#why am i so tempted to just gif that entire show he is just so sdkfjslkdgsgdsfg

[youmagnificentbeast]

Rhys Darby in Japan + nose scrunchesbased on this post by @hecubus

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - The Heat is Rising

Sorry this late, blah blah real life actual job blah blah.

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

June 2024 Week 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Wandee Goodday (Sat YT) ep 8 of 12 - Why is it so good?! It’s unfair. Cause I know pain must be incoming. Also... Yak moved to the "rao" pronoun for his confession! SO ADORABLE!!!!! Can you see me kicking my feet and squealing with joy on this side of the screen? Well I am. 

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 2 of 12 - I think I'm finding this show a lot funnier than the show is trying to be. The pose in the doorway. The sparkle pants. The creaking of the leather. It’s all hilarious. The foot massage. So silly. Simultaniously, full of thirst. Yay! I like thirst. Not entirely sure why he’s dicking him around and not dicking him out but hey the tension is fun. Also the shot staging is very good. Very yaoi. Lin going to have so much power in this relationship once he starts trying on seduction for size. All just to say, it’s good and I’m enjoying it.

My Stand-In (Fri iQIYI) ep 9 of 12 - you know I'm enjoying it a lot, so a surprise to see a Star Hunter beat it out? It's just MosBank are SERVING classic BL and I am a sucker for that kinda smut. Back to Stand-In...

It’s sad and a little complicated and interesting. And I’m still enjoying it very much. But this episode was mostly a rehash of information we already had been given, it was slow. Although since the acting is so good in this particular show, I didn’t mind it as much as I might have in a pulp piece, for example. 

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 3 of 12 - I’m very much enjoying this. Not quite as much as I initially enjoyed the JBL version. But I’m liking a lot. There’s something particularly high school teen YA angst about this IP. Even more so than something like Make it Right or Love Sick. It’s just the cringe reactions and the constant embarrassments and the roller coaster of emotions that each character goes through in every scene. I forgot how exhausting it is to be a teen.

We Are Cute (Weds iQIYI) ep 12 of 16 - We Are Cute continues to be very cute indeed. Honestly Phum doesn’t need to flirt with Peem, Peem is already in love. The learning about each other is fun, but the fact that Phum still constantly communicates via kissing is great. I love that we have a couple whose love language is smooches. TanFang endgame is my favorite, I fucking LOVE them. But... NO SINGING. Worst fake band ever? Place docked in BL standing this week for that alone.

Love Sea (Sun iQIYI) ep 2 of 10 - It's fine I guess? Trash watch here.

Knock Knock Boys (Thurs Gaga) ep 5 of 12 - It’s ridiculous and they're very cute and I kind of don’t know what’s going on. But the young one getting his first dildo and skipping with excitement was utterly adorable. And it is the first rep we’ve got for such a thing in this genre. So good on you little pulp!

Only Boo! (Sun YT) ep 11 of 12 - Everything felt a little rushed and oddly paced in this episode. Not entirely sure why K came back to him. Anyway, I hope it’s all explained in the finale.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

At 25:00 in Akasaka AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 10fin - I’ve made no secret about the fact that I haven’t been wild about this show.

Here’s a few things I enjoyed about the final episode: Uke initiated the sex scene!! Lots of tenderness. Long takes plus the absence of (and then very gentle introduction of) music. Unexpectedly high heat. Condom rep! The gayest bedroom layout ever. What I didn’t like: The absolute pinnacle of frustration for P'ABL on the other side of the screen wanting to grab the leads and shake them until their teeth rattled and scream "FOR THE LOVE, just TALK to each other!"  Oh but they are so cute and SO POLITE when the finally do reconcile! 

In conclusion:

A BL about the making of a BL where the famous one has a crush on the obscure one. It’s already been done.  Recently. By Japan. I would be tempted to say "better" but I didn’t like the first version either. At least this was less stalkery? Look, this show was fine. Just, in a word: cool, unengaging, and frustrating. OK that was 3 words. But they’re apt. A lackluster offering with a great ending. How to rate that? I despaired but ended up on 7/10 - do better Japan, I know you can.

Blue Boys (Korea YouTube) - it got its part 2, thank the BL gods, rounding this one into an 8 ep series. Still short (those eps barely scrape 10 min at most) but a solid little offering.

Charming reunion romance full of class + coming out struggles and great chemistry all of which was let down by a curtailed length. Had it just been given some legs, it could have grown wings and taken flight, but in the end it is simply too short. Still enjoyable and certainly worth your time. Cause ya don't need much of it. 8/10 RECOMMENDED

It's airing but...

The Last Time (Thai Fri YT?) - Convoluted story of loss and possible reincarnation or something. Can't find it.

OMG Vampire (Thai Sun ???) 10 eps - I've put the search on hold for a bit and y'all can let me know if it's worth tracking down.

In case you missed it

I mean you were under a rock on Tues Jan 18th Thailand's senate passed the Marriage Equality Bill. As of typing this, the King still has to sign it into law, but he's unlikely to veto. So it's a matter of time before everything is official. Thailand follows Nepal (2024) and Taiwan (2019). Both of those were judicial, Thailand's is legislative.

Let's Eat Together Aki and Haru 2 AKA Aki wa Haru to Gohan wo Tabetai 2 Haime! (Japan movie) - Continued the (frankly) lackadaisical story from part 1 and was meant to drop yesterday. We thought maybe Gaga, but nothing so far.

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer released to Korean theaters 5/25. HoTae & DongHee, side couple from Unintentional Love Story are back! Same actors, same character names. I love them. Devastated this hasn't had international distribution.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Last of the June Releases

6/26 The Rebound (Thai Weds Gaga) - MeenPing are back in their 3rd BL together, a basketball based romance (Meen was a national basketball player, so yay for that). I like this pair better than most (I still do miss Meen with Est but Est has a fantastic looking new BL coming from GMMTV so yeah...) Anyway I'm up for a sports romance starring a man who, yah know, actually played that sport so... I'm game (pun intended).

6/26 I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) 10 eps - A new series adaptation of beloved yaoi I Hear the Sunspot (first adaptation was feature film Silhouette of Your Voice 2017).

6/30 The Trainee (Thailand Sun YouTube) 12 eps- office romance between a boss/employee featuring OffGun. Taking over Boo's spot for GMMTV.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Lip touch! So sexy. So rare from Korea. Blue Boys.

I do love a meta call out moment.

Tiny idiots (affectionate)

Love their kisses. Such a great side couple.

All Wandee.

(Last week)

QUICK NOTE: I'm flying international back next weekend and the damn thing is gonna take like 72 hours or whatever insanity. Needless to say, I may not get to this round-up for ages. So don't panic, I'm not dead just sleeping.

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in it's infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

There's these tricks, remember.

[outsideratheart]

Be Proud (Ana Maria-Crnogorcevic x reader)

A/N: Based off this request.

You had missed your girlfriend dearly. So much so that you were tempted to break the curfew so you could go to her hotel and see her before you became opponents. 

In the end you decide against it. 

The first time you see Ana is when you walk onto the pitch for the inspection. She is talking to Jenni in the centre whilst you stand on the sidelines with Alexia. 

“You can go see her you know?” Your club captain nudges you. 

What Alexia didn’t know is that you had been warned by Jorge not to see her before the game. He said he needed his star forward focused and even went as far to call Ana a distraction. Something that didn’t settle well with you. 

“I’ll wait till after the game. I can’t deal with him before the game” you shrug your shoulders but Alexia knew that you played your best football when you saw Ana, whether that is when she’s by your side or a quick hi before kick off. 

“I’m going over and you’re coming with me” she puts her arm round your shoulder and all but pushes you towards your girlfriend. 

You don’t make your presence known immediately as Jenni is in the middle of speaking. Ana, on the other hand, had no problem in turning all her attention to you regardless if Jenni is talking or not. 

It was sickening to those around them. It didn’t matter whether there was twenty people around, when you and Ana was in close proximity everyone and everything around you became irrelevant. 

“Hi” your tone is low. 

“Hi” Ana replies; the corner of her mouth rising to form a smirk. 

It had been mere weeks since you last saw her but you could have sworn she’s changed somehow. 

“Anyways don’t take it personally when we beat you” Jenni unintentionally ruins the moment between you. Her words bring back the reality of the reason why Ana is standing in front of you in the first place. 

“Ana what—“

“Don’t. This is part of the sport. Sometimes we are team mates and sometimes we are opponents” 

“Win or lose. You’re mine” you say. It was both a question and a statement. 

Ana doesn’t have the chance to respond as she is called over by her coach. 

It was game time. 

You had put on a flawless performance but this came at a cost, not for you but for Ana because Spain’s win sent Switzerland home. For the first time in your career you wasn’t entirely happy about winning.

Ana was your first thought when the whistle was blown but Jorge pulled you over to him and the coaching staff.

“Great game Y/N. See what happens when you’re not distracted” Jorge says smugly. That man’s arrogance and annoyance knew no bounds.

“Me and the girls played well now if you’ll excuse I am going to show respect to our opponents and that includes my girlfriend” 

The blonde woman saw you walking over and met you half way. She had a look of disappointment on her face which is to be expected but she also wore a smile on her face. Even in the defeat she had the energy to be proud of you.

“You could have taken it easy on us” she says as she pulls you into her arms. With the height difference she can just about rest her chin on the top of your head.

“I did” you say rather smugly. Ana pulls away and gives you a look, one which makes you regret your comment “Sorry”

“Don’t be. I’m proud of you Y/N”

“Ana, you should be proud of how you played. Not just today but of every game you have played so far”

“You’re biased” Ana wanted to believe you but with the results they had it was hard.

“I am but that doesn’t mean what I’m saying isn’t true” 

The two of you were so caught up in each other that you didn’t realise both of your teams had begun doing their lap of the field thanking those who came to support them. Not wanting to be rude you joined them but stay together instead of going to your team mates. Ana’s arm rested comfortably on your shoulder as you walk. It was her way of keeping you close and in the bubble that was sure to be popped once you reached the tunnel.

“Can we swap shirts?” You ask timidly. 

“I would love to but I have promised it to someone else” 

“Who? Was it Jenni? Aitana? Alexia? Tell me who it is and I’ll fight them for it. I’m the only one that’s allowed to wear Crnogorcevic on the back of my shirt”

Ana cannot help but laugh at your protectiveness and she knows that you will soon soften when she tells you who is getting her shirt.

“You’re cute but you won’t be fighting anyone” she says confidently.

“Watch me” you weren’t backing down. You wanted Ana’s shirt. Who could be more important than her girlfriend.

Ana removed her arm and chose to hold your hand instead whilst pulling you towards the family and friends section, the Spanish family and friends section. She hopped the barrier, you followed in suit and together you walked to where Irene was talking to Lucia and their son. Mateo reached out his arms and chose to be held by you instead of Irene. Something which you loved.

Your girlfriend watched the way you held him and the way you talked to him as if he was your best friend. She loved seeing you with Mateo because it gave her a glimpse of what the future could look like.

You were so caught up with the little boy in your arms that you didn’t notice Ana taking her shirt off, almost. 

“Irene. I won’t let you wear my girlfriend’s shirt. Nope, sorry, not going to happen” 

The look the defender gave confused you. 

“Wrong Parades Y/N” 

Ana then proceeds to handing Mateo her shirt.

“How can I fight him? He’s so cute and small and look at those cheeks” you knew in that moment that there’s nothing you could do. 

“Told you so” Ana knew that you would have no problem letting the little boy have her shirt.

Irene takes her son from you and puts him down. It gives you the opportunity to place the shirt over his head and helping him get his arms through. You have no problem admitting he looked cute in Ana’s shirt.

The three of you, plus Mateo walk back across the pitch and towards the changing rooms. 

“Next time, I get your shirt” 

“Next time, I promise”

[galadriel-blue]

I want Celeborn to be present in The Rings of Power and here’s why:

A lot of people love Celeborn more than I thought, so it gave me the confidence to post why I want him to be in the show and what I think his character should be like. Hopefully this is coherent. There may be mistakes despite me proofreading it 100,000 times haha! I kind of rambled here, but I hope my fellow Celeborn enjoyers like my random thoughts nonetheless. Share your thoughts with me because I'd love to hear them!

(p.s. I finally watched the new episodes, so this post will have small mentions of The Rings of Power Season 2, so if you don't want spoilers, don't read!)

I don’t care when they introduce him. I’m secretly hoping it’s soon, but if it’s not, I simply hope they bring him in eventually. But when they do make his introduction, I hope they do it well. And by well, I mean that I hope they don’t water down his character, and his relationship with Galadriel, just to make Sauron the better love interest.

Now, do not jump to conclusions about my opinion just yet. I am not slandering the ever-popular ship of Haladriel/Saurondriel. It may be true that I have a love-hate relationship with the pairing, but that is a topic for a different post. If I am completely honest, I don’t see anything romantic between Galadriel and Halbrand/Sauron. I can recognize the undertones, which I sort of mention in this post, but I personally see the pairing as a non-romantic bond. If you are a Haladriel/Saurondriel shipper, know that I love you and appreciate you, and even though I have complicated feelings surrounding the ship, I am eating up all of the content that is being created for it. You guys are amazing. Seriously.

With that disclaimer out of the way, I will now discuss my thoughts…

When Celeborn arrives in the Rings of Power, I want him to be like Halbrand/Sauron, but slightly to the left. Let me explain.

What makes Sauron and Galadriel’s dynamic so appealing is their bond. How they have been and become connected by fate to be the opposites to each other. He binds her to power, his power, and she binds him to the light. It’s such an interesting connection: Two people, two enemies, bound together by some unspeakable force, bringing them closer in a circle that seems like it’s unbreakable. Many find romance hiding between the lines, and while I do think there is a romantic temptation there, it’s been doomed to fail from the start.

Because when we face it, we see how one-sided it is. Sauron may hold love for Galadriel, but it is only in the way that she makes him feel about himself. She was the first one to forgive him, despite her not knowing who he was at the time, and she was the only one who made him feel like what he was doing was good. His desire to keep her for himself is entirely selfish. He may promise her power, but it’s not her own. It’s his. And even if she did join him, there would be no sense of equality between them. He would always hold more, and in turn, he would hold Galadriel back. Even if at some point he did (or does) feel a true romantic attraction for her, it still would never work because his lust for power, and love for himself, will always be stronger no matter what Galadriel makes him feel.

But it is tempting for Galadriel to want this power because he twists it so beautifully. He is a deceiver, and he catered his deception to her desires. Galadriel likes to be in control. She likes to be strong. She likes to be a leader. Combining that with her stubborn nature and her unsteady, grief-stricken mind, it is no surprise that she fell under Sauron’s spell. Not to mention, he turned himself into exactly what she needed at the time. Someone who pushed her, someone who didn’t hold her back. Sauron became the most ideal partner in the most toxic way because he only became that for her in order to achieve what he wanted. He was using her the whole time, regardless of the feelings he developed as he got to know her, which makes their dynamic so incredibly complex.

Because that’s what evil people do. They convince you that they are your friend and that what they’re doing to you is good, and when you contradict them, they cast the blame onto you. “Sauron lives because of you.” Suddenly it’s Galadriel’s fault for finding a connection with him in the first place. Because she resisted him, it is now her burden to bear all of his hatred inside of her. She’s the one to blame. He makes it her fault that he lives because she was strong enough to push the darkness away. Now he is making it a point to haunt her with darkness wherever she goes by filling her with guilt.

And part of her hates him for it but part of her wants him back. “I felt it too.” She keeps thinking back on that moment because it felt good to be understood for once, after thousands of years of people telling you that you were wrong and that you needed to stop. She felt loved and seen with him.

So basically, I want Celeborn to be Halbrand if Halbrand was just a bit softer and wasn’t a master manipulator hiding behind the guise of a nice, attractive man.

Galadriel and Celeborn are bound by an invisible string too, they just don’t know it yet. The Silmarillion describes that they “had great love between them.” I don’t want the show to erase that. We saw how she spoke so fondly of Celeborn as she reminisced with Theo. She spoke of a glimpse of who she was before the war, with a faraway look and tears in her eyes. Galadriel was a woman in love, one who danced outside in fields of flowers and had a sense of humor, even as she was watching her beloved being sent away to a battle they did not believe would last so long. She thought she lost her love.

She literally thinks Celeborn is dead, and it tears her heart apart. Because in my mind, Celeborn was the only other person who truly saw her, other than Finrod and now Halbrand. And Morfydd even said it in an interview where they asked her about Celeborn. She said that there is a part of Galadriel that isn’t awake because she believes her husband to be dead. Because of his supposed death, the quote, “softest part of her” has been closed and hopefully Celeborn will return and make her feel safe again. How tragically sad and romantic is that?

Galadriel’s heart is lonely. She doesn’t know Celeborn is still out there. That’s another reason why it was so easy for her to open her heart to Halbrand. I feel like a part of her saw what she used to have in Celeborn in him. Then, it was so easily torn apart, and she was hurt again after being built up. What a blow to her self-esteem and her mind.

