put each other first. Neither of them will keep this promise. 

Wei Wuxian will leave first, to take the Wens to the Burial Mounds. Jiang Yanli will leave second, staying in Lanling at Jin Zixuan's request instead of accompanying Jiang Cheng to retrieve Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng will be the last to let go.

(more after the cut)

Nie Huaisang comes literally running in, filled with joy at Wei Wuxian's return. When he goes to pat his shoulder Wei Wuxian flinches away.

I feel like something important is happening in this rapid sequence of glances and expressions between Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang. NHS is startled, and WWX realizes he's shown something about himself that he didn't want to show. He glances at Jiang Cheng and back at NHS before laughing and covering his slip with a squeeze of NHS’s hand.

NHS switches from shocked to cheerful just as quickly, helping with the coverup. It’s like they have a quick mutual agreement, rooted in their history of shared shenanigans, to not point out that something is wrong.

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji is wandering around the grounds, having feelings. At this point it's presumably been at least a couple of weeks since their breakup fight. 

He sees Wei Wuxian sitting contemplating his flute, and as he sees him he goes from sort of neutrally apprehensive to full on angry judging, complete with sword clenching. 

Part of this may be that his feelings are hurt over their fight, but the larger issue is his distress over Wei Wuxian's apparent heretical cultivation.  That, at any rate, is what's on his mind when he's selecting music, later in the episode, and when he's selecting flashbacks. 

Party Time

Later, the Nies host an excruciating party to celebrate Wei Wuxian's slaughter of Wen Chao return. Jiang Yanli is sharing a table with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng is sharing a table with his crippling social anxiety. 

Everyone starts grilling Wei Wuxian about his sword, because that's suddenly all anybody cares about even though Jiang Yanli, Nie Huaisang, Meng Yao, and probably plenty of other people don't carry swords most of the time.

Wei Wuxian says "after the Wens caught me, Wen Zhuliu crushed my core, so I can't use my sword any more, too bad so sad, can we change the subject?" And everyone is very understanding and admires his resiliency. HA HA HA HA HA. Of course he doesn't opt for that simple lie, but instead mopes audibly without saying anything.

Nie Huasiang tries to change the subject by asking how he killed Wen Chao. Apparently "I had a sexy ghost mostly flay him" isn't good party chat, though, so neither Wei Wuxian nor Jiang Cheng opts to tell the story. 

Everyone lapses into awkward silence, all the more noticeable because there are no dancers, musicians, or entertainers of any kind at this event. OP has gone to audit-kickoff meetings that were more fun than cultivator banquets.

Moment of Clarity

While the awkwardness builds, we hear the sounds of the Song of Clarity. Lan Wangji is skipping the party, which is part of why Wei Wuxian is so mopey. But instead of sitting and stewing in his anger, Lan Wangji has shifted gears, and is starting to work on his "save Wei Wuxian's soul" plan.

This isn't the God-botherer version of soul saving, however. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian disagree about correct practice, but they both are still practitioners within the same spiritual system, and the majority of their beliefs are closely aligned.

Lan Wangji has powerful magic at his disposal, and now he's taking a step back from his plan of forcing persuading Wei Wuxian to give up heterodoxy, and instead he's preparing to use his magic to offset the consequences of Wei Wuxian's choice.

He still isn't ready to accept that choice, but he's working on it. This is a big moment for Lan Wangji's relationship with Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji is a deeply, deeply uncompromising person, as well as being super bossy, and he’s taking his first steps toward supporting Wei Wuxian’s free agency. 

Wei Wuxian leaves the party in the middle of Yao's toast, saying "I have to see you and your lover all over my tumblr dashboard but I am NOT going to listen to you talk!" He takes his wine to go roam around near Lan Wangji's quarters to pine and feel conflicted.  Lan Wangji has thoughtfully set up a projection scrim to catch his shadow and make the pining easier.

Jiang Cheng comes looking for Wei Wuxian, partly to reprimand him for rudeness and partly to see what the hell is wrong with him. Jiang Cheng is trying very hard to be pleasant. He's bad at it, but he's trying.

Wei Wuxian is trying to be unpleasant and he's pretty good at it. He won't say why he isn't using his sword. He’s obviously super fucking depressed about it, calling his former self childish for liking to spar, and only smiling once during the whole exchange.

He finally tells Jiang Cheng that he will always want to do the opposite of what Jiang Cheng tells him.  Jiang Cheng lets this go with an eyeroll.

(Point Break Quote Alert)

But actually this is a sign of trouble, right here in River City, with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for abandoning the Jiang Clan. Wei Wuxian has just told Jiang Cheng he has no intention of obeying him; not just about the sword, but in general. That's no way for a disciple to talk. 