In Celeborn’s character, I want him to be similar to Halbrand in certain ways. I want him to be clever and strong. Perhaps even a little bit stubborn himself. I want to see him as a man who pushes Galadriel to be the best version of herself and keeps her in check when she starts running too a bit too fast, (but not so much that we take away the spitfire that Galadriel is) as Halbrand did for her on Numenor. I want to see him as someone who challenges her brain. Allows her to make plans but helps her navigate when things become difficult. I don’t want Celeborn to be someone who holds Galadriel back because her steadfast nature is what I love most about her. Her ability to be emotional is something I want Celeborn to support. I want him to be a bit of a dork who loves his wife no matter what. I see Celeborn as someone who is sweet, tender, and kind, but that doesn’t take away from his own strength. I want him to be all of Halbrand’s best traits because then we would see why it was so easy for Galadriel to fall sway to her enemy’s schemes. It would also just be super interesting to watch how two different people, with similar personality traits, both had a connection (and fell in love if you like the Haladriel route) with the same person and both followed different life paths. Celeborn as good and true despite the darkness in Galadriel, and Halbrand, is the darkness among the light that Galadriel holds.

This is why I hope they cast someone who looks like Charlie Vickers a bit because maybe she found comfort in a “familiar” face. It would make sense why she was so quick to trust Halbrand if she saw the traits of someone who loved her the most behind his eyes.

And here’s another thing. I don’t want Celeborn to be used to diffuse Galadriel’s personality. I keep seeing arguments (mainly angry YouTube men) use Celeborn to hate on Haladriel and to make Galadriel fit their ideals of what her character “should be” in their minds.

All of the dudebros sitting in front of their computers, arguing against Haladriel/Sauron by using Celeborn as their point of reason (“Why add enemies to lovers?? It doesn’t make sense to the canon blah blah blah”) only want Celeborn in the show to reel Galadriel in. They hate Haladriel because it denies canon, but they want Celeborn to be the main focus instead of Galadriel, because strong female characters can’t exist in the Tolkien universe without a man apparently.  And they use “canon” as their scapegoat, but what’s the deeper message they’re spilling? They can’t stand seeing a female character being badass (excuse my language) without a man to back her up in the way they want to see it. In their eyes, Galadriel is supposed to be soft, ethereal, quiet, mystical, and never fighting in armor. They want her to be their perfect male fantasy of what a mysterious woman should be. But are we forgetting how she banished Sauron in The Hobbit? Everyone acts like Galadriel was never a fighter, but we see her use her immense power to send away to greatest evil she’s ever seen. Where is the logic??

These people who insist Celeborn be introduced, simply to be the “proper love interest because that’s what canon says” are completely missing the point of his character. Their version of Celeborn is soaked in prejudice because they want him to be the stereotypical man to hold Galadriel back and take away all of her stubbornness and strength (I.e. the parts of her that make her such a relatable character for me). That is not the Celeborn I want.

I want a Celeborn that enhances and supports the traits that Galadriel already had from the start of season one, and the traits she will continue to have as the series progresses. Heck, I want these traits that she possesses to be the reason he fell in love with her in the first place. Galadriel is feminine, and regal, with an heir of beauty, but she is also clever, quick-witted, and even quick to anger. She’s not a picture-perfect woman, and I love it. And I bet Celeborn loves it too. I’ll say it again: “There was great love between them.” Great love comes with knowing every part of a person, even what we consider bad, and loving them despite of it. Regardless of how they bring him in, or if they do at all, I want him to be a strength for her, without getting rid of all of the parts of her character that made me love her in the first place.

The difference between Galadriel and Halbrand and Galadriel and Celeborn is that while Haladriel’s dynamic is centered around selfishness (from both of them desiring power and possibly each other so much so that it blinds them) Galadriel and Celeborn could be centered around selflessness. I mean, we see it in their story. When Galadriel eventually decides to go to Valinor, Celeborn doesn’t make her feel bad for leaving. He is understanding and compassionate. He respects her decision. And she respects him for staying behind. He returns to her eventually, but in their time apart there is no hatred.

I am not saying that the Haladriel ship is selfish, I am just saying that the two characters are selfish. I am analyzing the characters in the ship, not the ship and the shippers, so please keep that in mind.

Both Galadriel and Halbrand/Sauron are obsessed with each other (albeit in slightly differing ways) which makes them do things they can’t control.

Galadriel pleads with Elrond to help her in S2. “I can’t let him in again.”

“He never left Galadriel.”

She knows the control Sauron has over her is too strong. She knows it’s bad, but she still wants it. It’s unhealthy and wrong, but the heart follows where it wills when it is weak. Galadriel needs support and I hope we will eventually see Celeborn provide it.

The thing I am most afraid of is that they will turn Celeborn into an easily dislikable character, simply because they are following what most of the fans want. It’s not a bad thing to cater to an audience, but if they butcher his character for the sake of it, then I will be greatly disappointed. I want Celeborn to have just as much depth as Galadriel, and I want their relationship to have as much depth as Haladriel does. I don’t want Celeborn to be perfect, and I don’t want Galadriel to be either. I want their relationship to have flaws, but I also want to see the great love between them.

Galadriel is going through some complicated emotions. She’s experiencing the most dramatic situationship of all time. Perhaps that will hurt Celeborn in some ways, watching how his lover is tempted by another man, and I want to see that. But I also want to see him strengthen her in the process, by helping her through it instead of abandoning her. Even though it hurts him. Even though it hurts her. Because let’s face it, the best relationships are built on communication, and when one person makes a mistake, you don’t just get up and run when things get tough. You battle through it. The good and the ugly. Until one day, your connection is stronger because of it.

To sum it up, I ship Galadriel and Celeborn, and I can’t wait to see their dynamic onscreen, whenever it ends up happening. I just hope they do it right. I feel like such an unpopular TROP fan when I talk about them, because in all honesty, I favor Celadriel much more than Haladriel/Saurondriel, and we all know between the two what the most popular ship is. That’s not to say I don’t get excited when I see moments between Galadriel and Halbrand that could be interpreted as romantic, or when my friends post Haladriel fanfiction with so much enthusiasm. I eat that stuff up because I love it when people get excited about what they love. I just hope there are people out there who will be excited when it’s my ship's turn to shine, or when I gush about the Celadriel fanfictions I am bound to post.

 Like I said before, I have complicated feelings about Haladriel/Saurondril that I will explain at some point, (and again, I am not a Haladriel hater by any means) but I want to explain my opinion of it right because I just know some people will come after me if I say something that disagrees with them. I want to be delicate okay-

I don’t even know if I explained my thoughts on Celeborn clearly, but I hope I can find some people who understand where I’m coming from with this. The moment Galadriel talked about Celeborn, how he saw her dancing, and how he looked like a silver clam in his armor, I fell in love with the ship. That may make me the odd one out, but perhaps I’ll discover some people who feel the same about them.

Feel free to discuss your thoughts with me! I’d love to hear them! (If you disagree, make sure to make your point respectfully please-)

[yunxi-11085]

Jing Yuan x reader & our child yanqing!!

I just want baby yanqing being a lil silly troublemaker and reader(you) just letting him go no matter what because he's so freaking cute??? you couldn't help it when he showed you his super move of puppy face.. later on Jing yuan might need to learn it from yanqing hehe but jing yuan would be upset, like yanqing broke his favorite cup but he just gets a little scolding and can go back to playing w/ toys... with the excuse of him being too cute that you must let him go

time skip to when yanqing is a teen and jing yuan finally gets to take his revenge by hiding some of yanqing's favorite swords

that would make yanqing superrr upset but he doesn't know who stole his favorite swords.. so he can't confront them abt it and then because you know who stole his lil swords so you secretly gave yanqing some allowance to buy more swords? jing yuan doesn't even know where all that money comes from keke

reminded by this small comic(?) where Jing yuan is disappointed at yanqing for buying new swords but you couldn't help but give him more money when he asks for it because he's tOO cute (( like even if I weren't related to him I'd do ANYTHING to make this baby smile like this aaa

a few sword buying trips later and jing yuan started noticing n he gets jealous~~ you're little hubby getting jealous of the son you both adore~~

so during this morning when you n your hubby wakes up together in bed, he asks "what are your plans for today?" today you are supposed to accompany yanqing to meet some officials! which is the job other people should be doing but you wanted to spend more time with your son.

"how about we go on a date today, just the two of us." he said. but wasn't he supposed to be at work today? "I'm sure the diviner would be willing to let me have a break once in a while" he was sure, but you weren't sure.

he stands up and reaches out for your hand, "it's been a long time since we've went out together"

you were tempted to go with him but you still had to meet up with qingque too right? you promised her that you wanted to learn mahjong from her.

and then you looked back up at his face— oh my.... yanqing??? the general of the cloud knights, looking at you with such puppy—

"uh... sure then" you shyly said, it's a once and a lifetime to see this face... you must treasure it in your brain for years to come even though you already have yanqing's puppy face in there too

nn~ Jing yuan hides you from yanqing the whole day

I'm gonna add more tmrw I need to sleep aaa

update :: I'm now awake and leTs continue

Jing Yuan x reader w/ our child yanqing (jelly Jing yuan time~~)

you don't know but, Jing yuan purposely brought you to restaurants where he knew that yanging wouldn't be in and disrupt the little love time you both have. yesterday while he was sulking in the divine foresight he went and calculated where is the best route to not see yanqing for a day ImAO

imagine doing that to your son

anyways, Jing yuan was being super nice and caring the entire time, if you wanted a little teddy bear he'd buy it for you, etc. etc. if he caught you ogling at some cupcakes or sweets from the window he'd bring you inside and let you taste every one of them!

if you didn't notice, some people were giggling and smiling at your cute interaction. the general of xianzhou on a date with his cute s/o!

it was near afternoon now and you've already visited all the places you wanted to go.

"hm I know the perfect place to go, angel" imagine Jing yuan calling you angel while you call him hubby ImFaokskmskandn I'm single af why am I writing this

you both go on a walk together while holding hands.. the sun is setting and.... oh this man is so pretty. you know it, we all know it. but even all the years of marriage nd being together you still couldn't get over how your hubby is so so pretty.

the radiance of the sun from behind him while he looks at you with those loving eyes.. your heart flutters at the sight.

and guess what? he brings you to a small cafe, and it was full of cats.. and birds. >> you know whose the biggest bird n cat lover here

you squeal at the sight and almost immediately jump inside to pat the little furries...

the last part of the date was so romantic. the staff was super welcoming and the tea tasted so good. It's like our first date all over again. you chuckled and Jing yuan laughed as well.

"we can consider this as our first date together as a married couple then" which funny enough truly is, because every other time it's the three of you together on a family trip.

when the date is over, and you and Jing yuan walk back. he holds your hand tightly with fingers intertwined. he makes sure he walks side by side because of the major size difference between you two.. and if he walks how he usually does you will probably have to run to catch up to him every step

'maybe we should do more of these in the future..'

when you arrive home, you will probably bring out a sandal to Jing yuan because he failed to tell qingque that you are going when you reminded him to atleast tell someone to send a message to her.

yanqing runss to you and you barely had time to react before Jing yuan picks the young boy up with his two large hands by the waist.

"WAh-

"slow down yanqing, we need to rest." Jing yuan says before putting the boy down.

hm? I'm not tired though?

Jing yuan got the message but nonetheless he drags you to your shared bedroom leaving the poor boy behind

hah...

jelly Jing yuan is my thing now I need him to be a jelly little baby for me hehe

I'm probably gonna make more yuus

[im-this-kind-of-girl]

Aziraphale and Crowley's unhinged character analyzis (pt2. Crowley)

Controversial opinion:

Aziraphale and Crowley at the end of Season2 managed to accomplish the main goal they each had since the beginning of time. Only to realize that what they wanted no longer made them happy.

Disclaimer: I have no idea about what is going to happen in Good Omens. This analysis could clearly be considered a theory since I'm not Neil Gaiman, but as someone who knows about narrative and character structure, I'm going to elaborate. Also, English is not my first language, so sorry in advance.

I've already talked about Aziraphale's possible transformation arc in the Good Omens story. In here I've also written important definitions such as what's a transformation arc. I highly recommend it to read it first.

Now it's time to talk about Crowley.

Crowley, the co-protagonist and love interest.

In our role as audience, Crowley is the character with whom one tends to empathize the quickest. By the end of the second season, most would be tempted to think Crowley was right. However, this is a lie. Not only is Crowley not right, but he rejected Aziraphale just the same, choosing his principles over love.

Now, why in the first instance do we not see it that way? Well, because we have Aziraphale's point of view. We always get the angel's reaction first, we always see the way Crowley shows up again and again and again to rescue him unconditionally.

Very rarely do we have a moment where Crowley is alone in crisis because his beliefs are challenged. No, everything he does is in function of Aziraphale and we see the story from his perspective, that is, from the perspective of someone who is in love with Crowley. Because of this, Crowley is equally liked and attractive to everyone equally: we are inside Aziraphale's in love POV.

By the time Crowley proposes Aziraphale to run away together, we as the audience are seeing a proposal that is incredibly tempting to us: we want Aziraphale to accept it because it's what Aziraphale really wants. That's why the fight hurts so much, because we know internally that the two of them had the chance to be together but didn't because they're not ready yet.

Crowley's Objective

Crowley, unlike Aziraphale, was happy in Season 2 with his current situation. Having cut ties with both Heaven and Hell pleased him, because Crowley always sought only one goal throughout his entire life: freedom.

The one thing Crowley has always desired is to be himself with no excuses and no strings attached.

Since before the beginning of time, Crowley came to the conclusion that he didn't fit in Heaven. He thought he would fit in Hell, but soon realized that it was like a deteriorated version of Heaven, so he didn't fit in there either. On Earth he doesn't quite fit in either. Sure, he likes humans, has a certain admiration and curiosity for them, but he still considers them a species far different from his own. He is not human and never will be, so he can't really identify with them at all. He enjoys the advantages of humanity, but he is not one of them.

The Job episode is an indicator of this, he himself says so "I am a demon who goes along with Hell as far as I can".

In this same episode, however, the major problem he has with this is also expressed. Azira tells him "that sounds lonely". The counterpart of freedom is loneliness. To be truly free, you need to have nothing and nothing to bind you. That's why Crowley is someone who is unsympathetic and even disinterested in dealing with third parties. He does not remember faces or names, he does not get significantly close to anyone because that would compromise his desire for genuine independence.

This characteristic is the only one that is present in absolutely all versions of Crowley: the book, radio drama and even in the cursed script of the movie that never was. That's why whenever he sees danger, his first reaction is to run away.

Being free he has nothing to lose… or does he?

Crowley's dilemma

Well, Crowley never fit in by being different and so he always felt somewhat an outcast. However, it wasn't long before he noticed that Aziraphale was also different.

Clearly the angel was not like the other angels in Heaven: he enjoyed Earth, he fell into temptations, he lied to other angels. Also, it is obvious that he would not fit in Hell, and while he is more empathetic to humans, he is still innocently aloof. Aziraphale has a pure goodness that Crowley admires, the goodness that made him be kind to the demon in the first place.

Moreover, no matter the time, no matter how little they knew each other, Aziraphale could always see through Crowley's evil masquerade. The demon could burn goats and murder people, and yet Aziraphale has always held a blind faith towards him. Crowley, the Serpent of Eden, who had been his entire existence told that he's doomed to be a crawling tempter, finds in the angel an unexpected possible friend who's never been afraid or bothered by him.

Crowley eventually feels they are both the same: two supernatural entities left on Earth who learned to enjoy life on their own terms. Crowley sees in Aziraphale the companionship he never thought he'd find, the friend he thought at the moment he fell he'd never have. And that feeling of companionship and admiration slowly morphed into something more until it became love.

The season finale isn't the first time Crowley has considered leaving Earth. Probably not even his fight in Season 1 was the first time he considered it. Yet he never did. He never could because, without Aziraphale, running away would doom him to a life of solitude. Free, sure, but completely alone since no one except his angelic friend could understand him.

However, I think Crowley is not aware of what he feels. Or at least, he hasn't been for a long time. I'm sure his moment of introspection about his feelings was when Nina confronted him about it. Up to this point, Crowley considered Aziraphale his best and only friend, obviously. Crowley is loyal to a fault and always thought his relationship with Aziraphale was perfect just the way it was, but suddenly someone put it into words and he realized that yes, that's what he really wants with Aziraphale.

Crowley's decision

Crowley wants his freedom. That's why he never asked Aziraphale for explanations (because at the end of the day they were just friends), that's why he never told him that he was living in his car (because he would end up depending on him), that's why he never talked about his fall (because that would be opening up too much).

The most ironic thing about the whole ending, is that just like Crowley did with Aziraphale… Aziraphale proposed to Crowley the one thing he wants more than anything: to be together, for good, but sacrificing his freedom.

Crowley is capable of doing anything for his angel, even without acknowledging that what they had was love. He's capable of driving on fire, capable of killing Gabriel, capable of walking inside a church. Of everything except one thing.