OP has nothing to say about this gif. OP watches gif over and over and over and over

Wei Wuxian ends the conversation by tapping Jiang Cheng's chest with his flute and then walking away. The (still nameless) flute has no problem with this - does it, like Subian, recognize Jiang Cheng as an extension of Wei Wuxian?

The next day, Wei Wuxian is chilling in his room, looking ungodly sexy in his bold slashed robe, holy frack. I mean, he is sex-on-toast at all times, but the cut of his post-burial-mounds combo is particularly heart-stopping when he decides to stick a knee or two out. 

He's meditating and flashing back to being in the burial mounds, where he was also meditating. I admire his ability to fractally meditate about meditating. 

Chenqing

He didn't put a sock on the doorknob, so Jiang Yanli comes in and startles him. He brandishes his flute at her before calming down. The flute definitely does not see her as an extension of Wei Wuxian, because when she touches it, it smokes and then knocks her out of the frame so fast it's comical.

Did they put her in a jerk vest for that shot?

Wei Wuxian hides the flute from her, freaked out by its behavior. She, however, is unfazed, and gives him the first & only affirmation he's gotten about his new cultivation path, and says the flute is "like Mother's Zidian."  She kind of walks him through the whole "first class spiritual tool" concept, beaming with approval and telling him he must name the flute.  

Jiang Yanli is hardcore Jiang Clan, seriously. Freedom and impossibility. You survived 3 months of mystery trauma and now you're all fucked up? We'll roll with it. You have a demon flute now? Rock on. You're going to use necromancy to beat the other clans in a group hunt? Gold star for you.

He names the flute Chenqing, which @hunxi-guilai​ translates and explains in depth over here.

Bichen

Lan Wangji has finished practicing the Song of Clarity, and regardless of whether it's had an effect on Wei Wuxian, he himself seems much calmer. 

As Wei Wuxian contemplates Chenqing, Lan Wangji contemplates Bichen and remembers Wei Wuxian's assertions about resentful energy way back in Gusu summer school. 

This time when he grips his sword, it's loosely, as if he's made some progress with his anger.

Soup

Jiang Yanli sits Wei Wuxian down for some soup, and talks to him about what's going on with him, saying he's changed. He insists he's fine and works very hard to be convincing.

She's not convinced but says she won't press him, and then abruptly shifts tone and works very hard to act like everything is fine. She leaves, taking a lot of soup with her, and Wei Wuxian remarks that it's unfair she is giving so much to Jiang Cheng. But of course, some of it is secretly for Jin Zixuan.

Everything isn't fine, as Wei Wuxian scream-meditates with resentful energy just rolling off of him. He's got some of the dark energy stored in the Yin sword in his bag of holding, but I get the impression that a lot of it is just stored in his body.

Club Ruohan

At some point in the episode we stop in to check on Wen Ruohan. He and his wind machine are mad that Wen Chao is dead. 

Meanwhile, his interpretive dances with the Yin iron now turn his puppets into...Klingons? Sure, why not. 

Literal Stand-Up Meeting 

Jiang Cheng needs Wei Wuxian at games night a meeting and comes running to Jiang Yanli to find him. He is freaking out and she tells him to chill. 

No matter what fuckery is going on in the world, Jiang Yanli is going to find herself a nice little outdoor table and she is going to sit her ass down and have some tea and civilized lady activity. Queen.

This shot of the meeting is composed so nicely. The blocking (placement of actors) in this scene encapsulates the familial dynamics, and I’ll talk about that as soon as I finish admiring Jiang Cheng’s proportions. 

Here we have four clans represented by four family pairs around the game war table. The Jin cousins, despite their differing personalities, are side by side, matchy-matchy, in lockstep. Jin Zixuan lets Jin Zixun do the talking for him, so maintains his own rep as a reasonable guy.  

The Nie brothers are even closer together, also in matching greys, Nie Huaisang giving all of his attention to his brother/clan leader. You can see his careful watching of his brother's temper...not fearful for himself, but fearful for Mingjue.

The Lan brothers have a growing distance between them; they are in different colors (which is pretty usual for them), and Lan Wangji is standing well away from his brother and the rest of the group. Partly this is his personality, but it's also symbolic of his growing distance from his brother and other proper cultivators. He's carrying WWX-related secrets, and he's wrestling with what he's learned.  

While Nie Huaisang is looking at Mingjue, Lan Xichen is turning around to see what's up with his own volatile sibling.

Lastly you have Jiang Cheng, alone in the room, with his shidi nowhere to be found, and seriously feeling the heat because of his isolation. 

He's alone in his purple, but the color value (lightness/darkness) of his robes exactly matches Xichen's. 

And Xichen, bless him, makes a point of speaking to him respectfully as a fellow clan leader, gives him a path out of the "where is your brother" conversation, and is just generally his kind and helpful self with Jiang Cheng.

Next: Awkwardness Increases!

[inkbyajm]

Bottled Up

pairing: C.H. x fem!reader

category: angst, fluff

warnings: yelling, crying, insecurities

word count: 2.2k

notes: apologies for the tardy post, i wrote and rewrote and re-rewrote the whole angsty scene because i didn’t know if it was written well enough, i wanted to make sure you guys could feel the emotions that i vividly visualised and tried my best to put into words  :( i did send it to a friend to check and she seemed to like it, so let me know how it goes for you, my loves. the angst for this one was inspired by 2 different songs - hold me while you wait by lewis capaldi and i will run from you by cemeteries. it’s not necessarily about the lyrics, but more about the melody and the mood you get into listening to them (they go in order). give those a listen :) also, beware of the upcoming philosophy references, i did study philosophy last year, hopefully no one gets triggered lmao

< previous    next >

Is a person’s scent something a normal human being picks up on before taking into account the rest of their features? Would a normal human being remember said scent and be able to recognise it in a crowd full of strangers? Corpse wasn’t too sure about the answer, but one thing he did know, is that she smelled delicately sweet, like cherry blossoms, and that ever since he had noticed it during their game night a few weeks ago, he simply couldn’t let it go. It was intoxicating, but in a calming way. 

━

Corpse and (Y/N) each lay on their beds in their own homes, going into the third hour of their call. He couldn’t exactly fall asleep, so he had decided to see what his dear friend was up to, and even though she was this close to succumbing to sleep, she said nothing and stayed up to keep his busy mind company.

“Okay, hot topic: what do you think about soulmates? More specifically the romantic type?” the girl asked, not knowing how much of a risqué question it was. How was he supposed to answer?

“I don’t really have an opinion on it. Why?”

“I read Symposium by Plato the other day and it presented an interesting concept about human beings. Basically-” Of course she fucking read philosophical books. How were they even having a conversation with each other? Why were they even friends? She was on a whole other level of smart. “-so this guy says that humans were like androgynous blobs, so they’d come in two sets of everything a normal person has. But those humans were so powerful, the gods were literally shaking in their robes, so Zeus decided to cut everyone into two to weaken them. But then humans became so miserable, they spent their entire lives searching for their other halves. In the end, Zeus kinda felt bad and said fuck it, I’ll give y’all dicks and vaginas for every time you wanna hug each other. And that’s the oldest explanation there is about the idea of soulmates.” she sighed, finished with her rant.

“That was...not at all the story I expected to hear.” she heard him mumble on the other side of the call. “Yeah, Greek philosophers were up to some reeal freaky things, you would have loved them,” he laughed at her joke, “I honestly think it’s cute. Not the whole cutting people into two thing, but like, longing for someone and then finding them because you finally feel complete. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a strong independent woman who doesn’t need a prince in shining whatever to sweep me off my feet. But it does sound nice, that ideal comfort, a person you’re just...meant to be with, I guess.”

There was a moment of silence that neither of them really minded, before it was Corpse’s turn to ask the second bold question of the night. “Have you found that person yet? Your soulmate?”

She’s never thought about it before, but she hasn’t really thought about soulmates that much either, it was a spontaneous thought she had said out loud. “I’m not sure, actually. (B/F/N) could be one, I guess.” (Y/N) shrugged in return. Wasn’t she going to ask him about it? She probably didn’t care that much. Understandable.

“My favourite quote about love is «You come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly.». It’s by Sam Keen, the American philosopher. It maay be the hopeless romantic in me shining through, but I do very much agree with his statement.” Did this mean anyone could have a chance with her despite their fuckups? So if he were to try, would she-?

“Obviously, there are some things that just can’t be ignored or avoided, but at that point it’s preferences and personal tolerance. Depends on the person, ya know?” she swiftly added, unaware of the effect it had on him. Sick. Some people were just meant to rot alone.

The final question was posed by (Y/N). She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t at all curious. This little crush of hers had been steadily growing with every hang out, every laugh, every hug and every glance. There are rarely ever moments where one could casually discuss a topic this personal with friends, at least there weren’t with friends one had feelings for. This was the perfect opportunity.

“Corpse?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever been in love?” her voice was soft, her approach gentle.

“Well, I’ve been in relationships before, so I guess, yeah? It’s been so long, I don’t even know what love feels like anymore.” he let out a breath resembling a chuckle. Lamest fucking answer ever. But it was true. He hadn’t thought about love in that way in quite a while.