It's the one step Crowley didn't dare take. He is not a martyr like the angel, no, he is not willing to sacrifice himself to be together. So, the obvious happened: Crowley chose his freedom over Aziraphale just as Aziraphale chose Heaven over Crowley.

The end of his arc and Aziraphale.

As I said before, I don't think Crowley will have a significant change comparable to Aziraphale's. His personality and beliefs will not be changed in a momentous way, as Crowley no longer has ties to Heaven or Hell by pulling the tab on both sides.

His side is already picked: Humanity.

His biggest change is likely to be one of purpose. Crowley is no longer going to be satisfied with his freedom. And the latter is a fact: Crowley is officially free. Without Aziraphale in the equation, he no longer has anything or anyone tying him to do anything or be any other than who he truly is. Crowley can go to Alpha Centauri and never come back; he can sleep for 3,000 years; he can go around the world in the Bentley. He can do whatever he wants. This might seem ideal to the Crowley of 300 years ago, but today's Crowley is completely consumed by loneliness.

Crowley never cared about building a home or having material things because he never wanted to be tied to anything earthly for the sake of doubt. He was always aware of the destruction of the Earth.

Love is not something that can be prevented though, and in the absence of having a home, he found it in Aziraphale.

Aziraphale: trustworthy, sweet, warm, funny, a bit of bastard but always irrevocably good. Everything Crowley lost when he fell he almost automatically found back.

To this day I wonder what Crowley is going to do now that his angel is gone and the possibility of him fleeing to the stars is becoming more and more possible. It's going to depend a lot on how much time passes between seasons, but I don't think it will be much. For not only he was his anchor, no, without Aziraphale, he doesn't have someone to cause him to want to do better, he doesn't have someone to be vulnerable with, he doesn't have a goal anymore, nobody else to impress.

He isn't evil. He isn't good. And now, he is alone.

First Crowley lost the love of God and now the love of Aziraphale. And it is then that Crowley will realize that what he really wants is not to be free, but to be loved. And this desire can only be fulfilled by the love of his life, Aziraphale.

The thing is... Crowley has always wondered why.

Why falling? Why becoming the cursed Serpent? Why could he never be truly free?

At the end of his arc, he must come to the conclusion that the answer was always in front of him:

Love is the only answer he needs.

[thyras]

→ who i was

PAIRING → annatar | halbrand | mairon (sauron) x f!oc!sabina

WORD COUNT→ 6k words

WARNINGS → just mentions of previous torture and trauma

SUMMARY → after sabina does not show up after a long night, annatar goes and seeks her out, but what he finds may alter their entire beings and relationship.

AUTHORS NOTE → so this piggybacks off of starlight, as a prequel to explain things mentioned in it. i am apart of the small portion that sauron's original maia form resembled his halbrand form. so there's that. sabina is not a maia, i wanna make that very clear. she shares similar traits from she is not a maia, she is half-vala but has a human mother that was gifted with abilities and immortality. idk i feel like i will try to explain it as best as i can lol big ALSO i know guys that in the lore melkor does not procreate or indulge in earthly desires so this is far off the canon so don't come for me. i promise it is solely for the drama aspect. after this fic, i will be pausing on the oc content and we will be back to reader. cause i am dying to jump back into reader's story 😂

SAURON X F!OC!SABINA MASTERLIST

He could feel her soft hum of dark energy as he walked down the steps toward the river's edge. She was singing in a tongue he was unfamiliar with, one that had probably been lost to the ages. It was a gentle song, probably once used to comfort a child. The melancholy in her dark heart surprised him, though. Had his intrusion affected her that much to make her waver in her watchful spying? Was she that weak now that he could finally break her once and for all? Turn the woman his nemesis, carefully crafted against him, and destroy any chance he had for taking over power.

The memory was a brutal one, of course, but was it that much of an effect on her shielded mind and heart that she would need to spend time away from her duties? As he rounded the bend, his feet stopped suddenly when he took in her bare form as she sat on an outcropping at the river's edge. 

The nightmare he had invaded the previous night had given him a glimpse at her when she was young and pure, her body yet broken by the man who held her chains. She was of the purest form, thin, but had the curves of a woman sculpted by one of the Vala and pale skin that would put even the most beautiful elven maidens to shame as it gleamed in the moonlight of that dank and dark cell. Her hair was as soft as the finest elven silk and held a soft golden glow as it fell down her back in springy curls. Though stained with dirt and blood, he could not help but be captivated by it.

But those were of her pure form. And much like himself. That was long lost to the ages.

This form of hers, though, was breathtaking as she basked in her dark aura. The swells and curves of a woman so beautifully sculpted by ages of immortality, hair as white as icy snow upon snow-capped mountains that fell down her back in loose waves instead of curls. Her pale skin was flusher and healthier now, and a sprinkling of freckles fell down her back and shoulders. Those dark sapphire eyes he had seen when her energy pooled and swelled in her took all the air from his lungs. Her pure, icy eyes were all but forgotten amid her torture.

Earthly desires never affected Maiar. It weakened them to partake in the carnal desire of man or elf. But he could see why she had captivated two of Eä's greatest ones. She was a dark gift sent to tempt even the blackest of souls. Her power was so deliciously sweet and of the most tempting of beauties.

Galadriel was beautiful and deserved her name as one of the most beautiful elven maidens, but Sabina was something entirely different. She was magnificent. 

She was positively sinful.

Sabina wrung her white hair out and tilted her head to get the last droplets out, the sun catching the red scarring of her scar underneath her hairline, illuminating her dark bond with the man he sought to destroy. A sigh escaped her lips as she laid her hair down her back and leaned forward to wrap her arms around her knees.

“It is unwise to watch a maiden bathe, my lord,” she said softly. Her blue eyes turned to him, the sun catching them in its warm embrace, causing them to sparkle like the gemstones they were. Her face was almost expressionless against his powerful gaze. “Or did you come to play with my mind again?”

“No,” he finally said, gaining his composure before walking toward her. She shifted slightly as he walked up only a few feet away. He could now see the raised pink and red lines of lashings from a blade on her back, arms, and thighs. The wrinkled, broken skin of burn marks covered her wrists and decorated her inner thighs, scarring her once beautiful form.

The pain he must have caused her was probably unbearable for her mortal flesh to heal. He could sense the dark threads of the chains and collar still in that very spot they had been in the nightmare. She was subdued and pained by his torture, even if she was good at hiding it.

“Then why are you here,” she said, looking back at her reflection in the waters. Her soft demeanor was now locked up again, covered by the dark sapphire eyes and threads seeping out of her. “To patronize me? Laugh in my face because a mere mention of my hellcage can get me to break.” 

Sauron had been pushed down again, and something he had not felt in ages rose to the surface at her helplessness. For the first time since his corruption, Mairon appeared, the gentle, kind being who only wished to serve and please his Gods appeared to this mere mortal of great power. He had always believed his pureness had been destroyed, but the mere sight of her dark, broken sapphire eyes brought up long-lost feelings of his time under the light of the Valar. “I did not come to patronize you, my lady,” 

Sabina looked up at him with a narrowed gaze, suspicion crossing her expression at the face staring down at her. “You are a deceiver, so how could I ever trust your word.” She paused. “You broke my mind and invaded my nightmares. What am I supposed to believe?” She said, looking back into the water. 

Mairon wished to touch her and take all this pain away, but Sauron wanted to smile and bask in his meddling with the powerful woman before him. He had planted those seeds of rebellion and now had to sow and water them until she was under his control.

“I am a deceiver,” he started; Sabina turned and raised a brow in disbelief. “But those feelings you feel are yours, not something I have planted, but what I hope to mold.” She snorted and looked back into the water.

“There it is,” she breathed with a dark smile. “The Great Deceiver knows he cannot beat The Viper, so he tries to turn his greatest weapon against him.” Sauron’s eyes darkened. “By sowing some seeds of rebellion, but when it does not work, he resorts to torturing her into submission, with nightmares of her most frightening days.” She stood, grabbed her sheer gown, and slipped it on before moving to grasp his chin, black voids staring into his darker green ones. Sabina lifted her hair and showed the raised dark lines of the tattoo-like scar Olavi had etched into her. The scales and curving lines of a serpent, its head coming to crest just behind her left ear. “You truly have deceived even yourself if you think you could break this,” She snarled at him. “I’m his for the rest of his days, even in death, so if you plan to kill him, you kill me as well, Shadow,”

A dark smile found his lips. “Killing him was the plan, but–” He trailed off, shrugging as the sickly sweet thoughts of his corruption surfaced. “I could kill you and make it so much easier for myself.”

“But you won’t,” She said, tightening her grip on him. “Because you know what I am, and to have me is ultimate power,” Sauron smiled and nodded.

“You are so much more than a tool to him.” He said, moving to run his fingers up her shoulder. “Your raw magic has kept him complacent for so long and arrogant in his power. But he has chained you for another reason entirely.” He watched as the hairs on her mortal skin rose and goosebumps formed. His fingers traced across one of the scars on her clavicle as she swallowed hard. “I hate wasting good resources, which is what he has done with you.” His touch moved down her chest, trailing lines around the tops of her breasts. Sabina’s eyes closed, and her hand dropped from his chin; he leaned into her ear, lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “I would not waste you, little viper. You would sit at my side, and we would rule as two. No torture, no pain, only the whole world kneeling before our feet.”

“But I would be a prisoner just as I am now,” Sauron chuckled.

“My love, you would be free, unbridled, and have a choice.” 

“It does not sound like much of a choice,” She paused, gathering her words again. “Either I join you, or I die with my master,”

“That is an absolutist’s way to look at it,” Sabina said, stepping away from his touch while her head shook in disagreement.

“Again, you deceive even yourself, believing I would subjugate myself to more ownership.” Sauron watched as her eyes darkened again. “I am more powerful than even you, and I could never trust you to keep your word. You lie and manipulate to get what you want.”

“And you do not do the same?” His blonde brow raised in question as he took a step towards her. “You have tried to manipulate me with your premonitions to scare me off or to side with Olavi.”

“They are true,” she hissed. “You will be bound to your greed for power with them, and it will be your end just as my masters.” Sauron watched as her fingers twitched, and his elven body went rigid against her dark threads. She flicked her other fingers and brought him to his knees before her.

Those eyes from the nightmare shone in her face now, the same star-less black sky and the feral look on her face as those dark lines appeared against her pale skin. An inky black hue rose on her fingertips as she drew on his power, weakening him into submission. “If anyone is being subjugated to ownership, it will be you,” she hissed. “How does it feel to have your mind bent against you, like you have done to so many before.” Her threads pulled harder, and he fell to his hands as the pain in his mind got worse.

She was ripping and clawing at his mind, severing each piece of his different facades until he would break underneath her onslaught, the serpents sinking their venom into his mind. But she withdrew before she could break his mind with hers. He breathed heavily against the newfound freedom to breathe before looking up at her, anger boiling. “You are weak, pathetic even,” She snarled at him. “I never consented to my mark, and do you want to know why?”

“Why?” he growled. Her sickly, sweet smile showed on that angelic face. She bent down and tried to caress his cheek with her fingers, but he shied away from the dark touch.

“Because, Shadow, if you look deeper at those nightmares, you will see I broke him. I broke him until he could not heal himself until he was so weak he had to etch that mark into me.” She licked her lips and moved to place her fingers underneath his chin. “I was caged for a reason,” her thumb running across his bottom lip. “Because under the fingers of darkness, I am my most lethal.” He felt his anger subsiding and rage finding him. “I will break you, just as I broke him and will break all of Arda. For you have no inkling of what you have unleashed upon yourself.”

Before she could react to his touch, Sauron gathered all his strength and gripped her wrist, sending her back into her mind. Using what little power he had, he brought up a fragmented memory to subdue her.

He breathed heavily as the cool air returned to his lungs. He opened his eyes to see he was lying underneath a tree. Sauron sat up and saw her lying in the grass a few meters away. Her body was covered in a velvety crimson gown, and her hair flowed free. Her body looked up, and he could feel her power surging. But it was not aimed at him but toward the fear of the unknown memory. 

“Sabina,” a feminine voice called. She turned her head towards the voice. “Sabina, my child, why are you out here?” A woman came into view, her white hair plaited down the sides in thin, tight braids adorned with golden rings, while the rest of her hair was left free to blow in the soft breeze. She stopped just before Sabina. He was not doing this; this was something different entirely.

“Mamma?” She whimpered at the woman. Her eyes were tearing as they looked up at the woman. “Mamma,” Sabina cried. The woman knelt to her and placed her thin fingers underneath Sabina’s chin.

“It is okay, child. We will get you cleaned up,” her mother said. Sabina reached up to touch her mother, but the figure faded like petals off one of the trees.

“Nej! Nej! Mamma! kom tillbaka snälla,” She cried and tried to go after her before collapsing into the tall grasses. Sabina turned her dark eyes to him. “Bring her back,” she screamed. “Or get out of my head.” Sauron shook his head.

“I am not in control of this,” he breathed. He truly was not controlling this anymore. His power was almost completely drained, only enough to keep him in the form he was currently in. He tried to move out from underneath the shadow of the tree he was under, but once the rays hit his skin, a burning sensation crawled across his skin. Sauron reflexively pulled back in pain and returned to the tree's shadow, not chancing, bringing any more harm to himself in his weakened state. Sabina looked curiously at him and swallowed hard when she realized. “We are in Aman,” she breathed and looked around.

“No, because I would not have come with you if that were true. I could never return to that place.” He retorted, moving to sit against the tree, letting out a groan when he could finally relax. “This is something else, something that you created. Not I,”

“Here,” she breathed softly, feeling slight remorse for being the cause of his pain. Sabina moved to where he sat and knelt in front of him. Her fingers reached out to touch him, but he moved away from her touch as he had done before. She sighed. “I am sorry,” she whispered.

“I did not know that phrase was in your vocabulary, little viper,” Sabina felt a smile touch her lips at the irony of his words.

“It is not in yours either, Shadow.” He sighed and looked up at her. Even in the tree's dark, she still seemed to gleam and glitter against the pure light. She was different here, like no part of her could be dimmed, even in the shadow of a tree. “Let me,” she pressed her hand against the burn mark. Her hand healed the wound before those delicate fingers traveled up his cloth-covered arm. 

Goosebumps rose underneath the cloth of his tunic as her eyes darkened slightly. Sauron could feel his power returning as she traveled up and cupped his stubbled face. “There,” she breathed gently, her softness returning as she gazed into his eyes. “I forget myself sometimes,”

Sauron swallowed hard at the sickly, sweet words that left her lips. The words seemed so familiar, like something that had been said a lifetime ago. A different face accompanied those words, the face of his tormentor. The goosebumps became sharp pains like needles being scrapped across his skin. His eyes closed as he tried to regain his composure and control over his fear. The words ignited something he thought was long forgotten.

“What did you say?” he whispered. She looked at him, confused.

“I—” she started, but he sat up and cut her off.

“You said something so familiar like I had been in this same setting, and those words were spoken.” Sabina raised her brow at him, and a smile touched her lips. 

“I doubt that,” She rose. “You said it yourself; you would never be welcomed back here.” He nodded and sat up more, eyes watching her. The longer she stayed in the shadows, the more the aura around her seemed to dim and produce a hazy shadow, much like his own. 

His thought was interrupted when Sabina turned quickly and felt someone coming up behind her. The pinkish-white pedals reappeared softly before transforming into the figure that had appeared a while ago. Her glow was ethereal as she walked to the edge of the tree's shadow. Her pale hand reached for Sabina as a smile warmed her face. “Sabina,” the woman breathed as she stood just before the recovering being behind her, hesitating whether she should follow the woman’s request. “Come, we have much to talk about.” Her eyes returned to his, and he saw fear crossing the sapphire waters, almost like she was asking for his opinion.

Sauron nodded and motioned to the woman, causing Sabina to turn back and take the woman’s outstretched hand. The light returned to her as she walked out of the shadows and away from him. The air in his mortal lungs grew cold as the shadows of night crept in and the warmth of his sun left.

The two women moved through the tall grasses. Words were hardly shared as they traveled further away from the now tiny dark tree in the distance. “He cannot come with us where we are going,” the fair woman paused. “But you already knew that,” A smile lifted on her ethereal lips.

Sabina nodded softly. “I should hardly be allowed as well.” Her mother squeezed Sabina’s hand to get her to stop. She turned to her mother and raised a brow at her in question. Sabina had done terrible things in the name of the dark. There was no place for her in Aman, nor did she want to be here.

The light hurt. It burned her skin and made it crawl against the warmth of the rays. She did not belong here. She belonged in the shadows where he was. Her life had been led down a path of death and destruction, an irredeemable path.

“My child,” she began, touching Sabina’s cheek. “You still have some light left in you.” Her mother tried to get her to walk again, but Sabina stood still and refused to move, confusion crossing her face.

“Why am I here?” 

Her mother looked at her bewildered. “You brought yourself here, your fear—” Sabina shook her head and glared at the woman.