“A lot of people describe it as having an intense range of overwhelming feelings. Lightheadedness, slight shakiness, heart palpitations, some people have even reported losing their appetite. Crazy how human bodies work, huh? Oh! Speaking of chemicals-”

She had continued on to ramble about...chemistry? Eyes? Corpse couldn’t really hear what she was saying anymore, let alone concentrate on her words, as he pieced everything that’s been happening for the past few months together. The nauseating feeling. The pounding of his heart so fast it felt like he was about to die. The urge to make as little eye contact with her as possible, because otherwise he’d turn into a furnace. The obsession with her perfume, like he was some fucking creep. The fool was falling in love. And it was at that moment that everything had come crumbling down.

━

(Y/N) and Corpse hadn’t talked for a couple of weeks. Or rather (Y/N) messaged the 23 year old many times, but he’d either claim to be busy or just not answer at all. There were two possible reasons for the sudden lack of contact: he was indeed busy with his musical projects and couldn’t allow himself to be distracted; or something much more serious was going on. It didn’t matter, for she was already in her car, on her way to his apartment.

Arriving at her destination, she used the spare key he gave her months ago, a sign of absolute trust, and allowed herself into his humble abode. Silence reigned in her friend’s residence. She thought maybe he had gone somewhere, and though that was unlikely, it wasn’t unprecedented. The door to his recording room was closed, and while she was tempted to check if he was in there, she refrained from doing so, knowing that specific room was not to be entered unless he was around to give permission.

“Corpse?” she called out just to make sure. There was no response for a few minutes, which made her assume she had the place for herself, until she heard a door open behind her. Turning around, she saw his figure emerge from said recording room in a white t-shirt and black sweatpants, his curly hair disheveled.

“Hey, how are you d-”

“Why are you here?” he spoke flatly, interrupting her. “Well- You weren’t, um, answering your messages or any of my calls, so I thought something had happened.” she replied, suddenly nervous, fiddling with the rings on her fingers. “Nothing happened. I told you I was busy.”

The air around them seemed colder as tensions rose. (Y/N) could tell he was irritated, but she couldn’t exactly figure out why. She had never seen this side of him before. “Okay. Tell you what, I assume you haven’t had dinner yet, so why don’t I go ahead and start cooking something up while you-”

“Get out.”

She blinked a few times, not quite registering the words that had just left his mouth. “Sorry?” Her voice was quiet. She was taken off guard.

“Are you deaf? I said get. the fuck. OUT.”

Corpse shouted the last word, making her flinch in what appeared to be fear. Good. Run away while you still can. Heart pounding, (Y/N) took a second to remind herself whom she was speaking to. “I see that you’re angry, but at least give me a reason why-”

“You want a reason? I just don’t fucking WANT you here!” Anger grew inside of him like a tumor, but it wasn’t intended for her. She had simply been caught in a storm that had been building up for years. “Do you understand that?! I can’t fucking be around you without feeling like I’m going to EXPLODE.”

His words hit her like paintballs. They were only words, plain and simple, but they dug deeper and deeper into her skin with each hit, until, eventually, it broke. Eyes burning, she felt the tears slowly welling up in them.

“Why are you doing this to me?!” her own voice grew louder with frustration, but mostly, confusion.

“Maybe because I can? Because I’m a goddamn asshole?” 

“Don’t say that.”

“How?! How can I not say it when it’s the truth!” He wanted to stop. His mind told him to cease whatever it was that he was doing. However, blinded with resentment towards himself, he only spilled words he would regret after it was too late. 

“I can’t function like a normal fucking human being. I can’t be a good friend, son, or whatever the fuck else, and I sure as hell can’t love you.”

The paintballs had turned into a singular sword. A very long, very sharp sword that had found itself plunged deep inside her chest. How did he found out? When? Had she been too obvious? Had she been pushy? Clingy? Way out of line? The woman before him was unable to conceal her shock, as tears came rushing down her hot cheeks. Her voice brittle, she tried defending herself. She couldn’t leave it at that. She had to try. Try to have him see reason. “You don’t love me, that’s fine. But you didn’t have to deliver it this way-”

“But I did.” breathless with fury, Corpse clenched his fists so tight they had turned cold, yet they were still trembling. “You can get so naïve and dumb, you won’t understand things unless they’re spelled out nice and fucking bold for you.”

He closed with (Y/N) until their noses nearly touched. He noticed the way she silently shook, her eyes which shed endless tears never leaving his gaze. Unable to make a single sound, she felt the man’s hot breath on her face, his aura domineering.

“Now get. out.”

Her body wouldn’t cooperate as she just stood there. Staring back at him, her inner brows raised. Corpse wanted to hug her. Envelop her trembling figure with his and tell her he was sorry, that he meant none of it, that he had lost his mind. But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. And with his own tears threatening to spill, he created a distance between them. He needed her gone.

“Leave! GO!”

His yelling was enough to jolt (Y/N) out of her trance, and, in a hurry, she sprinted towards the entrance. The door closed behind her, she felt a sudden urge to fill her lungs with much needed air. She jumped at the resounding scream that emanated from deep within his soul, letting out all of his pent-up rage.

Feet carrying her all the way to her car parked outside of the building, the young woman managed to climb in, and this was the queue for her body to break down. The night was young. The street empty. No one around to hear her long-lasting wailing. She clutched the steering wheel for support, fingers wrapping around the leather in a tight grip. A headache was creeping up from the back of her skull. Her ears pulsated in response to the heavy pounding of her heart. Clumsily, (Y/N) inserted the key into the ignition, felt around for the gear stick, and drove away. She didn’t know where she was going or how long it was going to take to get there. She needed to get out.

What went wrong? When did it go wrong? She couldn’t help but feel guilty, feel at fault. She had never seen that side of him before. He had never treated her that way before.

It was the hugs, wasn’t it? He had to have noticed the way she held on for a second too long to enjoy the smell of his cologne. Her vision blurred as she resumed softly weeping, her salty tears staining her top. Or it might have been the touchiness, she would practically glue herself to him during their movie nights. Unaware of both her actions and surroundings, (Y/N)’s breathing quickened, becoming ragged. Maybe he didn’t like the way she called him three times a week. Her hands were slowly losing control over the wheel, over the vehicle she was driving. She invaded his privacy. That was definitely it. Fuck. How could she have been so damn blind, selfish, ignorant, FUCKING STUPID.

Lights. Something was moving towards her- MOVE.

With a sharp turn, she dodged the approaching car just by a hair’s breadth, but as she had avoided one accident, another came just as quickly. 

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Ch 6

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter summary: Connor gets his new assignment. He's not thrilled.

AO3

Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet​

Chapter 5 art by @semains​ (18+ only)

November 6th, 2038

Saturday 09:56AM

There was a time when Connor didn’t have to come in on Saturdays. He remembered the days when mandatory overtime was few and far between.

Not anymore. 2038 seemed to be the year shit just kept happening, and now that he thought about it, quite a few of it seemed to be because of androids. Ones gone missing. Disobeying orders. And now, homicidal.

Connor rubbed the bridge of his nose after putting his car into park, regretting how enthusiastically he’d hit the bottle last night. It wasn’t too bad this time, just an annoying throbbing behind his eyes, but it made it more difficult to see and he’d had to squint through his windshield.

Whatever. The reason for his shame-drinking was no longer relevant. Connor just had to survive until lunchtime, and if he were lucky, Hank would let him go early. He tried not to itch at the butterfly bandages on his cheek, applied himself after he’d woken up in a haze with blood on his pillow having completely forgotten the injury existed.

Connor kept his head down as he walked through the lobby of the station and through the security checkpoint to the bullpen proper. He tried not to be completely antisocial, however, and sent weak smiles at the coworkers who bothered to notice he was there.

Helen, Alexander, and Rupert all acknowledged him with various degrees of warmth, some colder than others, and all pretty much deserved. Ralph gave Connor a nervous smile from his chair, though it quickly faded as his eyes flickered to something across the room.

Frowning, he followed Ralph’s eye line across the bullpen and scowled when he spotted Colin leaning casually against Connor’s desk, talking to… someone. He couldn’t see who, Colin’s figure blocking them from view.

Against his better judgement, Connor drew closer, pressure building at the back of his neck, an uneasy feeling of dread that increased with each step.

“Con’s just gonna love this. But seriously, if he bitches about it too much, or gives you a hard time, you can always partner up with me. I won’t mind one bit, promise.”

Connor would have rolled his eyes at his brother’s typical cocksure demeanor, but instead, he went stock still at the familiar voice that answered.

“While the offer is appreciated, Lieutenant, my instructions stipulate that I must assist Detective Anderson with his new, specialized caseload. I’m sure you can understand that CyberLife only wishes to cooperate with the DPD and does not want to interfere with police procedure—“

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The YN800 model blinked and turned its head to meet Connor’s eye, its little blue light blinking for a moment before solidifying again.

It was sitting in Connor’s chair.

“It’s good to see you again, Detective,” it answered, chipper as ever as a fake smile graced its features.

Connor looked the prototype over, his nose crinkling at its appearance. The suit must have been brand new, there were no stains or bullet holes, and her—its hair was once again pinned upwards into a perfect knot.

He felt his insides churn at the near slip, at thinking for even a split second that this thing was a person. Shoving down the crude thoughts of the night before, Connor gave the order through gritted teeth.

“Get. Up.”