“You're an illusion then, a sick one I have created in my mind.” Her mother shook her head before retaking Sabina’s hand and placing it on her beating heart. The warmth of the woman’s body and the familiarity of the gesture made Sabina soften her guard slightly.

“Do you know my name?” she prompted as Sabina shook her head. “I am Eydís, your mother, flesh and blood. You bridged a gap between us in the Unseen World as you have done before.” 

“I’ve done this before?” Eydís chuckled and nodded in response to her daughter's question. 

“You have, though only for brief moments when you were in grave pain. I helped you through, but I am sure you forgot as it was only a flash of a moment.” Eydís looked at her daughter, puzzled now. “Why the Shadow?” her head motioned back to the tree in the far distance. Sabina followed her mother’s gaze and shrugged her shoulders.

“Product of wrong place, wrong time,” 

“No,” Eydís said, shaking her head. You lost your control over him.” Sabina felt shame cross her heart. She felt such guilt for hurting him, for even hurting Olavi. Sure, it felt good at the moment, but deep in her, she knew it was not her nature to do that; the demon desired to subjugate others.

Eydís’s hand touched her daughter’s cheek, rubbing her thumb across Sabina’s cheekbone as tears begged to fall over. “Child, I wished to save you from all this. But they had other plans for you.” Sabina swallowed hard as she watched the tears threaten to fall in her own mother’s eyes.

“Mamma,” Sabina breathed.

“No, you need to know.” Her fingers moved to push some of her daughter’s hair behind her ear. “You are so beautiful, more so than I could have ever dreamed of.” Eydís smiled as a warm red hue filled Sabina’s cheeks at the compliment. “A true weaving of stars only the queen of the Valar could have given me, a perfect blend of the starlight and the cold darkness of the star-less sky.” Her throat worked before she continued. “They forbade me to tell you your parentage or your power. They saw you as a blemish on my part, but when I told them the truth, she showed me mercy.” The tears finally fell. “I had to send you away. I had to let you go.” 

Sabina swallowed hard and felt her stomach twist in uncertainty. They, probably being the Valar, had given her that order. Olavi had always told her that her mother saw her as an abomination and cast her out. But to know that she was not that in the woman’s eyes brought her some comfort.

“Why?” Sabina asked, confused. “Why would they ask that of a mother?”

Eydís sighed and moved to grab her hand. “We are maidens of Varda, faithful servants to her. I was gifted with immortality and a place here in Aman for my faithful service to her.” A smile peeked on the woman’s lips. “I sang beautiful songs of love and harmony while I sewed beautiful workings of stars in her honor.”

“A Maia?” Eydís shook her head.

“I was just a plain woman with a gift, one seen as an omen for my people. But Varda took me in and taught me how to use my gift for good.” Eydís paused. “I was still human at the time, easily swayed by the workings of silvery tongues and sweet nothings. A man came to me before I was granted my place in Aman; he was as fair as I, with black hair as dark as night and dark eyes. He watched as I sang and sewed the stars in the night sky. Each time he would come, I would sow one's for him and tell him how even in the darkness, one can still find light.” She smiled fondly as she moved to walk away from Sabina. “I was completely smitten with him and enjoyed his company very much. But I could not see what he was rooting inside me. As time passed, I sang less appealing songs and sowed fewer stars. Still, I sought him out each night, and he blinded me to what was happening elsewhere in Arda. I was so blinded by his so-called love for me, blind to his true design.” She stopped just a few feet away and looked at the dark tree in the distance as she played with some of the fabric of her gown.

“Mamma?” Sabina prompted as she felt the woman’s refusal to continue her story.

“I was deceived; please remember that.” She turned to Sabina as the younger woman raised her brow. “He wanted to create something that no Vala could stand against. He wanted a son to rule by his side. But fate had other ideas, and he got a daughter. As terribly fierce and dark as him, I hid you in the light, hoping he would never find you, but he had many spies—”

“Olavi found me,” Sabina finished the thought. 

“Back then, he was called by a different name, one I shall never utter here, but yes, he found you.” Sabina now walked past her mother and felt the power surging in her fingers and her mind. “I pleaded with Varda to save you, but you were so akin to your father that they forbade me to do anything. I had hoped showing you the light and instilling it in you would save you from ever touching the darkness.” 

“Melkor,” Sabina breathed. “He deceived you and created me,”

“We created you,” Eydís corrected her. “If he had created you, you would have been born a man. He was always vain that way.” Eydís smiled and talked as if this man was any normal being. But he was anything but that. He was death in its most potent form.

“You talk as if you still love him,” Sabina said, narrowing her gaze as everything in her life started making sense. The immortality and ability to overpower Maiar, who were far older than she, all the way too, and how dark things always seemed to be drawn to her as she seeped deeper into its clutches.

“I do, well the guise I met,” Eydís said matter of factually. “He rooted himself so deeply into me that I believed even for a moment I could turn him back to the light with my beauty and abilities,” Eydís smirked, knowing as Sabina scratched the back of her head. “You believe the same with the Shadow, don’t you?”

“No, I believed it with Olavi for many years.” Sabina started. “I believed if I just showed him grace and acceptance, he would end my torture so we could love how I loved him.” Sabina looked down. “The Shadow is just—” Eydís waved her daughter off with a silencing gesture.

“He is drawn to you like a moth is to flame. He sensed your father in you and now follows you around like some hound.” Eydís giggled as Sabina smiled at the woman’s joke. “He may not know why he does it and tries to rationalize it. But he could never corrupt you or deceive you into doing his bidding. He would have to try very hard even if it may feel like he could.” Sabina nodded with a smile.

“He has,”

“Do not let him break you with those illusions of your pain and torment like your father did to him. I know—” Eydís moved up to her daughter, fingers moving to where her scar was behind her ear. “Olavi tried and marred your skin with a bond that was not consented to so he could control you, but now,” She paused before Sabina felt the pain of a wound healing. “I will break that bond, and you will be free to choose for the first time in your life.” The pain spread across her hairline like wildfire against a dry plain. She tried not to flinch or show pain, but her knees buckled, and she fell into the grass as Eydís pulled back, breathing heavily against what she had done.

Sabina moved to touch the area and felt no scar, only the soft, smooth skin against her fingertips. A smile found her lips as she looked up at her mother. “Thank you,” she breathed as Eydís inclined her head to her.

“You are welcome, little one,” Eydís reached down to help her back up. “Can I tell you a story before I take you back?” Sabina nodded with a smile. “He was not very different from you, though he was created in service to Aulë, to forge beautiful jewels and items for Arda, but his obsession with order and perfection drove him right into Melkor’s hands. He fell and became so twisted with Melkor’s hatred and power that he became irredeemable. But he is remorseful for what he did, though he would never show you that.” Eydís motioned for them to start walking back. “He wanted to right his wrongs for many centuries, but power corrupted his mind even more when the Valar told him to pay for his crimes.” She paused and took her daughter’s hand. “Mairon,”

“What?” 

“His name was Mairon,” She breathed. “And that form he has taken was his from the beginning. I feel it like a call in the wind. Maiar do not love, as it weakens them, and too weaken one’s self when they are as powerful as him would be his end. But he would do it for you. We maidens of Varda tend to do that to darkness. For we find light even in the darkest of nights.” Sabina’s face warmed again, and she looked down at the wildflowers as they brushed against her bare feet. “You are free to choose your own path now; do not let anyone stand in your path, child.” Eydís stopped them, squeezed her daughter’s hand, and placed her lips to her forehead. “I must go, but know I am here and love you no matter what you choose.” Her kiss softened into petals, brushing across her face until tears fell onto Sabina’s cheeks. 

The emptiness in her heart surfaced as she waited a moment before speaking into the fresh air. “Thank you, Mamma. Thank you for telling me the truth and freeing me of my cage.” 

Sabina slowly made her way back to the dark tree, where, to her surprise, he was still leaning against the trunk. His eyes closed, and his mind dozed off as he rested. She smiled and let a laugh leave her lips, causing the being to startle at the noise she made. 

“Why are you still here?” she asked with a brow raised in amusement as he rubbed the sleep off his eyes. He looked around.

“I—”

“You were waiting for little old me,” She teased, his eyes narrowing as he moved to stand. “Tell me,” she prompted as she held up her finger to him, pressing it against his chest as he neared her. “Did you know?”

“Know what?” he asked, very confused. They were both quiet for a moment. She watched as his blue-green eyes grew with suspicion. Once enough time passed, Sabina flattened her palm against his chest and smiled at him.

His brow raised, and she could feel his pulse race underneath her touch. Sabina knew what attraction was and felt it when she gazed at this form for the first time. But she had the slightest inclination of what devotion or even love was. 

Her mother still talked about that monster in pure devotion to him, and she could sense that deep in her heart, she still loved him with every inch of her being. Whatever he was like to her had been everything she probably wanted to see. Perhaps not an inch of that being loved her or even knew what that word meant, but her mother believed there was good in him somewhere. There was light.

The being standing before her was a testament that nothing good was left in the man that bore her. Even if her mother still saw it somewhere, his pain and torment had broken even the most beautiful individuals and twisted their true natures until they were but a shell of their former selves.

Sabina was that way. She was never meant to be pure, she was never meant to hold the scepter to the light, nor was she supposed to keep the darkness at bay. She was the moment between sunrise and moonrise, the twilight. That first and last breath of light and dark before the day rose or ended. She was supposed to hold them at bay and keep them balanced so that one could never have power over the other. In creating her, Morgoth had created not a being of true dark or true light but balance, something he sought to destroy.

Olavi had realized who she was and probably had taken him for himself. He wanted power over his master and any successor after him until he was the only one left to rule in Morgoth’s stead. He hid her right underneath the Vala’s nose and tortured her in the same manner as the man underneath her fingertips was tortured in. Though his scars were invisible and deeply rooted in his mind, hers were on display and peppered her body as well as her mind. Her mortal body was so racked with pain that she had no passion, desire, or love that was her own. It was all a manipulation to sate her and make her believe what she and Olavi had was love.

But it was not.

She would never know the love her mother proclaimed to show for that beast. She could not profess such a feeling for the man underneath her fingertips, even in their purest forms. Her dark soul matched his, suffered alongside his, and sought redemption like his. They were so intertwined that it was criminal not to profess such a feeling. He may have hurt her, tortured her even, but deep in the confines of that dark mind of his; she felt Mairon peeking through. 

He was not immune to the light that still called to him when she was near; she wondered now if the actual reason Olavi had bound her was because he could feel the light changing him. 

His finger brought her out of her thoughts, pushing the silk strand behind her ear as a shiver ran down her spine in anticipation of his words. He swallowed and moved to caress her cheek softly.

“I suspected,” he finally breathed, answering her earlier question. “I suspected he created you. For what purpose, I did not know.” Sabina tilted her head into his touch. “You were too beautiful to be touched by him. When corrupted, we hold beastly broken forms. Nothing like your radiant beauty.”

“I am only like this—” He cut her off with a dark smile.

“When I mean radiant, I do not mean pure. You radiate a darkness that is so irresistible for beings such as me.” Sabina blushed softly. “So beautiful it is criminal that you even exist as you bask in your dark aura. Even if it is buried underneath all his dark weavings, you have pureness left in you, but I know you could never be pure enough to reside here.” His fingers cupped her chin, calloused hands touching the soft, delicate skin of a woman so akin to him that he could not help but think his master had made her for him.

“Mairon,” her voice whispered out, and Sauron felt his throat clench as the air was taken from his lungs when her voice spoke his name, his true name. “That was your true name,” she moved to push one of his tousled strands from his face as he nodded. 

“It was, but he is long gone.” Sabina giggled and shook her head.

“As much as you want him to be, he’s still there, love,” Sauron smiled and leaned to hover over her lips. His breath tickled her face as her eyes closed in preparation.

“Then let him be only for you,” he said, meeting her soft, pillowy lips as her arms moved to wrap around his neck until the world fell away around them. His hands went to her hips as she deepened their kiss, lips fighting for dominance as they engulfed each other’s essence until she felt the softness of his blonde hair in her fingertips and the coarseness of his gray robes as he pressed her tighter to him. 

Sabina knew who she was now, and she knew where they stood. Their paths crossed and conjoined until they became one singular desire to seek peace and order in this world's chaos.

Nej! Nej! Mamma! kom tillbaka snälla - No! No! Mama! please come back

[cxtori]

word count: 1,684

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Typical Story ~ Hobo Johnson Bad Day ~Justus Bennetts

Tori's Note: Once again being reminded of how bad I am at writing action scenes. let's ignore it please lmao

You rub at your eyes with the heels of your palms, the bright light of your laptop screen becoming too much for them to handle. You feel like you’ve been staring at it the entire day, though, you’ve only been working on reports for an hour or so.

Today was just not a good report writing day and you’re tempted to take a page from Dazai’s book and disappear for a few hours. Or a few days.

You let out a sigh and lean back in your chair with a stretch, your head hanging over the back of the chair to look out at the sky through the window.

You lean back further to look down at the street, watching as dozens of people walk by, some with children, others with shopping bags, some running in a hurry and others taking a little stroll.

And then you find a familiar face amongst them. It was Hirotsu, walking casually down the pathway, his hands in his pockets.

It wasn’t entirely unusual to see someone from the Port Mafia out and about. It’s bound to happen when you live in the same city. And the office is located by many popular shops and cafes. Even so, you’re a bit surprised to see him there.

It’s been a few weeks since you first met Tachihara and you, foolishly, haven’t been able to get those amber eyes out of your head ever since. There was something about him that had gotten stuck in the back of your mind and it had become a growing agitation for you.

You had no business thinking about a Port Mafia member, you knew that. They were dangerous criminals whose actions only gave you more work. Though you guess you could be grateful for the job security. Even so, you’d be damned if you said you didn’t find the guy attractive. It’s too bad you’re supposed to hate each other.

You push away the thoughts with another exaggerated sigh and stretch your arms across your desk, resting your chin on the pile of papers in front of you. You’ve barely had your eyes closed for 10 seconds before you’re being tapped on the head.

You open your eyes and look up to see Kunikida standing above you, knocking you on the head with his notebook.

“Come on, Y/n,” he scolds, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “I need those reports done by the end of the day. No time for resting.” You groan loudly, spreading yourself further over the desk.

“These aren’t even my reports! Dazai was supposed to finish them.”

“Well, Dazai isn’t here and I still need them completed.”

“Ugh, why are you always dumping his work on me? Give it to Akiko, she’s not doing anything,” you comment with a pointed glare at your sister who only gives you a sly smile in return.

“I give it to you because I know you can be trusted to get it done on time.”

“Damn me and my timeliness,” you mutter and fold your arms under your head. “Just give me five minutes. If I read the words 'preliminary investigation summary' one more time, I think my eyes are going to fall out.”

Kunikida gives a huffy sigh, but doesn’t push any further.

“I was going to have you show Atsushi how to do it, but it seems the little brat has disappeared.”

“Cut him some slack, Kunikida. He’s only been here for a few days, he’ll need time to adjust,” you say, your words a bit muffled by your arms. “I just hope he doesn’t try to take off. I don’t think he’ll last long out there.”

“I say we let him leave if he wants to,” Ranpo comments, popping the marble into his soda bottle.

“You’re just jealous of the attention he’s been receiving,” Akiko says. Ranpo just averts his eyes, taking a swig of his drink.

“Speaking of receiving attention,” Kunikida starts, shifting his gaze over to the blond-haired boy sitting quietly at his desk doing his own work. “Kenji, you caused quite a stir in town the other day.”

“Haha, yeah, sorry about that.”

You close your eyes and lay your head back down as your mind tunes out the conversation now drifting into pointless reprimanding. You appreciate the moment of peace, even if it is filled with your coworkers jabbering.

Unfortunately, your moment of serenity is very short lived as the door to the office is suddenly blown off its hinges, flying into the room before shattering into pieces on the floor.

You lift your head up but don’t bother to stand, even as a group of men in suits, armed to the teeth, clamber into the office with guns pointed. Machine guns. That’s excessive. There’s a moment of tense silence before three people push their way to the front of the group.

The Black Lizard. You feel your chest tighten, but not out of fear, more out of pure annoyance. So that’s why Hirotsu was here. He wasn’t in this part of town to get a nice cup of coffee, he was here for an attempted raid. You were already having a tiresome day, this is unwanted.

Hirotsu gives an insincere apology for the intrusion, but you don’t hear any of the conversation after when you see the familiar face beside him.

Those honey-gold eyes you’ve annoyingly had stuck in your head for weeks. The smirk plastered on Tachihara’s face falters when his gaze meet yours, like he’s surprised to see you. He knows you work for the ADA, why wouldn’t you be here?

You don’t have time to think about it as gunfire rings out. You drop to the floor, dragging most of the items on the desk with you. You grab your stapler and launch it at the head of one of the gunmen, knocking him out.

The rapid gunfire slows as the others quickly handle the situation. Feet shuffle past you as you lay on the floor under the desk and you recognize one of the pairs of shoes. You reach out for them, effectively tripping the person they belong to.