The prototype did as it was told, for once. It rose out of his chair, not even having the decency to look chagrined as it straightened its jacket of nonexistent wrinkles.

“I’m sorry, Detective, but I tried to call your phone and left you a message. It was not my intention to surprise you—“

“Oh, no, it’s never your intention to do anything, is it?” Connor snarled back. His headache was in full force now, and he swore he could see the bright lights of the station brighten in time with his heartbeat.

“Aw, c’mon!” Colin slapped him on the shoulder. “Be nice to the temp.”

“Temp?” Connor answered, voice pulled as taut as a wire.

“Yeah, you know. The temporary assistant. The new girl. The—“

He shoved Colin’s hand off his shoulder, leveling a glare at both of them. Colin merely shot him a shit-eating grin while the YN800 stood there, hands clasped behind its back at parade rest, polite and perfect as ever.

“Connor!”

All three of them turned toward the voice booming across the room.

“Get in here!”

Connor glared at the android, as if Hank’s shouting were its fault, which was probably the case.

He turned without a word and stalked to the captain’s office, shoulders hunched as his heart raced and his hands shook at his sides. He let the glass door fall shut behind him, but when he didn’t hear the whoosh of it close, he glanced over his shoulder to see the YN800 had followed him inside.

Great.

Connor stood in front of the desk with his arms crossed.

Hank sat down in his chair, pointedly looking at the chairs in front of his desk. Connor remained standing.

The older man glared, answering Connor’s attitude with a look and a heavy sigh.

“Bet you’re wondering what that’s about.” Hank jerked his chin over Connor’s shoulder. The prototype had taken a spot at the back of the office, observing politely with its hands clasped in front of its hips.

“Yeah, I am.” Connor was a little too cranky this morning to try a more diplomatic approach. “What the hell is it doing here?”

“I’ll get to that. First on the docket, I got a shit ton of android-related cases filling up our database every day and I’m at wit’s end.” Hank took a deep breath, bracing himself as he met Connor’s eye. “Which is why I’m assigning all of these cases to you.”

“You’re what?”

Connor stared at him, dumbfounded.

“You think that case last night was a one-off? We’ve got more android-related crimes rolling in, including assaults and homicides just as bad as the Ortiz case, and right now, you’re the one with the most experience.” Hank leaned his elbows on his desk as he leveled a formidable glare his way. “Is that going to be a problem, Connor?”

 “Yeah, it is a problem, Hank! Why the hell do I have to do this? What about Colin? He was with me at the crime scene and was there for the interrogation!” Connor shoved a finger at the glass wall to prove his point.

Hank’s jaw tightened. Connor had seen that behavior enough times to recognize how he was pushing his luck.

“CyberLife asked for you specifically.”

“What?” Connor blinked, dumbfounded once again, racking his brain but coming up empty. “Why?”

“The hell if I know!” Hank barked back, rising to his feet as he pointed a finger at Connor, “and frankly, I don’t give a damn. Colin’s got enough on his plate—“

“—and I don’t?” Connor interrupted, scowling. Hank sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, and Connor almost felt guilty for his outburst.

Almost.

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you implied.” He tried not to sound like a hurt child, but, well, that’s exactly what he sounded like.

“For fuck’s sake, Connor! There are more people that are gonna start dying from this!”

“Yeah, I know, but—“

Hank lifted his hand, palm forward, effectively shutting Connor up.

“You saw what one of those deviants was capable of last night, and that was with three of you and another android trying to get it under control! You think the average person stands a chance against one of these fucks? That a little ol’ grandma can defend herself against the murderous robot gardener coming at her with a pair of shears? What the hell happens when a nanny bot decides to take a human kid for itself? Oh, wait, that’s already happened, and you would know that if you checked the goddamn case files I sent you!”

Connor was silent as Hank deflated. The older man leaned back against his desk as he looked through his glass wall out over the bullpen. His voice was rough but much quieter for the next round.

“We’re totally in the dark, Connor. We don’t know how bad this is gonna get and how many androids we’re dealing with. This has the potential to turn into a fucking nightmare with Detroit as ground zero.” Hank’s gaze drifted over Connor’s shoulder to the elephant, or the machine, in the room. “CyberLife was gracious enough to send us a state-of-the-art prototype until this issue is contained. It’s gonna be your partner until such a time that these androids are no longer a threat, and then you’re free to go back to being a misanthropic son-of-a-bitch as much as you like.”

Connor was thoroughly shamed by the end of Hank’s speech, that old familiar feeling of disappointment making his gut roil with nausea, but his anger hadn’t entirely flagged. He clenched his hands tightly to his thighs, fingers desperate for either his coin or his cigarettes.

Connor hadn’t felt the need for one in months. This was bad.

“Hank,” he tried again, his voice soft and pleading in that way he knew Hank couldn’t ignore. “I’m not saying this just to be a pain in your ass. I understand the stakes, but I genuinely believe I’m not qualified for these types of cases. I’m not a CyberLife technician, or an AI specialist, or a computer engineer. I’ve never even owned an android.”

That last one was technically true but only in the barest sense, and Hank gave him a knowing look. It wasn’t without sympathy, and his own answer was given with more kindness than he probably deserved.

“I know, Connor. I also know you’re the sharpest pair of eyes on the force, not to mention the quickest brain and the best instinct. You see shit other people don’t, even Colin, and you’ve got this creepy knack for taking one look at a person and knowing what makes ‘em tick. I’d say you’re almost like an android yourself, but I know how much that’d piss you off.”

Connor gave him another narrow-eyed scowl, and Hank immediately put up his hands as a sign of surrender even as a smirk played on his lips.

“My point is, I need you on this, son. I know it’s not ideal, hell, it downright sucks, but I know you can do this. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

And there it was. As effective as Connor’s pleading expressions could be, they were nothing in comparison to his need for Hank’s praise. The old geezer knew it, too.

And throwing a “son” into the mix was a goddamn dirty move, but Connor couldn’t even muster up annoyance. He just sighed, gave Hank the smallest hint of a smile, and said, “All right. But only until these cases are solved. Once the deviancy issue is addressed, the prototype is going back to CyberLife and you never give me an android case again.”

“I’ll pay for the postage to ship it back myself,” Hank said, smile wide and pleased as he patted Connor on the shoulder before returning to his desk. “And I want daily reports on the progress you and your new partner are making. Gotta make sure CyberLife’s best is pulling its weight.”

“I can assure you, Captain Anderson, I am worth every penny. And considering it took a small fortune to build me, I—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank interrupted the prototype, using that catchphrase that Connor and all of his brothers had picked up years ago. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

The android blinked almost comically before giving a slow nod. It then turned to face Connor, straightening its back at attention, and he rolled his eyes. He was still being handed the shit end of the stick, but he couldn’t deny that the cases were piling up and Hank really did need the extra help.

But why, out of all the androids in the world, did it have to be one like that.

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Connor turned and left Hank’s office, not waiting to see if the android would follow, knowing with a sinking feeling, it would.

Next Chapter

[thefanficmonster]

Begone

Streamer Gang & Asexual Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Acephobia, Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having recently come out as asexual, Y/N faces some less than pleasant or appropriate responses in their chat during their stream with the gang. Luckily, they’re not alone in battling the haters this time.

Requested by the lovely Anon who told acephobes to begone, yeah you know who you are hehe. Thank you so much for the request darling! Let’s show these acehobes who they’re messing with! Love, Vy ❤

Boy is this nerve-wrecking or what? Sure, I maybe woke up with a ton of confidence, I listened to motivational and uplifting talks and listened to mood boosting music. I had a healthy breakfast and a cup of coffee. Damn it, I went on a run, all in an attempt to convince myself that dealing with the online world again is but a piece of cake for a badass like me. Well, low and behold, that feeling didn’t last very long. Here I am, chewing my nails off at the though of hopping in the Discord call and Among Us lobby with my friends and starting my stream. It’s not like I’m not expecting my friends and fans to support me - of course I am! I know they’re gonna give me a ton of love and appreciation and support and uplift me no matter what. But then again, there’s still those people who believe me and other people like me to be invalid and broken and whatnot.

Those are the ones I wanna avoid. 

It’s not like their words mean much to me but I simply don’t wanna see em, you know? It’s not only about me - it’s least about me actually - it’s more about all those wonderful people they are insulting when they say shit like that about asexuals and all the people on the ace spectrum. I can’t help but flare up and get angry on the behalf of all my ace friends and even people I’ve never met.

It’s also my first time being directly thrown into the fire instead of getting caught in the crossfire seeing as how I came out to my fandom via a tweet and an Instagram post a week ago, telling my identity’s truth: finally bringing my asexuality to the surface to shine its brightest so I can be be my best and reach for my full potential.

But damn am I afraid to see how everyone took it. 

My friends were quick to jump in and take me offline before I start refreshing my own posts to see the comments under them. Lord knows that without them I would’ve driven myself insane, I’ll forever be grateful for what they did and the lengths they went to to keep me offline and whatnot. One word to give you an idea of how invested they were in this: origami. All of us might as well have been born with two left hands and yet we still tried doing origami. Freaking origami.

Damn do I love my friends.

But now I don’t have sheets of paper and my friends to distract me. I have a fanbase to entertain and another friend group I haven’t talked to in a while. I don’t wanna get any predictions in already so I don’t jinx myself, so I’m just gonna say it’s gonna be...interesting regardless of what happens.