Tachihara tumbles to the floor in front of you, whipping his head around to see what caught him.

“What the hell!” You snap. You know you can’t expect much. You’re not friends, not even good acquaintances. But this was insane. He blinks at you before that smirk creeps back onto his face.

“Don’t get mad at me, I’m just following orders,” he smirks and your face heats. Whether it’s with a blush or out of anger, you’re honestly not sure. Whatever happened to not wanting war?

You open your mouth to say more, but before you can, Kenji is quickly lifting him from the floor and out of your view.

The gunfire by this point has completely stopped and you decide it’s probably safe to stand now. You wrap your hand around the broken off leg of a chair nearby and get to your feet. As soon as you’re vertical, one of the men charges at you in an attempt to take you down.

You sidestep and swing your stick into the back of his head, bringing him to the floor. Just as the man crashes, Atsushi comes bursting through the door, intense fear on his face. But his fear is quickly replaced by dumbfoundedness as he takes in the scene before him.

Whoever these mafia members were, they weren’t very difficult to deal with. Even the Black Lizard had been taken care of, their unconscious forms laying on the floor.

Kunikida scolds Atsushi for disappearing while the rest of you take in the mess that you now have to clean up.

“What should we do with them?” Kenji asks. Kunikida gives him a look as though he should already know the obvious answer.

“Just throw them out the window,” he instructs calmly. “Ami. Heal their injuries before Kenji tosses them out.”

You groan and look around the room, the various members scattered around as well as the pile of them resting on top of each other.

“Ugh, I would rather finish the reports,” you mumble. “Can’t we just leave them like that?”

“No,” he says sternly. “A fall from this height in their state could be bad. Now do it before they wake up!”

“Fine, fine. Jeez,” you mutter under your breath. You drop to your knees beside a few of the men, placing your hands on two at a time. “Pop in here and wreck the place like that. You’re lucky I hate Kunikida’s scolding.”

You get the few men laying around the room ready for Kenji to chuck out the window before making your way to the pile in the middle of the room. You let out a huff and start working your way through them. Heal two, toss one, heal two, toss one.

You come to Gin and Hirotsu, healing the latter very carefully, afraid to be in contact with him should he wake up. You didn’t want to get mangled like the poor office door.

And then you find Tachihara, still out cold.

You place a hand over his chest as it glows with a golden light. Your eyes travel up to his face and you soon find yourself staring. He’s somehow even more attractive when his face isn’t scrunched in a scowl or stretched with a murderous smile. What a shame.

You become acutely aware of how warm his body is beneath your hand, his heart beating steadily against your palm. You pull your hand away and call for Kenji to throw him out the window.

He comes to collect him, effortlessly picking him off the floor and launching him through the window to join the others on the street.

You look around the room, office supplies and papers on the floor, broken fragments of tables, chairs and the door scattered around, bullet holes in the walls. They really went overboard this time.

“Just following orders”. And that obnoxious smirk he’d given you. What an asshole.

You had to get him out of your head.

taglist: @chuuminn

©Cxtori 2024 please do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate any of my works. reblogs and interactions are appreciated 🧡

[voylitscope]

There are so many tempting choices from your WIP list but I am SPRINTING to your inbox to learn more about the 10 Things I Hate About You AU! 💙💙💙

Hi! I am so very, very delighted by the gif use in this ask. So delighted. So, originally, I was going to write a series of five one-shots that were all little AUs loosely based on teen movies/shows. Just little scenes. I mostly wanted to write a spin on the swingset at the party and paintball thing from 10 Things I Hate About You... except that then an entire plot for it, as a full fic, developed. Really quickly, actually. So. I actually shared a tiny snippet of this one in another WIP game a few weeks ago. So, pulling something else:

"I was thinking we could talk," Bucky says, watching Steve blink and looking at just how long his eyelashes are. "You know, have a conversation." "Why?" Steve asks. He sounds outright suspicious now.  "Why not?" Bucky says, shrugging his friendliest shrug.  "Because we don't know each other," Steve says, words slow as he narrows his eyes at Bucky.  "Well, yeah, but see, if we talked? Then we would know each other," Bucky says, grinning again.  Steve's face does this thing that Bucky's almost sure is best described as a scowl, except, he's also almost sure you're not supposed to find scowls to be both endearing and attractive.  "Is this a thing you do?" Steve asks, still making that probably-a-scowl-face. "Just come up to random people and start conversations?" "Nope," Bucky says, shaking his head. "You're special." "You don't know me," Steve repeats, possibly more exasperated this time.  "I could get to," Bucky says. "I hear you're an artist. I find that real interesting." "You find that interesting," Steve echoes. His tone is so dry it's actually sort of impressive. Especially because he also goes a little bit red, just a splotch of color Bucky spots on his neck.  "Yup," Bucky says, nodding. "Find you real interesting in general, Rogers."

Thank you for asking!! 💖💖

[blueberryaesthetics]

FFXIV Write 2023: #20 Hamper

For all the ways my mind works, I cannot fathom why I thought it would be fine. I know how he feels about the dark. We are alike in our adoration of an open sky, a veil of clouds or stars, and while neither of us is entirely pleased to be closed in beneath the stone...I am not the one so paralyzed by it.

The thought of sharing my research with him, of showing him the glyphs and seals I've perfected, of getting his thoughts on the plant life I'd encouraged, of my latest findings was too tempting to ignore. Even knowing what the result would be, I asked. Knowing what would happen, he took my hand and followed me past the locked doors. Down the stairs.

He stopped breathing halfway down.

Eyes unfocused, pulse unsteady. I'm still not sure what finally brought him out of the state he'd spun down into. I begged him to answer me, pleaded with me to tell me he was alright.

If we could just get past the door, I thought. If we were inside, the books would help. The smell of ink. The formulas. The rituals.

He only made it to the basket of soiled towels and blankets, ready for scrubbing or bleaching or burning. Perhaps it was better, after all, if he did not see them.

"Khu," I finally took his hands and moved them to my clothes. He made fists of my sleeve. "Let us go back. Come with me," I led him blindly backward, letting my feet step slowly up the stairs. "Stay with me, we will go back into the house."

Eyes closed, lips trembling, he whispered so low I almost couldn't hear him.

"I can't do it," His hands shook.

"I know, my love, it is alright," Only when we were safely in the lit hallway of the house did I lock the door at his back.

Only then did I seal away one part from him.

He could have the others.

[sepyana]

Jjba Stardust Crusaders Ep. 40-44 Thoughts

I've waited a bit to write this. Mostly because I was tired, but also because I wanted to think about it more.

D'Arby Part (Ep. 40-43)

This episode is considerably lighter in tone compared to the Vanilla Ice episodes, cuz we gotta torture Polnareff as much as possible.

I like the paralells between the D'Arby's. Older one is unmatched in cheating, Joseph tries to cheat and gets his soul taken to show there is no way we are winning that way. Jotaro wins by bluffing instead. Younger one is unmatched in skill, Kakyoin tries to win against him fair and square and gets his soul taken away. Jotaro wins cheating instead.

This episode does a lot to build Kakyoin's character. Interesting that the way DIO tempts him is by saying "Let's be friends." I am guessing Kakyoin had a lonely childhood. Maybe he spent all that time palying games. It's not like I was a friendless kid who spent all her time playing Tetris, Pokemon and MOBAs.

I didn't saw this scene in the manga though. It's probably an anime only thing. I like it as an addition, though, I doubt some really shady man saying let's be friends would calm anyone's nerves down. It doesn't make much sense to me.

Also the Kakyoin doll is horrifying.

Joseph saying "No more Mr Nice Guy" got me. Couldn't think of a more white phrase if I tried.

Why,, why do the baseball players have an entire bakery down there.

Jotaro part dragged on a little bit for me personally. It was funny though. Like how Joseph gets angry at Jotaro for playing like shit and Jotaro is saying 'Shouldn't you be cheering for me?'. Later Jotaro is hiding behind his hat. And even later there are the soul reading scenes.

It's so funny seeing D'Arby lose his shit over Jotaro cheating like a TRUE GAMER. I can't believe DIO has a GAMER guard his hideout. D'Arby in general is pretty funny like why does he look like that. Why is his stand like that. What a fucking loser.

Episodes are good but not outstanding.

Vanilla Ice (Ep. 43-45)

The last few episodes were funny, this one is just horrifying.

I will maybe come back to this on a latee post. I wanna think more about these episodes.

Firstly, I actually know Vanilla Ice's namesake. Naming your character after one person instead of a badn or a song name is... bold.

Funny that Dio only remembers Kakyoin at first. He might be pretending to not know the Crusaders that well just to show his superiority or whatever. Motherfucker is reading while Polnareff and Iggy are out there fighting for their lives. I hope Dio dies a million deaths and gets run over.

I kind of hate Advol's death. He doesn't get a send off at all. It just sorta happens before the fight. We don't get to hear his thoughts, we don't get a chance to grieve. It feels weird to me that Iggy's death resonated with me way more, I like Advol so much more too. I get the feeling that he was killed just for the sake of it. His character arc doesn't really need this. I dunno. It felt like a waste. I was angry when he died, not really sad.

I think this part if the opening is suppose to reference this scene. I wonder if this is true for the other shots.

The fight scenes are pretty good. One thing I don't get is how getting some of his foot eaten completely incapacitates him. That would make sense irl but like. He has literary been through worse. This show doesn't really handle injuries all that well.

Silver chariot was animated beautifully.

I actually felt sad over Iggy's death. Since stands represent souls, the fool manifested on its own to save Polnareff. Despite Iggy knowing he would die if he did that.

You'd think Polnareff's arc of being saved would lead him to save someone else instead. But the show almost makes fun of you for thinking that. I kind of like that, actually.

I thought Suzie meeting Holly was a nice scene but it dragged for too long.

The end part really confused me. The tonal whiplash from Iggy dying to this just doesn't sit right me. There are other comedic bits too and none of them land for me. I think they are theree to lighten the mood but like. People are dying, y'know. I wouldn't mind this as much if the jokes were funny but I couldn't really find them funny.

Yeah, that's it. I couldn't think of what I wanted to write, but I though it would be better to write this before watching the finale. I should let them marinate in my head a bit more.

Now, we are at the beginning of the end. With only 4 episodes left. I will watch them after posting this and report to you later. It's currently 5.30

[tofics]

I'm sorry??? Did you mean to post this on here or hang it in a fucking gallery so it can be admired for the art piece that this is??? 🥲🥲🥲

I'm just. Wow. The way you write. It's like chocolate melting on your tongue.

I like to do a thing for my reviews where I pull some examples from the stories that I liked best. But now I have your story open in a second window and I'm re-reading it and I'm tempted to just cite the entire damn thing. But I'll try to behave myself.

But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

What a gorgeous way to describe it. I especially love the part of 'distorted enough to feel false'. What a bitch our brains can be.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings.

As a person who absolutely loves bacon, this hit home. Picturing Joel at a point where he needs a drink first thing in the morning and even something as delicious as bacon can't compete. Oof.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days. Joel Miller lived to love you.

I'm sorry? We're only four paragraphs in and I'm already crying??? Must you attack me like this so early in the story? And by God, what more do you have in store if you deliver this gut-punching line so early?! Fuuuuck me. I love love love how you start this bit with "He lived to see his hair grow longer [...].". It's such a simple thing yet shows how little he wanted to live on for. And I love how she is the one to pull him out of that darkness.

But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas.

😩😩😭😭 I am SOBBING.

His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Your metaphors, MY GOD, they're like a symphony! I don't know what I'm more touched by, the content or the way it's being delivered! 😩

And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

My GOD to be loved like that. To be the one thing that brings a man back to life and pulls him towards you like you're the center of the universe. To be wanted so much that your absence leaves a physical pain. 🤧

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot. You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Joel. My love. My kind, sweet man. My beloved idiot, as Ellie rightfully points out. Did YOU give any indication about your feelings?

...that's what I thought.

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

This is why the "two idiots unaware they are both in love with each other" hits so hard. The shared yearning that both are oblivious to.

Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy.

😭 "chest of secrets unlocked" - "his small flecks of joy"

Write "death by beauty" on my gravestone if I pass away from reading this.

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

Fucking amen, sister.

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form?

Am I still alive? Am I still breathing? I don't know. All I know is that I want to rip my heart out and replace it with these words.

He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life. A future etched by the hands of love.

*flatlining*

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

THEY'RE DOING IT! THE THING! THE TROPE! AHHHH!!!

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

Listen. When I tell you this bit brought ME back to life. I actually felt butterflies in my stomach reading this bit. That is not a thing that happens very often.

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Take me, take me home, take me home NOW.

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

Aaskdhfkjsd. WHY IS HE SO CUTE.

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?" You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."

What a fucking spectacular finish.

MY GOD was this beautiful. Re-reading this to write my feedback has my eyes simmering with tears again. Please excuse me while I go and quickly add you to my list of favorite fics. Thank you for this masterpiece. I think I fell in love with you a little bit.

“please don’t make me say it if you aren’t going to say it back” with a desperately in love with joel reader would hit so much…

weaved around your finger like yarn

a/n: me writing for joel again?? this has sat in my inbox for over a year and i never meant to actually take this long with it. but i finally figured out how to write this concept. and now i am actually obsessed with the small world of softness i created for these two. this is yes jackson joel, but nothing bad happens ever to him because why would it? it's all fine right?

summary: he never made space in his life for love in the aftermath of destruction. the after of his life he once thought would extend past decades of gray hair, smile lines carved in around his mouth now set in frowns and sneers. but snowfall and alcohol blur the lines for both of you when winter comes to jackson.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, love confessions, heavy makeout sessions, alcohol consumption, tipsy joel, sad joel, laughter at the end of the world, hope.

He can't remember laughing until his stomach hurt. The ache that spilled into his chest, warming his insides with a sun like quality that left him shivering. He can't recall the feel of his cheeks pulled so wide the sensation became a phantom pain seconds after. He knows it happened. He can distinctly recall the jokes, the joy. But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

Alcohol simmers in his stomach with a rueful intent. A malignant aftermath that would hit him in a few hours after two months of attempted sobriety. Ellie insisted, he accepted. Easy enough to say. Difficult to follow through with.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings. But the dismay in your eyes helped him hold off, regain his awareness of a world not yet shattered. For once in quite a long time...he finally lived. For you, for Ellie, for Sarah.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days.

Joel Miller lived to love you.

He existed to dig his heels in and wait shit out—it's what he was good at, what he knew how to do. But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas. His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Days bloomed into weeks which grew into months. Eventually a year passed and what used to be difficult and awkward to be around people again, felt like breathing the fresh winter air. The jackets he managed to find hung on hooks by the door, a pair of heavy boots beside the small table Tommy crafted him.

The mornings were nice. When hot water hit ground coffee and the aroma plagued his kitchen for hours at a time. The evenings called you towards him—simple cooking skills shared in the confines of a home he pined for you to reside in.

Life was a sliver of peace he never imagined he'd get again. But the hole in his heart never faded, the pain still rang out sharp enough to have him clamping down on the inside of his cheek. And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot.

You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Your feet slid on icy, fingers gripping tightly to his jacket with a yelp in a quick attempt to save yourself from slamming to the ground. Joel snickered loud and brash and a wash of embarrassment burned under frozen cheeks. Dragging you up, his arm looped tightly around your waist—hand pressed harsh and insistent to the small of your back. You swallowed the butterflies at the sight of his face flushed red—eyes shining from the effect of too much whiskey.

"We were bad tonight," you muttered, breath forming a cloud between your faces.

He grinned—skin buzzing at the close proximity of your form. "Only a little bit."

"You're not supposed to drink Joel."

Leaning in he traded his smile like a secret; you tucked it into your chest with a sharp breath. "I won't tell if you don't, darlin'."

"Joel..."

"C'mon. No one's gettin' in trouble here."

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

Your teeth scraped along the cracked skin of your bottom lip, eyes cast up to the curl of his lips. The words sprang forth faster than you could drag them back. Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy. Later you'd blame the alcohol. When the headache ravaged your head and an ache lingered between your thighs.

Later you'd comb over every small glance and breathy word.

"I like spending time with you Joel," you breathed, fingers toying with the front of his leather coat. "I like...um..."

The breath caught in his throat, gaze desperate to catch yours. "Yeah sugar?"

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

"You can tell me anythin'. You know that right?" Even as hope flared bright and scorching through the width of his chest. "I'll listen."

Hesitation spilled into the night, your voice a soft whisper he barely caught. "Please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form? Did you not understand he would take a bullet for you? That he'd bear the wound of a warrior's death to keep you alive? How could you not know that his love stuck to his tongue with a saccharine bitterness he swallowed down like the drugs he once took to numb his mind?

You healed pieces of his soul you never broke. A marred and fucked puzzle that was meant to find a home six feet underground. By his own hand no less. He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life.

A future etched by the hands of love.

"Say it," he pleaded, frozen hand cupping your cheek.

"It's more than just that." The breath you took shot adrenaline down his spine. "I like our mornings. I like our dinners and conversation. And even when you come into town with me. But I...I love..."

The glossy nature of your eyes created by unshed tears that pooled at your waterline dug the knife deep enough to meld it within his heart. You didn't know. You couldn't have. His silence, his hesitation, swallowed every emotion he might have told you—every secret uttered in the shadows of night that told only half his story.

He told you about Sarah. About their life together, about her smile. That in itself felt like a proclamation of love—a key to the heart he thought stopped beating long ago.

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

"'M sorry." His words were muffled against your chin, forehead pressed to yours and eyes squeezed shut. "I shouldn't have–"

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

Hands cupped your ass with an insistent need to mold you closer, fingers digging into the plush flesh he longed to bite and taste. You tasted like whiskey. You smelled like him. It made him dizzy with want, anxious to lead you back to his porch—to seat you on his kitchen counter in the mornings while the coffee went cold.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Your breathless reply made the hair stand on the back of his neck. "You can."

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

"Proper," you smiled, tugging on the longer curls you refused to let him cut. "You're such an old man Miller."

The large breadth of his hand cupped your chin, pushing the cheeks he lightly bit into together. "Won't be sayin' that tomorrow when I ain't got all this fuckin' alcohol in me."

"Yeah?" The droop of your eyelids—the darkened iris now filled with lust—set his teeth on edge. His body hummed with a new buzz he craved since meeting you. "Prove it."

"Oh I will." He grinned sharply, licking his teeth like a wolf waiting to pounce. "Don't you worry 'bout that."

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?"

You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."

[nokwisi]

hi hi !!! idk idk this has been done before, but imagine the day Vik augments his leg with the hex core and does his sprint, he comes back home to the reader with a rush of adrenaline and has really rough sex with her since he’s finally able without his weak leg…. ;) love ur work! <3

whatever it takes—viktor x fem!reader note; hi hello! thanks for sending in such a lovely prompt! As per my norm, I got carried away. it's rough, it's emotional, it's maybe a little self indulgent...but I hope you like it nonetheless, anon! warnings/tags; nsfw, 18+, cunnilingus, biting, hair pulling, little bit of choking, rough sex, smut and angst, porn with feelings wc; 5.3k

Check out this amazing VA accompaniment by the lovely, talented, @kikorenart! Buy the full version, treat yo self.

Running.

He's running.

I am running—

—and although the throbbing ache that had ailed his leg his entire life has finally, finally been abated, there lingers a phantom pain in every single nerve of his remaining flesh-and-bone body; as though the evolution of a piece of him has in turn magnified the faults he carries elsewhere.

His back is throbbing, the metal embedded into his spine grinding against the bone as though whittling it away; he has never put so much strain on it before, he dismisses it. His head is pounding, exhaustion and dehydration hitting him in stacked waves; he knows he hasn't been taking care of himself—why care for a sanctum that has fallen to ruin?

But, there is something that transcends the physical, manifesting behind the cage of his sternum like an amorphous mass of everything he's ever regretted; everything he's held back, bottled up, kept buried. It swells within him, pushes him to push himself, like he could simply outrun the weight of it now that he has that option, but he can't.

It's infuriating, because he cannot diagnose the root of this problem. He cannot apply medicine, or science, or even his meager knowledge of the Arcane—and it rises up his throat, unbidden and out of his control, exorcised from his being with a shout; a long, agonized cry that is a coalesced purge of triumph, despair, and every single possible micro-emotion between.

It slices through the rain, shatters the preternatural silence of the docks, and Viktor finds there in the heady taste of catharsis on his tongue: dreams, goals, and desires. Things he has simply never been capable of accomplishing, now shining under the pulsating, purple light of possibility.

He thinks of you.

His heart thrums quick, like a chord struck and reverberating through him with the tonality of anticipation. He's riding a tidal-wave of a high, pushing him out of the realm of logic and into the depths of something baser—wants that have always come second to his work.

Friend, companion, lover, bystander to tragedy, future mourner; has he been selfish, in taking you, in keeping you? Viktor knows the answer to that already—knows that you deserve more than what he offers, that he has pushed you into the shadows to watch from afar as he tries, and fails, and tries again to save himself.

He was preoccupied with chasing down the end of his rope, grasping blindly to stop it from going abruptly taut, but now...now, he can root himself in the soil, keep himself grounded on this plane...and now, he can run to you.

Viktor is almost tempted to leave his crutch on the docks, abandoned and shunned as a part of him cast aside, much like the blood and sinew and bone of his leg, but he takes it nonetheless. If there is a sense of disdain in doing so, he pushes it down—a method he's also beginning to abhor, but he is not entirely without reason.

Should the infamously crippled half of the Hextech partners be seen suddenly galivanting around as though magically cured of his ailment, he may never have the opportunity to fix the rest of his crumbling body. In that, he may never be able to grasp all those buried, now bursting through the seams, dreams and goals and wants—never be able to show you just how desperately he wishes to give you everything he never could.

No, they wouldn't understand.

Viktor believes—knows, that you will.

It's well past midnight, and the worry that had started prickling under your skin earlier—when you'd gone to find him in his lab, and he was not there; and you'd asked Jayce, and he said he didn't know—is reaching a crescendo in your chest.

You're sitting in your shared apartment, center of the sofa in your living room that, admittedly, appears more like a workshop than a place of living. You both prefer it that way. Warm tones, ornate wood often graced with well-used parchment; bookshelves teeming with journals and the gold-embossed spines of thick academic books from years ago. Diagrams and schematics are tacked onto the wall, flickering with yellow light at the lanterns you'd strung from the ceiling six months prior in an effort to 'liven the place up'.

It feels distinctly desolate without him, however.

Normally, his prolonged absence wouldn't be a problem. Viktor is well known for stretching hours until they roll into days, and you never fault him for it—his drive and passion are integral to him, and the very reason you fell in love with him, in the first place.

This is not a normal time; the diagnosis he received days prior made sure of that, tainting everything with a looming shadow of dread.

Having bitten your nails down to the quick, you're nearly vibrating with the urge to jump from inertia and go seek him out. The only thing keeping you here, waiting and restless, is the very viable concept that he simply wants to be alone.

You would never consider Viktor to be a selfish man, but disappearing without a trace, leaving you to turn over worry and anxiety until it nearly aches—you can't help but be frustrated.

You sigh deeply, tugging your lower lip between your teeth to chew it with contemplation and uncertainty. His well-being, fragile and tenuous as it is, is far more important than his ego, you decide.

With that, you push yourself off the sofa, and into action.

Serendipitously, the door to your apartment swings open just as you venture into the bedroom, seeking out a jacket to shield you from the gentle down-pour that pelts against the gilded windows. You startle and pivot, and your heart feels as though it's been released from a vise-grasp of dismay, fluttering in relief at the sight of him.

"Viktor." You sigh, and then a knot forms between your brows, "you had me worried sick. You can't just disappear right now, not when you're—"

"I want to show you something." He cuts you off, and it's with an urgency and eagerness that immediately stuns you into silence. "I want to show you a great many things, and I hope you'll forgive me for the worry I've caused—for everything...but this...this is insurmountable."

Your prior worry melts away, and in it's stead, a tense curiosity.

"You've reached a breakthrough, haven't you?" Baited and waiting, you can discern the glimmer of thrilled excitement in Viktor's amber eyes, far away as he is. "Viktor, did you...did you find the answer?"

"I've found...an avenue. It is a dangerous one to venture, but my choices are limited." He steps into the apartment, the door closing behind him, and he swallows thickly and squares his gaze firmly with yours. "Whatever it takes. Do you remember?"

Of course you remember.

You'd whispered those words against his mouth naught days ago, bodies intertwined and trembling, grasping onto one another as though he may simply vanish in the span of an instant. It was after he'd received his diagnosis, both of you functioning with a desire that far surpassed anything physical. You told him you couldn't lose him. You begged him to save himself...whatever it takes.

There's a palpable tension in the air now, brought in with Viktor's presence, solidified with the recollection of those words—spoken with despair-charged passion and desperation then, but as this moment unravels, a sense of harrowing anticipation wraps itself around that invocation; around you.

"I remember." You whisper.

Suddenly, there is an urge to drag your attention over his body, scrutinize, seek out discrepancies; find the change. Something that would answer the question that rings in the back of your head, without having to voice it: what did you do?

Viktor appears no different than last you saw him. Frail, pallid, all hard angles stacked upon one another with a steadily shifting, off-kilter foundation—tragically beautiful.

"I've done nothing to afford such a request...but, I ask that you never forget what you said. No matter what the future has in store. Can you do that for me?" A tremor rattles his usual refined cadence; your heart quickens in the cage of your ribs.

Fraught—he sounds nearly fraught, and pleading, and you come to the conclusion, devastatingly quick because there is no other choice in your mind, that you never will.

You feel as though you're standing before an abyss, blind to what's before you, but for Viktor...you will gladly step into the unknown.

"I won't." You state with conviction. "I won't forget."

Viktor's gaze softens marginally, as though relieved, and just as quick, it hardens—like amber solidified to stone. Without another word, he lets his crutch fall free. The hard, metal clang as it hits the floor startles you, and before you can instinctively go to his side to aid him, he straightens out, and he goes to you.

Your breath catches, stunned and rendered inert as Viktor closes the distance between you two with a purposeful, undeterred, steady stride. His brows are knit, a sharp determination in his eyes, and coupled with the barely there curve of his lips, you cannot help but feel suddenly weak.

"Viktor—" is all you manage, the myriad of questions on your lips snuffed out as he presses his mouth against yours with a harshness that knocks your teeth together; cupping your face in a way that spans his touch to your neck, as though trying to hold as much of you as possible.

Your mind is reeling, questions rapid-firing and sizzling out just as quick with the way he kisses you; frenzied, packed with so much passion it makes your legs weak. Viktor holds nothing back, licking eagerly against the seam of your lips, delving in when you gasp at the way his hands venture up, combing through your hair to give a neat little tug, angling your head back.

"Let me have you." Viktor exhales hotly, coaxing your lashes to flutter, resurfacing from the daze his touch induces to connect with the molten gold of his eyes. "Please."

"Have I not answered that question already, Viktor?" Reaching up, you cradle his sharp jaw in your palms, stroke your thumbs from the corners of his mouth, outward. "You hardly have to ask, but I...I have questions, as well."

His lips curl into the faintest, wry smile. "Of course you do, and they will be answered...but, I still live on borrowed time, my love." He's searching your face, now; earnest, full of tenacity that simmers beneath the surface of his cool countenance. "I would be remiss not to take advantage of this, to not please you in ways that I have only imagined of doing."

"Advantage of what?" You push, curious, contrary to the lance of arousal that shoots through you via his words.

In response, Viktor closes the distance once more, kissing you hard, nipping at your lower lip to draw out a surprised, pleased whine from your throat. He's derailing you, and you hardly have the will to be frustrated about it. You can't remember the last time Viktor's been this emboldened, and you find yourself sinking into the embrace once more, your arms resting on the angled shelf of his shoulders; fingers dragging through the small hairs on the back of his head.

"I will show you." He supplies, close enough that his lips graze yours, and suddenly, he's pushing you back; herding you into the bedroom.

His kisses trail from the corner of your lips, to the cusp of your jaw and over, searing hot and open-mouthed down the column of your throat. Gasping quietly, you cling to him, follow his guidance, and internally question—theorize, hypothesize—just how he's managed to become the anchor, the stability, in a familiar dance where you always led.

This change, wherever it may root from, is enough to push you into a state of astounded compliancy, like nothing else matters except for him—letting him purge himself of this intense need with an eagerness that casts all your doubts and questions aside.

With the backs of your legs brushing against the bed, routine and familiarity has you shifting, tugging Viktor in a silent beckon for him to lay down, do as you've always done and slink your way atop him; take the lead. But Viktor remains rooted where he is, and instead, he lets his hands fall from where they are buried in your hair, to firmly push against your shoulders.

"No—not this time," he breathes, "on the bed, please." His tone is an intoxicating composition of steely demand, and searing desperation, and who are you to deny him?

So, you do as he bids; you let yourself drop down, sitting at the edge with anticipation, and the way Viktor lowers himself to kneel between your thighs—easy, fluid, not an iota of pain on his face—makes your heart leap with both joy and inquisition.

"I have always been plagued with the guilt of depriving you of what you deserve." Viktor states, his hands smoothing up your thighs, further still to your waist, where he deftly works the button of your pants through the eyelet, "there is not enough time left in the world for me to pay you what is due, miláček."

Swallowing thickly, Viktor's admission steeps into you, fills you with adoration, sentimentality, and the overwhelming urge to dissent.

Reaching for him, you brush the wayward hairs that've fallen in his eyes back, feel the skip of your heart when he leans into the touch. He gazes up at you beneath the lust-addled weight of his lashes, you say with sincerity: "You've always been enough for me, Viktor."

He huffs out a laugh through his nose, "a sentiment I truly cherish, but...I may have to disagree with you." He tugs on your pants, you raise your hips on instinct, a static warmth blooming on your skin as he catches your underwear as well; shucking them down your legs to leave you bare.

Viktor's attention drops down, a shuddering exhale leaving him at the salacious vision before him; the arousal that wets the inside of your thighs, which tremble just enough beneath his fingers as you part your knees that you're positive he can feel it.

Bashful and coquettish, you whisper, "I suppose we'll just have to agree, to disagree, then."

"I suppose, so." He whispers—it's distant, listless nearly, and it directly contradicts the sudden and zealous way Viktor glides his hands to the backs of your knees; long, spindly fingers digging into the sensitive skin as he hikes your legs high enough to rest on his shoulders. His breath billows onto your heat, "or perhaps, I'll change your mind."

A shiver weaves it's way down the track of your spine, bursting inside you like an electric jolt when Viktor closes the sparse distance, parting your slick with a broad, heavy swipe of his tongue. You curl your fingers in his hair, moan, and steady yourself with a shaking arm behind you.

Viktor hums against your cunt, caresses his hands from your knees, all the way up your flanks, before grasping your waist tight enough it aches; giving a firm tug that nearly has your ass hanging off the edge of the bed. You fall onto your back with a punched-out gasp, he doubles-down on the deadly precision of flicking his tongue against your clit, effectively thwarting whatever sense you have left.

It doesn't take long before you're riding the cusp of your orgasm—it never does, with him.

He moans against you, shedding any modicum of his signature decorum in favor of fucking you relentlessly with his mouth; lewd, wet, heavy breaths that roll over you in waves of heat. He sounds just as blissed out as you feel, follows eagerly when you pull his hair, willing him impossibly close—and you're so, so close—

"Viktor," you whine loudly, begging for something you're not entirely positive of; you just know that you need more, trust in that he will fill in the blank spaces of your lust-drunk plea, "please, oh—"

And he does, he knows precisely what you need—a perfect synchronization where you haven't the faintest means of knowing yourself. Viktor vocalizes a response that registers as nothing more than a bone-shuddering vibration; circling your clit in perfect little spirals with his tongue in tandem to two deft, long fingers pushing into the clutch of your heat.

The stretch is divine, the prominence of his knuckles felt acutely when he spreads his fingers, works you open, honing in against that hypersensitive bundle of nerves with an expertise that he's since mastered.

Viktor anticipates the responding buck of your hips, pushing down against you with the hand that brackets your waist—iron clad, unmoving, and you distantly picture the bruising he will leave; the intensity of him, imprinted on your skin like a brand—before he immediately picks up a steadfast, perfect piston of his fingers.

You're reduced to stuttering out his name, voice pitching higher and higher as though Viktor is tuning your body to his own preference—that being: coarse; piteous; debauched. Tightening around his fingers, blindly tugging his hair, you writhe and squirm against the tension threatening to snap within you, the pleasure reaching a fever-pitch.

"Come for me," he murmurs directly against you, sounding wicked and depraved.

Every muscle in your body spasms, going taut and rigid as you fall over the edge with a shattered cry; a frisson of euphoria throwing you into a stupor of utter bliss. You're helpless to the way your toes curl, legs drawing inward, back curving with an arch that pushes your head into the bed—contorted, thoughtless, neither here, nor there.

"You don't know how beautiful you are." Viktor muses breathily, his voice sounding far away, through the depths of ecstasy and the hum of your afterglow.

He eases his fingers out of you with an audible slickness that makes you shiver, immediately mourning the loss of him inside you, before he begins kissing against your hipbone, continuing upward from there. Pushing your blouse higher and higher, he presses his lips in a hot line up your heaving chest, and it's with a haste and need that fans the ember of desire inside you.

You move as though hypnotized, raising your arms, letting him strip you of your remaining clothes before he brings himself down and kisses you again. You taste the distinct bitterness of yourself when he licks a line along your tongue, firmly bracketing the underside of your jaw in the curve between his thumb, and forefinger.

It's a distinctly possessive hold; you find yourself thrilled by it—enough so to take his lower lip between your teeth in a borderline vicious bite, drawing back and tugging hard enough to earn a strangled, throaty groan in response.

You let go; he quickly chases you down, "yes—do not hold back, I want you to be rough."

"Only if you promise to return the favor." You rush out, aiming for cheeky, but landing somewhere in the realm of indigent.

"I intend to." He all but growls, kissing you again. It's harsh, all teeth and tongue with an underlying rumble of a moan in his chest.

You've almost forgotten Viktor's cryptic words from before, the mystery that lingers in the background of this embrace; the keystone that is fueling this entire moment. You're reminded when he brings himself closer, shifting you higher on the bed, kneeling so effortlessly between your still-trembling legs.

His right thigh is unyieldingly hard beneath yours; thrumming with a strange, pulsating type of warmth that you can physically feel.

Viktor, ever astute, breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against yours, panting against your mouth. "Whatever it takes." An aide-memoire, lilted in such a way that it nearly sounds solemn.

Your heart kicks into higher gear, compelled to impatience as anxiety and uncertainty fester behind your sternum. You cup Viktor's face for a brevity of acknowledgement, craning to kiss him quick before your hands start working haste on his tie, tugging it free; the buttons of his vest then; his dress shirt thereafter.

"Show me."

Viktor doesn't hesitate in shrugging off the layers of his clothes. You don't meander any longer on his chest say for a hastily reverent drag of your fingers over the front of his brace, down to the hem of his pants. It's a fumbling series of maneuvers; Viktor settling back, you leaning forward, tugging open the fastens—a shift, a trade in movement, and he's leaning over you, pushing his pants and briefs down, and he makes it no less challenging with the way he consistently chases down your lips with his own.

Stripped down, bare and exposed, you break from his kiss and glance down between the chasm of your bodies.

Your breath catches.

Viktor's attention quickly flits to your face; searching, anticipating, and perhaps disquieted.

The bedroom is shrouded in dark now, but the tracery of winking light embedded in Viktor's now-adamantine leg is enough to cast a violet glow across the room; highlighting and shadowing the dips and curves of your bodies. You reach out, and you touch him. Tentative at first, just the curious drag of your fingertips over the synthetic, wiry musculature. You feel the warmth he emanates, the eerie hum of something inhuman and yet, so very strangely alive.

"The Hexcore." Finally breaking the silence with an awed kind of wonder, you slant your gaze to Viktor. "You did it."

His brows arch, as though he is relieved, as though he ever doubted you to begin with; and he is quick to caress your face, an ardor of fondness and adoration softening his amber eyes before he bows himself over you, and kisses you firmly.

"For now...but I do not want to focus on such a grim topic." Viktor breathes against your mouth, "I have much more pressing matters to attend to."

Your legs are pushed higher beneath his thighs with the movement, the steel-hard plane of his augmented limb echoing heat into you, and coupled with the tantalizing way his cock presses against you, you're inclined to agree.

"I'd never stop you from achieving your goals." You whisper, equal parts playful and genuine as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close.

You have questions, but now...now you've got time. However fleeting it remains, it's more than what you had before. Enough time to indulge in this—to indulge in him.

Viktor huffs a laugh against you, "I know," and with a hand deftly disappearing between you two, he presses his cock flush against your throbbing heat. You hiccup a surprised moan that he eagerly swallows, kissing you breathless before pulling back just enough that your lips graze, "my goal is to pleasure you beyond anything I've ever been capable of. I want to hear every moan, every cry of my name that I have yet to earn."

You shudder, barely manage to lob out, and with a warbled tone that undermines whatever teasing you're going for: "quite the ambition, Viktor."

"Intention, my love." He parries easily, and proceeds to push against you, inexorable, stretching you out and filling you in one smooth, seamless thrust that chokes out whatever response you have.

Viktor barely stifles a groan, exhaling sharply as his hips press flush against you. You're trembling, clinging to him as you adjust to the size of him—always a feat, always a process—but it seems he doesn't intend to give you that reprieve.

But, he isn't entirely without clemency. "Should you reach the point of begging—I will stop." And it's with such a distinctly Viktor brand of self-satisfaction, that you can't find it in you to be anything other than aroused.

It's become such a rarity, this brazen confidence he's exhibiting, and you want nothing more than to kindle it; to give him this, take what he's so eagerly offering; feel what he's promised. You push your fingers up and through his hair, grabbing a fistful of wild, chestnut waves in either hand, and you pull him down with a force that makes him grunt in his throat.

"Perhaps you should let actions speak louder than words." You say, locking your gaze with his; and you watch as his eyes sharpen, seizing your explicit permission with a harsh kiss and a throaty moan.

Viktor wastes no more time. He brings himself low, braces his weight with an arm above your head, his other hand snaking around your throat in a grasp that is both gentle and grounding, pushing his tongue in your mouth as his hips roll smoothly against yours.

The friction is there, the heat and pressure of him inside you, the stretch and the drag and the depth of his thrusts making you moan and rock back, but you want so much more—you want to see him baser, driven to carnal want.

"Harder." You urge, feeding into his flame, "fuck me like you've always wanted to, Viktor."

Viktor groans, unabashedly effected by your words, tightening his grasp on your throat just enough to deliver a pleasant, hazy daze. "I want to fuck you until you cannot think straight." He admits in a rush, and you clench around him in response, bring a hand down to wrap around the taut, wiry muscle of his forearm—a silent consent.

"Want to—ah—to see you ruined by pleasure...I want to be the one to do that to you." His pace has picked up; hard, unrelenting thrusts that spear you deep enough it nearly aches, desperation lacing not just his tone, but his movements.

"F-Fuck, Viktor!" Digging your nails into his ivory skin, curling your legs around his waist, the metal and fastens of his brace chafe against your inner thighs, but you couldn't care less—you've never been able to do this; to put that weight on him with him above you, to drag him close and remain blissfully carefree on whether or not you're hurting him.

"Oh gods, yes—fuck...you feel so good." Moaning the words out best you can, you grind your hips against him with each forward stroke, will him deeper with the lure of your body; chasing down the intoxicating catch-drag of your clit against his pelvis.

Viktor visibly shudders at the praise, releasing his hold on your throat. You inhale raggedly, immediately reverting to whining; sweet, pleading little noises that spur him on.

"Louder." He hisses it in demand, finding purchase with his hands behind your knees, pushing your legs up to your chest. "I want to hear you."

The position has his cock slide impossibly deep, your breath snagging in your throat, hands scrambling to hold onto him by way of tugging his hair. Sound returns to you in the form of a reedy, trembling moan. The way he's fucking you is seismically different than anything you've ever done with him—raw, harsh, bruising. He hasn't faltered once, the steadfast, borderline brutal way he thrusts against you frying any coherence you might've had.

Nothing matters but him—the sounds he's making, the familiar and comforting scent of him, the way his body is pressed so tightly against yours that you feel every hard angle; every shift of bone; ripple of muscle, and the newfangled, bruising press of his steel leg colliding with the back of your thigh. He is all-encompassing, pounding pleasure into you that sings in your veins like magma, permeating you down to the marrow.

You're not going to last much longer.

Through stilted moans, Viktor leans in close enough to latch onto the soft palette beneath your ear; hot, heavy breath dampening your skin. A shiver racks your frame when he bites you sweetly, coalescing with your pleasure like a personalized dose of euphoria.

You wrap your arms around his head with a half-garbled cry of his name, and Viktor huffs out an amused breath, "have I truly been enough for you? Have I ever—mmph—f-fucked you to the point of speechlessness?"

How you can't even form a response is all the answer Viktor needs.

"I wanted to," he grits out, his grip on your legs fierce enough that you know you'll be bruised—you'll have a collection by the time he's done, and the concept makes you clench tighter around his cock, eliciting a sharp groan from him that vibrates against you, "always—every time I have been inside you, I have craved this."

As though charged with that declaration, he slows his pace, backs his movements with a force that rockets knife-sharp pleasure right up your spine, carving it into a radial bow off the bed, pushing your chest into his. The hard protrusions of his brace press into you. You don't care, you pull him closer, voice your pleasure with a keening moan every time his hips collide with your thighs.

"You...you are going to come again—hm?" He envelopes you in his arms, holds you with one hand buried in your hair, the other winding around the nape of your neck. You whine, delirious and broken and vaguely affirmative, and Viktor kisses your throat once more, "do it, so I can push you over the edge again, and again. Until I am satisfied with the mess I will make of you."

He's speaking rushed, quick and hot, and he punctuates his urgent statement by way of sinking his teeth into the sensitive apex between your neck, and shoulder.

Silk walls clench so tight around him that his hips stutter, that he groans against your skin and it ricochets a wild flourish of tingles throughout your entire body, that he has to grip you harder, hold you in place as you writhe and arch and shriek through the hard-press of your teeth.

Your orgasm hits you with cataclysmic force, and all you can do is hold on, ride it out, shiver and tremble in his arms as he chases down his own release. He bucks against you, his seamless movements pulling apart, short and choppy and desperate, Viktor groans and bites you harder.

You pull his hair hard enough to tune that throaty noise of his into a whine. Shivering with the heavy pulse of his cock, nestled deep inside you, you can feel the blooming warmth of him filling you to the brim, washing you over with a wave of pleasant goosebumps.

He relents from digging his teeth into your skin, gasping out foreign swears embellished with the reverent invocation of your name. Everything—his movements, his voice, his vise-grip, winds down in tandem, until it feels like time itself has reached a standstill.

With your lashes wetted with involuntary tears, leaden with post-orgasmic bliss, opening your eyes feels like resurfacing from the depths of rapture; catching your breath feels just the same.

Viktor rests his head against your collarbone, his body loosening, unraveling from the tense pressure he's put upon himself, allowing your legs to drop down on either side of his waist.

You can both feel and hear the rattle in his lungs as he chases down a steady inhale-exhale, spurring you to gently comb your fingers through his hair, soothing him; coaxing him silently to recuperate. As though he senses just that, finding the challenge as he's always had the proclivity to, he breathes in deep, and pushes himself up on trembling arms.

"Viktor." You croak, voice hoarse and lilted with concern. "You should rest." Cupping his face, you stroke beneath his eyes, which have sharpened once more with that zeal of determination.

He shakes his head—your heart swoops with both admiration and concern. It's so painfully obvious, so cuttingly worrying: he genuinely believes he has something to prove, burdened with the guilt of not being enough for you; driven to right what he believes is wrong. He's healed a fraction of himself, and in doing so, finds the mistakes he's left unchecked, and Viktor, always so headstrong, is convinced he can solve it with the fleeting strength he's been given.

But an augmented leg does not cure the sickness within him.

"No." He says, with a sense of finality. "I told you...time is precarious for me. If I cannot have this now—give this to you now—I may never have another opportunity."

Your brows knit, and you steady your hold on him; force him to look at you. There, in the depths of his gaze, glints something like despair. You pluck it easily from his obstinate front; you've spent enough time looking into those amber eyes to discern the cracks beneath the surface.

"You promised me, Viktor." You remind him, firmly. "We will find another chance...find more time." Gently pulling him closer, your tone slips into an imploring lilt. "Do you remember?"

Viktor's breath shudders, his expression softening with a telling gloss. He reaches up, overlays his hand over yours and leans into your palm. The smile on his lips is faint; sad, loving, grateful.

He echoes those words again. This time, they are weaved with a thread of forlorn optimism; saccharine and bitter; a multitude within five syllables.

"Whatever it takes."

[buckysimp101]

Love at First Grade (18+) - 8

Single Dad!Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader; Teacher!Bucky x CEO!Reader

chapter warnings: smut lololol

a/n: the reactions to last chapter’s reveal have been SO entertaining and I am so happy that people are enjoying this fic! Stick around, it’s gonna be an interesting ride!

Series Masterlist

Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck is all your brain was able to supply to the surprise appearance of Dolores and the fact that you very obviously knew Bucky and Becca. Judging by the way she referred to Becca as “my baby” told you all you needed to know. Dolores was Becca’s mom. The anger at Dolores just continued to build. You’d been lucky enough to not encounter her at all over the last two years since you caught her and Brock in the living room but of course she’d show up, today of all days, to remind you that you had been left, yet again, by someone with ties to the redhead.

You took pride in the flush that came to Dolores’ cheeks as you answered Bucky’s question about how you two had met and you could tell his eyes took on a pitying, and concerned, look. “I appear to be interrupting this conversation so Avery and I are gonna g-,” you started to say but we’re immediately interrupted by Bucky.

“Don’t worry, Dot was just leaving,” the snap in Bucky’s tone was one you hadn’t heard yet and you guessed it was one he saved for misbehaving students in class or rude parents that attempted to tell him he was wrong. Bucky affixed Dolores with a glare that would’ve had her six feet under and she burned her eyes right back into him. Becca and Avery both continued hiding behind you, the two girls peaking around your legs every so often to get a glimpse of the newcomer.

Dolores let out a huff at Bucky’s response, “fine. I didn’t want to talk to the two of you anyways. Especially not when your little twin is around,” she sneered in Becca’s direction before turning around walking away. Your hand clenched into a fist, anger bubbling to a boil at the way Dolores had just spoken and if Bucky hadn’t been there with a hand on your shoulder you’re not sure what would have happened.

How the hell did he get so good at reading my body language?? Oh shit wait he’s touching me.

You looked up at Bucky. A softer look on his face as he reached down to pick up Becca and cradle her in his arms. You could tell by the way Becca was whispering to her dad that she didn’t understand what had just happened or why the “crazy lady called me her baby?” Avery tugged on your shirt to be picked up too and you were about to tell her to say her goodbyes to Bucky and Becca when Bucky spoke first.

“Y/N, can we talk? There’s an ice cream place not far that we can take the girls, maybe call Steve to hang out with them for a little bit, so we can talk?” Bucky asked softly as to not make Becca and Avery aware that you’d be talking about something more than just favorite ice cream flavors and all the animals you saw at the zoo today.

You were tempted. You were so tempted to NOT take him up on the offer. He had hurt you. Hurt your feelings. Hurt your pride. And then practically forced you to hang around him all day since he hadn’t given you a want to contact him and call it off. You did it for Avery, is what you told yourself. She had a hard enough time making friends and you knew she and Becca had developed an unbreakable bond. It wasn’t just the look on Bucky’s face that made you reevaluate everything. It was the entire afternoon. Watching Bucky interact with Avery and Becca, while emotional after the night the two of you had, was heartwarming. The way he caught their attention at the different exhibits and talked to them about the animals they were seeing, it all made sense why he went into teaching, he’d captivate your attention a number of times. And so you caved with a small nod, turning to talk to the girls about the ice cream they liked, but not missing the small uptick of Bucky’s lips as he scrambled with his phone to call Steve Rogers.

It didn’t take long to get to Ellie’s. You and Avery had never been there but she was excite to try her best friend’s favorite ice cream place. As the group of you were ordering Steve showed up and Becca, in typical Becca Barnes fashion, squealed and ran to her Uncle for a big hug, Avery just waved happily at Steve when he addressed her. Her usual shy facade was nowhere to be seen, and for that you had Becca to thank. Steve acknowledged you with a nod and a knowing smile, apparently Bucky had told him of the situation over the phone, and he took the two girls to a table just outside to enjoy their ice cream, you and Bucky took over a corner booth. The silence between the two of you was deafening, you definitely weren’t going to be the first to speak. Not when it was him who left you. After a minute, the whole time Bucky appeared to be in deep thought, Bucky spoke.

“First of all, Y/N I am so so sorry. When I woke up this morning I freaked out. I’ve never slept with one of the mom’s of a student I taught and that made me spiral. It also didn’t help that I may have convinced myself that you were just sleeping with me to sleep with me, which is okay if you did! Not only that but I’ve also never been with anyone and felt…the way I felt when I was with you. Ever. So really, I mean it with every ounce of my being I am so sorry and I hope that I can make it up to you.”

You listened. Of course you listened, half your job was freaking listening. You thought you’d hear from Bucky what you’d heard from multiple men before, “it was great but could you maybe put in a good word for me with Tony Stark?” “it was great now can you get me a job with your company?” “thanks, just needed to be able to brag to my friends that I bagged the hottest CEO in the city,” the list went on and on. You sure knew how to pick em. But something about the look in Bucky’s eyes and the way he tried to apologize the second you saw him made you wonder if he really was different. And then you heard him say that last line and all you could do was ask, “…Bucky…did you just quote Dirty Dancing?”

A nice pink blush filled Bucky’s cheeks as he realized that he had in fact quoted the popular 80s film as he stuttered a, “sorry, but Baby’s words just felt right.” His response made you laugh. For the first time since the two of you had been together you just laughed. Bucky joined in and soon the two of you were almost doubled over with laughter. When you finally managed to compose yourself you chanced a look at Bucky’s face. He had a soft smile but his eyes. Those eyes showed nothing but regret, hurt and guilt. You always joked with Tony that you could tell a lot about a man by his eyes, nobody ever had as good of a poker face as you. And that’s when you could tell that Bucky really meant every word he said and he was genuinely sorry. So you spoke.

“Bucky, you hurt me. When I woke up this morning and you had just disappeared I thought you only wanted a quick and easy fuck and that you had played along with the feelings I felt last night for your own personal gain. But I can see it now. You were just as scared as I was. I forgive you. Truly. I was also wondering…if you’d maybe like to, get dinner sometime? Like on a date? And maybe we could see how this goes?”

Your question caused Bucky’s face to light up. The small smile that was on his face grew into a grin to rival the Cheshire cat’s as he nodded his head so you added, “my only stipulation is that we maybe keep it on the low for a little bit? Like we don’t tell the girls or our parents, we just enjoy dating and maybe…other benefits that come along with that? And we tell them if we decide we want to keep it going?” Bucky was having a hard time coming up with words because he just kept nodding his head.

“I’m gonna need a verbal affirmative, Barnes. Don’t make me have legal write up a contract,” you teased causing Bucky to come to.

“No, yes I agree!”

“Is that a no or a yes, Mr. Barnes?” you teased yet again at his excitement.

“Oh honey it’s an enthusiastic yes,” he responded, his eyes alight with mischief and playfulness. The two of you talked for the better part of half an hour and you explained the whole situation, sans alcohol this time, about what went on with Brock and Dot.

“I should’ve known something was up. She was a shit maid. I’d find dishes in the sink almost daily when I would get home from work and I swear a years worth of dust build up on my baseboards!” you exclaimed causing Bucky to just shake his head and chuckle sadly.

“I am so sorry that happened to you, honey. But I can promise you, you’d never receive that treatment from me. Brock was insane to ever let you go,” he spoke quietly, trapping your hand with his. He opened his mouth to add on to his statement when a knock at the window next to your booth drew your attention. Steve was standing there with his face pressed up against the glass, a knowing lopsided grin on his lips as he looked at your entwined hands. “Maybe…the only people that know about us are Steve..and Nat..” Bucky started so you finished with, “and Wanda..and Sam..and Tony and Pepper of course.” It would be too difficult to try and keep your love life a secret from the people who had witnessed the two of you not being able to keep your hands to yourselves. You both nodded in agreement, secretive smiles shared between you, as you gathered your stuff to see your girls and relieve Steve of his babysitting duties.

Over the next three months you and Bucky did your best to keep everything regarding your dating life lowkey. You’d both plan for the girls to spend the night with their grandparents on a Friday or a Saturday and the two of you would get dinner, somewhere further away from the hustle and bustle of the city so you’d be less likely to be photographed together, or you’d go to a movie…or you’d have a night in. The days when you picked up Avery from school gave the two of you time to flirt in plain sight but not much time for anything else. You even met Bucky’s mom about a month in when Becca and Avery begged and begged and begged for a sleepover at her Nana’s house. Winnie was the absolute sweetest. She took Avery in as if she was her own grandkid and spoiled the two of them rotten.

The only problem was, your parents were getting more and more suspicious about the increased amount of time they were seeing their granddaughter and you assumed Winnie was too. But nevertheless, you and Bucky tried to keep your relationship a secret. Because that’s what it was. At some point it had shifted from casual dates, with some not so casual nights, to the two of you genuinely wanting to spend as much time together as possible, which occasionally led to this moment.

“Oh fuck Bucky yes rightthererightthererightthere I’m gonna cum, please let me cum” you whined from the kitchen of Bucky’s apartment as he pounded into you from behind. He reached his thumb in between your legs to play with your clit, the other holding you in place, bent over his kitchen counter.

“Oh that’s it honey, go ahead, be a good girl. Be a good girl and cum all over my cock, sweetheart,” he growled in your ear. That’s one thing you learned about Bucky over the last three months. The man may be a first grade teacher and seem all innocent with his pressed slacks and occasional cozy cardigans, but holy fuck did he have a mouth on him and he sure knew how to use it. He continued to pound into you as he fingers circled your clit, adding delirious pressure, the sound of wet skin echoing through the kitchen merely added to your growing orgasm. Your fingers tightened on the edge of the corner, your legs shaking, as Bucky continued to thrust into your wet heat and you were flying higher and higher and finally crying out as you came. But Bucky didn’t stop, he was close, you could feel his pace growing more and more inconsistent and unsteady and so you arched your back and pushed your ass into his hips making him closer and deeper inside you, the feeling almost forcing another orgasm out of you.

“Fuck Bucky, you fuck me so good, I was your good girl, now you have to be my good boy. Fucking cum for me Bucky, now!” you cried as Bucky slammed into you more forcefully. Bucky was muttering “soclosesoclosesoclo-…”

“Hey Buck, I tried calling you but you didn’t answe-OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY,” the two of you heard Steve’s voice call from the other side of the kitchen entry. Apparently, you’d been too wrapped up in each other to even hear the front door of his apartment open as his best friend let himself in.

Bucky let out a loud sigh, pulling out and leaving you both unsatisfied, as he yelled to his best friend, “GODDAMN IT ROGERS DON’T YOU KNOW HOW TO FUCKIN KNOCK!?”

Steve chuckled from the other side of the kitchen, waiting patiently for the two of you to make yourselves presentable. Bucky helped you fix his shirt that you were wearing, and nothing else, and you could feel the heat rising under your skin from your embarrassment. Bucky gave you a quick kiss, one that seemed to express his apology at leaving both of you on edge as he called to his friend, “what are you doing here, punk? Besides being a fucking cockblock,” Bucky asked his friend, muttering the last part to not embarrass you anymore than normal, a pink tinge rising to Steve’s cheeks.

“Well I was wondering if you and Becca wanted to go to the park and get ice cream today so I tried calling you but you didn’t answer and I thought maybe you’d slept in for once but clearly I was wrong,” the red blush growing more prominent on the blonde’s face making you giggle as you continued to avoid eye contact with the man who had seen his best friend rearranging your guts at his kitchen counter.

“Becca’s not here, she’s at my ma’s. But I was gonna go pick her up…soon. That is until you got here,” Bucky emphasized the last bit with a pointed look in Steve’s direction.

The blonde just held his hands up in mock defeat as he managed to laugh out a “don’t blame me, jerk! You could’ve been in your bedroom like civilized folks and not fucking like rabbits in your kitchen,” Steve’s joking tone finally coming back.

“Who ever said we were civilized, Stevie?” you cooed in his direction with a mischievous smirk. The blonde rolled his eyes and groaned as he threw his head back.

“When will you two quit ganging up on me, I said I’m sorry! Not like I meant to walk in on Bucky’s sexcapades ever again! I thought that ended when we graduated college!”

You and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh and you pressed up on your tiptoes to offer him a chaste kiss, moving your lips to his ear, “I’ll make it up to you later, sweetheart,” a wicked wink tossed in Bucky’s direction before you were heading to his bedroom to change clothes so he could go pick up Becca for a day with Uncle Steve. After gathering your things you met Bucky again at the front door, dressed and prepared for the winter weather ahead of you. He looked at you and smiled, pressing his lips to yours in a deep passionate kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. When you finally broke apart he leaned his head against yours. That’s when you took the opportunity to ask him a question you’d been holding on to.

“So, the last day of school before winter break is this week…and Avery’s birthday is Sunday the twentieth…and we’re not really having a big big party but all she wanted was dinner with my parents…and Becca. So. Would you and Becca like to come to our place for Avery’s birthday dinner where my parents will also be in attendance?” You rushed out the last part, knowing that you were effectively asking Bucky if he was interested in meeting your parents. If you had been facing Steve’s direction you would’ve seen his eyebrows practically disappear into his hair from how surprised he was, but Bucky. All he did was offer a shy smile as he answered, “we’ll be there, honey. Becca’s been bugging me about Avery’s birthday gift for the last three months.” You beamed in response and offered him a parting kiss and a thank you before calling your goodbye to Steve and heading off to go back up Avery. You felt ten times lighter, as if you could float away any second. The last three months with Bucky had led you to being the happiest you’d ever been in your life. You couldn’t wait to tell Avery know the good news.

taglist (to be added let me know in the comments or dm me!):

@youlightmeupfinn

@la-undercover-latina

@jackiehollanderr

@fab-notfat

@galaxy-dusk

@asoftie4bucky

@fangirlvoice

@queenbeecandi

@babyevansblog

@stevihj

@sherlockstrangewolf

@notavintagecliche

@justsomebodyweird*

@katiecg

@wintasssoldier

@snufflet

@buckrecs

@missvelvetsstuff

( a * next to a username means I couldn’t tag you I’m sorry!)

[moku-youbi]

Okay Hannigram and Spideypool fam, who will allow me to tempt them over to Klive in The Umbrella Academy fandom? We are way too small, and in need of fresh blood. Let me whisper in your ear about why it's awesome! Just look at this grouchy old murderbaby and his pansexual gnc disaster brother???

One's a 58 year old time travelling assassin stuck in his 13 year old body, the other's an immortal conduit to the other side and occasional accidental and reluctant cult leader!

Let's talk about the fact that as soon as Five reappeared after having been missing for 15 years, he takes a break in the middle of his Very Important 'The Apocalypse is Coming' lecture for this exchange: (and how I adore the rest of their siblings being, "wait, can we go back to the whole the apocalypse is happening in a week thing, pls")

Both have some serious PTSD -- Five from being trapped alone in the apocalypse for 45 years then being forced to be an assassin traveling through time killing innocent people. Klaus for a whole boat load of spoilery reasons, but lets say having ghosties haunting him his entire life is a good starting point, and then accidentally serving in Vietnam and losing his first love in the process is a good starting point, but really only the tip of the iceburg...But that's okay, they deal with it in totally healthy ways--by drinking to excess, doing lots of drugs, and never talking about their trauma!

But they get up to wacky hijinks, go on road trips, sing romantic duets, and occasionally open up to each other and have a totally adorable tendency to talk at the same time and reaching the same conclusions <3

Plus, look at these adorable babies!!! Prickly little Five letting baby Klaus hang all over him! Clearly they were crushing hard on each other as kids.

And now some recs! I haven't read a lot because I am working on a long fic, and I don't like being influenced by similar stories. However, there are some great ones I've come across!

Eta this first link was wrong, sorry 😔😔

Soft Sixties by sarkywoman - Lovely season 2 AU where Klaus and Five stick together when they time travel to the 60s, and end up a few years earlier than most of the rest of the gang (like Klaus in the show). It's sexy and sweet and domestic, with great characterisation.I really love Five's unwillingness to lose what he's got, no matter what lengths he has to go to, and how Klaus is all in with him. (I recommend all their stuff tbh, love how they write this ship!) An Unlikely Pair by Schattenmalerin - Pre-canon teenaged Klive. Sadly unfinished, but what's there is really, really great. They have a great dynamic, with precocious Klaus fully aware of what's going on between them, while genius but innocent Five is a little slower catching on. Takes place when their relationship is starting to go from the innocent puppy love stage to the burgeoning awareness of their sexual attraction to one another. I really wish there was more of this *le sigh*

Easy and impossible by Softestsweetestlove - Super sexy and hot season 3 fic with bed sharing and dirty talk. Make sure to read the follow up, as well as all the rest of their stuff. I simply adore how they write these two, with Klaus desperately horny for Five, and Five feeling safe and comfortable with Klaus.

And the couple short fics I've written so far (both for kinktober, so you know, kinky porn):

In the Palm of Your Hands - Post season 3, siblings all living together, Klaus decides to start getting his tattoos done again and is left unable to use his hands for certain things...he and Five have been flirtatiously toeing the line in the next step of their relationship, and Five decides to cross on over and lend a hand. (Kinks - autoerotic asphyxiation, breathplay, body modification, masturbation-ish)

Need to Hear You Say - post season 3 curtain fic with lots of sex. Just wanted to write some fluffy, uncomplicated established relationship with exploring kinks. It was supposed to be short and sweet and got away from me... (Kinks -- all consensual -- dollification, somnophilia, drugged sex, agalmatophilia, slut-shaming, dirty talk, crossdressing but I mean Klaus is GNC anyway...)

[zaidshair]

"Here I thought you was pissed about me running away from you; can't get anything right, can I," Zaid muttered, so interminably proud of his little asides, as if he was on stage reciting Shakespeare to a captive audience.

I am thrilled! Zaid wanted to yell, but he wouldn't give Tej the satisfaction of being right. So much about Tej was right, what Zaid had lovingly teased him about in the beginning, soon turned out to be a curse. Instead he glared steadily up at Tej, nostrils flaring, willing Tej to understand how much Zaid still cared. Of course he did: of course. But Tej used his coldest tone, then decreed the coldest, hardline rule.

What was Zaid supposed to do? Protest? Beg? Fight? In Zaid's opinion and emotionally skewed memory, he'd tried those tactics time and time again, to no result. Once Tej pulled up the drawbridge, Zaid believed Tej would rather eat himself alive than let Zaid breach his icy moats.

"And you're a little child," Zaid snapped back at Tej, knowing it would hurt him far more than his own insult to Zaid. "Why don't you just cover your eyes, ey? If you can't see me then surely I'm not here..." He was tempted to add the final jab of 'peek-a-boo', only it was too cruel. Inika adored peek-a-boo, even when she was supposedly too old to enjoy it. What did child experts know about what children were 'too old' to enjoy playing. Zaid found it adorable and Tej did too.

The only thing they had left to agree on, after their relationship splintered: they still agreed that Inika was the most important thing.

And then - well. Anyway.

Tej was unsteady. At first Zaid thought it might just be emotional distress, and his heart softened with genteel pity (and a smidge of smug pleasure. Delighted that Tej cared enough to stagger under the weight of Zaid's magnificent presence).

"Tej, angel..." Zaid started to say, all magnanimous fondness, as he reached for Tej. Entirely forgotten, were the shadows that seemed to be watching Zaid. Whenever Tej showed up, everything else in the world seemed to disappear. Even after six months, it was still the case. Zaid had forgotten entirely about his fear, and the mystery of the forest.

But as Zaid reached for Tej, the shadows made themselves known. Not around them, but swirling towards Tej, a vortex circling into its central axis...

...or was it light swirling towards him, leaving darkness around them?

"Something's very wrong! What the fuck..." Zaid exclaimed, unsure if he should get closer to Tej. Would he be pulled in too? No; nothing about Zaid could be considered 'light' at this point. Besides, it was only a blue moon when Tej would utter the instance 'I need help' to another living soul.

Zaid couldn't resist, and once more found himself being pulled to Tej. Not just a moment of lovelorn weakness, but an excuse to touch Tej again. And also...that something else inside him. That same tingling feeling he felt when his molecules were shifting about again, but less nauseating and more...slow and sultry, like hot lava through his veins?

He reached for Tej, touching his shoulder. "Something's happening, I think you're doing something, Tej!" Or was it Zaid doing it? No, no it was Tej. "Sit down, darling. You're frightening me. If you could see it..." All around them it was like nighttime. The dappled sun disappeared too fast to be just a sunse. And Tej himself glowing like a torch. "Open your eyes. What do you see?"

Arms shot out around the person who gave no option but to catch them (how Tej viewed it, anyway). The motherfucker almost knocked them off their feet. A hard collision of bodies-- fitting, as Zaid was a repetitive injury Tej desperately wanted to heal.

Looking at him, Tej was reminded of the height difference. Once endearing, and now simply another way they did not see eye to eye.

(Yes, the eyes. Those eyes. Keen and wide, so gorgeously brown, like umber caught in the light.

So close. Zaid's breath raked hot over Tej's jaw and neck. As it used to, just before that raspy voice would darken with its own heat, sigh, and--)

Get off of me!

The misplaced seconds of tenderness in his hands and on the other's hips wrung out. The touch firmed up enough to shove, just in time for Zaid to pull back too. "You're the prick who ran into me." A prick with the uncanny ability to throw what was his fault on Tej was truly a petty talent.

"Yeah. Made it out alive. You sound thrilled." Said emotionless as ever. A few steps were taken away in a mirror image of Zaid. "Until we're rescued, stay away from me." More defensive than he meant, but fuck it. Their last conversations, months ago, were fueled by vitriol. Why bother with any civility now?

"Just... I'll go, because you're the little bitch..." Pauses and starts in the sentence resembled the way Tej began to stagger backwards, shoulders and ass bumped right into a tree. Vision began to double and blur around Zaid. The speckled sunlight dimmed. "...who won't...even..." The heel of a palm ground against one eye, and then the other hand joined in.

Was he dying? Because Tej's pulse was thunder in his ears. A crushing pain flashed briefly under his sternum and stole his breath away. Tej opened his eyes, and all the light under the treetops sought him out. Was pulled to him, as though a black hole spun at the center of his chest. Trapped the sun, refused to let it go.

Blood boiled in his veins. His lungs gasped to breathe and his eyes watered. Beats of his heart in a wilder gallop, and now so loud he couldn't hear.

Then, Tej was completely blinded by the darkness. He felt along the tree trunk and then reached out for the next, an attempt to escape. "I need help." Which should be an alarm in itself. No matter how calmly he spoke, Tej rarely said those words. And lately, he would've rather have died than ask Zaid for a damn thing. "Something's wrong."