Then again, when is it not interesting when the streamer gang’s involved.

Deep breaths, Y/N. You got this

Listening to that encouraging little voice inside my head, I finally equip my headphones and in one fluid motion turn my camera on, officially starting my stream and unmuting my mic as I hop in the call with everyone.

“Hi guys! Guess who’s returned!“ I exclaim cheerfully, desperate to hide the nervousness of my voice.

“You really missed your opportunity to say ‘guess who’s back...back again’ didn’t you?“ Charlie is the one who greets me first, sounding rather disappointed in me in his usual jokester manner. It’s nice to hear, it makes me feel like nothing’s changed in the week I’ve been gone. Like I’m still the same person to these people. I really am the same, I just now am a lot better version of myself. Almost as though I’ve reached my final form. It feels empowering really. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Charlie laughs again, “Congrats, by the way. You keep proving you can get cooler and cooler.“

“Careful there Charlie, I can only handle so large of an ego.“ I joke back, rolling my eyes playfully as a wide grin spreads across my face, “No, but seriously, thank you so much, man. It means the world to me that you support me.“

“Um, how could we NOT?“ That’s very clearly Rae, “Hun, you are so brave and amazing and wonderful, how could we ever NOT support you?“

“Yeah, we’ll always support you no matter what, Y/N. We’ll always be your friends, through thick, thin and beyond.“ Poki too interferes, her words only making my smile wider.

“Alright, alright, y’all are gonna make me cry and I haven’t even read my chat yet, hold on.“ I say, fanning my face to dry the tears I hope the webcam isn’t spotting, “Darn, you guys are the best. Sorry, give me a sec to gather my composure, I’ll be right back.“

I quickly mute my in-game mic as I turn to my chat where I see the same amount of love and support in the form of comments and emojis flooding in from my viewers. A warm feeling spreads throughout my chest, making me feel the most comfortable with myself I’ve ever felt. The most loved I’ve ever felt. The most seen and understood. To finally be you feels like you are finally really living in this world, not like you’ve been already living in it for God knows how long. It makes me so freaking happy and fulfilled to finally be living as me, as the real me.

Unfortunately, in life, nothing can be 100% pure and good. There’s always at least 1% there threatening to ruin all your happiness you worked so hard to build or obtain. It may be one in a hundred, but fuck it’s powerful and effective.

And in my case it comes in the form of two comments that stick out to my eyes. Acephobic comments saying my identity’s fake, claiming I’m faking it, saying us acephobes are immature creatures who refuse to grow up, or attention whores. Or just saying we’re delusional and in denial, confused about who we are.

I hadn’t even realized I was clenching my jaw and fists but when I do, I slowly relax my muscles and crack my knuckles before addressing the two people who spat out that nonsense.

“Ok, listen here, shooterpro69 and yourmom_lol. For starters, I want to apologize for your ignorance and lack of education on the matter of asexuality. In fact, for you especially, I plan on making an educational video, explaining asexuality to people who need or want to learn more. You, my friends, are in desperate need to be fed some knowledge cause damn, God knows how many people secretly think you’re hella stupid. Not that they’re wrong to think so but anyway. Unless you have anything nice or positive to say, begone from my chat. Actually, when I think about it, begone from every chat. No one needs you polluting their communities with acephobia and hate.“ I say, all spoken in a calm tone despite the boiling anger within me. People who know me well would probably be able to tell I’m fuming underneath the calm façade, but at least I got my message across loud and clear.

“WOO HOO, You tell em Y/N!“ Toast cheers, clapping his hands and whistling as more cheering arises from each my friends, leaving me in a state of mild shock and confusion.

Wait, what?!

“Um, wait, you guys heard that?“ I ask, my eyes darting to thein-game mic symbol that shows an not crossed-off mic, meaning it was enabled during the entirety of my speech.

“Hell yeah we did! You slayed them, Y/N! Damn goddamn!“ Rae whistles too, her enthusiasm wafting over me like a breath of fresh air.

“I second that!“ Corpse joins in, “And remember what we said - we’ll support you through anything. Need to bury an acephobe’s body, we’re the people you should call.” He says, confident as heck.

And I just can’t hold it in anymore - I burst out laughing, doubling over from the intensity.

If I thought I was happy and fulfilled before, this has to be the closest to paradise I’m gonna get on Earth.  All thanks to these wonderful people. Friends are really something else aren’t they: they come into your life - often unexpectedly - and change it completely. Suddenly you’re not alone, you’re not forced to deal with everything and face everything on your own. Someone’s got your back and you’ve got theirs.

Through thick, thin and beyond.

And it’s so fucking amazing.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari